talktothesun @talktothesun - Tumblr Blog

-Observation Required-

type: one-shot.

pairing: Ryland Grace x Fem! Reader.

cw: fluff-smut, FILTH, MDNI‼️, established relationship, post PHM, alien cultural misunderstandings, biology gone terribly right, enthusiastic scientific observation, Sex Ed with Dr. Ryland Grace™, science-induced horniness, unintentional voyeurism (non-sexual intent), consensual observation, exhibitionism awakening, not your usual morning sexy time, praise kink, fingering, oral m!receiving, protected sex, breeding kink (fantasized), pregnancy discussion (no pregnancy), mutual pining, excessive affection, somehow still touch-starved Ryland, Ryland completely forgetting how to remain objective.

summary: Adrian is trying their absolute best to care for Erid's only human pair. Rocky supports to the fullest.

The million dollar question: Why does Erid's only human pair keeps performing mating behaviors when they have no intention of reproducing?

Adrian insists that only a live demonstration can provide the missing data. After all, the most important thing is the health and wellbeing of the only endangered species on Erid. Proper care requires proper research.

Unfortunately for Ryland and you, the endangered blue macaws in question are... the two of you.

#ryland grace #project hail mary

ohhowjooniewept

cowboy jungkook x y/n

one shot - 10k

smut, fluff, angst

—

you couldn’t breathe.

your legs were moving at a pace your body could hardly keep up with, as your boots kicked up dust, debris and other things you couldn’t quite see so dead in the night. regardless, you ran. you ran, and ran and ran and ran until you thought you were going to collapse because it was the only way to ensure freedom.

the sounds of a wailing car behind you were only getting louder as you ran through the desert like town, not knowing where you were going, only knowing that at this time of night, you were incredibly unsafe from the evil behind you. you couldn’t believe this was happening to you, your dress bunched up at your knees as you ran, tears streaming down your face whilst you heaved through sobs, desperately trying to swallow down your emotions if it meant you’d preserve your energy.

you had been framed.

your father, and your horrible step mother - oh how you hated them with every fibre of your being. you had never known your birth mother, after she had passed away when you were so young, leaving you with an abusive father who married an equally horrible woman who saw you as a stain in her relationship. thus came years upon years of torture, being forced to hide away in your own home, to be as invisible as possible in hopes they’d simply forget you existed.

it had worked for as long as you could remember whilst you lived only in the corners of your room, looking out of the window as other girls your age walked through your town in extravagant gowns, donned from head to toe whilst men bowed, flirting, all while pretending they were above it. your chest tightened at the interaction with a frown, knowing that you would never get to experience such a thing. your home was located in the centre of town, with your window high enough where you could watch uninterrupted, but close enough where you could feel like you were secretly immersed.

your eyes would trail over the men half in curiosity and half utter shyness, nibbling away at your lip. their studded belts, heavy denim and notorious cowboy hats - you were in awe at the confidence they oozed whilst they conducted their business around the small town.

only one had ever truly caught your eye.

jeon jungkook.

the only way you knew how to describe him was manly. big chest, bigger than any of the other men, with arms and biceps that had your fingers shaking on the windowsill. his shoulders broad, all whilst his thicker legs strained against his denim, boots heavy on the ground, hat nestled onto his head like home.

his eyes were darker than the others, like he had seen too much in his lifetime, much more than a 30 year old man of his calibre needed but it also solidified him as one of the most respected people in town. hell, even the sheriff was inclined to bend the law when it came to him, knowing that it was the worst kind of mistake you could make to have a guy like jungkook on your bad side.

and so, you’d stare from your window, your sweet, white, cotton dresses always slipping from your shoulders absentmindedly, swallowing down inappropriate thoughts about the man you had never met.

it was when he turned, his back to the shopkeeper as though he could feel eyes on him, and met your gaze that you found yourself gasping loudly.

immediately, you flushed pink, looking away, pretending to be interested in something else whilst he continued to stare openly at you. pretty eyes, even prettier lips - you were the mere definition of dainty, all perched up on your window sill, your arms resting on it and your head as a result, resting on your arms. he had never felt want this deep in his stomach, and sure, his cock hardened up at the sight of a pretty woman like any other man - this felt different.

he didn’t greet you like a good gentleman would. no, instead, he simply stared.

you could feel your stomach dropping as heat prickled down your spine, enough for you to retreat back into your bedroom, all whilst he continued to watch you. he watched the way your dress, too big, one you would wear at home only, slipped from your shoulders further, revealing the slight corner of your breast, only to be hidden away by your hair.

the window was shut. you went with it.

he gritted his teeth.

that had become a distant memory now, somewhere lodged in the back of your head as your weakened legs continued to take you across the outskirts of town, running as far as you could possibly go. your sobs were only growing louder as the adrenaline pumped and pumped and pumped, your chest heaving.

your mind was a flood of horrible thoughts, playing back the scene that had caused this entire situation.

your step mother had branded you a thief. her pearls had gone missing, no doubt taken by your no good father to be pawned for gambling money, but you were an easy target, fingers pointing at you, pulling at your hair, promising a threat of utter violence. you had never felt fear like it. all pleads for reason had fallen on deaf ears, causing you to practically flee once you heard the boots of the sheriff come towards your home.

you knew what happened to thieves in this town.

they were punished, beaten down until death was a welcome finality, regardless of whether they were male or not. the thought terrified you. to die at the hands of such cruelty when you were entirely innocent felt unjust in the highest of powers and yet you had no one to help you, to support your claim, with your father naturally adding further fuel to the fire by agreeing with his wife.

despite having been in this town your entire life, never had you ran outside of the town borders.

wildlife and scary people typically roamed the earth here, what in deserted land, sand, dust and grime in every corner whilst cars often sped up, trying to get to the town quicker in hopes of getting out of such eerie lands. it only worsened at night.

your exhaled hard at the sight of a house, small. it sat in the middle of nowhere, just in reach, causing you to run further and further just to reach it once you saw there were lights on too. you heaved, your legs beginning to fail you.

it wasn’t until you were a few metres away that you could feel the headlights behind you, causing you to sob loudly, your eyes shutting as you practically accepted the fate that was about to befall you.

that was, until a pair of large arms grabbed you from up front.

your brain stopped working in that moment, your mind completely shutting down as you all but collapsed into the chest of a much, much, larger man. you could practically feel yourself falling in and out of consciousness as he clung to you just as tightly as you clung to him, picking you up with a sort of ease that could have only been assigned to one person.

you shut down entirely.

the lights only grew closer until the sound of a car had finally stopped, the heavy boots of the sherif that had originally made you run stopping right behind you, your body cowering even deeper into the arms of the stranger desperately.

“step aside, jeon. girl’s wanted for theft.” you whimpered at the authoritative voice directed at the person you were crying against.

“you see it?”

the drawl of the man holding you echoed into your head, your face hidden in the crook of his neck as he began to cradle you. your sobs only soaked the cotton of his shirt, all whilst a large hand pushed on the back of your head to keep you down, almost as a protective measure.

the sheriff frowned. “what?”

“you see her steal?”

“sir.” the sheriff sighed, uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot. “i’m simply carrying out-“

you could feel the body against you tense all whilst you sobbed quietly, hands shaking violently against him, only causing his grip to hold you much firmer. you were being grounded, unable to hear the conversation as words didn’t register in your mind from the sheer feeling of overwhelming fear.

“you’re on my land calling my girl a thief, sheriff?”

he took a few steps closer only causing you to whine against him, as though he was stepping in to the line of danger, and therefore taking you with him. your brain still hadn’t caught up that you yourself were in the arms of danger itself.

“jeon. her father…” he began, with a sigh again. “she’s been accused.”

“folks accuse each other every damn day.” he gruffed back, fingers intertwining into your hair.

“i still have to take her in.”

jungkook looked at him then, darkened eyes that appeared harsher in the dead of night. he lived alone out here, only man brave enough to do it and yet he had never imagined you would ever be here in these circumstances. he could feel your shaking body against his in a way that had his cock stirring, something even better knew was inappropriate given the situation and yet he couldn’t help himself. his girl. his sweet girl. you had no idea.

had no idea how long he had kept his eyes on you. always looking up at your window at different times of the day, mastering the art of sitting inside the saloon with open doors, positioned just right so he could drink and watch you.

had no idea that it was you he pictured as he stroked his cock, hissing out at the thought of the beautiful girl his eyes couldn’t stop catching whenever he was out in the town. always ignoring the advances of other women - their batted eyelashes and dropped handkerchiefs had no hold over him.

certainly had no idea about the fat diamond ring sat in his home right that very second. he had plans to come to your family home tomorrow and do it the right way, ask for your hand in marriage with your father’s blessing and whisk you away as soon as he got the chance. get you in a nice white dress, with a lavish wedding just like the girls in your town dreamt of.

you were a lady. he wanted to do right by you.

having you in his arms like this, the almost see through cotton of your dress, all loose and bunched up, dirtied by the desert ground as it slipped from your shoulders; it was fucking sinful. bodies pressed together, your arms wrapped tightly around him as your face nuzzled into his neck, the musky scent of his aftershave enough to soothe you just slightly. in the arms of a stranger, you felt a taste of safety.

it was improper, the way your breasts were practically spilling against him, knowing that if anyone saw you, it would ruin your reputation in this town for life, what being unmarried and all. but in the game of life and death, you couldn’t think of anything other than the broad man protecting you.

he didn’t give a fuck. you were his girl, his wife to be. you didn’t know it yet, but he’d put that rock on your finger, and he’d make everyone stare as he walked arm in arm with you, announcing you as his. you were protected now, and he felt a prickle of genuine anger in his spine at the sheer idiocy of himself for not realising you needed that protection seemingly sooner.

“you gonna take her out of my arms?”

the question hung there as the sheriff continued to shift uncomfortably.

“she’ll be treated fairly.” he weakly rebutted.

“that right?”

“it’s procedure.”

“procedure.” jungkook laughed humourlessly. “procedure got her running in her fucking dress away from you, sheriff?”

he took another step closer, and at this point, the other man stepped back, inching closer to his car at the sight of the heavy gun sat at jungkook’s hip. he wasn’t an idiot. he had killed for less.

“her father’ll come looking for her if we don’t bring her in. i can’t promise..he’ll be more lenient.” he nervously admitted.

“let him.” he scoffed.

“he’ll want the girl back.”

“he ain’t getting her.” jungkook clung to you almost animalistically.

the tone jungkook used had officially made the other man too uncomfortable and despite him being the one with authoritative power, everyone in town knew you’d be a dead man to try your luck with jeon jungkook. he had no idea that you were his girl, and with the way he was clinging to you just as hard as you were to him, he gathered that this wasn’t something he wanted to get involved in.

with a tip of his hat, and a shaky apology, he retreated back to his car, almost hurried, and drove off.

the sound of a screeching car had you whimpering in his arms, body still shaking, clinging to his shoulders in hopes he wouldn’t let you go.

he didn’t. not once.

he stood, holding you fiercely as he watched the car retreat, headlights disappearing over yards of land that belonged to jungkook - that no one else dared to enter.

his arms remained locked securely beneath your knees whilst his other hand held you flush to his chest, your heartbeat slowly beginning to slow at the sound of his own. every so often, another broken sob would escape you as the reality of your situation cascaded down onto you, clinging to the man you had yet to identify as though your body recognised he was the definition of safety.

his hand slid through your hair, just slightly, positioning you properly before turning around and walking towards the house.

“easy.” you heard his voice command, and you nodded, ever obedient, through your sniffles.

he climbed the wooden porch without another glance towards the road, no fearful regard of his secluded surroundings despite it being an area so many people feared. his heavy boots groaned against the old timber before shouldering the door open.

warmth met you immediately.

the scent of pine, wood and musk - all heavy in the air, no doubt settling into the older, wooden furniture as though it had been here longer than anything else. the smoke from the fire burning immediately soothed your skin, a comfort that knowing despite the heat riddled middays, it took a mere log filled fireplace to calm the freezing cool of night.

the home wasn’t lavish by any means, but it felt safe, lived in even. the furniture looked as though it had been built by hand, a home created by the person living in it.

a worn, leather saddle sat against the far wall alongside a lengthy, coiled rope, a rifle mounted in easy perimeters on the wall whilst a large armchair sat just opposite.

the door slammed shut, a heavy click ringing through the air.

you flinched.

silence filled the air. the first thing he tried to do was place you down on the arm chair, no doubt to get a few words out of you, to understand the situation better but it didn’t seem feasible when all he could hear was you whine and whimper the second you felt him trying to remove himself from you. as a result, you clung to him harder, causing him to clench his jaw at the feel of you, positioning you properly.

stubborn girl. fuck, he liked that.

your face was still hidden in the bridge between his shoulder and neck, refusing to move, even making a show of whimpering extra loud anytime he moved. he couldn’t believe how sweet the sound tasted up close, what with your body against him like this, his frame engulfing yours so deliciously.

and so, instead, he took a seat on his chair himself, bringing you down with him. he positioned your legs on one side of him comfortably, whilst you nuzzled into the corner of his neck again, tears staining his skin as your shaky hands clung to the large arms that were caging you in.

you weren’t aware of yourself - not aware of the way your dress had slid up so high, and how you had been positioned so perfectly against his bulge that the growing pressure against your cunt was all purposeful. you felt dizzy.

for a long while, neither of you spoke.

the fire cracked, whilst the wind rattled harshly outside, kicking up dust and sand all over the outdoor porch. inside, it was only your mix of breathing that really soothed you, as you felt his pulse against your skin, your sobs having quietened down to little hiccups that jungkook selfishly wanted to hear for the rest of his life. how was it that you, quiet little thing, were so sweet even in your despair?

once your breathing no longer released in desperate gasps, you finally lifted your head.

your lashes fluttered open, sniffling away, as your eyes met his for the first time that entire evening. the familiar line of his jaw, the heavy darkness that swirled in his face alongside the hardness imprinted on every crevice of his features - oh, you knew him. you knew him better than you wanted to admit out loud for the man in front of you was the same man you had been dreaming about for months now.

his cowboy hat cast a heavy shadow on his face just as the realisation hit in real time.

“mr..jeon?”

your voice barely existed, scratched from the sobs and cries for help earlier, more breath than actual sound.

he gave a small grunt. “jungkook.”

your lips parted as you stared, and stared, and stared. it didn’t help that he was doing the same, large hands moving to cup your waist and thigh openly, as though it was completely appropriate between two unmarried parties in your community. it certainly was not.

the same man you had watched from your window, the one who never greeted nor smiled. the one you caught staring on countless occasions, even catching his gaze through your curtains whilst you were dressing.

once, you had opened your blinds mere minutes after a morning of secretly touching yourself, hand over mouth to stop the moans of his name as you imagined him being the one to do this to you, only to have caught his heavy gaze almost immediately. simply stood outside, cowboy hat low on his head, covering half of his face.

you had frozen still, thinking he might have seen you, or worse; watched you.

he had watched your cheeks flush a bright shade of red, eyes widening before trailing down to see the large bulge in his denim trousers, straining painfully. a confirmation. the two of you were well acquainted indeed through stolen glances and heavy need, but never with words.

your gaze dropped, shock lining your features as you realised the very situation you were in. perched on his lap, dress to your thighs due to the way it had been bunched earlier, bare skin against his all whilst you were practically smothering him with your own body - oh, this was the very definition of indecent.

the colour in your face deepened immediately.

“i-i..”

you hurried to move, practically jumping to get out of his arms but he moved faster. his arms around you tightened quickly, reflexes sharp as he dragged you right back until you were in the same position once more.

“down, girl.”

“this..” hiccup. “this isn’t proper.”

his expression didn’t change, merely looking over your face with both a hunger and determination that had your stomach swirling. you couldn’t help but wonder whether you had fallen prey to the big, bad wolf in real time.

“no. it ain’t.” he gruffed out at you, though he made no effort to move, only making a show of pulling you close.

“a lady shouldn’t…” you swallowed down the heavy lump in your throat, tears still lining your waterline. “i’m not supposed to be alone with you.”

“yeah?”

“in your house.”

“mm.”

“not..” you hiccuped again as you broke the eye contact, glistening orbs looking over his home and towards the door where you subconsciously began pulling at his shoulders to cling to him further as though the threat of outside was still near. “not..sitting like t-this.”

“you done?” he narrowed his eyes at you.

you returned his gaze in confusion. hiccup. “..done?”

“worrying?”

“w-what if the sheriff tells everyone i-im here.”

“folks talk. he will.” he shrugged as though it was nothing.

you anxiously screwed your face at him, making another attempt to get up but his grip was merely too strong.

he could read you like an open book. here you sat, denying the very comfort you so desperately needed because you were scared of the outcome - terrified of being caught in a position that had been so severely ingrained in your mind as bad, thanks to your parents and community. you’d be branded a whore for the rest of your life, no doubt the worst of worst considering it was jeon jungkook you were canoodling with; a man so terrifying that others seemed to cower.

“you run here?” jungkook pulled you out of your thoughts, catching your gaze once more.

you nodded.

“ask to be accused?”

you shook your head in a small no, lip quivering.

“ask to be fucking hunted?” he hissed.

a no, again. this time, you could feel the tears coming back.

his eyes never left your face as the arms wrapped around you suddenly yanked you until you were completely and entirely flushed against him, your own arms having to wrap around his neck more comfortably to accommodate the move.

“then what’ve you got to be ashamed of?”

your throat tightened as your tears fell, the severity of the situation you were in scaring you. you had no where to go, no one to run to, and yet you’d still be condemned by the same community you had been raised in.

“i don’t know what i’m supposed to do.” you readily admitted to him, lip quivering in a way that had him angrier by the minute.

the thought of you in this position upset him. it had his chest rising and falling as he bit down the hunger for violence he so desperately seeked, wanting nothing more than to grab every person responsible for this and beat them till all they could chant were apologies to you. his sweet, sweet girl. just looking at you, all teary and pouty - he wanted to kiss it away. wanted to make it go away for you.

“don’t have to think, y/n.” he assured you suddenly, the hand on your thigh heavy. “don’t have to think again, you hear me?”

the words hung between you as he wiped your teary face, large, rough hands cupping your face in the sweetest of ways. it confused your brain. how could something so mean, so accustomed to the harsher things be capable of such gentleness?

thoughts of your father’s temper and your step-mother’s calculated fury only spurred the tears on further as you gently gripped his chest.

“they’re gonna be so angry.” you admitted through a quiet sob. “they’ll come for me. i should have just gone with the sheriff…they’ll prolong the shame this way.”

“they ain’t touching you.” jungkook scoffed for what felt like the millionth time that month.

you slipped your gaze away from his, breaking it as you looked down at your lap. his body was so warm, heat radiating from every crevice and after the adrenaline, the biting cold of the outside had finally soothed with him holding you.

still, sniffling, you felt him wipe your face. “they’re cruel like that.” you admitted.

“ain’t letting no one come near you, sweets.” he assured once more, his hand heavy on your jaw. “you’re protected now. y’hear me?”

this thumb lingered under your eye for a moment longer before dropping all together, the rough pad of it having collected another tear, watching as it disappeared into the calloused liners of his digit as though you had become one part of him.

you couldn’t understand it.

couldn’t understand how a man so feared could sit so still in front of you - how someone only spoken about in hushed tones around town had become such a calming force in a matter of seconds. every movement carried purpose, intent; every gap of silence voluntary. it unsettled you.

neither of you moved for a few more minutes as you absorbed his words.

then, without warning, he rose.

the leather beneath you groaned as he stood up to his full height all whilst placing you down on the seat on your own, no longer engulfed in the inappropriate embrace, the sudden absence of his heat making the room feel all the more colder. your fingers twitched against your skirt before you could stop yourself, a quiet whine echoing against the quiet walls.

he tensed.

his shoulders rolled, jaw flicking as his hardened gaze stared you down, all whilst you wanted nothing more than to scamper back into his arms where safety was promised.

heat climbed your neck, but jungkook had already turned away.

heavy boots hit the ground in loud footsteps, your ears peeking as you listened to him in confusion, his frame disappearing beyond the doorway.

you could hear the sound of a drawer being opened, followed by a rustling and a moment or two of silence you couldn’t quite place. it was loud enough to have you sit up a little, head craning to see beyond the doorway but the house was dark, and nothing was visible beyond jungkook’s body walking back.

your shoulders slumped in relief at the sight of him again, your shaking hands and nibbling lip enough to have his darkened eyes narrow. you almost didn’t notice the small box in his hands. tiny. palm sized.

he stood in front of you then, causing your neck to crane up.

it was your turn for eyebrows to furrow as you watched the big, burly man - too gruff to be anything gentlemanly, too rogue, too rough around the edges - drop to his knee.

your eyebrows raised in shock, as you watched him pull up the velvet box, a deep red, and reveal a ring inside that had your throat letting out a choked gasp.

“jungkook?”

“bought this in spring.” he murmured over the crackling fire. “was meant to come down tomorrow.”

your chest rose and fell rapidly.

“had a whole fucking speech for you. kind of talk a man says to a lady.” his eyes never left yours. “was gonna meet your father like a man worthy of you. was gonna do it right f’you, you know that?”

“since spring?” you whimpered at him, knowing that had been months ago.

your heart was beating out of your chest, all whilst it raised and fell in quick successions.

jeon jungkook, the most powerful man in your entire town, infamous for his mere self, on his knee, in front of you with a box holding a diamond ring more lavish than anything you had ever seen.

for you.

“was gonna come to you.” he whispered then, your faces close. “but you came to me. tonight.”

your lip quivered.

“they chased my girl?” he hissed then. “made you run and hurt yourself, and you ran to me, to my house, without even knowing it.”

you watched him in silence.

watched the broad man before you settle onto both knees, body so close to yours that all you had to do was part your legs for him to truly become one with you. somehow, this position felt even more intimidating than when he hovered over you - what with him filling every inch of space between your knees, his shoulders so wide that they hid the warm glow of the fireplace behind him.

you should have shuffled backwards. should have remembered every lesson drilled into your brain from birth, from the society you grew up with, from your step-mother. you should have shuffled your dress down, skirt falling over your legs properly instead of where they sat mid thigh. you should have pushed him away, scandalised at the topic of marriage from a man that hadn’t spoke to your father.

more importantly, you shouldn’t have reached out to touch him.

your body had began leaning forwards immediately, your faces close now, bodies mere inches away from pressing against each other. one hand was settled on the box, the other moving up your neck, fingers longing to feel either side of it whilst you withered below him. it wasn’t until he cupped your cheek and he felt you nuzzling into him that he nearly cursed.

something unreadable crossed his face.

a slow breath left him through his nose before his gaze dropped to your left hand sitting, shaking, on your bare thigh. his eyes lingered too long, catching sight of dampened panties that were all but clinging to you, only causing further blood to rush to his already hardened cock. he grit his teeth.

he reached for it, watching the way your fingers disappeared into his. they looked so small compared to his own, so delicate - the thought was toying with his brain, with the sight spurring his need for you.

with careful movements, he slipped the diamond ring onto your finger.

“fits.”

you blinked back a new flood of tears, trying desperately to swallow down the wave of emotions as you took him in.

this wasn’t him asking you - he was telling you. you could feel your shoulders lumping all as you curled into him, his large arm coming to sit around your waist where he yanked you further into his chest. your large eyes peered at your ring with shaking breath, gaze flickering from his back to the jewellery on your hand over and over and over until jungkook wanted to laugh from how cute you were.

the man you had your eyes on for months. for so long, you sat, watching him from your hidden spot by the window, enamoured by the way he tipped his hat at all of the vendors he’d walk past. you peered through the opens doors of the saloon where he’d sip his drink, legs spread, eyes dark before you’d find them catching your own.

most times, you’d hide, looking away, cheeks red as you pretended to do something to hide your embarrassment. other days, where the exhaustion was high, or tears were fresh from the verbal abuse your parents had given you, you’d maintain the eye contact. wonder of a life where you’d be able to walk hand in hand with a man like him up and down the town.

here he was, promising you that life.

“it’s so beautiful.” you whimpered at him, feeling half unworthy of such a jewel.

it no doubt cost more than anything you had ever own, and despite coming from a respectable home, this was grander than anything your mother had too.

his grip on your waist tightened, just as your gaze returned to his, sniffling. he leaned forward, your nose touching his - another act of immodesty, all whilst he curled your dress further into his arms, as though he wanted to finally press himself against you just so you could feel the way his heart was beating out of his own chest.

despite the heat in your stomach, the corners of your mouth lifted slightly through a hiccup. “y-you haven’t even asked..me properly.”

that earned you a small twitch of his own lips. a rare sight.

“on my knees for you, sweets.”

“most men a-ask.”

“most men ain’t me.”

you hiccuped again, sniffling, shuffling closer.

the diamond caught the light of the fire behind him, illuminating the corners of the room and offering it a warm hue. both of you looked down, watching his thumb swipe it against your finger in a sweet movement.

“come morning,” he whispered, tone softer than anything you’d heard yet. “i’m taking you to the courthouse. stand beside you. give you my name.”

he said it with the same certainty he’d spoken every other promise thus far. your eyes shut gently as you found your heart blooming, nodding gently.

you didn’t realise he was still waiting for your confirmation.

you answered him though, not even seconds later, as your free hand moved before you could think. both careful and tentative, your fingers slipped into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, fingers grazing his pulse. he went completely still, with every hard line of his body seemingly locking into place.

you swallowed “is this..still improper?”

his gaze lingered on you for a long moment, slightly gulping as your nails scratched his scalp.

“yes.”

you went to retract your hand, but he stopped you.

jungkook stepped forward until your bodies were completely brushed against one another, chest against chest, head against head, bulge against core. you could feel him in ways that you knew would have you ruined for life, with your eyes drying up from the tears and growing hooded at the feel of him. he held you so tightly, practically squeezing all of the stress and worry of the situation away.

it was then that he lifted your chin, noses kissing as your breaths mingling.

“good thing i’m fixing that tomorrow morning.”

—

being married to jungkook was the beginning of a life you never realised could have been yours.

three months into your sudden marriage and you were realising that this was what living was all about. you’d wake up to his lips smothering your cheek, your neck and lips - covering you in kisses that would wake you from sweet sleep to even sweeter reality. other days, you were the one who would wake first, your fingers tracing over a hardened chest, scarred and wide until you’d catch him staring at you.

oh, the stories you had heard before all of this.

mean, old jungkook. nearly killed a man for talking out the side of his mouth, pistol to his head after beating him up. the way he’d walk around town, picking up jobs that no one else wanted to do, getting paid handsomely for his time knowing that no other man would be able to do them. everywhere he went, people cowered, whispered even. got his beers for free simply because the bartender was too scared to actually charge him.

and yet, when it came to you, he was completely different. gentle, sweet, softer than anything you’d ever experienced.

in the first few days of being married, you had gone into town on your own, head lowered as per usual as your bonnet, neatly wrapped around your head and neck, hid most of your face from anyone staring in.

oh, it had spread like wildfire.

jeon jungkook had married the village freak. the girl accused of thievery by her own parents. the girl that sat quietly at her window, rarely being allowed outside of her home unless it was for a social affair, staring at everyone in town.

what use did he have for you?

what use did jungkook have with a wife?

people had gossiped with each step you took, and your hands had began to shake without even noticing. you frowned, shoulders raising at the feel of so many eyes on you when your only fault had been existing.

it wasn’t until you felt a heavy presence around you, chest brushing your back, breath touching your shoulder as a head dipped down that uou subconsciously relaxed.

your husband, only a few days in, stretched his arm beside you, picking up the ribbons you were looking at with his own hand. you peered over your shoulder, just as he looked down at you, your gazes meeting as a shy smile began to form on your face, a glint in his eye.

“i like the pink one.” you whispered up at him, and to his amusement, you began brushing you fingers against the very ribbon in his hand.

people were watching with bated breath. it was like watching a film, watching a scene that they couldn’t quite understand, what with the way jungkook openly held you, lips lifting in genuine humour.

“i’ll take the lot.” he grunted at the seller, who watched open eyed, nodding with a slight gasp at being pulled from his thoughts.

you giggled, hiding your mouth behind a gloved hand, before cheekily pushing him away, walking over to another stall, only for him to do the same thing with each vendor you went to.

it only took a month to fully grow accustomed to him. cooked dinners on the table, waiting for him as he’d come home all dusty and sweaty, worked to the very bone - you could feel heat deep in your stomach as you watched him take off his hat, hang it on the hook before walking over to you. before you could even greet him properly, he’d have you pinned against the wall with your skirts up to your hips.

you learned rather quickly that to be jungkook’s wife meant being fucked against every surface, at any given chance.

you knew your husband was obsessed with you, deep want swirling in every crevice of his mind as he practically snarled how sincerely he wanted you despite being in his arms already. working away from you, in town, all whilst making you bolt the doors so you wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone else.

exhaustion practically rolled off of him, but his sheer need for you trumped everything. it was his driving force for months, keeping that ring in his pocket until it was time to actually marry you, and now that you actually wore it on that pretty little finger, it seemed that the feeling had only intensified. he’d come home with it radiating off of him, almost shaking from how much you suffocated his thoughts - all you, only ever you.

the worst thing? you fed into it.

would purr at him the second he got his hands over you, sighing so pretty when he’d pick you up just to push you onto the dining table just to fuck you just the way he wanted.

his favourite was when you’d whimper his name back at him, all shy and breathy, fingers curling into his heavy shirt whilst the sound of skin slapping against skin hit every single surface. it was delicious, really, the way you’d beg for more and more and more like he was incapable of hitting that exact spot. it only spurred him on further.

today was no different.

you, scantily dressed. it was the mere definition of improper, with your cotton dress, just passed your knees but with an open neckline, sleeves slipping down your shoulders whilst your hair sat behind your back. you had cooked him something good, perfecting the recipe over the months you had shared with him until it was the meal he asked for over and over.

you could hear the sound of hooves outside, his horse slowing down making you bite your lip in anticipation. you had been needy for him all day, having choked on his cock until he had cum down your throat but that hadn’t been enough for you. you wanted more. you always wanted more.

turning, you walked over the door just as it opened up, the wooden frame rattling as his heavy boots shook the very ground he walked on.

jungkook appeared. chest wide, shoulders wider, dirt smeared on his boots and jeans as his sun-kissed skin was hidden from you by his cowboy hat. immediately, you walked up to him, taking a hold of it before putting it on your own head with a loud giggle, peering up at him through your eyelashes.

“hi.”

he gruffed at you, a man of few words still.

before you could say anything more, his too large hands grabbed you, picking you up with an ease that came from a life of manual labour.

you sighed all pretty, legs wrapping around his waist almost immediately as he breathed in your scent, heavy, lips attached to the pulse in your throat almost immediately.

“fucking missed you.” he hissed, almost angry, as though the thought of you had been plaguing him all day. “always smell so good.”

“it’s the perfume you bought me, kookie.” you hummed back, hat still on your head.

“need to buy you more.”

that earned him a smile as he lifted his head to look at you. for a few moments, his eyes traced over ever inch of your face - his chest tightened. his pretty, little wife. you were the sweetest thing he had ever gotten in his life and having you in his arms like this, barely dressed, breasts peaking out over the white cotton, already littered with purple bruises created as a manifestation of his feelings for you.

“missed you.” you admitted softly, noses brushing against one another. “you worked for so long today.”

the whine in your voice had his already hard cock push against the denim of his jeans.

“gotta work hard for you, sweets.” he murmured back in that gentle tone he reserved solely for you.

you frowned a little at his words, knowing he pushed his body a little too hard for your liking all in the name of being able to spoil you rotten, when all you wanted was him and him alone.

“you look tired.”

“m’fine, baby.”

“worked all day without eating again.” you muttered with a deeper frown, just as he dropped his head to kiss the corner of your mouth. “told you i don’t like it when you do that, kookie.”

“like coming home ‘n eating with you.” he responded, lips attacking your throat.

you bit back a soft whimper as you tilted your head to the side, eyes slowly closing at the familiar and yet euphoric feeling of jungkook savouring you. sweet kisses always became ravenous, especially when he’d find that sweet spot on your neck, your shaking hands clinging to his shoulders.

you squeaked as he bit down on your neck, hissing, grunting, large hands moving down to cup your ass cheeks.

“c-cooked for you..” you whimpered out then, opening your eyes despite wanting nothing more than to have him ruin you. “made..made you your favourite.”

“yeah?” he whispered. “my girl been cooking for me?”

“mhm. made it real nice this time.”

jungkook knew his curse in this life was to feel too much for you. the cuteness aggression practically overtook him every time he took a look at you - so sweet, so eager to please. he placed you on the ground after planting a final few brushes of his lips against your jaw before leaning down properly, head pressing against yours, and placing a kiss to your lips.

you utterly melted in his arms, his arms tightening around yours as you slacked against him, kissing him back with just as much passion.

your lips moved in unison, fingers clinging to the material bunched around his stomach as he leaned down in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. his body engulfed yours, shielding your own frame from anything other than the feel of his love for you.

you moaned into his mouth just as his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, making you readily open up for him to swirl and devour you in every way you wanted. his hands trailed over you, kissing, taking, fixing - you were his sweet girl and you relished in it, all whilst taking his kisses. feeling you melt against him had his brain short circuiting.

you pulled away breathlessly.

he chased you with his lips, kissing you over and over until you were a giggling mess struggling for air, pushing him away with a gentle pat of his chest. he wasn’t a talker, not much of a smiler, but fuck; one look at you and he couldn’t help the small quirk of his mouth.

“come on, cowboy.” you teased him.

he followed you, watching you adjust your dress once more despite his wandering eye, his cock half hard from the sight of your hips swaying innocently. his little wife was a minx, a destroyer of his very sense and being and she had no idea - perhaps that was what attracted him so much to you. the sense of constant naiveness, a gentleness stretched to you that he loved to pollute, wanting nothing more than to hear you beg for it first.

you shoved him down into the chair at the table, almost cheekily, whilst plating his dish.

jungkook sat with spread legs, thighs large and toned, eyes dark. he tracked your movements until you placed the plate in front of him, and watched as you turned to sit opposite him.

no chance.

one swipe of your waist and you were squeaking, pulled onto his lap, your dress sliding up in an immodest way as it revealed your inner thighs, jungkook making you press your back to his chest. he loved having you on him when he ate, or when he did anything, really.

his favourite was having you on his horse with him. riding his horse around the county, you facing him, chest to chest as you clung to him like he was the only thing you needed in the entire world and it made him feel like more of a man than ever. you were his darling girl, his sweets - your mere existence had him pumping up his chest as he rode you into town, burning holes into anyone who dared even look at you.

you couldn’t help your giggles as jungkook made a show of positioning you properly on his lap, his body engulfing yours despite both of you being sat, causing you to snuggle back into him. you watched him begin to eat, your fingers curling into his shirt, observing with curiosity.

you weren’t the best cook. cleaning and maintaining the home was difficult too; but you tried - not like it mattered to jungkook whatsoever. he liked you lounging around, looking pretty and reading your books, playing with the new ribbons you were ready to sow onto your bonnets.

he was obsessed with you. hard not to be, in his eyes, as he deemed you the dream woman he had always wished for, still half unbelieving that you too had shared the same feelings for him. he wasn’t a man of love or romance by any means but for you, he wanted it all. wanted to show you it piece by piece if it meant it would make you shine brighter.

he manoeuvred you then, feeding you the last few bites so you could get a taste of the stew you had cooked so nicely, positioning you oh so perfectly onto his cock so that it nudged your clit just right.

the feel had a soft sort of gasp leaving your throat as you clung to the edge of the table, looking down to see his hands on either side of your waist, grinding you down onto his cock like it was normal. you threw your head back slightly, moaning into the air as he pulled you back and forth, a hiss leaving his own lips.

“tell me, sweets. you like wearing slutty dresses like this around the house?” he harshly whispered into your ear, nudging your clit meanly.

“mhm.” you nodded, not even denying it. “like what you do when i wear them.”

at that, he squeezed the skin on your stomach, leaning down to bite down on your shoulder.

“yeah?” suckling on the skin. “what do i do?”

“make me take it.” you whimpered back, leaning forward even further.

“yeah i fucking do.”

jungkook grabbed your throat, one hand rough on your delicate little neck before moving you on his lap and pressing his lips to yours. you kissed him back with a level of passion dedicated solely for moments like this where pleasure overtook your brain.

your tongues danced in unison, a false war you had no intention of winning, and yet it felt so good to tease him just the way he liked teasing you. facing him on his lap only amplified the feeling against your clit as you grinded down, earning you a hiss from his throat.

before you could even think, jungkook had parted from your lips and he was pushing you against the table, your back resting on the smooth, wooden surface whilst he hovered over you.

he pressed kisses against your chest, your stomach, your hands that clung to his body as though he was your very own lifeline. you whimpered as he yanked the dress off of you, practically ripping it in order to get to your breasts. his mouth latched onto your left boob, grunting as he bit down on your nipples sucking, panting, licking. you were left purple and bruised, covered in honeyed hickeys that sunk into your skin like love drunk promises.

by the time he was done with you, you were a whining mess, breasts too sensitive for the way he was ruining you.

“my girl.” he whispered down at you, pressing kisses to your lips once more in hurried pecks, only for your hands to lose themselves in his hair, pulling him right back.

“mm. want you inside already, kookie.” you slurred up at him, all whilst he swore he couldn’t breathe from the sight of you.

hair blown out, legs spread, pretty pussy on show. you were flushed red, purple littering your chest with bitten lips driving him insane. you were everything he had ever wanted, and he often wished he was a man of better words for he had little in his vocabulary that felt adequate regarding his feelings for you.

“can’t, sweets.” he murmured down at you, fingers rubbing at your clit openly. “gotta stretch you open.”

your moans were music to his ears.

“i can take it. wan’it now.”

“you can take it?” he asked, voice condescending.

“mhm. promise.”

jungkook felt a thrill deep in his stomach at your words.

you had been together for a few fickle months now, and every time you had sex, it was the same conversation. it thrilled him at the beginning, and it only fuelled him more - the illusion of bravery. you’d tell him you could take all of him, all at once, only to whine and whimper the second he started to fuck you, too sensitive to stop shaking.

it was his favourite game, hearing you beg and beg and beg, only to watch you beg and break once it actually began.

he found himself in that exact situation now, rubbing his cock up and down your folds, your tattered dress ruined in fragments around your body. you were staring up at him with such hazy eyes, clouded by pleasure, unburdened by reason.

“you sure, sweets?” he whispered down at you, jaw clenching.

you hummed, with a big nod, wiggling your hips. “gonna take it all.”

“yeah?”

jungkook lined himself up, slowly and surely inserting his cock inside of you.

two hands sat on either side of your head as your mouth fell open to form an o, large eyes growing wilder and shaking arms coming to desperately hide your own face. the stretch was unfathomable, both painful and yet so, so pleasurable - a deep itch that could only be situated by your husband’s cock.

immediately your eyes shut tight as he pushed another inch in, just to hear you suck in a deep breath of air, trying to mitigate the overwhelming emotions.

“c’mon. thought you could take it?” he cooed at you, voice dripped in a condescending tone.

it only had you clenching harder around him.

“c-can’t…too big.” you whimpered loudly, much to his glee, feeling your much smaller hands beat against his chest as he further pushed.

“yeah you can. can and you will.” he hissed down at the feel of how tight you were despite being fucked open nearly every night by him.

his words had you moaning out loud, your legs opening wider as he pushed your thighs apart.

before you could whine again, complaining about his size despite being the one to beg and ask for him to fuck you the way you knew you couldn’t handle, he pushed the rest of his cock into you with a single thrust.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, all whilst your body fell limp into his arms. it turned him on so much to see you wither below him, fingernails scratching already scarred skin all whilst clenching around him so sweetly.

the feel of him so deep inside of you, so heavy against your frame as you whimpered, pounding against his chest only causing him to grab your hands. he held them tightly to his chest, forcing you to stay still, all whilst you gasped for air.

just as you were adjusting, jungkook pulled his hips back and began to thrust. in and out, deeper and deeper - the feel of him had drool beginning to form at the corner of your mouth as you fell into cockdrunk territory at the mere feel of his cock. your back rose from the table, hands still locked away in his own, your moans echoing off of the walls of the room.

it brought him such pleasure to know your voice carried, whimpers and cries so loud he was sure that despite his secluded home, the whole town could probably hear him making love to you. his sweet wife, withering and begging for something she couldn’t even handle.

his thrusts began to pick up, growing in speed as the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed in his ears. he released your hands momentarily, watching as you immediately wrapped them around his biceps, begging for him to get closer to you as though you weren’t one.

jungkook turned downwards, picking up your smaller frame from the table and sitting back down on the heavy set chair, pulling you onto him so that you were straddling him with his cock nestled inside.

the position had your brain short circuiting, hitting deep inside of you. you could feel him planting sweet kisses to your cervix, your head pressed against his just as he planted his feet firmly on the ground before fucking up into you meanly. harsh, rough, fast - he didn’t bother to take it slow, knowing well enough that after weeks of fucking each and every day, it was the last thing you craved.

“so tight.” he growled down at you, slapping your ass loudly, all whilst you whimpered into him.

“so mean.” you whined at him, feeling him pound into you like a man scorned.

“gotta be mean to you, baby.” he cooed then. “pussy like this needs to be fucked open.”

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, all before he grabbed your throat, pushing on either side. the lack of oxygen was intoxicating, even more so once he pressed his lips against yours, chasing you despite your bodies already being pressed so intimately together.

“love you. love you so fucking much.” he parted from your lips, watching the way your eyes maintained eye contact, so far gone. “love you, kookie.”

fuck. he loved nothing more than hearing that. your declaration of love, the woman he idolised, worshiped. the very woman he had eyed for months and months, cleaned up his act, sorted himself out just to marry. you loving him was the greatest gift he had.

“again.” he hissed. “say it again.”

“i l-love you.” you moaned, just as he thrusted harder.

you were meeting his thrusts, grinding hard down, riding your cowboy husband closer and closer to your highs.

he goaded you into repeating yourself over and over and over as he shuddered from your promises of love, an understanding shared between you that you were his, entirely. forever.

“my wife. i’m gonna give you the world, sweets. gonna give you everything you’ve ever wanted, you hear me?” he hissed in your ear, hand no longer on your throat. “gonna give you children, get you nice and round for me, hm? you want that?”

you nodded desperately, chest rising and falling in pants as you rode him quicker, the burn and pain completely overshadowed by the aching pleasure each thrust left behind.

“fuck. such a good girl for me, taking my cum inside your pretty pussy every day.”

his coos were taunting you, and you could feel it deep inside your stomach. you were falling victim to it, letting it roll off of you in waves as his tone only heightened the already growing pressure in your stomach.

you knew you wouldn’t last, knew that it was only a matter of time you’d be cumming all over him, only causing you to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in even closer, just as he continued to pound.

“wan’it, kookie.” you whispered against his lips, a heightened sensation in your stomach. “get me pregnant.”

the crazed look in his eyes was enough to finally push you off the edge, just at the same time as him, as the both of you let out final moans from a heavy orgasm that overtook the two of you. your eyes shut tight as you squeaked, clenching so hard around his cock he nearly choked, feeling you milk him for every last drop. your legs began to shake around him, caged around him whilst he sat in the chair, still fully clothed whilst you were naked on his lap - the denim of his jeans irritating in your skin almost deliciously.

by the time you were calming down from your high, jungkook had you up in his arms, walking towards the bathroom. his cock still sat inside of you, your shaking figure whimpering in his arms as he bent down to start the bath for you both, all whilst you clung to him like a koala.

your words were spinning through his head at a million miles per hour.

get me pregnant. get me pregnant. get me pregnant.

it’s all he could see.

minutes later, when you were both in the bath, your head rested against his chest, snuggling into him in warm water whilst he clung to you as though you were a precious jewel. in many ways you were.

“you mean it? you ready, sweets?” he softly asked down at you, breaking the silence, all whilst you traced patterns against his skin.

you bit back the soft smile that wanted to form on your lips, knowing exactly what he was referencing. your husband was nothing if not a man who wanted to provide for you, especially when it came to the things you really wanted - you had discussed starting a family before, but this felt like the first time in which you were actually ready.

“wanna have a family with you.” you admitted softly, blinking up at him gently. “do you?”

he brushed a hand against your stomach, cupping the area far too sweetly for a man who knew nothing other than grit and violence.

“i want everything with you.” he confessed honestly.

this time, you couldn’t help the shy smile that appeared.

outside, the wind continued to howl against the walls of your shared home in the very same way the night you had stumbled into his arms, afraid and fearful for your life. you had fallen onto his land, unaware of the fact you had just entered the lair of perhaps the scariest man in town, an act that typically would’ve resulted in a fate far worse than death.

the desert remained unforgiving, the people in town no kinder but everything else has completely changed. no more were you the same girl that sat, locked away in your home dreaming of the very life you were living now. no longer were you the girl, often ridiculed by the people in your shared community for merely existing. no longer were you the girl sat by your window, watching jungkook from afar, wondering his name, wondering what he was like and more importantly; wondering whether he had ever noticed you.

oh, how little you knew then.

how naive you must’ve been to think there was ever a reality in which jeon jungkook could have done anything other than love you in the darkest of ways, possessiveness clouding every one of his actions.

his arms only tightened around you now, broad palm resting against your stomach as though to will an extension of your shared future, chin settling atop of your head all whilst you snuggled deeply into him.

he had promised you protection the same night you had ran into his arms unknowingly, begging for safety, for anything that would take the horrible sense of fear away. he remembered the way you had shook in his arms, half breathless and the other half terrified beneath the pale moonlight - it angered him. he had given it to you, in more ways than one, in forms that you never thought could be for you.

now, months later, you had realised his true devotion.

he had been protecting you from a life that had only ever brought you pain, replacing it with one he vowed to make joyous in every single manner he knew; even if that meant changing the very world to adapt to it.

he knew the whole city could come and knock on his door, but he was ready to answer it the same way he had done that night - with one hand on his gun, and the other holding your shaking body to his almost harshly. he dared anyone to take his girl away, his wife, his sweet, sweet girl.

he’d make them fucking pay.

—

hi my loves 💜

fighting the PCD really hard rn but also using it to fuel my writing, so i hope you guys enjoy this!!

as usual, let me know your thoughts & if you have any ideas for me my babies <3

if you wanna support a bad b pay her london rent, my kofi is here !!

i love you so so so so bad

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

ohhowjooniewept

co-parent jk x bratty y/n

one shot - tension, smutty — 13k>

warning: slutty dilf

—

whoever told you coparenting was hard was a fucking loser.

a concept you truly couldn’t bring yourself to understand in any capacity, considering your coparenting situation was one most dreamt about.

you know you were probably privileged considering the horror stories you’d heard online that felt more like a nightmare than actual reality - you’d never experienced any screaming matches over custody, no passive aggressive texts sent at heinous hours of the night, no awkward handovers that made you uncomfortable. you had your ex husband wrapped around your little finger; a fact both you and he relished in openly.

in fact, your initial divorce from jeon jungkook had only confused people. despite the signed papers between you symbolising an end of the relationship over two years ago, nothing about your dynamic functioned as though you were exes.

you were both polar opposites, two people that came from a different walk of life and so it was a well known fact that neither of you would last as a married couple, and yet here you were, orbiting one another as though the prospect of otherwise was too foreign to entertain.

the best way to describe jungkook was manly. he embodied the very meaning of it - half mechanic, other half beast with rough edges and broad hands, grease permanently smeared on his skin. his large frame was covered in tattoos, beefy arms flexing as he’d work whilst his dark hair would constantly fall into his eyes because he’d forget to go to the barber until you all but forced him to go.

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

kooklovee

Uncut - JJK (m)

Jungkook’s newest obsession with vlogging turns into the two of you making your first sex tape together.

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - 18+ established relationship au, smut MDNI

wc -3.3k

Warnings - filming sex ofc, lotss of kissing, pet names, big d jk, marking, biting, oral f. and m. receiving, dom jk, fingering, breast play, unprotected sex, crying, praises, riding, missionary, cumming on body, rough sex, overstimulation, some filthy cum play, they're jst really cutee ((

a/n - every time I think I’ve already written the most filthiest thing I could, I somehow come up with something even more ridiculous 😔 oh n I also plan to post one more fic by this week hopefully!!

M.list | kofi☕

---------------------------------------------------

The staff guides you to Jungkook’s room and leaves after opening the door for you. You gently push the door open and step inside to find Jin walking out from the living area. He breaks into a smile greeting you before telling how impatient Jungkook’s been waiting for you all day.

Your excitement dims a little when you realize your surprise clearly isn’t a surprise anymore making him laugh. He explains that Jungkook found out you were coming earlier in the morning from one of the staff.

You end up laughing while Jin leaves dramatically rambling about being fed up of Jungkook's camera. Needless to say that the world has been witnessing Jungkook’s current obsession in real time. For the past week he’s been recording absolutely everything.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

cherrygkoo

정국 - What Happens In Vegas | oneshot

the one where you visit your best friend jungkook on tour in vegas, finally give in to three years of wanting, and learn the hard way that what happens in vegas definitely does not stay in vegas.

pairing: idol!jungkook x fem!reader

genre: friends to lovers au, porn with plot, angst, smut (mdni!)

word count: 10,145

warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, best friends to lovers, pining for three years, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), ball sucking, nipple play, clit stimulation, fingering, grinding and dry humping, cum play (he eats his own cum from her, spits it in her mouth), hair pulling, hickies/marking, fingering, missionary, cowgirl, doggy style, jungkook and reader get into a fight, vegas hotel aesthetic, backstage access, the morning after, viral vlog gone wrong, reader is from los angeles, reader is nicknamed la and sunshine

a/n: hi everyone! I'm so excited to have finished this story, I've been working on it for a while trying to make it perfect!!! I had so much fun writing it ++ any vegas jungkook look always ends up being my favorite so I had to write something for it. vegas air x jungkook is definitely a dangerous combo!!! anyway, I hope you guys like my fic. I'm thinking of opening a taglist?? comment if you want to be tagged for any of my future works. tysm for reading... don't forget to reblog ⋆. 𐙚 ˚<3

The flight from LAX to LAS takes just over an hour, but you have been awake since four in the morning, watching the dark ceiling of your apartment, listening to the distant hum of the freeway. You told yourself you weren't going to do this. You told yourself you were going to be mature, respect the boundaries of his tour, let him have this without you hovering at the edges like some ghost of Los Angeles past.

But then you saw his story. Posted at 2 AM, the timestamp glowing accusatory in your dark bedroom. Backstage at Allegiant Stadium, the concrete corridors painted that particular shade of industrial beige that exists in every venue in every city in the world. He was holding that stupid vintage camcorder he insists on using for everything, the one that makes everything look like a memory even as it's happening, and he was complaining about the dry Vegas air, about how his skin feels tight, about how he misses the humidity of Seoul, of home, of-

Of you. He didn't say it. But you heard it anyway.

You booked the ticket before the video looped a second time. You packed a bag with clothes you didn't bother to fold, just stuffed them in like you were running from something, and you drove to the airport with the windows down, the Los Angeles winds whipping your hair into a frenzy, the city sprawling behind you in its perpetual golden-hour haze.

Now you are standing in the loading dock of Allegiant Stadium, ducking under yellow caution tape that says CREW ONLY in letters that have faded from sun exposure. The desert heat hits differently here, drier, more aggressive, sucking the moisture from your skin the moment you step out of the rideshare. You can hear them - distant, muffled, the thump of bass vibrating through the concrete bones of the building, the soundcheck for a show that won't happen for hours.

You should have told him. You know you should have told him. But there's something delicious about the surprise, about the look that will break across his face when he sees you, about the possibility that he might be as hungry for this collision as you are.

The security guard starts toward you, hand raised, mouth open to tell you to leave, but you flash the laminate that Hoseok sent you three hours ago in a text that just said come with seventeen exclamation points. The guard squints at the pass, squints at you, and waves you through with a shrug that says he's seen stranger things in this city.

Backstage is a labyrinth. You move through it like you're dreaming, past roadies coiling cables with practiced efficiency, past catering tables laden with fruit you know no one will eat, past the wardrobe racks that smell like dry cleaning and sweat. You find the corridor that leads to the stage-left wing, the one he's posted from, and you press yourself against a concrete pillar that is cool against your spine, and you wait.

The music stops. Starts again. Stops. They're running 2.0 now, you think, or maybe it's Aliens, the melody distorted through the walls, stripped of vocals, just the skeleton of the song. You check your phone. One hour until doors, three until showtime - an eternity.

You watch the makeup artist - Miyoung, you remember her name from his stories - touch up a dancer's jawline with a small brush, precise and unhurried. You drift toward her like you're caught in her orbit, and she looks up, recognizes something in your face, maybe, or just sees another lost girl in a venue full of them.

"You look like you need coffee," she says, not unkindly.

"I look like I need a lot of things," you reply, and she laughs, a bright sound that cuts through the industrial hum.

"Sit," she says, patting the chair next to her station. "I'll fix your face. You look like you flew in this morning."

"I did."

She makes a considerable noise and tilts your chin up with gentle fingers. The brush is soft against your skin, cool, soothing. She works in silence for a while, dusting something golden across your cheekbones, lining your eyes with a precision you could never manage yourself.

"You're the LA girl," she says finally. It's not a question.

You freeze. "He talks about me?"

Miyoung smiles, something knowing and soft. "He talks about the weather in LA. About the traffic. About this coffee shop near your apartment that he wants to try. About how the light looks different there, how it makes everything look like a movie." She steps back, assesses her work. "There. Now you don't look like you just survived a redeye."

You look in the mirror. You look like yourself, but sharper, more luminous, like someone worth flying for.

"Thank you," you say, and she squeezes your shoulder before turning back to her kit.

Time moves strangely backstage. You help a roadie tape down a cable. You accept a bottle of water from a staff member who doesn't ask your name. You watch the dancers stretch, their bodies bending in ways that seem to defy physics, and you think about your own body, about the way it feels heavy with wanting, weighted down by all the things you haven't said.

And then soundcheck ends. The distant thrum of voices, seven of them overlapping, laughing, complaining about the monitors, about the heat, about the dry air that makes their throats scratch. You press yourself harder against the pillar, heart hammering against your ribs, and you wait for him to appear around the corner.

But it's Namjoon first, tall and tired, glasses slipping down his nose, still in his rehearsal clothes. He sees you before you can decide whether to hide or run, and his face shifts from confusion to recognition to something like delight.

"LA?" he says, and his voice carries.

You push off the wall, suddenly nervous, suddenly aware of every hour of sleep you missed, every reason this was a bad idea. "Surprise?"

Namjoon crosses the distance between you in three long strides and pulls you into a hug that lifts you slightly off your feet, that smells like his cologne and the faint metallic tang of the venue. "You're insane," he says into your hair, but he's laughing. "He's going to lose his mind."

"I wanted to-"

"Surprise him," Namjoon finishes, setting you down but keeping his hands on your shoulders, studying your face with that particular intensity he has, the one that makes you feel like he's reading the footnotes of your thoughts. "I know. I can tell." He squeezes once. "Be gentle with him. He's been... he's been looking at his phone a lot."

Before you can ask what that means, there's a whoop from down the corridor, and Hoseok is running toward you, arms windmilling, grinning so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You came!" he shouts, and you brace yourself as he collides with you, spins you, sets you down only to step back and present his cheek with theatrical expectation.

You laugh, the sound surprising you, and you give him a light slap - firm enough to sting, playful enough to mean nothing - before pulling him into a hug that smells like sweat and peppermint gum. "I came," you confirm.

"Jungkook-ah doesn't know?"

"Not yet."

Hoseok's eyes gleam with mischief. "Oh, this is going to be good. This is going to be so good."

The others filter past - Jimin with a wave, Taehyung with a curious tilt of his head, Yoongi and Jin with nods that somehow feel like approval. They don't question your presence, or if they do, they keep it to themselves. You're part of the furniture here, part of the landscape of Jungkook's life that they've all learned to navigate around.

And then, there he is.

He's at the end of the corridor, still holding that camcorder, the one with the duct tape on the side where he dropped it in Tokyo. He's talking to it, narrating his life in that soft, sleepy voice he gets after he sings, something about the venue, about the soundcheck, about how the dry air makes his throat feel like sandpaper.

He doesn't see you at first. He's looking at the lens, at himself, performing even when he thinks no one is watching. You have time to study him - the way he has slimmed down since the last time you saw him, all sharp angles and new edges, the way his forehead is finally visible again with this haircut, the one you told him suited him best, and the tiredness in his shoulders that he carries like a secret, like something he's ashamed of letting show.

You step out from behind the pillar.

"LA?"

Your name hangs in the air - the nickname he gave you three years ago in Budapest, then cemented during those long weeks in Los Angeles when they filmed the album, when you were around so much you became part of the furniture, part of the language. They say it like a word, like a place, like something that means her and home and the one who keeps leaving all at once. The camcorder lowers slowly. His face shifts through seventeen emotions: confusion, disbelief, hope, fear, sunlight breaking through clouds.

"You're not-" He stops. Steps forward. "You're actually here."

You shrug, missing casual by miles. "You said you missed humidity."

He stares. The camcorder hangs forgotten, still recording. You see the pulse in his throat, his hand tightening on the strap until his knuckles whiten.

Then he's moving.

He crosses the space in a rush that feels gravitational, arms around you, lifting you off your feet, spinning you once, twice, laughing into the curve of your neck. He smells like rehearsal - sweat and cologne and something uniquely him, the fabric softener you bought him last Christmas.

"You're insane," he says, setting you down but not letting go, hands gripping your waist like you'll evaporate. "When did you- how did you-"

"Hoseok," you admit. Hoseok cackles behind you.

"Hoseok," Jungkook repeats, but he's not angry, only present, eyes scanning your face like he's memorizing it, like he's been starving and you're the first meal. "I can't believe you. I can't believe you're here."

"Surprise," you say softer, and his expression shifts, becoming tender and vulnerable.

"Yeah." He breathes. "Surprise."

He doesn't let go. The camcorder bumps your hip. He looks down at it, forgotten, then back at you with a question.

"Keep filming," you say.

He lifts the camera, captures both of you in the frame. You see yourself on the small screen - flushed, bright-eyed. See him looking at you instead of the lens.

"Day three in Vegas," he says, voice rough. "Soundcheck finished at Allegiant Stadium. We ran 2.0 and Aliens and-" he glances at you, swallows, "-LA is here. She just showed up. Like a ghost. Like a miracle."

"Not a miracle," you protest, smiling.

"Miracle," he insists. He turns the camera off, pulls you back into his arms, face buried in your hair. "Stay," he mumbles.

"I'll stay for now," you say, and he exhales like you've granted him something precious.

The hours blur. You find your place at the end of the southwest walkway, pressed against the scaffolding where the lights don't reach, where the curtain hangs heavy and dark between you and the world. Through the screen you can see them - seven figures moving through their formations on the central stage, then dispersing down the four walkways that stretch like arms reaching for the crowd.

From here the stadium opens up around you, three hundred sixty degrees of screaming, of light sticks creating oceans of color, of faces tilted upward like they're looking at something holy. You watch him move down the northeast walkway, then the northwest, then back to center, and you can imagine the sweat on his brow, can see the way he scans the crowd between lyrics, the way his shoulders relax when he finds your shadow in the wings.

You watch them run through Into the Sun - his voice rising through his verse like something carved from light, like a prayer offered up in a language only the faithful understand. He sounds angelic, truly, the kind of voice that makes you understand why people build religions around beauty, why they kneel before things they cannot comprehend. Through the screen his face flickers, close-up, ethereal, and you think of Hungary, of that bar in Budapest where you met, where he was just a boy with a pretty smile and you were just a girl who didn't know enough to be impressed.

He thought you were cute. You thought he was funny. The night ended in laughter and phone numbers exchanged on a napkin you still have somewhere, pressed between the pages of a book you never finished.

Now thousands of people scream his name, reaching toward the walkway like they could pull him down and keep him. You watch girls cry, boys scream, bodies pressed against barriers, living for this moment, this proximity to something they've only ever seen through glass.

And you realize - with something that feels like vertigo - that you are living someone's dream. That the boy they're screaming for is the same one who texts you memes at 3 AM, who sends you voice notes complaining about his laundry, who fell asleep on your couch last November and drooled on your throw pillow.

The thought makes you feel strange, temporary, like a glitch in the system. Like eventually the universe will notice and correct its error.

But then he's moving toward you, down the southwest walkway, and through the distance you see his eyes find yours, and he smiles - not the performance smile, but something smaller, real, meant only for you.

For a moment, the stadium fades. It's just his face - looking at you like you're the only person in the room.

Then the song ends, and he's turning, and the crowd roars, and you're just a shadow in the wings again, watching someone else's miracle from behind a curtain.

After, when the lights go down and the crowd roars and fades, you find yourself swept up with the others, with pizza that tastes like cardboard and the chaos of post-show adrenaline. You're part of the furniture here - helping Namjoon find his glasses, listening to Hoseok complain about his feet, letting Yoongi show you a meme.

"Where's Jin?" you ask at one point, noticing the empty chair.

"Asleep," Taehyung says, scrolling through his phone. "Said he's going to sleep for a year. So tired."

You laugh, and Jungkook watches you from across the room, eyes following the shape of your smile.

It's barely past eleven when Namjoon stretches, joints popping. "Food," he announces.

"That bar in the hotel, the one with the good sliders. Who's coming?"

"I'm in," Hoseok says, already reaching for his jacket.

"Me too," Jimin adds.

Taehyung looks at you, then at Jungkook, something knowing in his expression. "LA? You hungry?"

You are, suddenly - starving in a way that has nothing to do with food. You look at Jungkook. He's watching you, waiting.

"Yeah," you say. "I'm coming."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The bar is in the lobby of their hotel, some trendy spot with leather booths and neon signs that look vintage but aren't. It's nearly midnight but Vegas doesn't sleep, the place half-full of tourists in sequins and people who lost money and are drinking their way back to even.

You slide into a booth after Namjoon, and Jungkook slides in after you, thigh pressed against yours in a way that feels deliberate. The others arrange themselves - Taehyung and Jimin on one side, Hoseok beside Namjoon - and a waiter appears with waters and menus.

He's tall, dark-haired, the kind of handsome that moves through spaces like he owns them. His eyes find yours immediately, skipping over the five famous faces at the table like they don't register, like you're the only one in the room.

"Can I get you anything else?" he asks, but he's looking at you, his smile slow and deliberate. "Another drink? Something... special?"

You order another gin and tonic, and he touches your hand when he takes the empty glass, his fingers warm, lingering. "Excellent choice. I'll make sure it's perfect for you."

You feel Jungkook shift beside you, his thigh going rigid against yours, his arm pressing harder into your shoulder.

"Thanks," you say, and the waiter smiles again, all teeth, before finally turning away.

"Friendly," Taehyung observes, his eyes amused, watching Jungkook."Very friendly," Jimin adds, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"He's just doing his job," you say, but under the table Jungkook's hand finds your knee, his grip tight, his thumb pressing hard enough to make you look at him.

"What?" you mouth.

He shakes his head, jaw tight, reaching for his water with his free hand. "Nothing."

But his hand doesn't move from your knee, and when the waiter returns - your drink balanced on his tray, his smile even wider - Jungkook's fingers dig in just slightly, a warning, a claim.

"Here you are," the waiter says, setting the glass down, his hand brushing yours as you take it. "Made it just for you. Extra lime, like you asked."

"You remembered," you say, surprised.

"I pay attention," he says, his voice dropping, intimate in the noise of the bar. "To things worth remembering."

Jungkook makes a sound, low in his throat, almost a growl. The waiter glances at him, finally, recognition flickering - oh, that’s Jeon Jungkook - but he doesn't back down. If anything, his smile widens, a challenge in his eyes.

"Anything else I can get you?" he asks, but he's looking at you, only you.

"We're good," Jungkook says, his voice flat, final, his hand sliding from your knee to your thigh, his palm hot through your jeans, claiming territory. "Thanks."

The waiter nods, slowly, his eyes lingering on you one last time before he turns away.

"Possessive," you murmur, not looking at Jungkook, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Not," he lies, his hand staying on your thigh, his thumb tracing patterns that feel like writing, like spelling something out in a language only you two speak.

"You literally just-"

"Drink your gin," he interrupts, his voice rough, his eyes fixed on the waiter's back across the bar. "Before I do something stupid."

"Like what?"

He finally looks at you, his expression dark, his pupils blown wide in the dim light. "Like go over there and explain that you're not... that he shouldn't..."

"That I'm not what?"

He stares at you, his jaw working, his hand tightening on your thigh. "Available," he says finally, the word torn out of him. "That you're not available."

The silence between you stretches, filled with the noise of the bar, the laughter of his friends, the weight of three years of pretending.

"Am I not?" you ask, your voice quiet, barely audible.

His eyes search yours, desperate, hungry, all the things he's never let himself show you. "Are you?"

You don't answer. You can't. But you don't move his hand from your thigh, and when the waiter passes again, you don't look up, and Jungkook's fingers relax, just slightly, like he's breathing again.

"So," Jimin interrupts the two of you, leaning forward, eyes bright with mischief. "LA flies to Vegas unannounced. This is a rom-com plot."

"It's a horror movie," you say. "I'm the ghost who haunts his tour."

"You're not haunting," Jungkook says, "You're... visiting."

"Visiting," Taehyung repeats, tasting the word. "Very casual. Very normal."

You kick Jungkook's ankle. He kicks back, grinning.

The conversation moves around you - tour logistics, the venue tomorrow, Jin asleep upstairs dreaming of hibernation. You eat a slider that tastes like salt and grease and watch Jungkook from the corner of your eye. He's animated, hands moving as he talks, but every few minutes his attention drifts back to you, checking, making sure you're still there.

Hoseok orders a third plate of sliders. He eats them with the focus of a man possessed, and when he finally sits back, patting his stomach with a groan, he stretches his arms over the back of the booth and sighs, long and loud.

"God, I love Vegas," he says. "No consequences. What happens here, stays here, right?"

He says it with a grin, rubbing his stomach, and you realize he's talking about the sliders - about the gluttony, the grease, the way he's going to feel this in the morning. It's a joke about guilt, about indulgence, about pretending the things you do in this city don't follow you home.

But Jungkook looks at you, and you look at him, and for a second the noise of the bar fades out entirely. His eyes are dark in the dim light, and you know he's thinking about all the things that could happen here, all the things you've never let happen anywhere else.

You look away first. Take a long sip of your drink.

"Speaking of," Namjoon says, and his voice is careful, deliberate, breaking the spell.

"We should head up. Early call tomorrow."

"Already?" Jimin whines, but he's already sliding out.

"Come on," Hoseok says, standing. He looks at you, then at Jungkook, and his smile softens into something almost gentle. "Don't stay out too late."

They leave in a cluster, Taehyung waving over his shoulder, Jimin making a kissy face that Jungkook flips off. And then it's just you and him, alone in the booth, the neon buzzing overhead.

"You didn't have to stay," you say, tracing a water ring on the table.

"I wanted to." He pauses. "I have stuff for you, actually. Merch. The good stuff. It's in my room."

"In your room," you repeat.

"In my room."

You look at him. He's watching you carefully, no smile now, just open want and the fear that you'll say no.

"Okay," you say.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The elevator ride is silent. The corridor is silent. His room is on the thirty-fourth floor, corner suite, Vegas sprawled out below like a circuit board, like a promise.

You stand at the window while he dumps his bag on the bed, spreads out offerings - a hoodie that smells like him, a hat, stickers, a photocard.

"Here," he says, patting the space beside him.

You sit. The bed dips. You're close enough to feel his heat, see the tiredness in his eyes, feel your hand trembling when you pick up the photocard.

"Someone had a fan tonight," he says, and his voice is casual, too casual, the way it gets when he's hiding something sharp.

You blink, looking up from the photocard you've been turning over in your fingers. "What?"

"At the bar." He doesn't look at you. He's arranging the stickers in a neat row, aligning their edges with precision that feels like avoidance. "The waiter - he couldn't stop looking at you."

You laugh, surprised, the sound bright in the quiet room. "Are you serious? You had like seventy-two thousand people screaming your name tonight."

"Seventy-two thousand and one," he corrects, and there's a smirk tugging at his mouth, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "But I'm serious. The waiter, Sunshine. He was into you."

"I didn't notice." You set the photocard down, reach for the hoodie, bring it to your nose to breathe in the smell of him-fabric softener and something else, something warm. "I was too busy watching you eat like you hadn't seen food in a week."

"Of course you didn't notice." He says it softly, almost to himself, and something in his tone makes you look up.

"What?"

"Nothing." He stands suddenly, moves to the window, his back to you. "It's just... you never do. Notice things."

You frown, the hoodie forgotten in your lap. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you fly in, you fly out, and you act like you're just passing through." He's still not looking at you, his reflection fractured in the glass, doubled by the city lights behind him. "Like this-" he gestures vaguely at the space between you, at the room, at everything "-like it's just... convenient. Like I'm just convenient."

"Jungkook-"

"Three months." He turns now, and his face is carefully blank, the mask he wears for interviews, for cameras, for strangers. "Three months since you were in Seoul. And you didn't even tell me you were thinking about coming tonight. Hoseok knew before I did."

"I wanted to surprise you-"

"Surprise me," he repeats, and there's a note in his voice you can't name. "Or keep your options open? In case you changed your mind?"

You stand up, blood starting to rush in your ears. "That's not fair."

"Is it?" He takes a step toward you, then stops, like he's afraid of what he'll do if he gets closer. "Last time you were in Tokyo, you left early. Said you had work. But I saw the pictures. You were at the beach with friends. You just... didn't want to stay."

"That was different-"

"Was it?" Another step. His hands are fisted at his sides. "Or the time before that, in New York? You said you'd come to the show, but you got 'caught up' with your ex-"

"He needed help moving-"

"And you needed to be there." He's close now, close enough that you can see the pulse hammering in his throat, the flush high on his cheeks. "You needed to be there for him, but you can't be here. Not really. Not when it counts."

"That's not-" You shake your head, defensive, confused by the velocity of this, by how fast the ground is shifting beneath you. "I'm here now. I flew here. For you."

"For now," he says, and his voice cracks, just slightly, just enough. "For tonight. And then what? Tomorrow you'll be back in LA, and you'll text me when you're bored, when you need a distraction, when you want to feel like someone wants you-"

"Stop-"

"But actually showing up?" He's not yelling, but his voice has gone tight, strange, the way guitar strings sound before they snap. "Actually staying? Letting this be real? You'd never risk it. Because then you might have to want me back. You might have to need me. And god forbid, Sunshine-god forbid you ever need anyone."

The words hit like a slap. You stare at him, breathing hard, the makeup Miyoung applied feeling suddenly like a mask, like armor you don't know how to remove.

"That's not fair," you whisper, but your voice breaks.

"Isn't it?" He turns away again, paces to the window, and his reflection is fractured, doubled, and you can't tell which one is the real him. "At least the waiter looked at you. At least he saw you. You act like I'm invisible unless you need something. Unless you're lonely, unless you're sad, unless you want someone to tell you you're pretty at 3 AM-"

"Fuck you," you say, louder now, anger rising up to meet the hurt. "That's not- I'm not-"

"What?" He spins around. "What are you, Sunshine? Tell me. Because from where I'm standing, you're the girl who keeps me on a shelf. Who takes me down when she's bored and puts me back when she's done. And I keep letting you. I keep waiting by the phone like some fucking-"

"Stop it!" You grab your bag from the chair, hands shaking. "I'm not doing this. I'm not-"

You get three steps toward the door before his hand closes around your wrist.

"Let go."

"Why?" His grip tightens, not hard, just enough to stop you, enough to make you feel the heat of his palm against your pulse point. "So you can run again? Back to LA, right? Back where it's safe? Where you don't have to feel anything?"

You wrench your arm, but he doesn't let go. You're facing each other now, breathing hard, inches apart, and you can see the shine in his eyes that he won't let become tears, can see the way his jaw is clenched so tight it must ache.

"Say it," he says, low, rough. "Say you're running."

"I'm not-"

"Say it."

And you can't. Because you're not running, you've never been able to run from him, not when he's looking at you like this - like you're breaking his heart and saving it all at once.

"I hate you," you whisper.

"No, you don't," he says, and then his mouth is on yours.

It's hard and desperate and tastes like years of waiting, and for a moment you melt into it, your body betraying you, your hands fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer. But then your brain catches up, the words he just threw at you still sharp in your chest, and you push against his shoulders, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

"Wait," you breathe, your lips tingling, your heart hammering. "Wait, you don't get to do that."

He's breathing hard, his eyes dark, his hands still gripping your waist. "Do what?"

"Blame me," you say, your voice shaking. "You don't get to tell me I never stay, that I never risk anything, and then just kiss me like that fixes it. Like I'm the only one who messed this up."

His jaw tightens. "That's not what I-"

"It is," you cut him off, pushing against his chest until he steps back, giving you space. "You want to talk about me leaving? About me not expressing my feelings? Well what about you, Jungkook? When have you ever told me to stay? When have you ever actually said what you want?"

He stares at you, chest heaving, and you see something flicker in his eyes - hurt, defensiveness, the mirror of your own accusations.

"I've been here," he says, his voice low, dangerous. "I've been right here, watching you date assholes who don't deserve you, watching you leave and come back and leave again. What was I supposed to do? Beg you?"

"Yes!" you shout, the word tearing out of you. "Maybe! Or at least tell me! Tell me you want me to stay instead of just letting me go, letting me think you don't care-"

"I care," he snaps, stepping toward you again, crowding you back against the wall. "I care so fucking much it makes me sick. Is that what you want to hear? That I've been in love with you for three years and I've been dying every time you walk away?"

Your breath catches. "Then why didn't you say-"

"Because you were always leaving!" He's close now, so close, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in. "And you seemed fine with it. You seemed fine with whatever we are."

"I'm not bored," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I was never bored. I was scared. I'm still scared."

"Of what?"

"Of this," you say, gesturing between you. "Of wanting you this much. Of needing you and having you leave instead."

"I'm not leaving," he says, his voice softer now, raw. "I've never left. You're the one who-"

"Because you never asked me to stay," you interrupt, and there are tears in your eyes now, hot and humiliating. "You never said don't go. You just let me."

He stares at you, his expression shifting, softening, the anger draining out of him like water. "I didn't think I had the right," he admits, quiet. "I didn't think you wanted me to ask."

"Well I did," you say, your voice small. "I do."

He leans in then, slow, giving you time to pull away, and brushes his lips against yours - softer this time, questioning. You don't pull away. You kiss him back, tentative, tasting the salt of tears you can't tell are his or yours.

"Stay," he whispers against your mouth, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. "Don't go back to LA. Not yet. Stay with me."

"You don't mean that," you say, but you're kissing him again, deeper now, your hands sliding up his chest.

"I do," he insists, breaking the kiss to look at you, his eyes fierce. "I've never meant anything more. Stay tonight. Stay tomorrow. Stay-"

"Stop talking," you breathe, and pull him back to you, your mouth crashing against his, hungry, desperate.

He groans, his hands dropping to your waist, lifting you, and you wrap your legs around him, the friction of him against you making you both gasp. He walks you backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, and then you're falling, hitting the mattress with him on top of you, settling between your legs with a weight that feels perfect, inevitable.

"Wait," you gasp, tearing your mouth away, your head spinning. "Wait, I'm still mad at you."

"Good," he growls, his mouth moving to your neck, sucking hard enough to mark. "Be mad. Yell at me. But don't leave."

"I'm not-" you break off with a moan as he grinds against you, his hips rolling in a way that makes you see stars. "I'm not leaving, but you- you have to-"

"Have to what?" He lifts his head, his eyes dark, challenging. "Tell me what you want, Sunshine. Use your words."

"I want you to stop talking in circles," you manage, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him back to you. "I want you to show me. Show me you want me."

He kisses you again, hard, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, and you meet him with equal fervor, your teeth clicking, your breath mingling. He pulls back just enough to strip your shirt over your head, and you help him, your bra following, and then you're bare and he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world.

"Beautiful," he breathes, and then his mouth is on your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and you cry out, arching into him.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hands tangled in his hair, holding him there. "Jungkook-"

He switches sides, his hand replacing his mouth on the first breast, pinching and rolling your nipple while he sucks hard on the other, and you're whimpering now, your hips bucking up against him, seeking friction.

"Still mad?" he asks against your skin, his voice smug, teasing.

"Yes," you breathe, but you're pulling at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. "Take this off. I want to feel you."

He sits back, stripping his shirt off, and you sit up too, reaching for him, your hands running over his chest, his shoulders, the ink on his arms. He shivers under your touch, his eyes falling closed, and you lean in, pressing your mouth to his collarbone, his throat, biting gently at his jaw.

"Tell me," you whisper against his skin. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," he says, his voice rough, his hands gripping your hips. "I want your mouth on me. I want to be inside you. I want everything, Sunshine, I've wanted everything for so fucking long-"

You push him back, guiding him until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, and you sink to your knees in front of him, your hands working at his jeans. He lifts his hips, helps you strip him, and then he's naked in front of you, hard and thick and straining toward you, and you want him in your mouth more than you want to breathe.

"Fuck," he breathes as you wrap your hand around him, stroke him once, twice. "Sunshine, you don't have to-"

"I want to," you say, looking up at him through your lashes. "I've wanted to. Tell me to stop and I will."

"Don't stop," he groans, his head falling back. "Please, god, don't stop-"

You lean in and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, from base to tip, and he shouts, his hips jerking forward. You take him into your mouth, sucking lightly, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, and his hands are in your hair, not pushing, just holding, his fingers trembling.

"Your mouth," he pants, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, your mouth, I've thought about this-"

You take him deeper, inch by inch, until he's hitting the back of your throat, and you swallow around him, hollowing your cheeks. He cries out, a raw, guttural sound, and you pull back slowly, letting him feel every inch, then sink back down, finding a rhythm.

"So good," he babbles, his hips stuttering. "So fucking good, you're perfect-"

You pull off with a wet sound, catching your breath, and he whines at the loss, his eyes opening, fixed on you with desperate hunger. You meet his gaze, then lower your head to his balls, heavy and drawn up tight. You lick at them, soft and wet, and he groans, long and low, his knees spreading wider.

"Sunshine- fuck, that's- don't stop-"

You take one into your mouth, sucking gently, rolling it on your tongue, and the sound he makes is inhuman, a broken moan that echoes off the walls. You lavish attention on them, sucking one and then the other, taking them both into your mouth and rolling them gently, and he's babbling now, incoherent, his hands tight in your hair.

"I'm gonna come," he warns, his voice strained. "Fuck, I'm close, please-"

You pull off with a wet sound, denying him, and he whines, high and desperate, his hips chasing your mouth.

"Not yet," you say, your voice filthy, and you start kissing your way up his body - his hip bone, the sharp line of his stomach, the ridge of his ribs. You push him back onto the bed, your hands firm on his chest, and he goes willingly, sprawling back against the sheets, his cock twitching against his stomach, wet and aching.

"Sunshine," he groans, his voice wrecked. "Please, I need to-"

"You don't get to finish yet," you interrupt, straddling his thighs, pinning him down. "Not when you've been such an ass."

"Then punish me," he challenges, his eyes dark, his chest heaving. "Go ahead."

You lean down, your mouth finding his nipple, and you suck hard, teasing with your teeth, and he shouts, his back arching off the bed, his hands flying to your hair. "Fuck- fuck, that's-"

He snarls, flipping you over suddenly, his strength surprising you, pinning you beneath him. You gasp, your back hitting the mattress, and he's between your legs, his hands rough on your thighs, spreading you open.

"My turn," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You got to play. Now I get to taste."

He doesn't wait for permission. He dives in, his mouth hot and filthy on your cunt, licking a broad stripe up your folds that has you screaming, your hands fisting in the sheets. He groans against you, the vibration making you see stars, and then he's spitting on you, wet and obscene, rubbing it into your clit with his thumb before he goes back to sucking you into his mouth.

"Look at you," he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to speak, his chin wet with you, his eyes fixed on your face. "Look how fucking desperate you are. Grinding on me like you couldn't wait to get this pussy on my tongue."

"Jungkook-" you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.

"You want me to eat you out?" he asks, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "You want me to make you come all over my face? Say it."

"Yes," you gasp, your face burning, your body aching. "Yes, please, eat me out, I need it-"

He goes back to work with a vengeance, his tongue circling your clit before he sucks it hard into his mouth, his fingers sliding into you, curling to find that spot that makes you cry out. He's messy, filthy, spitting on you again to make you wetter, his fingers fucking you in time with the suction of his mouth, and the sounds he's making - groaning like he's the one being worshipped-are driving you insane.

"So fucking sweet," he pants against your thigh, his fingers never stopping, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Tastes so good. Been dreaming about this, dreaming about having you like this, making you scream-"

"Don't stop," you beg, your voice breaking, your hands in his hair, holding him there. "Please, don't stop, I'm so close-"

"Come for me," he demands, his tongue flat against you, licking broad and filthy. "Come on my tongue, Sunshine. Let me drink you down."

You do. You let go, and the orgasm crashes through you, violent and overwhelming, your back arching, your vision whiting out, your body clamping down around his fingers in rhythmic pulses. He doesn't stop, keeps licking you through it, drawing it out until you're whimpering, oversensitive, trying to close your legs.

"Can't take it," you gasp, pushing at his shoulders. "Too much-"

He crawls up your body, his face wet with you, and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself, filthy and perfect. You can feel him, hard and thick against your thigh, already ready again, desperate and throbbing.

"Let me get a condom," he mutters against your mouth, his hand reaching toward the nightstand.

You catch his wrist, stopping him, your heart hammering against your ribs. "No," you breathe, your voice raw, desperate. "Please. I want to feel you. Just you."

He freezes, his eyes snapping to yours, dark and blown wide. "Sunshine," he warns, his voice rough, strained. "You sure? I can't- fuck, I need to be careful with you-"

"I'm sure," you insist, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, your heels digging into his lower back. "I'm on the pill. And I trust you. I want to feel you come inside me, Jungkook. Please."

He groans, a broken, guttural sound, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his whole body trembling against you. "Fuck," he whispers, his voice wrecked. "You can't say shit like that. You can't-"

"Then do it," you challenge, rolling your hips against him, feeling the hot, hard length of him slide against your wetness. "Fuck me bare. Fill me up. Show me you mean it."

He snarls, his restraint snapping, and then he's pushing into you, slow and deep and completely unhindered, and the feeling is overwhelming - hot and thick and perfect, skin against skin with nothing between you. You both cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck," he pants, his eyes rolling back, his jaw clenched tight. "Fuck, you feel- you're so hot, so wet, I can feel all of you-"

"Move," you beg, your voice breaking, your legs tight around him. "Please, Jungkook, move, I need you-"

He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound that tears from your throat is primal, needy. The friction is perfect, intense, every ridge of him dragging against your walls, and he's groaning with every thrust, his head thrown back, his chest heaving.

"So good," he grits out, his hips snapping against yours, setting a brutal rhythm. "So fucking good, you're taking all of me, fuck- you're so tight around me, squeezing me-"

"Yes," you gasp, your head thrown back, your back arching off the bed. "Yes, just like that, don't stop, harder-"

He gives you harder, his hips pistoning against yours, the bed creaking beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall. He's hitting something deep inside you, a spot that makes your vision blur at the edges, and you're clawing at his back, your legs wrapped tight around him, pulling him deeper with every thrust.

"Touch yourself," he demands, his voice ragged, his rhythm faltering slightly as his own pleasure mounts. "I want to see you touch yourself while I fuck you."

You slide your hand between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit, swollen and sensitive, and you rub tight, desperate circles. The added sensation is too much, just enough, and you're climbing again, the pleasure building in waves that crash higher and higher.

"Jungkook," you warn, your voice high, broken. "I'm gonna- I'm close-"

"Not yet," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm as he chases his own release. "Not yet, I need to feel you from behind, need to see that ass while I fuck you-"

He pulls out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, and he flips you over with rough hands, pulling your hips up until you're on your knees, your face pressed against the mattress. He spreads you open with his hands, groaning at the sight of you, wet and open and waiting for him.

"Fuck, look at you," he breathes, his hands gripping your hips, his thumbs spreading your folds. "Look how fucking wet you are for me, dripping down your thighs-"

"Please," you whimper, pushing back against him, seeking friction, seeking him. "Please, Jungkook, I need you inside me-"

He pushes in with one long, smooth thrust, deeper from this angle, hitting places that make you scream into the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets. He's groaning, long and low, his grip on your hips bruising as he pulls you back onto his cock, meeting his thrusts.

"So deep," he pants, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, you're so deep like this, taking all of me, fuck-"

He sets a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room, wet and filthy. He's hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, the one that makes your legs shake, your vision blur, and you're pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, desperate for more.

"Touch yourself," he demands again, his hand coming around your hip, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough and filthy. "Come for me, Sunshine. Come on my cock while I fuck you like this-"

"Yes," you gasp, your voice muffled against the mattress. "Yes, don't stop, I'm so close-"

He doesn't stop. He fucks you harder, his fingers working your clit in tight, desperate circles, and you're climbing, climbing, the coil tightening, tightening, until-

You come with a scream, your back arching, your body clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses that draw out his own climax. But he doesn't stop, keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out until you're whimpering, oversensitive, your body trembling.

"One more," he growls, his voice strained, his thrusts becoming jerky, desperate. "One more position, I want to see your face when I come-"

He pulls out, flipping you over again, and pulls you up until you're straddling him, your hands braced on his chest. He guides himself back into you, his hands on your hips, and you sink down onto him, taking him deep, so deep you feel impossibly full.

"Ride me," he demands, his eyes dark, his jaw clenched. "Ride my cock, Sunshine. Show me how much you want it-"

You do. You roll your hips, finding a rhythm, your hands bracing on his chest, your nails digging into his skin. He's groaning, his head thrown back, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you, lifting you and pulling you back down onto him.

"Fuck," he grits out, his hips bucking up to meet you, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm. "You're so fucking beautiful like this, taking my cock, fuck- I'm close, I'm so close-"

He groans, long and low, and then he's coming, his whole body tensing, his cock pulsing inside you, hot and thick and filling you completely. His hands grip your hips hard enough to leave marks, his forehead pressed against your chest, his breath hot and fast against your skin.

"Fuck," he pants, still twitching inside you, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, Sunshine, I wish you could taste me inside of you."

You whimper at the thought, at the filth of it, but before you can respond, he's flipping you onto your back, spreading your legs wide, and diving between your thighs. You gasp, shocked, as he licks at your folds, messy and desperate, gathering the wetness of you both on his tongue.

"Jungkook-" you breathe, your hands flying to his hair, but he's relentless, lapping at you with long, filthy strokes, his tongue delving inside to taste where he just filled you, where you're still warm and full of him.

He lifts his head, his chin wet, his eyes dark and fixed on yours, and then he's crawling up your body, his hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back. He leans down and spits into your mouth, the taste of you both mingled on your tongue, warm and filthy and intimate, and you moan around it, swallowing, your whole body trembling.

He kisses you then, hard and desperate, his tongue sweeping through your mouth, sharing the taste, the intimacy of it overwhelming, perfect. You kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him to you, tasting yourself and him together, the most vulnerable thing you've ever shared.

When he finally pulls back, he's breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching your face like he's memorizing you.

"Stay," he whispers, his voice rough, his thumb brushing your swollen lower lip. "Not just for now. Stay."

You close your eyes, your heart hammering, and for the first time, you let yourself want it too. "Okay," you whisper. "I'll stay."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The Vegas sun is too bright. It cuts through the gap in the curtains like a warning, landing directly on your face, and you groan, pulling the sheet over your head. Your body aches in places you forgot existed. Your mouth tastes like him, like the filthy things you said to each other in the dark.

You become aware, slowly, that you are not alone in the bed.

He's awake. You can tell by the quality of the silence, the way he's holding himself still, pretending to sleep. You can feel his eyes on you even through the sheet.

"Stop staring," you mumble, your voice wrecked.

"I'm not staring," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm admiring."

You peel the sheet down just enough to glare at him. He's on his stomach, chin propped on his hands, the blanket low on his hips, the ink on his arm shifting as he breathes. He looks annoyingly perfect. Rested. Like he didn't spend hours fucking you until you couldn't remember your own name.

"You're too smug," you say, pulling the sheet back up. "This is weird."

"What's weird?"

"This." You gesture vaguely at the space between you, at the wreckage of the room, your clothes scattered like evidence. "Weird."

He laughs, soft and warm, and reaches out, his hand finding your hip under the sheet. "It's not weird. It's us. Just... finally."

"Don't say finally like that. Like it's inevitable. Like you knew."

"I did know," he says simply, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. "I've known for three years. You were the one who needed convincing."

You bury your face in the pillow, your face burning. "I hate you."

"You don't." He tugs at the sheet, trying to pull you closer. "Come here."

You let him pull you, let yourself be arranged against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, his chin resting on your head. You breathe him in, memorizing this, knowing you shouldn't.

"I have to go back," you say, the words quiet, into his skin.

He goes still. "What?"

"To LA. My flight's at noon."

"Today?" His voice changes, something cracking. "You just got here."

"I know." You close your eyes, your heart hammering. "But I have work. I have... I can't just stay, Jungkook. I can't just-"

"Can't you?" He pulls back, his hands finding your face, tilting it up to look at him. His expression is wrecked, all the softness gone, replaced by something desperate. "Can't you just... stay? For once?"

"I can't." Your voice breaks. "I want to. God, I want to. But I can't."

He stares at you, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, his eyes searching yours like he's looking for something to hold onto. "So that's it? We do this, we finally do this, and you just... leave?"

"Jungkook-"

"Don't." He lets go, rolling onto his back, his arm thrown over his eyes. "Don't say my name like that. Not if you're going."

The silence stretches, heavy and awful, filled with the hum of the city below, the reality of morning after.

"I'll be back," you whisper, not sure if it's true, not sure if you're promising something you can keep.

"When?"

"I don't know."

He laughs, but it sounds broken. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

You sit up, the sheet pooling around your waist, your chest tight, your eyes burning. You should get dressed. You should leave. You should do what you always do.

But you can't move. You can't make yourself stand up and walk away from this, from him, from the only thing that's ever felt like home.

"Look at me," you say, your voice rough.

He doesn't. He keeps his arm over his eyes, his jaw tight, his whole body radiating hurt.

"Jungkook. Look at me."

Slowly, painfully, he lowers his arm. His eyes are red-rimmed, wet, and it breaks something in you to see it, to know you put that there.

"I'm not running," you say, the words careful, deliberate. "I'm not... this isn't me leaving because I don't want this. I want this. I want you. But I have things I can't just drop. You know that. You have things too."

"So what do we do?" he asks, his voice small, younger than you've ever heard him.

"I don't know," you admit. "But... we figure it out? Together?"

He stares at you, his expression shifting, hope warring with fear. "Together," he repeats, like he's testing the word.

"Yeah." You reach for his hand, your fingers interlacing with his. "I'm not good at this. I'm going to mess it up. But... I want to try. If you do."

He doesn't answer immediately. He looks at your joined hands, at the morning light catching on your skin, at the wreckage of the room around you.

"There's a show in LA," he says finally, his voice quiet. "In three months."

Your breath catches. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He looks up at you, his expression softening, something like a smile touching his mouth. "Maybe... maybe you could be there. In the audience. Not backstage, not hiding. Just... there. Watching."

"I could do that," you whisper, your heart hammering.

"And after," he continues, his thumb brushing your knuckles, "maybe we could get dinner. Somewhere public. Where people might see."

"Jungkook-"

"I want people to see," he says, his voice firmer now, his eyes holding yours. "I want them to know. I'm tired of hiding this. I'm tired of pretending you don't matter."

You stare at him, this boy who waited, who wanted, who finally let himself have you only to watch you leave. You think of three months, of phone calls and time zones and the particular ache of missing someone who exists in a different world.

"Okay," you say, the word barely audible. "Okay. I'll be there. Front row."

"Please," he counters, a ghost of his smirk returning. "I want to see your face when I sing."

"Deal."

You lean down, kiss him slow and careful, tasting the salt of tears neither of you shed, the promise of something you don't know how to keep. When you pull back, he's smiling, sad but real, his hand still holding yours like he's afraid to let go.

"Go," he says softly. "Before I convince you to stay."

"I don't need much convincing."

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough. "That's what scares me."

You dress in silence, wearing the hoodie he gave you last night, your clothes scattered like breadcrumbs, evidence of what you did here. He watches from the bed, the sheet wrapped around his waist, his eyes following you like he's memorizing you, like he's already missing you.

At the door, you turn. He's still watching, his expression open, vulnerable, nothing like the boy who performs for millions.

"Three months," you say.

"Three months," he echoes.

You smile, small and real, and walk out the door before you can change your mind.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The camera wobbles as he adjusts it on the hotel dresser, angling it toward the bed. He's shirtless, hair messy, eyes soft with sleep and something else, something sated and sad all at once. The morning light filters through the curtains, golden and lazy, illuminating the wreckage of the room - clothes on the floor, sheets tangled, evidence of a night he can't talk about.

"Morning routine," he says, his voice rough, still sleep-thick. "Vegas edition."

He moves through the room collecting things - his phone charger, a water bottle, the vintage camcorder he uses for everything. He doesn't make the bed. He doesn't notice the white bra peeking out from beneath the rumpled white sheets, the strap just visible, the lace detail catching the light.

He sits on the edge of the bed, the camera still rolling, and runs a hand through his hair. "Good show last night," he says, his smile small, private, meant for someone who isn't there. "Really good night."

He stands, stretches, his back to the camera, and the sheets shift, the bra sliding more fully into view - delicate, feminine, utterly wrong for a hotel room where a boy band member sleeps alone.

"Anyway," he says, turning back, oblivious. "Day four today, I'll see you all very soon." He reaches for the camera, hand covering the lens. "Cut."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The video is everywhere within minutes. Screenshots, zoomed-in crops, slow-motion replays. The hashtag starts trending before lunch.

@/kookielover97: um. um. UM. WHAT IS THAT IN THE BED????

@/bangtantheories: THE SHEETS ARE WHITE. THE BRA IS WHITE. HE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE. HE POSTED THIS. HE ACTUALLY POSTED THIS.

@/jungkookbiased: zoom in. zoom in on the bed. second frame from the end. that is NOT a tank top. that is NOT his. WHOSE IS THAT

@/rkivesarchive: ENHANCE. ENHANCE. the lace detail. the strap width. that's a WOMEN'S bra. a women's BRA.

@/kookenthusiasts: he slept in that bed. someone else slept in that bed. HE SMILED LIKE THAT AND SOMEONE SLEPT IN THAT BED.

@/jimingotjams: the bra appears to be a standard white t-shirt bra, possibly Calvin Klein or similar mid-range brand. not expensive. not fancy. someone PRACTICAL was there

@/seokjinsfishingrod: practical. someone practical. someone who doesn't need to impress him. someone who already KNOWS him.

@/theorythread: let's analyze the timeline. he posted the vlog at 11am vegas time. his flight was at 2pm. that means he filmed this MORNING. after someone LEFT. the bed is unmade. the bra is UNDER the sheets. they SLEPT there. together

@/kookielover97: IM SO JEALOUS

@/bangtantheories: the smile. watch the smile again. that's not a performance smile. that's a "i got laid and i'm sad about it" smile. that's a "someone left me" smile. WHO LEFT YOU JUNGKOOK???

@/armydetective: the hoodie he was wearing in his last story. the oversized one. the MERCH one. someone was wearing it. someone was wearing HIS hoodie. and left their BRA.

@/tatasandtaetas: SHE TOOK THE HOODIE. SHE LEFT THE BRA. THIS IS CINEMA.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The text comes through as you're above the clouds, the plane humming around you, his hoodie still soft against your skin. You pull out your phone, expecting a goodbye, a safe flight, something sweet.

Instead: a photo. His hand. Your bra - the white one you couldn't find this morning, the one you left behind in your hurry - wrapped in his fingers, the comments visible on his laptop screen in the background. No words. Just proof.

Then another text.

JK: 2.7 million views

JK: They found you

Your stomach drops. You open the link he sends and there it is - the vlog, the screenshot, the zoomed-in crop of white on white, your bra visible in the wreckage of the bed you shared. The comments are already endless. Bra girl. Who is she. Find her.

You: oh my god

You: jungkook you didn't notice???

JK: I noticed now

JK: I'm keeping it

JK: let them look. let them wonder. I know who you are

You stare at the screen, your heart hammering against your ribs, the hum of the plane filling your ears. Somewhere below, the internet is on fire. Somewhere behind you, he's holding onto the only piece of you he has left, refusing to let go.

JK: three months

JK: front row

JK: I'll see you there

You close your eyes, the phone warm in your hand, his words settling somewhere deep in your chest. Outside the window, clouds stretch endless and white. Ahead, Los Angeles waits. And three months from now, so does he.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

meabh-mcinness

For Charity 18+

Main Masterlist

When Sullivan throws a charity event for repairs due to the six fingers damage, you end up getting thrown into the auction so that some rich sod can get a date. Luckily you had your own personal guard dog who comes to your rescue.

Warnings! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! This is an 18+ piece whose entire second half is just smut.

And with that out of the way we come to the second half of warnings. This piece contains: outdoor sex, biting, knotting, wing sensitivity, and a breeding kink and I think that's it? Do let me know if there's more I should tag!

Kalego x Fem!Reader

#kalego naberius

yayakoishii

Lucky Bastard | Kalego x Reader

Fandom: Mairimashita! Iruma-kun

Pairing: Naberius Kalego x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre/Tags: Plotless, Silly, Fluff? Crack?

Summary: It's your birthday and the class just found out that you have a husband. Who is the lucky bastard?

A/n: this was absolutely random. it has like, no plot, no purpose, just me writing a short silly fic abt teachers who are married and haven't told the students !! such a fun trope ;; I'm like, 3 eps away from finishing the anime's season 3, but this fic is spoiler free!! hope you enjoy this <3

also available on ao3!

#kalego naberius

ohhowjooniewept

roommates jungkook x y/n

fluff, angst, smut + yearningggggggggg

13k

if you had to describe your relationship with your roommate to quite literally any other person on earth, you’d be floored.

you weren’t necessarily friends, just something in between. your best friend and his best friend had been in a relationship for 2 years now, both madly in love, forcing the two of you to interact. the first time you met him, you couldn’t help but think he was absurdly attractive. still, with how quiet he always seemed, you assumed he wasn’t all that interested in anything - or anyone.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

ohhowjooniewept

ex husband jungkook x ex wife y/n

fluff, angst, smut, yearnnnnniiinnngggggg

25k>

—

life was supposed to go forward the way you had always been told.

find someone, fall in love, get married, have kids.

that was the formula - the routine of every day life that you, yourself, had agreed to. it was supposed to be easy and carefree, the type of love that felt natural and yet definite. it was supposed to be certain.

jeon jungkook.

the love of your life. no one, nothing, could compare to him; the one constant in your life since you were no older than five. two years older than you, he had been the object of your infatuations even then, and though you both harboured a crush on one another as you grew up, it was only when you were 14 that you both actually pursued something.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

thekinslayed

Thou Shalt Not Covet

summary | Aemond is displeased to find his wife alone with his drunken brother.

pairing | aemond targaryen x wife!reader, unrequited aegon ii targaryen x reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral sex (f), p in v sex, voyeurism, masturbation (m), angst, possessive aemond, aegon is kinda pathetic, Everyone Needs To Chill

wordcount | 5.8k

note | i owe aeg a written apology for this one, im sorry pooks </3 the idea for this came in a peach bellini-induced dream

likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! <3

(dividers by @targaryen-dynasty)

It was nearing the hour of the bat, you had been sitting on your vanity chair, brushing your long locks when you heard the door to yours and Aemond’s marital chambers open. You perked up at the sound, turning with a smile on your face to greet your lord husband. He had been called away to the Tower of the Hand as soon as supper had ended, dealing with urgent matters of the realm while the king was nowhere to be seen. You jumped when the man standing in your room was not Aemond, but your good brother-in-law, Aegon. His cheeks were flushed, his stance wobbly, no doubt from the amount of wine he had consumed tonight.

“Aegon!” you exclaimed. You quickly reached for your robe, covering your nightgown-clad figure to save yourself some modesty. “What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?”

#aemond targaryen

my-hearts-kickdrum-type-beat

The Fruit Of Our Love

Pairing - King! Aemond x Niece! Reader

Summary - There was no greater joy that Aemond could think of than having a babe with the niece he had always adored. From watching your belly swell to pushing the very child out, he worshipped you; his queen, his love.

Warnings - Smut. Targcest (uncle and niece), P in V, oral (f receiving), fingering, riding, pregnancy sex, lactation kink, breeding kink, mummy kink, blood, childbirth, fear of medieval birthing practices, crying, Aemond loves his wife and new little one. Reader is described as having silver hair and violet eyes but no mention of skin colour. Translations: ‘ñuha jorrāeliarzy’ = my beloved, 'gevie' = beautiful, 'avy jorrāelan' = i love you, 'jorrāelagon valzȳrys' = my dear husband, ābrazȳrys = wife. "Dōna valītsos" = sweet boy. “Issa taoba” = my boy.

WC: 10.1K

Part 1 & Part 2 - Can be read as stand alone

#aemond targaryen

ohhowjooniewept

streamer jungkook x streamer y/n

disgustingly obsessive, smutty, yearning - based on this drabble

shout out to my baby @binniebb for the pretty banner, isn’t it perfect 🥹

—

you lived a simple, happy life.

it hadn’t always been like this. growing up in an abusive household meant fists and insults were thrown quicker than sweet assurances ever were. things were different now, though. you didn’t have to wear long sleeve t-shirts just to hide bruises or cry into your pillow every night - you had your own money, your own place with your best friend and a job you loved waking up for.

you worked in your local bakery during the day, something you excitedly woke up for. but at night? you streamed.

cosy games ranging from animal crossing to stardew valley, you would giggle away to your community of 500 followers, and despite only 10-15 people joining per live, you felt a real personal connection. you didn’t do it for the money, but the love you were consistently shown by the people around you.

there was nothing you looked forward to more. you’d excitedly log in at 7pm each evening in your cute little outfits, pink of course. frills and bows occupied your space, your matching baby pink keyboard and mouse neatly arranged on your desk, your headset adorned with the cutest pair of bunny ears.

everything about you screamed warmth, so sweet you were toothache-inducing. little did you know you had grown an admirer within your small fanbase.

you knew most of them by name, especially your regulars but it was user jjk7 that had your heart beating out of your chest most days. your chat would be littered with compliments, from your blushed cheeks to how pretty your eyes looked under the warm glow of your ring light - often mixed in with detailed comments of the game you were playing, making you feel seen.

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

ohhowjooniewept

neighbours, lovesick & infatuation.

jungkook x y/n

had you explained your current situation to anyone in your life, they would surely call you insane. they would ask you to move out or even call the police. they would question both your sanity and actions, muddle your feelings for illness whilst labelling you as crazy. instead, you sat and you stared. stared back at the man who lived in the apartment building opposite your own, who would sit quietly in his bedroom chair openly observing you.

you couldn’t tell anyone else, not really, because you too were at fault. you would sit, on your bed, sometimes pretending not to notice and other times giving him a show. a dance between two complete and utter strangers, not a single word discussed.

two individuals enamoured by one another. observing, with land, air and glass separating them; so why did he feel so familiar? why did your mind race at the thought of evening come, knowing your carefully planned routine would begin? brain hazy and eyes lidded, you’d come home to watch the tattooed boy across the street and he too, would do the same.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

ohhowjooniewept

arranged husband jungkook x wife y/n

<5k

suggestive

—

arranged marriages to most were a concept that felt both foreign and misplaced - something straight out of a film, or imaginative story rooted in fantasy. for you, however, the daughter of one of the leading businessmen in the country, it was reality.

jeon jungkook. that was your groom’s name, a man you had met in passing at events, and as attractive as he was, you unfortunately hadn’t the faintest clue of his character nor his personality. it meant nothing when he too was the heir to a rivalling company, one that had been at odds with your father for two decades. in the spirit of new beginnings, it had been decreed that you two were to be wed in early spring, marking a new era for both families.

you agreed, out of obligation and duty, jungkook doing the same. neither of you had much autonomy, not even being allowed to sit next to one another privately before the wedding as you were both thrown into the world of planning, and organising. that meant after the wedding was done, rings planted firmly on fingers and the doors to your new lavish home closed; neither of you knew what to say.

and so began the current six months of married life.

neither of you spoke to one another with the exception of a polite good morning and good night, passing one another by where you honestly tried to make each other as comfortable as possible. well, as comfortable as one could get when they were essentially living with a stranger.

you slept in separate rooms, both beside one another, with your beds sharing the same wall, a fact you had realised one night as he came home extremely late, entirely exhausted from a work day of hell. you often secretly waited up so you could sleep at the same time, the routine offering some semblance of comfort to you, despite it being silly.

there were some things you’d do together, albeit they weren’t done traditionally. breakfast, and often times dinners were had together on the dining table. neither of you would converse, with your eyes on your plate - it was lost on you that he typically spent that time observing you, making a note of what you liked and what you didn’t so he could properly notify your shared chef.

you were living disconnected lives in a shared home, a fact that unbeknownst to you settled in his stomach uncomfortably every time he’d sneak a glance at you during said meals. jungkook was a man that showed up for you in ways that didn’t quite make sense in your head, as he’d take your car to have it serviced, make sure your housekeeper kept your favourite snacks stocked and most importantly?

told your overbearing parents to shut the fuck up.

they had always been too much, caring little if something made you happy or sad as long as it was good for them and their business, their legacy as they liked to put it. the conversation of children was brought up two months ago, with your father almost buzzing with annoyance at the thought of bringing it up to you. when he had shared his plans, jungkook had immediately told him he had no place in making decisions like that in your marriage, doing good to remind him of the nature of the union in the first place.

he was protective of you, his sweet wife, who cared more about playing animal crossing and baking than she really cared about anything corporate, your family forcing you to work at the company. it grinded his gears beyond belief.

he knew this couldn’t continue like this - it wasn’t fair to you. you were beautiful, far more beautiful than he had ever expected you to be whilst still being warm, intelligent and sweet. he wasn’t sure where to begin, nor where to continue but something had to give.

six months had already dictated your lives enough, and he was finally ready to put a stop to it.

the game was over.

—

by the time jungkook pulled into the driveway, his shoulders aching and head pounding, the clock on his dashboard blared a harsh 1:26am at him, reminding him of the late hour. exhaustion became one with him as he loosened his tie, letting out a deep exhale he could feel from the bottom of his body right to the top, the kind that settled into his bones. he unbuttoned his shirt collar, grunting lightly under his breath at the feeling of finally being free.

his jaw ached, having clenched it continuously throughout his torturous day but it was his head that had him hissing.

meetings. phone calls. numbers. shareholders. men twice his age with too large suits that found every single way to undermine him as he was younger and smarter - it was too fucking much. it was enough to drive anyone insane, but with this and the impending anxiety surrounding his odd dynamic with you, it truly had him exhausted.

the house was quiet, but he could hear a slight buzz roaming through, as he noticed the housekeeper and some of his hired staff still awake, all anticipating his arrival. he apologised wholeheartedly for keeping them so late, asking them to return to their own homes or to help themselves to any guest room. they were as gracious as their employer, all telling him it was fine.

the silence that stretched over the home was something he enjoyed usually, relished even, but right now, it made him uncomfortable. it was hard to describe, but it felt like everything had reached a limit, and he craved something bigger. softer. gentler.

his eyes flickered upstairs. he noticed a light glow emitting from the space beyond the corner.

your room.

it was embarassing, really, how quickly his shoulders eased gently, his wound up body slumping slightly at the thought of you being awake right now too. it was strange, even he knew that, but it brought him a sense of comfort.

his coat was in the hands of one of the staff, who began putting it away beside him just as he glanced over.

“hasn’t she slept yet?” he softly asked, trying to keep his voice quiet just in case.

the older woman bit back a knowing smile, shaking her head. “i believe madam was waiting up.”

his chest tightened.

waiting up?

for him?

jungkook thanked her quietly, nodding a little to himself, before glancing up the stairs once more. he turned, slowly making his way up the stairs, the sounds of his steps echoing around the too quiet home. the hallway was dark as he walked down, except from the glowing light he now confirmed was from your lamps in the corners of your room. you liked to sleep in darkness, which meant you were certainly awake.

still awake. it repeated in his head over and over and over as his hand flexed on the side of him.

somewhere along the way, the mention of you had become dangerous to him, with his heart and head turning, dropping and falling.

it was hard not to feel this way towards you, he thought to himself, trying to rationalise it in anyway possible. you had never demanded anything from him, never pushed, never even complained about this odd arrangement despite how unfair it was for you. you were intelligent, beautiful, accomplished - you were worth a man that made you feel exactly that, and jungkook slumped knowing you hadn’t chosen him.

he knew you had made yourself smaller in this marriage, with a careful politeness in each and every interaction like you were almost too scared of asking for too much from him.

fuck. he hated it.

the truth was, jungkook would have given you anything. he knew minutes after you had finished your ceremony, sharing a gentle peck upon each other’s lips as nothing other than a formality, that he would do his best to make life accommodating for you. he had done that, that he was sure of but to live happily was to be more than just accommodated.

he stood outside his door, staring at the mahogany for an embarrassingly long two minutes before he silenced his suddenly racing mind, turning on his heel to instead face yours just beside it, his eyebrows furrowed.

he lifted his knuckles, gently knocking upon it.

a shuffle from beyond the wood was heard, almost as though you were composing yourself, before the door swung open just as lightly as he had knocked.

his breath caught embarrassingly hard.

you were in one of those sleep dresses, a silky camisole like neckline whilst the matching dressing gown sat loosely done, as though you had just shoved it on, hair messily pulled up into a bun. you looked so soft - he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“you’re home.” you immediately murmured quietly.

the concern in your voice only had his heart beating a little faster, with the way you tilted your head, eyes crinkled slightly knowing he truly had just gotten home. it was so late, and you really didn’t like him working so deep into the evening when you knew that everyone around him had left hours upon hours ago.

“did i wake you?”

you shook your head immediately, tucking the stray piece of hair behind your ear after it fell over your eye. “no, i wasn’t sleeping.”

his gaze drifted over you, watching you do the action with heart struck eyes. you were entranced by how soft he looked in this low light, stomach doing summersaults with him just being here. you guys didn’t really talk often, and it was always something that came every now and then, when you needed it - this felt different.

“you should’ve slept.” he chastised lightly.

you shyly smiled at that. “it’s okay. usually wait till you’re home to sleep so..”

fuck. fuck.

he looked away, unable to meet your eyes for a moment as he felt your words swirl into every crevice of his brain, hitting it right where you occupied each ridge. you noticed it, the way his hand flexed, his jaw tensed, his chest puffing a little at your words like they did something to him directly. it gave you an ego boost.

a few beats passed between you, neither of you quite knowing what to say, but wanting to continue the conversation almost desperately.

“rough day?” you asked, after a moment.

jungkook let out a huff of air, amusement laced in his voice. “yeah, something like that.”

you nibbled on your lip as you nodded, cheeks flushed pink from the sudden attention he was giving you - it felt nice, confusing but god you wanted it more than you could bring yourself to admit.

both of you stood, simply admiring one another openly. his eyes fluttered down from your eyes and down, down, down. your skin looked so soft, with pebbled nipples straining against the thin material of your night dress and your robe slipping from one of your shoulders slightly - you were straight out of a fantasy. you, too, had set your eyes on the way he had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, tie loose, revealing milky skin that you wondered about often.

jungkook was the first to part, swallowing harshly as he realised he had taken so much of your time almost selfishly.

“you should sleep.” he almost whispered, your eyes snapping back up to meet his, cheeks heating even further. “you too.”

neither of you moved.

it was utterly ridiculous. 6 months of being married, living under one roof and stealing glances at one another as though you weren’t allowed - yet this seemed to be the most intimate thing either of you had done.

finally, you brought yourself to be the one to break the moment, knowing how exhausted he really was, despite the heavy stampede of butterflies in your stomach. your eyelashes fluttered as you whispered a soft goodnight before retreating back in your room, door closing just as gently as you’d left.

jungkook stood there for a full minute once more, eyes shut, head straining against the mahogany of the door before retreating to his own room, heart beating out of his chest.

he was so completely, utterly and entirely fucked.

—

sleep didn’t come.

jungkook, instead, found himself rolling from side to side, eyes closing only to snap wide open as he stared above at his high ceiling, his chest constricting whilst his thoughts remained on one person and one person alone.

you.

he couldn’t get you out of his mind. sure, you plagued him all the time, but tonight felt different - it felt like both the start and end of something, as though it meant more than either of you quite realised.

his open curtains showcased the extravagant skyline outside, your shared home sat high enough where you were both faced with the reality that your fortune and social standing had forced you into a marriage where neither of you were sure what the next steps were. his shoulders almost rolled angrily at the recollection of your parents annoyance over not having grandchildren yet, as though anything to do with this situation was even remotely normal.

this arrangement had started as something that best resembled survival for people like you in the environment you were raised in. somewhere along the way, things had changed.

you usually wait till he’s home to sleep.

fuck. the thought was doing overtime in his mind - his wife, sweet and quiet, always making herself small to accommodate everyone else in her life. he didn’t think you’d do that with him, and maybe that meant he was being naive, but the thought of you waiting every time he’d come home so late from the office just to make sure he was safe too?

enough.

jungkook sat up abruptly. he grabbed a pair of sweats, putting them on over his boxers whilst leaving his torso bare, padding out of his room only to notice the soft glow from underneath your bedroom door. you were still awake.

he wasn’t thinking, that much he knew, as he walked over to it, and pushed the door open.

your eyes darted over to the door immediately, noticing his large chest before anything else, your lips parting in shock before you met his gaze. you were in your night dress only, robe long forgotten.

“jungkook?”

god. the way you said his name. it had his shoulders rolling.

his throat tightened momentarily, before he stood a little taller. “did i wake you?”

“no.” you assured, voice soft as sleep laced the corners of it. you were just about to rest your head finally.

he stood there silently for a few moments as again, you both began admiring one another. he, with his large build, shoulders so wide and biceps so muscled you wanted nothing more than to touch them, just to see how they’d feel. he, couldn’t stop staring at your hair, the way it sat, the way it seemed messier due to you no doubt rolling in bed the way he was too. he was, unfortunately, just a man, and so he couldn’t keep his eyes from trailing down your body, almost letting out a groan at the sight of how your dress had shifted, revealing so much more cleavage than earlier.

you sat up a little more. “are you okay?”

his eyes met your eyes.

he really couldn’t stop staring at you. what the fuck was wrong with him?

“couldn’t sleep.” he admitted.

your heart squeezed painfully. without even sparing a thought, you moved, your position no longer in the middle of the bed as you shuffled away to one corner, before lifting the covers a little.

“do you..” your voice came out smaller than intended. “do you wanna sleep here? maybe?”

silence engulfed you both, thick and heavy, as he came to terms with what you had just offered, all whilst you could feel the embarrassment creep over your cheeks. you could feel your hand retreating from the covers as you began to overthink, almost humiliated from the way you had just assumed that was what he was here for.

before you could continue in your spiral, you watched as he turned around.

the door clicked with a soft thud, the click echoing.

your pulse quickened as jungkook then turned to you, body tight, slowly turning off all the lamps around the room, leaving only the one beside you that he knew you liked to keep on till your very last breath each evening. by the time he was done, he pulled the covers back even further, revealing your bare legs and the way your dress had slit up much higher than either of you had expected.

he nearly fucking died then and there when he realised you weren’t wearing any underwear.

he climbed in, sweats already clinging to him in a way that had you realising he was half hard just from looking at you, a fact that had you almost giggling in excitement into your pillow. by the time he was in, you realised how big he actually was, and how much space he took in your smaller bed compared to his - you liked it.

there was something different about him tonight.

something harsher. darker. he was fucking hungry.

you could feel it in the way he watched you, eyes heavy as they dragged up and down your body, then to your face. the room suddenly felt cold, with the only warmth near you emitting from beside you, you lungs gulping in the scent of him.

jungkook leaned back, not quite fully laid down the way you were, whilst his broad chest also took a deep breath, inhaling your scent almost desperately. he looked exhausted still, but now that he was here, in closer proximity than he’d ever been, you noticed how it settled between the fine lines appearing on his faced, clinging to his eyes.

“sorry.” you whispered after a moment, suddenly hyperaware of the lack of space between you both. “the bed’s probably smaller than what you’re used to.”

he met your gaze.

“that’s not the problem.”

butterflies. all over you. swarming in your stomach.

silence swarmed the room again, thick enough to choke on. you couldn’t really comprehend what was happen ing, your husband next to you, sweatpants low on his waist and doing nothing to hide his body, body taking up most of the space on the bed. the city glowed with flashing lights, traffic still on the streets whilst the cool, winter air chilled all those who were brave enough to be outside.

neither of you could look away from one another long enough for admire it.

you shifted slightly below the covers, trying to calm your racing heart. his eyes dropped to the way you curled deeper into the blankets, your night dress shifting even higher up your thighs as a result, rendering you practically bare beside him.

his jaw flexed hard.

you turned on your side quickly after, back facing him now as you tried to put some distance between both of your bodies truly for your sanity. besides you, jungkook exhaled gently.

“you wait up every night?”

your fingers tightened against the sheets. “most nights.”

he was silent for a second.

“why?” he all but demanded.

you shrugged softly against the pillow. “i don’t know..” your voice came out small again, now laced with sleep and honesty. “i just like knowing you’re home.”

jungkook went still. completely still at that.

the past two weeks had been torture for him, coming home in the early hours practically everyday, weekends included due to a massive deal he was closing, and yet the thought of you in your room, ears perked until you heard him go into his own room was..insanity. his heart bloomed with an emotion that resembled the one thing he secretly wanted more than anything. all he could see, think or taste was you.

before you could process the shift in silence, the mattress moved hard beneath and behind you, a strong arm wrapping around your waist, dragging you backwards and across the bed with one rough pull.

a gasp tore through your lips as your back hit his chest, completely flushed against one another.

“jungkook!”

his grip on you tightened before you could move or adjust yourself, your body pressed to him in a way that was inherently indecent - your mind was racing so fast you could barely hear anything other than his breathing by your ear, and the sound of your own heartbeat. this was six months of restraint finally snapped within seconds.

there wasn’t an inch of space left between your bodies.

you could feel everything - the solid heat of his chest on your back, cradling you in, warming you up. his thighs pressed against your own, bare skin touching his sweatpants, though they did nothing to hide the growing tent that was also pressed against you intimately. a heavy hand sat spread on your stomach, bunching the fabric that once draped loosely on you.

god - the way he melted from just touching you, letting out a deep and heavy exhale as though he needed this more than he could explain. his face buried into the space between your neck and shoulder, moving your hair to one side before inhaling openly.

you felt it all the way down your spine.

you could barely breathe with the way he was holding you, firm enough to be possessive and yet you had never felt safer, your eyes shutting momentarily as you let out a matching, airy sigh, content running through your veins. he was holding you like this was the only thing that mattered in his life, and considering the nature of your relationship, it filled you with a sense of awe at knowing you could have maybe had this sooner.

“every night i come home, and i hear you shuffling around in here.”

your eyes fluttered open, the sound of his voice lulling you back to him.

“hear your shower running..hear you watching your shows..” his hand on your stomach tightened. “and then i go to sleep by myself like this arrangement isn’t fucking killing me.”

jungkook swallowed harshly behind you just as you stopped breathing, his words truly out of your wildest dreams as you blinked rapidly.

“i’m tired. so fucking tired.” he admitted quietly. honestly.

the confession sat heavy between you as the air thickened, his words taking their time to settle in the ridges of your brain. it wasn’t just work or the continous pressure on his shoulders - it was this. your marriage. the confusion around it. the want for more. the need for something. the hope it would become anything.

all of it.

the loneliness, the restraint, the constant need for another that you both denied yourselves, convinced that the other didn’t want it half as much.

your hand moved before you could even think. it lifted before pressing against his hand on your stomach, resting in a way that conveyed your shared feelings, assuring him that you too felt the same, that you also felt what he could feel so deeply in his chest.

it was his turn to still. completely and entirely.

his hand flexed underneath before his fingers intertwined with your own - the intimacy of the situation bordering on painful with the way your heart ached at the interaction.

“jungkook..” softly, you whispered.

he shook his head faintly against you, lips now grazing your shoulder in faint, barely there kisses. he couldn’t bare to hear his name on your lips, not when you were also finally in his arms.

“just stay still a second.” his voice cracked on the edges, a clear indication of the exhaustion catching up to him.

somehow that affected you more than anything else.

your body relaxed, softening immediately against him, your limbs settling into his as though it was nothing more than a natural instinct. the reaction he had was instant as he continued to breathe in your scent, only to exhale deeply - he was ridding himself of the tiredness that plagued his soul, replacing it with you. you. you. always you.

a few minutes passed just like that, as you rubbed your thumb over his hand, soothing him gently, all whilst relishing in the warmth that seemed to just emit from him. after what felt like an eternity, you finally turned to properly face him.

the movement forced him to let you go momentarily, an action that genuinely felt akin to the end of the world. the second your faces were now brushing against one another, his arm found its way back onto you, hand heavy on your back.

keeping you close, your noses were mere millimetres away from touching. his eyes dragged slowly across your face like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“should’ve been sleeping here from the first night.” he whispered. “fucked up the second i let you in here alone.”

you fingers trailed up, bravely, to touch his chin, continuing onto his jaw with a barely there graze, as though your intrigue was finally allowed an outlet.

“you’re here now.” you whispered back, as though it was a secret between you both worth celebrating.

“you’re my wife.” he closed his eyes then, jaw slack at the feel of you. “my wife. all mine, hm. my wife.”

it seemed he was speaking to himself by the end of his sentence, pulling you impossibly closer to reward himself for his frankness in that moment. it felt freeing to be so candid with you, and you with him, as you both simply relished in the feel of one another knowing it was finally reciprocated.

you shifted closer without thinking, your thigh intimately brushing against his - the reaction was immediate. his hand flattened against your back, inching down to your ass that was barely hidden by the thin material of your night dress, pushing you flush against him so you could now feel him in a way that was anything but innocent.

instead of going pink or gasping, you surprised him by nestling closer, as though you wanted it even more than he did.

“baby.” he warned softly.

the name alone nearly melted you.

your noses finally brushed against one another, breaths mingling in the tiny pocket of air between you. neither of you wanted to be the first to make the move, so used to staying apart, thinking that was the other wanted - being together, entirely and fully, it was a reminder of how wrong you’d been.

it was unbearable, the tension. the warmth, the heat, his burning stare.

jungkook was a man starved.

your eyes flickered down to his mouth, finally breaking eye contact as your body seemed to move without thinking, pressing against his hardened cock for some semblance of relief. that broke the last shred of restraint jungkook had been desperately clinging to.

his hand slid up to the back of your neck before he finally pressed his lips to yours.

he kissed like a man exhausted, finally finding relief in you, his sweet, needy wife. oh, one taste of you and he realised that this was something he had needed all his life, something he wasn’t willing to give up ever again. had he left you as desperate as he was?

he wanted to be sweet. he knew you deserved that, something soft, something gentle but fuck, he couldn’t help the roughness he chased you with. feeling you try to keep up only made his head absolutely swirl as he grabbed you tight, large hand spanking you equally as mean whilst you whimpered into his mouth.

his grip never loosened for a second, only choosing to push and push and push you closer until there was no more physical space between you, and even then, he continued.

you wanted to feel him in every single way as your positions moved, your arms wrapping around his neck, all whilst he shifted so he could hover over you instead. you could feel him deeper against you as his hips began to grind, making you feel every inch of him.

your legs were spread, dress pushed up to your waist, allowing him to press his clothed cock against your bare core, both of your breathing harsh as you continued to kiss, neither willing to part.

his tongue explored your mouth, all done purposefully as you felt the heat between your thighs clench at the feel of it caressing your own - a promise of what he could do to you, if you only asked.

your hands were in his hair, tugging, making out in a way that was a shock to anyone had they met either of you. months of a quiet marriage, no more than half a minute spent on talking each day, and yet here you were - your husband hovering over you whilst he devoured you, grinding his cock into you until all you could feel, all you could see was jungkook.

by the time you pulled back, hands sliding down his chest, a thin string of saliva separated you as you looked between you. the sight had jungkook hissing as he looked down at you.

the straps of your dress were down your shoulders, it also pushed up all the way to your stomach, leaving you half bare, shielded by jungkook’s large frame and made warm by his radiating heat. you hair fanned out in each corner around you, whilst your typically large eyes sat hooded, lips parted and bruised from the way he had practically devoured you.

he couldn’t decide whether to continue ruining you or to worship you. neither felt enough.

as he kissed you again, slower this time, hips grinding against yours so much deeper, taking his time in ruining you on your too small bed, you realised something.

for the first time since the wedding, you finally felt like a married woman - your husband above you, holding you like you were the most cherished thing in his life, and you below him, as though you were the one and only thing he had dreamt about for months.

it was in the quiet of the night that the distance that had built up across the last six months quietly dissipated, rendering the arranged portion of your marriage dead, whilst you both finally began to feel alive.

comfort personified, you were both finally home.

—

the way i had a dream about this and got to writing IMMEDIATELY ugh need him

lmk if you guys enjoyed - i haven’t edited or read this back so god help me if this is actually shit

if you guys wanna support a writer pay her horrible, ugly, disgusting, freakish london rent, here’s my kofi lol

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

ohhowjooniewept

uncle jungkook x primary school teacher y/n

>15k one shot

obsessive, fluffy, smuttt -

—

being a teacher meant the world and more to you.

it was the only thing you knew you had always wanted, something you had trained for, excelled at and frankly, loved more than words. coming in every day to the young children who were so starry eyed and excited to play, learn their phonetics and see you felt fulfilling in ways you couldn’t explain to anyone else.

everyone knew you as the sweet, pretty teacher who decorated her classroom with all of her free time. you were a miss honey in the living flesh, with cute dresses and cardigans, your hair falling in even sweeter waves, big eyes hidden away behind a pair of glasses. the only way to really describe you was adorable, you were so easy to love.

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

kooklovee

Hold on to me (m) - JJK

Your husband forgets your second anniversary. What starts as disappointment and heartbreak soon spirals into doubt- about your love, your marriage & whether he even sees you anymore. But when Jungkook realizes his mistake, he’s willing to do anything to prove that his love has never wavered..

Pairing - CeoHusband!Jungkook x Wife!Reader

Genre - 18+, established relationship au, angst, fluff, smut, some more angst MDNI

ONESHOT - 11k words

Warnings - angsty ride, hurt/comfort, workaholic Jungkook, miscommunication, crying, deep emotional intimacy, slow build, Jungkook is an idiot but trust me he's sweet alright😭, Explicit smut- unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), soft dom Jk, nipple play, lots of kissing, love-making, creampie, pet names <3, praises, happy ending (sad ending's not in my veins🫸)

a/n- snsjkqkw It's my first fic (well more like I've taken the courage to actually post it)🥹 do let me know your thoughts on it <3 n consider a reblog if you like it, thank you for reading! 🫶

Sequel - holding on to you 🌷

Masterlist kofi☕

---------------------------------------------------

The soft glow of the overhead light casts long shadows across the dining room. But its warmth does nothing to chase away the cold emptiness creeping into your chest.

You sit in one of the dining chairs, fingers idly tracing the gold band on your ring finger, the once-familiar weight of it.. feeling heavier than ever. The house is silent, except for the distant hum of the city beyond the huge windows.

Jungkook is late. Again.

You’ve lost count of how many nights have passed like this, curled up alone in bed, the space beside you growing colder with each passing hour.

He always has a reason. A meeting that ran overtime, a last-minute project, something urgent that demands his attention more than you do. And you’ve always understood. Until now.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

kurapikaenia

Look, dont touch. ︱ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ oneshot.

mafia jeon jungkook set his eyes on you long before you ever noticed him. you, the club’s silent dancer, the one who never spoke, never allowed a single touch yet left men breathless with every movement. a fantasy men paid thousands just to witness, a mystery wrapped in silk and silence. one look at you, and jeon knew that resistance would be futile.

⎯⎯ pairing: mafia jeon x stripper y/n

• warnings: 18+ mdni, dark, smut, erotic, obsession, yearning, kinky, angst, selectivelymute!y/n, bigdick!jk, softdom!jk.

〴note: i didn’t think id share this because i was really insecure abt it for the longest time, but i‘ve made some nunu changes so here we are. think of this oneshot as a soft, reverent kiss on the cheek from me to you. ︴

• word count: 9k

The club had been the posession of Jeon for exactly seven days.

No more crowds, no more wandering eyes. No more hands reaching for what was never theirs to begin with.

Jeon had burned every bridge, erased every extra pair of eyes until the neon drenched room breathed only for the two of you. The bass pulsed low and heavy, but the only heartbeat that mattered now was the one hammering between your locked gazes.

You circled the pole once, eyes never leaving his.

Jeon’s breath stayed even, but his fingers tightened slightly on the armrest. He could feel the aching, all consuming obsession clawing deeper under his skin.

This was the woman who had haunted him since the very first night.

Months ago, he had walked into this same club for business only.

Corrupt politicians sat across from Jeon in the VIP lounge, sealing dirty deals in low voices while his men guarded the doors, guns heavy in their pockets. lust filled men threw money at the stage like confetti, but Jeon hadn’t spared the dancers a single glance. He was here to collect what was owed, nothing more.

once the deal was done, he stood, lighting a cigarette as he headed toward the dimly lit back hallway that smelled of cheap perfume and sweat. The smoke curled from his lips.

Then, you came out of nowhere, colliding straight into his chest with a soft, startled sound.

Out of pure reflex, Jeon’s gun was out and pressed to your forehead before either of you could blink. His other hand gripped your upper arm hard, steadying you from the collision. His eyes were black ice, voice a dangerous growl.

“Do you want to die, little girl?”

You didn’t scream, nor did you flinch away. You just stared up at him, wide eyes flooded with raw fear and a deep, quiet sadness that hit him like a blade between the ribs. Your chest rose and fell rapidly against his grip, but no words came.

Jeon clicked his tongue, annoyed at the lack of apology, intrigued by the delicate creature trembling under his hold. He stepped closer, crowding you back against the cold wall until his broad frame swallowed yours completely as he pinned you there. The barrel of the gun lowered slowly, but he didn’t release you.

You were tiny compared to him. His broad frame completely eclipsed yours, caging you in without effort. Yet even in fear, you held a quiet, striking beauty that hit him harder than it should have.

He lowered the barrel slowly, but didn’t release you. Instead, he leaned in and blew a thin stream of smoke directly into your face.

You coughed; soft and startled, the first sound he ever heard from you.

It was barely a breath, fragile and sweet, and something dark and possessive stirred low in his gut.

Jeon traced the edge of the gun slowly down the side of your neck, the cold metal gliding over your pulse point. He was looking for a whimper, a flinch, any sound of fear. Instead, you only gasped silently, lips parting further, body staying perfectly still despite the tremble running through your smaller frame.

His free hand rose, knuckles brushing your soft cheek with surprising gentleness for a man who had just held a gun to your head. He watched the pretty blush bloom under his touch, your big eyes glassy with fear. You were breathtaking.

“Pretty little thing,” he said quietly, almost to himself, dark eyes drinking you in. “All quiet and scared… but you don’t run. Interesting.”

Before he could push further, hurried footsteps echoed.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon!” Your manager came rushing, bowing repeatedly, voice shaking. “She doesn’t speak much. she’s new, probably just got lost back here. She won’t cause any trouble, I swear.”

The man yanked you away from Jeon’s grip, still apologizing profusely. You disappeared quickly down the hall without a backward glance, robe fluttering behind you.

Jeon let you go, but his eyes stayed glued to the spot where you had vanished, the ghost of your warmth and that silent, fearful gaze burning into him.

He left that night with interest already blooming like poison in his veins.

Jeon returned the next friday for another deal. This time, while he was making his way out, he saw you once again when you stepped onto the stage, moving like liquid shadow whilst the crowd whistled and threw bills, but you never smiled, never engaged. Your eyes scanned the room once… and landed on him.

Tension crackled instantly, thick and electric. You held his gaze longer than anyone else’s.

Later, after your set, Jeon watched from the hallway as a drunk regular tried to grab your wrist near the curtain. You pulled back sharply, ice cold refusal in every line of your body. The manager intervened quickly, muttering, “She doesn’t let anyone touch her, ever. That’s her rule. She’s the most demanded girl here right now because of it.”

Jeon’s jaw tightened. He made a single quiet call that night.

By the third visit, fewer men lingered near the stage when you danced.

By the fifth, the ones who still tried to approach you started disappearing.

And now, seven days after he bought the entire club, the room was empty except for him.

The low lights dimmed even further as the last staff member slipped out without a word. The heavy velvet curtain behind the small private stage parted.

You stepped into the glow barefoot, silk robe sliding off one shoulder, the same calm mask on your face that never cracked for anyone. Your eyes found his immediately. Not by accident, not shyly. They locked on unblinking, the way they had every single night since the first time he sat in that booth months ago.

The same quiet fear lived in your eyes, the same deep, unspoken sadness. But tonight, there was something else threading through it... resignation, maybe. Or the first fragile thread of curiosity.

Jeon sat perfectly still in the wide leather chair, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other resting on his thigh. Black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He didn’t smile, didn’t speak first. He simply let the tension stretch between you like a live wire.

You never spoke. not once. not even now, when the entire club was empty except for the two of you and the rules had finally bent enough for this: one private dance. For him. Only him.

You let the robe fall. It pooled at your feet like spilled ink, revealing the delicate set underneath, lace kissing the curves he had memorized from a distance for so long.

Your body moved before the first heavy beat dropped. Every roll of your hips, every arch of your spine, every slide of your palms down your own thighs was controlled, never giving enough.

Jeon’s breath stayed even, but his fingers tightened slightly on the armrest. He could feel the obsession clawing deeper under his skin, soft, aching and all consuming.

You dropped low, thighs parting as you sank into a slow crouch, back arching until your hair brushed the floor. The lights painted gold across your skin, catching on the faint sheen of glitter still lingering from earlier. When you rose again, you stepped closer, close enough that the heat of you brushed against the air in front of him, close enough that he could smell the faint vanilla on your skin, but never enough to taste it.

Your palms slid up the pole again as you spun, slow and sinful, one leg hooking high, body stretching into a perfect line that made the ache in his chest twist into something hotter.

Your eyes stayed locked on his the entire time, calm on the surface, but he saw the flicker of the fear that never quite left, and the sadness that made him want to wrap the whole damn world in silence just so nothing could touch you again.e simply watched, dark eyes heavy with the kind of worship that only a man like him could give, soft in its intensity, dangerous in its patience.

Jeon was painfully aware of your rules. No one touched you. No one saw more than you chose to offer.

Yet, you were still the most prized, most wanted thing that had ever existed in this club. And now, you were his alone.

His cock strained hard against the front of his slacks, thick and throbbing with every slow roll of your hips. The flimsy fabric of your top barely hid the soft swell of your breasts, nipples faintly visible through the lace. Those thin panties clung to you, the delicate material doing nothing to hide the outline of what lay beneath. Every time you moved, his mouth went dry with the need to taste, to bury his face between those pretty thighs and worship until the sadness in your eyes melted into pleasure.

He had paid you more than anyone ever had, enough that you could walk away from this life tomorrow if you wanted. Enough for that quiet, secluded place you dreamed about, far from bruises and leering eyes.

But tonight you were still here, dancing only for him, giving him more than you had ever given anyone. That knowledge sent a dark thrill through his veins.

You intrigued him. The way your eyes always found his shadow in the dark, the way you bent and twisted as if trying to see past the low lights to the man watching you so obsessively. He had never once tried to touch you, never pushed past your boundaries even though he could have overpowered you in a heartbeat. And that restraint only made his obsession burn hotter, because he respected you. Needed you to come to him on your own terms.

Jeon couldn’t handle the temptation much longer.

Months of watching you, months of dreaming about sliding his hands over your soft skin, kissing away the fear in your eyes, giving you everything you could ever ask for. But what drove him truly insane was your silence.

You had a voice, he had heard that soft little cough the night you first collided with him... but no one in the club had ever heard you speak. The quiet mystery of you made his cock twitch painfully.

He mumbled a quiet curse under his breath, shifting in his seat as you slid down gracefully and sat on the edge of the small stage, legs dangling toward him.

Jeon reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of bills, placing them on the small table beside his chair. His rough voice came out, patience laced with raw hunger.

“Touch yourself. Now.”

Your eyes widened slightly, that familiar fear and sadness flickering, but something else shimmered there too, heat, the same quiet intensity that had been building between you for months.

You didn’t speak, but you obeyed.

Slowly, shyly, your fingers hooked into the waistband of your thin lace panties. You slid them down your legs and set them aside, but the moment they left your body, one hand moved instantly to cover yourself, palm pressed flat and firm over your pussy, hiding the most intimate part of you even as your thighs parted wide for his gaze.

Jeon’s breath left him in a slow, controlled exhale, eyes darkening to near black as he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.

He could see everything except the center of you: the smooth skin of your inner thighs, the soft curve where your ass met the stage, the way your fingers trembled just slightly as they pressed against your folds.

It was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed, your shyness, the way you still protected what no one had ever been allowed to see or touch.

You started with slow, hesitant circles hidden beneath your palm, shy strokes that made your hips roll gently. Your breath came in quiet pants.

In your mind, it was all him. Those intense dark eyes watching you. His large, veined hands instead of your own. His broad frame hovering over you, commanding you to keep going while he finally touched what no one else ever had. The fantasy made you wetter, made your palm press harder, fingers sliding through slick heat while still keeping everything carefully covered.

A tiny, breathy sound escaped you, the softest whimper.

Jeon’s cock throbbed visibly against his slacks. He palmed himself once, eyes never leaving the place where your hand disappeared between your spread thighs.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice thick with restrained hunger.

Your cheeks adorned a soft flush, thighs trembling as you spread them even wider for him, giving him the full view of your smooth skin and the obscene way your palm shielded your pussy. Your back arched slightly as your hidden fingers moved faster under your palm. The sadness in your eyes was still there, but it was drowning in heat now, heat directed only at him

Jeon’s gaze burned into you, obsession coiling tight in his chest. He wanted to replace that shy little hand with his own so fucking badly. Wanted to pry your thighs open wider, pull your palm away, and finally see what you hid so tenderly and what he deemed belonged to him.

Wanted to sink two thick fingers deep inside you, curl them slow while his thumb worked your clit. He wanted to replace that shy little hand with his own so fucking badly. Wanted to pry your thighs open wider until you broke that perfect silence with his name. Wanted to taste you, then pull you into his lap and keep you there safe, owned and protected until the fear in your eyes disappeared for good.

But he didn’t move.

Your fingers pressed harder beneath your palm, legs trembling, breaths coming quicker. You were a soaked mess, glistening down your thighs now and still, he couldn’t see the center of you. Only the way your hand moved, only the mystery of what you kept hidden even while giving him this.

Jeon leaned back slightly, one hand gripping the armrest hard, the other still palming his straining cock through his pants.

He would wait. He would burn. But the day you finally let him touch you… he would ruin you so softly, so completely, that you’d never want anyone else’s hands again.

And in the pulsing neon silence, Jeon was already completely, irreversibly lost in you.

The nights after, began like all the others. You were called to the private room again, just like before, another quiet performance meant only for him.

You had already begun to recognize the rhythm of these nights, the steady anticipation that built inside your chest when you knew he was waiting.

But this time, before you could make it there, your manager grabbed you before you reached the hallway.

Your body jerked backward from the force, arm twisting painfully in his grip. A sharp sting shot up your wrist, and panic surged instantly through your veins. You didn’t cry out, but your body stiffened, shrinking inward like you had done so many times before.

His fingers dug deeper into your skin, nails pressing hard enough to bruise. “You think you’re special?” he hissed, voice ugly with anger. His breath smelled bitter, too close to your face. “Walking around like you run this place now just because one rich bastard throws money at you.”

You shook your head quickly, small and frantic, your free hand pushing weakly against his chest. You weren’t trying to fight him, just trying to create space, to escape that suffocating closeness.

He didn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightened further, forcing a quiet gasp from your throat.

“I’m the one who keeps you here,” he continued harshly. “You think you get to make rules? if i tell you to do something, you’re going to fucking do it!”

You lowered your gaze automatically, shoulders curling inward as your body slipped into survival mode out of fear. The hallway felt smaller now, the sounds of music from the main room distant and unreachable.

His hand shifted from your wrist to your upper arm, squeezing hard enough to make your knees weaken, before he smirked at your fear, his hand now shamelessly trailing down your back.

“You’re going to start sleeping with the customers i give you” he snapped, “or things are going to get a lot worse for you.”

His other hand lifted suddenly. You flinched before it even came down, your eyes squeezing shut as dread surged through your chest.

But the impact never landed. Instead, there was another sound... a dull, sickening crack that echoed sharply through the narrow hallway.

Your manager’s grip vanished instantly. your body stumbled forward from the sudden release, breath tearing from your lungs as you caught yourself against the wall. For a moment, you didn’t understand what had happened as everything felt distant and muffled.

Then you turned, slowly, only to see your manager, on the floor.

His body lay twisted unnaturally against the polished tiles, one arm bent beneath him at an impossible angle. Blood pooled darkly beneath his head, spreading outward in a widening stain that reflected the harsh overhead lights.

Your heart began to pound violently in your chest. Your vision blurred, and then you saw him.

Jeon stood a few feet away, his chest rising and falling slowly, his breathing steady despite the violence that had just unfolded. His knuckles were smeared with blood, crimson streaked across pale skin, dripping slowly to the floor below.

His face was terrifyingly calm, while your entire body began to shake.

Fear surged through you, wrapping tight around your lungs until breathing became painful. You had seen violence before, heard shouting, witnessed cruelty, even had violence inflicted upon you, but never this. Never death.

Your knees weakened beneath you. And then, without meaning to, your voice broke free, soft and fragile, barely louder than a whisper.

Jeon turned toward you slowly, like you were something fragile that might shatter if he moved too quickly.

Your tears began to fall without restraint now, hot and unstoppable, blurring everything around you. Your hands trembled violently at your sides as fear and confusion tangled painfully inside your chest.

“D-don’t…” you whispered weakly, your voice cracking with panic.

You didn’t even know what you meant. Don’t hurt me. Don’t come closer. Don’t leave me alone with this.

Jeon took a slow step toward you. His voice, when he spoke, was lower than before, softer.

“It’s okay,” he murmured quietly.

The gentleness in his tone didn’t match the blood on his hands, and that contradiction made your chest tighten painfully. You pressed yourself back against the wall, shaking uncontrollably as sobs finally broke free from your throat.

Your legs gave out beneath you as you slid downward helplessly, collapsing against the floor as your body surrendered to exhaustion and fear.

Jeon reached you just before your head hit the ground, his hands catching your shoulders with surprising gentleness. The warmth of his touch seeped through your trembling body, grounding you in a way you couldn’t explain.

For a moment, everything felt distant, the music from the main floor, the murmurs of staff beginning to gather at the far end of the hallway. All of it faded into background noise as your fingers instinctively curled into the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

You didn’t realize you were holding onto him until he shifted slightly, steadying your weight more securely.

“It’s alright,” Jeon murmured again, his voice low, though there was something tight beneath it, something restrained. “You’re safe.”

Safe. The word echoed strangely in your mind, foreign and unfamiliar.

Safe wasn’t something you had ever truly known, not in your parents’ house, not on the streets, not even here in the club where you had carved out your fragile set of rules just to survive.

Yet now, pressed against him, you found yourself clinging to that word like it meant everything.

Your sobs came harder, breaking through your chest in uneven waves as the shock finally settled into your bones. You tried to breathe, but every inhale felt like the air itself had turned against you.

Jeon stayed where he was, crouched in front of you, one hand still resting firmly against your shoulder while the other hovered briefly at your back, settling there with careful restraint.

He waited until your breathing slowed slightly before moving again. “we need to leave,” he said quietly.

You stiffened faintly at his words, your grip tightening unconsciously on his shirt as the word stirred unease inside your chest, but the alternative, staying here, in this hallway with your manager’s body only a few feet away was far worse. Your eyes shifted weakly toward the motionless form on the floor, and a fresh tremor rippled through your body.

Without a word, Jeon moved closer, shifting his body just enough to block your view. You didn’t protest when his arm slid beneath your knees.

You barely registered the movement until your body lifted suddenly from the floor, your breath catching in surprise as he gathered you carefully into his arms, as if he had carried fragile things before and knew exactly how much strength to use.

Your hands clutched at his jacket again, fingers trembling against the fabric.

He held you securely, one arm supporting your back, the other beneath your legs, keeping you close enough that you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

The hallway around you seemed to blur as he began walking. Voices murmured somewhere nearby, but no one stopped him. no one questioned him. They moved out of his way.

You didn’t look up. Your face remained pressed into his chest, tears still slipping silently down your cheeks as exhaustion settled heavily into your limbs.

Outside, the cold night air hit your skin sharply, making you shiver despite the warmth of his hold. Jeon didn’t hesitate as he moved straight toward a sleek black car waiting near the entrance.

One of his men, though you didn’t recognize the face, stood nearby, silent and attentive. Their eyes flicked briefly toward you before lowering again in quiet understanding.

Jeon slid carefully into the back seat, adjusting his hold on you so that your body rested securely against him rather than the cold leather.

You didn’t realize where he was taking you until the car stopped.

By then, exhaustion had begun to weigh heavily against your eyelids, body still trembling faintly with every passing second. The movement of the car had been strangely calming, the quiet hum of the engine mixing with the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath your ear.

When the door opened again, cool night air brushed across your face. You blinked weakly, lifting your head just enough to see where you were.

Your apartment building stood in front of you.

Relief flickered faintly in your chest, as Jeon stepped out of the car, still holding you securely in his arms.

He didn’t set you down. Instead, he carried you all the way to the entrance, his pace steady despite the narrow stairwell. Each step echoed faintly against the concrete walls as he climbed, never once loosening his grip.

A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you as your door came into view.

You hadn’t planned for anyone to see this place.

Especially not him.

Jeon paused only long enough for you to fumble weakly with your keys. Your hands trembled badly as you tried to guide the metal into the lock, your breathing uneven as anxiety crawled back into your chest.

He waited patiently, didn’t rush you, didn’t take the keys from your hand.

Eventually, the door clicked open.

You felt the shift in his body immediately once he stepped inside.

You didn’t need to look to know what he was seeing.

The thin mattress on the floor, the nearly empty shelves, the bare walls. There was almost nothing here, nothing that suggested comfort, safety, or even basic living.

Jeon slowly lowered you onto the mattress, his movements careful as he released his hold. The absence of his warmth felt immediate, leaving you suddenly aware of the cold air brushing against your skin.

He stood there for a long moment, gaze moving slowly across the room, taking in every detail of the worn fabric of your blanket, the absence of anything resembling security or protection.

Then his eyes shifted downward, toward the corner of the mattress, noticing the slight bulge beneath it.

You stiffened faintly.

Without speaking, Jeon crouched slightly, lifting the edge of the mattress just enough to reveal what lay hidden beneath.

There were envelopes. Stacks of them, unopened and untouched. All the money he had given you, every last bit of it was still there, kept neatly.

His jaw tightened slowly as realization settled into place. You weren’t living off the money, or spending it.

You were saving. Preparing to leave.

The thought struck something sharp inside his chest as he lowered the mattress again, covering the hidden stacks before turning toward you.

You sat frozen, watching him with wide, uncertain eyes. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly, he asked, “You were going to leave.”

Your throat tightened painfully as you looked down at your hands, fingers twisting weakly together in your lap. You didn’t answer him, but you didn’t deny it either.

You hadn’t meant for him to see this, not the apartment, not the truth of how you lived. The image of your life laid bare in front of him felt far more exposing than standing under stage lights ever had.

“You’re not staying here.” The words came suddenly, cutting cleanly through the silence before you could even lift your head.

You looked up at him slowly. Jeon was standing in the center of the room now, his broad frame rigid as his gaze swept across the apartment once more. His eyes moved from the mattress beneath you to the bare corners of the walls, then to the thin door that separated you from the rest of the building. His jaw tightened slightly, a faint muscle ticking beneath the skin as if he were holding something back.

“This place…” he muttered quietly, almost to himself, his gaze drifting toward the single window. “There’s no security. No protection.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening nervously around the edge of the blanket beneath you.

You had known that. Every night you had laid down here, listening to footsteps outside your door, every creak making your body tense. But knowing didn’t mean you had another choice.

Jeon turned toward you again, his expression hard but not cruel. There was frustration there, yes, but beneath it sat something that looked dangerously close to concern.

“You have money,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Enough to live somewhere better than this.”

Your throat tightened painfully at that.

Slowly, your gaze dropped toward the mattress beneath you. You hesitated for a moment before reaching down, fingers trembling slightly as you lifted the corner of the mattress. The stack of envelopes came into view, carefully arranged in a way that made it obvious they had never been spent.

Jeon watched in silence as you pulled them out one by one, stacking them carefully in your lap.

“What’s your name?” he asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.

You didn’t look up. Your gaze stayed fixed on the floor, on your trembling fingers, anywhere but him.

He didn’t push. He understood.

You didn’t speak not because you couldn’t, but because speaking had always cost you something. You had learned early on that silence was safer, that keeping your thoughts, fears, and even your voice to yourself was the only control you could hold.

And in a world where hands could hurt more than words ever could, silence had become both shield and sanctuary for you.

Jeon studied you quietly for a long moment, noting the tension in your shoulders, the slight tremor in your lips. The thought of leaving you here in this fragile state, with nothing and no one felt unbearable to him.

Finally, he straightened.

“I’ll find you somewhere better, safer. Somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder every second. You won’t dance in clubs anymore.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “I’m not forcing you,” he added, softer now, almost gentle. “But it’s dangerous. people saw me with you tonight. The manager…” His jaw tightened slightly. “What happened back there doesn’t stay in this city.”

You remained still, silent as always, but your gaze flicked faintly toward him. He crouched slightly, as if to match your level again, giving you the space to absorb the gravity of the situation.

Then, without another word, he turned. The sudden sound of the apartment door opening and closing filled the space behind you, leaving you alone with the weight of his absence.

And then, it happened.

You rose unsteadily to your feet, the exhaustion, fear, and sudden surge of emotion coalescing into a desperate, unplanned movement. You stepped forward and pressed yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his torso before he could fully clear the doorway.

“Wait,” you whispered, a soft, broken sound.

Jeon’s body froze, a hand halfway out to the doorknob, eyes wide as he registered the unexpected voice.

“Don’t go,” you murmured, voice so soft it almost blended with your rapid breathing.

He stayed still, hesitation creeping into the edges of his controlled composure. The man who had dealt with threats, and death without flinching was now caught completely off guard by the quiet, trembling sound of your voice and the fact that you had chosen this moment to break the boundary you had always held so carefully.

Slowly, he lowered his hand from the doorknob and wrapped his arms around you instead, careful not to cross the boundaries you had set but steady enough to reassure.

You buried your face against his chest, holding on tighter than you thought you could. And in that silent embrace, for the first time in a long time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to escape anymore.

Not while he was here.

The first few nights in Jeon’s estate had felt unreal.

You remembered lying stiffly in the massive bed the first time he brought you here, your body tense beneath clean sheets that smelled faintly of something warm and unfamiliar. You hadn’t slept much that night, not because of fear, but because comfort had felt suspicious, like something temporary that would disappear if you trusted it too quickly.

But it hadn’t disappeared. And days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

Slowly, without you realizing it at first, the estate stopped feeling like a stranger’s home. It became yours too.

Jeon had given you everything without asking for anything in return.

Clean clothes, soft ones unlike the tight, glittering costumes from the club. Not the uncomfortable fabrics that clung too closely to your skin. These were loose, warm and gentle against your body, soft pants that allowed you to move without feeling watched.

At first, you had hesitated to wear them as they felt too nice, and too undeserved.

But Jeon never commented. Never made you feel like you owed him gratitude for the smallest comforts. He simply placed them in the wardrobe and left you to discover them on your own.

The soft bed had become your favorite place.

At first, you slept at the very edge of it, as far from him as possible, your body turned slightly away, ready to flinch at any unexpected movement. But he never crossed the space between you.

Even when exhaustion dragged him under after long nights away, his body remained still, respectful of boundaries you had never needed to repeat aloud.

Months had passed, and he still hadn’t touched you without permission.

That alone had changed something deep inside you. You appreciated it more than words could express.

And that was the problem. You still hadn’t spoken to him, not truly. Not beyond broken whispers forced out by fear.

Yet every day, he spoke to you like conversation was natural between you. Like silence didn’t bother him, and your presence alone was enough.

He would talk quietly while getting ready in the mornings, adjusting the cuffs of his shirts, straightening his jacket as he explained small details about his day, where he was going, when he would return, who he would be meeting.

You always listened.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t in the room, you practiced saying his name quietly, whispering it into the empty air, shaping the syllables slowly against your lips.

“Jeon…”

Soft, and barely audible. Sometimes you said it again, just to feel what it sounded like resting on your tongue.

You didn’t know when you would say it to him.

But you wanted to. More than anything.

You rarely felt bored inside the estate as there was always something to do, books he had placed in the room, soft music that played faintly through hidden speakers. Sometimes you wandered the halls, your bare feet sinking into thick carpets, curiosity slowly replacing fear.

But even with all of that, you still found yourself waiting.

Waiting for the sound of the front door, his footsteps, waiting for the familiar presence that made the entire house feel warmer.

You didn’t like admitting it to yourself, but you missed him when he was gone.

And tonight, he was later than usual.

You sat curled near the headboard, a book resting forgotten in your lap as your eyes drifted repeatedly toward the door. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting warm shadows across the walls.

Your fingers twisted nervously into the book placed infront of you.

Then, distant footsteps sound as the door opened.

Jeon stepped inside slowly, his movements heavier than usual. His jacket hung loosely from his shoulders, slightly wrinkled, his dark hair messier than you had ever seen it before. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes, and the tension in his posture was unmistakable.

Your chest tightened at the sight. He didn’t notice you at first. He exhaled deeply, the sound low and exhausted as he stepped further into the room.

Jeon walked straight to the bed like he always did after long nights. The mattress dipped slightly as he sat down at the edge, shoulders slumping forward in a way you had never really seen before. Usually, he carried himself with sharp control, every movement precise. Tonight, that control looked worn thin.

That was when you frowned. You pushed yourself upright slowly, the blankets slipping from your shoulders as you moved. The soft fabric of your nightgown settled around you, light against your skin. It was simple, modest, something he had bought months ago without comment, leaving it folded neatly on the bed as if it had always belonged there.

You could tell by the way his head lifted slightly, brows drawing together in quiet confusion when he noticed you sitting up.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, carefully, you shifted closer.

Your movements were slow, giving him time to pull away if he wanted. but he didn’t. He only watched, quiet curiosity flickering faintly beneath his exhaustion.

You reached for him, fingers brushing lightly against his sleeve first, hesitant. When he didn’t resist, you curled your hand more firmly into the fabric and tugged softly.

Jeon blinked in surprise as you were pulling him toward you.

He let himself move, guided by your hands, his body leaning slightly forward despite the confusion written faintly across his face. He trusted your movements, even without understanding them.

And then, you pressed his head softly against your chest.

The contact startled him as his body went still for a split second, breath catching faintly as he registered what you had done. The warmth of you, the steady rise and fall of your breathing beneath his cheek, the soft fabric of your nightgown brushing lightly against his skin, it all felt unfamiliar in the most disarming way.

You didn’t hesitate as your fingers slid gently into his hair, ruffling through the dark strands slowly, uncertain at first, as if learning the motion as you went.

You continued, slow strokes threading through his hair, hand moving patiently. The tension in his shoulders began to loosen beneath your touch, his breathing gradually evening out as he allowed himself to rest there, against you.

Your fingers kept moving, soothing, a small, quiet offering of comfort. The least you could give him.

Jeon let out a slow breath against your chest, the sound soft and unguarded. His hands rested loosely at his sides at first, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them, what he was allowed to do in this moment.

You didn’t push him away. So slowly, cautiously, his hands lifted, hovering near your waist for a moment, giving you time to stop him, to remind him of boundaries, but you stayed still.

Carefully, he let his hands settle against your waist, resting there lightly. Your breathing softened as you felt his weight lean more fully into you.

And then, after a long moment of silence, your lips parted. Your heart pounded faintly in your chest, the words forming slowly, clumsily unfamiliar on your tongue, but you tried.

“…tired?” you whispered. the word came out quiet and fragile, barely louder than breath, but clear enough to be understood.

Jeon froze from surprise at the sound of your voice, soft, concerned for him.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to glance upward, eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. “Yeah,” he murmured quietly, his voice rough with exhaustion. “A little.”

Jeon’s face remained pressed to your chest, his warm breath fanning across the soft swell of your breasts through the thin nightgown.

His mouth brushed lightly against one peaked nipple, the contact sending a quiet shiver through you. He stayed perfectly still, waiting, always waiting for your boundaries.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers continued their slow, soothing strokes through his dark hair. With the gentlest pressure, you guided his head a fraction closer, your other hand cupping the back of his neck in silent permission.

Jeon’s breath hitched. His lips parted, and he began to suck softly through the fabric, tongue warm and careful as it circled the sensitive peak. There was nothing demanding in it, only a deep, exhausted need for comfort. He suckled slowly, eyes fluttering half closed, a low, broken sound vibrating against your skin.

You let him. Your thumb brushed tenderly over his cheek as you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his cheek, then another to his temple. A faint, barely there smile curved your lips. the first real one he had ever seen from you.

“It’s okay.” you whispered, voice barely audible, soothing.

His eyes opened just enough to look up at you. He had heard your voice so rarely that each whisper, each soft breath of sound felt like something precious. He yearned for it, hungrily and in the quietest way.

Jeon never made you feel foolish for not speaking. Silence with you had never felt like absence to him. it had always felt like waiting for something fragile to bloom in its own time.

It did something dangerous to his heart.

He had never known warmth like this. Never known someone would hold him, let him take comfort from their body without expectation or fear.

He continued sucking softly, mouth gentle and unhurried, cheek resting fully against your breast as he drew quiet comfort from the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and the faint taste of you through the fabric. His hands stayed lightly at your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles, anchoring himself without taking more than you offered.

You kept kissing his cheek between soft coos, fingers never stopping their patient strokes through his hair. The faint smile lingered on your lips as you watched him. this dangerous man, reduced to nothing but quiet vulnerability in your arms.

He had spent months protecting you, erasing every shadow that dared come near. Tonight, you were the one giving him shelter.

Jeon’s sucking gradually slowed, growing lazier and softer as exhaustion finally pulled him under. His lips stayed gently latched, warm and wet against your nipple, breaths deepening into the steady rhythm of sleep while his face remained nestled safely between your breasts.

You held him there, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, faint smile still ghosting your lips as you continued to stroke his hair long into the night.

In the quiet darkness, with his mouth still softly pressed to you and his heartbeat syncing with yours, the silence felt warmer than it ever had.

The first night after that moment stayed with you. In the quiet way your skin felt warmer than usual, in the strange heaviness that settled low in your stomach whenever you thought about the way Jeon had leaned into you, trusting you enough to rest like that.

And now you craved it in ways that left you restless at night, thighs pressing together when you remembered the weight of his head on your chest, the way his lips had brushed your nipple through the thin fabric, the soft, needy sounds he made while seeking comfort only you could give.

On the nights he returned home angry, jaw tight, eyes sharp with the weight of whatever blood and deals stained his hands, you did the same. You would take his hand without a word and guide him to the bed. He would follow, always, letting you pull him down until his broad frame curled into you. You’d press his face to your chest, fingers sliding into his dark hair, and he would sigh against you like the whole world finally quieted.

It became a habit faster than either of you expected.

He would nuzzle in, lips seeking until they found the soft peak of your nipple through whatever you wore. Then he would suck slowly, with gentle pulls, tongue warm and lazy, eyes fluttering shut as tension bled from his shoulders.

You loved the way his sharp, cold gaze would soften into something doe like and vulnerable when he looked up at you in the middle of it.

This dangerous man.. twice your size, a mafia who erased people without blinking, reduced to quiet need in your arms. It melted something deep inside your guarded heart every single time.

You would stroke his hair, kiss his temple, whisper soft, wordless coos while he suckled. Sometimes your nightgown would slip just enough for his mouth to meet bare skin, and you let him. The soft, wet sounds filled the quiet room intimately vulnerable, and strangely sacred.

You had never allowed hands on your body with anyone, never permitted closeness. Yet with Jeon, you offered solace, even though he was the most dangerous man you knew, because giving it to him made the emptiness in your own chest feel smaller.

But the more he found peace in you, the more you ached.

The absence of his hands on your waist when you weren’t guiding them. The lack of his mouth when he wasn’t tired and seeking solace.

You wanted more.

You wanted him to touch you not just when he was exhausted and seeking comfort, but because he needed you the way you were starting to need him. You wanted his large hands sliding under your clothes with quiet permission. You wanted his mouth on you when you were the one trembling and restless. You wanted to hear that low, rough voice telling you exactly how he was going to take care of you.

Jeon still didn’t touch you unless you guided him. Still respected every boundary without question.

and that was the problem.

You had spent so much of your life feeling touched in ways you hated, forced contact of unwanted hands, suffocating closeness that made your skin crawl.

But Jeon’s touch had never felt like that. His hands had always been gentle.

And now, you missed them. You missed the weight of his head against your chest, missed the warmth of his hands resting lightly at your waist. Missed the quiet way he breathed you in.

It made something inside you ache, a subtle, quiet restlessness. A strange warmth blooming beneath your skin when he stood close to you. The heat of his body when he passed by, the faint scent of him left behind on pillows and clothing.

You noticed everything now, the sound of his voice, the shape of his hands.

And worst of all, you noticed how much you wanted him.

The deep, unfamiliar longing coiled low inside your stomach and refused to fade.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t home, the estate felt too quiet. You found yourself wandering into the bedroom earlier than usual, curling into the bed where his scent lingered faintly in the sheets.

Days passed, and the feeling still didn’t fade. It only deepened.

Until one night, you found yourself alone again.

The house was silent, Jeon had left hours ago, promising to return late like he often did.

You lay on his bed in nothing but a thin nightgown, thighs parted, two fingers buried deep inside your soaked pussy. Your hips rolled desperately as you chased release, mind filled with him, his dark eyes, his large hands, the way he watched you like you were everything.

A soft, broken whimper escaped.

“Jeon…”

You hadn’t heard when the bedroom door opened and Jeon stepped inside.

You lay on his bed, legs spread, fingers still moving and eyes wide with shock as they met his

You whimpered his name again, shyly trying to cover yourself, but your hips twitched restlessly, starved. Your eyes begged him silently, glossy and desperate.

Jeon’s jaw clenched. His cock hardened instantly, thick and heavy. He was just as desperate, but he didn’t trust himself to stay soft if he lost control.

He crossed the room but still didn’t touch you. “Keep going, angel. let me watch.”

You obeyed, shy fingers returning between your legs, rubbing slow circles while your eyes stayed locked on him. But it wasn’t enough. You were too restless, too impatient and your thighs trembling with need.

Jeon sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here.” He guided you gently onto his lap, your back to his chest, thighs spread wide over his. His hard cock pressed against your ass through his slacks. One large hand rested lightly on your stomach, the other hovering just above your pussy, waiting.

“relax, angel,” he murmured against your ear, voice rough. “show me.”

You whimpered restlessly, grinding down against the bulge beneath you. His fingers finally brushed your folds gently, exploring. The moment he tried to press one thick finger inside, you tensed, a small sound of discomfort escaping.

Jeon froze instantly, pulling back. “too much?”

You shook your head quickly, grabbing his wrist, but another attempt made you flinch again.

He cursed softly, then shifted you so you were straddling him, your soaked pussy resting against the hard line of his clothed cock. Both his hands settled on your hips, holding you steady but not forcing.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low and commanding. “How are you going to take my cock, hm? If you can’t even handle one finger?”

You whimpered, hips rolling desperately against him, silently begging. Your hands clutched his shoulders, needy and impatient.

Jeon’s eyes darkened. He reached between you, gently spreading your folds with two fingers, exposing your pussy to his hungry gaze for the first time. His breath hitched.

“Fuck… so pretty,” he groaned quietly, thumb brushing just above your clit. “Been dreaming about this for months. This soft little pussy… all mine.”

You grew shy under his intense stare, trying to close your thighs, but he held them open, firm yet gentle. “Don’t hide from me, angel. Let me see.”

He lowered you onto your back on the bed, then moved between your spread thighs. You were completely exposed to him now, your pretty, glistening pussy on full display.

He leaned in close, hot breath ghosting over your folds. Slowly,he blew a soft stream of air across your sensitive lips, watching with dark fascination as they fluttered and clenched from the cool sensation. A low, hungry sound rumbled in his chest.

His mouth watered at the sight. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

He pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss directly to your pussy, lips soft against your slick folds. Then his tongue dragged through you in one long, hot stripe from your entrance up to your swollen clit, tasting you properly for the first time. The moan that tore from his throat was deep and filthy, vibrating straight against your core.

You gasped sharply, hips jerking hard. The sensation was overwhelming. his warm, wet tongue too much. Instinctively, you tried to close your thighs, tried to squirm away from the intense pleasure, but Jeon’s strong hands gripped tighter, pinning your legs open wide.

He kissed your folds like he was devouring something sacred and soft, wet sounds filling the room as he sucked gently on your clit, then pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in shallow, teasing strokes.

You writhed beneath him, restless and overwhelmed, small desperate whimpers spilling from your lips. Your hands pushed at his shoulders, thighs trembling violently in his iron grip as the pleasure bordered on too much. Every slow lick, every suck, every time his tongue curled inside you sent sparks shooting up your spine. You were so sensitive, so needy after years of nothing, that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Jeon groaned deeply, the taste of you driving him insane. “So fucking sweet… dripping all over my tongue. taste so fucking good for me.”

When your moans grew higher, he finally slid one thick finger inside, careful, curling gently once he was past the initial tightness. This time your body accepted him, clenching around the intrusion while his tongue continued working your clit.

You were dripping, restless, hips lifting impatiently.

Jeon pulled back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening. “That’s it… taking my finger so well now.”

He added a second finger, scissoring slowly, stretching you open while his mouth returned to suck on your clit. The pleasure built fast and overwhelming until you shattered, whimpering his name again and again, thighs shaking around his head

only when you were trembling and boneless did he finally pull back, kissing your inner thighs gently, eyes soft yet burning with possessive need.

Jeon sat up at the corner of the bed, his cock straining painfully against the last barrier of his boxers. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and shoved them down, freeing his thick, heavy length, the flushed head already glistening with pre cum. He stroked himself once, watching you with dark, hooded eyes.

“Come here, angel,” he murmured, voice low and commanding, dripping with filthy intent.

You obeyed without a word, body still buzzing, crawling across the sheets on shaky limbs until you were between his spread thighs. The sight of his massive cock so close made your mouth water. You had been starved for him for so long.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, lips parting as you took the thick head into your mouth, sucking greedily.

Jeon groaned deep in his chest, one hand gently threading into your hair. “Fuck… that’s it. look at you. Been dreaming about these pretty lips wrapped around me.”

You sucked him deeper, tongue swirling around the head, desperate and eager. Your cheeks hollowed as you took as much as you could, soft whimpers vibrating around his length. He was so big your jaw already ached, but you didn’t stop.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice rough. “Sucking me so sweetly... just like that.”

You moaned around him, sucking harder, one small hand stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The hunger in your eyes made his cock twitch against your tongue.

After a few minutes, Jeon gently tugged you off, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. His gaze was dark but careful.

“Enough, baby. Come up here.” He patted his thighs. “Sit on me. I want you to take it at your own pace. It’s going to stretch you a lot… okay?”

His voice low and serious, eyes searching yours. “You sure this is what you want? we can stop anytime. Tell me it’s okay.”

You nodded, restless and aching, climbing into his lap.

Straddling his thick thighs, you hovered over his massive cock, the blunt head nudging your soaked entrance. You were dripping, thighs slick with your own arousal, but the size still looked impossible.

Jeon’s hands rested lightly on your hips, not pushing, just steadying. “Easy, angel. whenever you’re ready. only if you want it.”

You sank down slowly. The thick head pushed inside, stretching you open with a burning pressure that made you gasp. You only managed a couple of inches before the discomfort bordered on pain. You whimpered, pausing, body trembling as you struggled to take more.

“Fuck… so tight,” Jeon groaned, jaw clenched, fighting the urge to thrust up. “does it hurt, baby? we can stop...”

You shook your head quickly, desperately sinking a little deeper despite the sting. Halfway down and you were already full, barely half his cock inside you, your walls clenching hard around the thick intrusion. The stretch was intense, but the heat and fullness made you even wetter, arousal dripping down his shaft.

Jeon’s hands tightened on your hips, eyes flicking between your face and where you were joined. “breathe for me, baby... you’re doing so good… taking me so well.”

You whined, restless and impatient, trying to push down further but struggling. The pain lingered, sharp and deep.

“Shh, angel. Let me take over now,” he said softly, dominant tone wrapping around you. “I’ve got you.”

He gripped your hips more firmly, holding you steady. With careful, controlled rolls of his own hips, he worked himself deeper, relentless thrusts that pushed another inch, then another. You cried out as the burn intensified, tears pricking your eyes, but you didn’t pull away. You wanted all of him.

“Almost there, baby… just a little more,” he murmured, voice strained with restraint. “you’re clenching so fucking tight around me. Relax for me… let me fill you up.”

With one last gentle but firm push, Jeon sank the rest of his thick cock inside you. The stretch was excruciating at first, pain blooming sharp and hot as your walls were forced to accommodate every inch of his huge length. You whimpered brokenly, feeling impossibly full, like he was splitting you open.

Jeon stilled completely once he bottomed out, buried to the hilt. His hands stroked your back soothingly, voice soft and reassuring even as his cock throbbed inside you.

“There you go… all the way in. You took every inch. Such a good girl for me.” He kissed your temple, staying perfectly still to let you adjust.

Slowly, the burning stretch eased into a heavy, throbbing fullness. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him as the discomfort melted into deep, aching pleasure. Jeon stayed buried deep, hands gentle on your skin, waiting patiently until your whimpers turned into soft, needy sounds and your hips began to move restlessly again.

He could feel the way your sensitive little pussy gripped him so tightly it bordered on painful for both of you.

“Fuck, angel… look at that,” he murmured, voice low. He shifted you carefully, laying you back on the bed and hooking your legs over his elbows, folding you open wider so he could see everything. His dark eyes dropped between your bodies, watching with raw hunger as your slick walls clenched visibly around the base of his cock. “pretty pussy sucking me in so greedily. Clenching like it never wants to let me go.”

You cried out softly, overwhelmed tears slipping down your temples. The stretch was still intense, but the fullness felt too good to stop. Your hips twitched restlessly beneath him.

“Jeon…” you whimpered, voice breaking for the first time again, needy and begging. “more… please…”

The sound of your voice finally saying his name like that hit him like a drug. Jeon’s jaw clenched, eyes darkening with possessive hunger.

He had waited so long to hear you, and now every soft whimper and broken plea made his cock throb harder inside you.

He started slow at first, gentle rolls of his hips, sliding his thick length in and out with careful control, kissing your tear streaked cheeks and murmuring soft praises against your skin. “That’s it, angel. Taking me so well… my good girl.”

But your desperate little whimpers kept fueling him. “More… please...”

Jeon lost control, his hips snapping forward harder, driving his massive cock deep into your tight heat with rough, punishing thrusts. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin filled the room as he fucked you deeper, faster, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every brutal stroke.

You cried out, tears streaming down your face, but you took every inch, whimpering his name over and over like a prayer.

Jeon loved it. Loved the sound of your voice breaking for him. It drove him wild until he was growling against your neck.

He pounded into you relentlessly, hips slamming against yours, the bed creaking under the force. His thick cock stretched you open again and again, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you as he drove himself deeper.

Jeon was losing control.

After months of never touching you, only watching, only respecting the sacred line you had drawn, the hunger finally broke him.

His hand slid up your body, large palm wrapping around your throat with firm, possessive pressure. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch and your pulse race under his fingers. He held you there, thumb pressing lightly against the side of your neck, feeling every frantic beat of your heart.

One hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. The pressure built fast and overwhelming.

Your pussy clenched violently around him, walls fluttering and squeezing so tightly it almost hurt. You came hard, squirting around his cock with a broken cry, clear fluid soaking his abs and the sheets beneath you.

The sight and feel of you falling apart pushed Jeon over the edge as he groaned, voice strained and intense. He buried himself to the hilt, hips stuttering as he released deep inside you, thick ropes of cum flooding your spasming pussy.

Even as he came, he kept kissing you softly, on your lips, your cheeks, your tear damp lashes, whispering affectionate praises between heavy breaths.

“my perfect girl… I love you. So fucking much. You’re mine now… all mine.”

He stayed buried deep, holding you close as both of you trembled through the aftershocks, his cock still twitching inside your cum filled, sensitive pussy.

Jeon’s breathing was ragged, chest heaving against yours. He stayed perfectly still for a long moment, savoring the way your walls fluttered weakly around him. Then his hand came up, large palm cupping your tear streaked face with heartbreaking gentleness. His thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the wetness, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched and your breaths mingled.

His dark eyes searched yours, “I don’t want you to call me Jeon anymore,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low, almost trembling with the weight of it. “Not tonight. Not ever again.”

He swallowed hard, thumb stroking your bottom lip as if memorizing the shape of your silence.

“I want you to call me Jungkook.”

The name hung between you like a confession. His eyes were burning with something deeper, something that had been growing since the night you first crashed into him in that dim hallway. Since the first time your fearful, sad eyes had locked onto his across a smoky club and refused to let go.

“I’ve waited so long to hear my name on your lips,” he continued softly, voice cracking. “Every time you danced for me… every time you looked at me like I was the only man in the world… I wanted this. I wanted you to say it like you just did when you were falling apart around me. Like I’m yours.”

He pressed a slow, reverent kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your eye, tasting the salt of your tears.

“You’re my home now, angel. I’d burn everything down again just to keep you safe… just to keep hearing you whisper my name like that.”

You lay beneath him, still impossibly full of him, body aching in the most delicious, overwhelming way.

Your mind was a quiet storm, confused and unsure of the depth of what you felt for this man who had quietly claimed every piece of your guarded heart without ever forcing his way in.

You didn’t know if this was love yet.

But you knew comfort. you knew home.

You had never known anything like the way he gently held you now, even after he had ruined you so thoroughly, protective even when he was buried to the hilt inside you.

No one had ever made the fear quiet down like this. No one had ever made the sadness feel bearable just by looking at you like you were something precious.

Your fingers trembled as they traced the line of his jaw. You didn’t speak as words still felt too heavy, but your eyes said enough. They stayed locked on his, soft and uncertain, yet warm with the quiet realization that this man had become your safe place.

Jeon smiled, soft and impossibly tender, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips.

“Stay with me,” he whispered against your mouth, the plea wrapped in velvet and steel. “Let me keep you.”

Jeon’s fingers kept tracing slow patterns along your spine, his breath warm against your temple. The silence between you felt heavier now, full of everything still unsaid.

After a long while, you finally spoke. Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, hoarse from all the whimpers and moans he had drawn out of you tonight.

“…Jungkook.”

His entire body stilled. The name left your lips like a secret finally set free, hesitant and uncertain, but real. His arms tightened around you instantly, a shaky exhale escaping him as if he had been waiting years just to hear it again.

You didn’t say anything more. You didn’t need to. In that single word, you had given him the only thing you had left to offer, the quiet acknowledgment that he was no longer just the man who watched you from the shadows.

He was yours now, too.

Jeon pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, breathing you in like you were oxygen.

The room fell quiet again, filled only with the sound of your mingled breathing and the distant hum of the city beyond the estate walls. He stayed inside you, holding you close, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.

You still didn’t know if this feeling in your chest was love.

But for the first time in your life, the silence felt like it could hold something beautiful.

Something that might last.

«an: im sorry you guys i actually suck at writing and wrapping up oneshots unless its like atleast 25k words or just pure smut. but mafia jk is so hot i need himmm ugh

#jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

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