··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.
so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?
SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS
PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader
GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au
WORDCOUNT; 1,048
RATING; 18+
WARNINGS; none really lol just jk being sweet and y/n being herself
a/n; AHHH YOU GUYS!!!!!!! pt. 5 of hockey jk is out! apparently this was basically finished, it just needed an ending lol so im sorry for keeping you waiting for so long :( i hope you like it still love y'all <3
[3:19 PM] menace(y/n): where are you?
[3:20 PM] jungkook: i’ll be there soon, got held up for a min
[3:19 PM] menace(y/n): i’ll wait inside
Jungkook lets out a rather heavy and almost guilty sigh as he stuffs his phone back into his pocket, speed-walking across campus until he can see The Nook that’s located on the corner of one of the older buildings on campus. Once he’s closer, he jogs the rest of the way and heads inside once he reaches the entrance. He looks around for a second before spotting you in the far corner. You’re shrugging off your jacket and pulling out your laptop when Jungkook approaches the table.
“Hey,” he breathes, slipping off his backpack and his jacket. He dumps it on one of the chairs before sitting down across from you.
You glance up briefly, your voice low and unwelcoming as you greet him back, “hey.”
The two of you agreed – Jungkook practically forced you, you weren’t much for it – to meet up at the campus café the other day, agreeing on 3PM which Jungkook wasn’t very good at maintaining. He doesn’t dare to tell you why he was late, the unspoken and yet very true prejudices you have of him already would only be confirmed.
“Sorry for being late–“
You shake your head and offer him a tight-lipped smile, “don’t worry about it.”
Jungkook blinks at you, your reaction not what he was expecting. He lowkey expected you to scold him or at least snap at him. But you’re not doing anything… nothing at all.
“Well, I’m still sorry,” he starts again, wanting to make sure you don’t question his determination to work on this project and finish it. “I was in the–“
“Jungkook,” you interrupt him. Ah, there it is – the snapping. You cut him off before he can come up with a cover story for what he was doing before coming here and a part of him is relieved. He feels his heart jump when your unreadable eyes meet his. “I don’t care, alright? Let's just get to work… the sooner, the better.”
He doesn’t utter another word as he lets out a defeated sigh, watching you for a second as you scribble something down in your notebook before turning to your laptop.
You’re wearing your glasses today – he can’t remember the last time he saw you in your glasses. They suit you, that much he knows because they always suited you. He purses his lips in thought as he watches you, wondering what it’ll take for you to let him off the hook and move on from your years apart. He wants to be your friend again but he can tell you’re not interested – if your behavior and attitude towards him is anything to go by, that is.
“So what’s the plan?” He asks, pulling himself from his thoughts and turning his focus to his laptop to open the document you’ve created for the two of you to use.
“We need to agree on a theme for the portfolio,” you mutter, scribbling another thing down in your notebook before pushing your glasses back up on the bridge of your nose, a small habit you still have after all these years. You glance up at him as you hand him your notebook, pointing to a list you’ve made. “I listed some ideas. Let me know if any of them catch your eye or if you have some yourself.”
Jungkook nods in understanding as he reads the list of ideas you’ve made, smiling ever so lightly to himself as he instantly recognizes your handwriting. It hasn’t changed at all since the two of you were in high school, some of the letters are just as crooked as back then – especially at the end of words. It’s almost as if you get lazy by the end of each word, the sloppy last two letters exposing you.
He can read it perfectly though. Always could.
“I like the idea of taking photos of the city,” he says after a moment of admiring your handwriting, glancing up at you with a gentle smile. “There’s a lot of potential in that one. You can capture different moods, colors, and emotions – depending on which direction you wanna take it.”
You nod in agreement, the corner of your lips lifting in a half-smile, “yeah, definitely.”
Jungkook’s eyes stay locked with yours for a moment, something within him stirring. He feels it in his bones and yet he has no idea what it is – he has never felt that kind of sensation before and a part of him finds it slightly terrifying yet he wants more. He shakes his head as if to shake himself out of it before closing your notebook and handing it back to you.
“Yeah, let’s make the city our theme,” he says, clearing his throat as his voice seems a little strained. “We can go snap some photos this weekend if you want? If you’re not too busy, of course…”
“I already have plans this weekend,” you tell him, your voice clipped as you turn your attention back to your laptop.
“Oh-”
Jungkook feels himself get a little disappointed at your instant rejection of hanging out with him this weekend. It’s fair that you have plans already, he has no right to demand your attention nor company, but he was kind of hoping the two of you could hang out like you used to. The way your expression softens as you lift your head to look at him has him feeling like a puppy that has just been kicked. He doesn’t need you to feel bad for saying ‘no’. He can handle rejection.
Besides, it’s not like he asked you out or anything.
“Maybe some time during next week?” You suggest, your tone soft.
Jungkook nods, the corners of his lips turn his faint frown to the tiniest smile.
“Sure,” he says, frozen in place for a second before clearing his throat and turning back to his laptop to do some research for some photogenic spots in the city.
Deeply focused on his newfound task, he doesn’t even notice the way your eyes linger on him for just a mere second before you smile to yourself.
SUMMARY. After a brutal breakup, you pack up your entire life into your Honda Civic and drive 24 hours to a new life, away from the liars and dirty cheaters of New York City. Fortunately for you, there’s a new man on the terrain, and he adores you from the bottom of his boots to the top of his hat.
word count. 13k
warnings/genre. cowboy!jungkook, corporate!reader, strangers to lovers??, this is based in texas, usa which earns its own warning, alcohol consumption, smut, fingering, car sex, you ride him while wearing his cowboy hat
note. howdy yall! yeehaw brethren! or whatever they say out there in bumblefuck texas 🙊 cowboy jungkook is near and dear to my heart after he put on a bandana and a cowboy hat … he’s literally just a walking wet dream. this is just the plot of a porno so enjoy sluts! (inspired by this tiktok so pls go watch)
ok final final thing: tysm for 9k i still cant believe it!!!!!!! i love all you horndogs sm here's to love here's to honor if you can't cum in her, cum on her
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| playlist
banner creds | masterlist
At some point in life, everyone must find themselves alone in a run-down bar in the middle of Texas, drinking whiskey and wearing a blazer.
Or, well... maybe that's just rock bottom for you specifically.
You don’t even fucking like whiskey. You’re not a masochist. But after the day you’ve had, self-inflicted suffering feels like the least you deserve.
You set the glass down and take a look around the bar.
The place is called Coyote’s—it’s the first place you stumbled upon on your drive home from work. There's a coyote skull mounted above the door, walls wood-paneled and covered in neon beer signs and old license plates. The floor is sticky with mysterious liquids, heels glued to them when you walked in. Somebody’s boots are keeping time to the Zac Brown Band song bleeding out of the speakers, and two men in actual, non-ironic Wranglers are playing pool in the back while eyeing the girls in skimpy outfits.
It’s a disorienting environment, especially when you’re still dressed in a blazer and slacks after your first day at your new job.
You had upped sticks in need of a change from New York City, without bothering to think much about the vast differences between Austin, Texas and New York City.
New York City bars had exposed brick and cocktail menus with names like “Forbidden Muse” and men who wore blazers for their fancy, high-paying finance jobs. Nobody dared to wear cowboy boots, definitely not when they were surrounded by their stuffy superiors.
New York City was crawling with men that were exactly like your conniving, narcissistic ex-boyfriend, Daniel.
Fucking Daniel.
You take another sip of the whiskey you don’t like.
You’d caught him on a Wednesday. Not even a Friday night—a Wednesday. He couldn’t even be bothered to cheat on you on a respectable day of the week. You had come home early from work, key in the door, bag on your shoulder, and there he was in your shared apartment. Balls deep in a girl who was, insultingly, very pretty.
Then, he had the nerve to act surprised to see you in the apartment you two shared.
Texas was never supposed to be in the cards. In fact, it wasn’t even a blip on your radar. It was a job offer that paid two times what you made in New York, but giving up your city lifestyle had sounded deranged. You only applied because a very eager recruiter reached out to you and begged you to.
But getting cheated on really put things into perspective for you, and before you knew it, being a marketing director at a regional firm in Austin that paid good money, offered a fresh start, far enough away that you wouldn’t have to see Daniel’s face sounded ideal. You’d accepted it at 11PM that same Wednesday, half a bottle of wine deep.
You look down at your outfit again. Silk blouse underneath your blazer, tailored slacks and pointed heels. Nothing like the girls line-dancing by the jukebox, batting their eyelashes flirtatiously at the men with cowboy hats on.
Honestly, you didn’t think cowboys were real up until you landed in Texas three days ago. Lo and behold, they’ve managed to outdo your wildest fantasies.
Clearly, you’ll need to redo your wardrobe if you plan on enjoying your new gig. Your boss wore a bandana around his neck in the office, and if that was the norm, you were either severely underdressed or accidentally cosplaying as someone’s accountant.
You take another slow scan around the room, mostly to give yourself something to do that isn’t drinking whiskey you hate and thinking about Daniel.
The women here seem to move differently. Easy and dallying, hips finding the beat of the music. A line of them near the dance floor step and turn in unison, boots striking the wood, and there’s something hypnotic about it—they laugh without covering their mouths, take up space without apologizing for it. Not for the first time tonight, you feel like you’re watching a nature documentary from behind glass. The men in Texas are far more shameless, with no pretense of disinterest. A guy in a tan Stetson tips his hat when a brunette catches him staring. She grins back, winking.
Your gaze drifts toward the back, toward the crack of pool balls and low laughter. Groups of men pile around the table, clearly big-dicking each other. They all look similar. Tall, muscular, chiseled, charismatic…
Your eyes land on the far right of the pool table, where one man in a black cowboy hat stands. His arm is covered in tattoos, hair poking out underneath the hat in what you assume is a mullet. His tongue pokes out, toying with the lip rings adorning his bottom lip.
And despite the commotion buzzing around the bar, or the game of pool that’s been ongoing for at least an hour, he’s not paying attention to any of it. He’s watching you.
Your neck snaps back toward the direction of the bar, struggling to focus as the bartender, Stacey, pours bourbon into a glass for a patron. You’d barely gotten a full look, but you’d caught enough, you think. Broad shoulders filling out a black button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black cowboy hat pulled low and a black bandana tied loose at his throat.
Fuck. You need another drink. Or about two shots of straight whiskey to handle the kind of eye contact that man is making with you.
“Uh, Stacey?” You’d only learned her name an hour ago, but now’s as good a time as any to use it. She whips to face you, blond hair tousled from the rush. “Am I able to get another glass of whiskey?”
“Sure thang, sweetheart.” She grins.
While she pours, your eyes make a point to not care about the man staring you down across the room. He can’t possibly be looking at you, what with your corporate outfit, heels, and resting bitch face. There are better options in this bar, ones who know how to two-step and ride a horse.
Stacey places the glass of whiskey in front of you. “This one’s on the house. Looked like you needed it.”
Before you can protest, she tosses you a wink and saunters off to serve two men. Clearly, you’re not as unreadable as you thought you were.
The brown liquid slithers down your throat, burning your lungs. The thing about drinking whiskey neat is that you’re not going to remain a respectful amount of tipsy for long. Instead, you’re going to teeter on the line of drunk, something you don’t normally allow yourself to get.
And transparently, drunk you wants another look at the dark-haired cowboy.
Maybe you should let her. Maybe you should stop being so weird about it. It’s not like you’re not going to marry the man. Maybe you just need to get fucked.
Your eyes scan the crowd, lingering on every man wearing the same black bandana, half-convinced one of them might transform into him. With each passing moment, your heart skips in your chest like a toddler playing hopscotch.
Maybe he went home. Probably realized the women here were duds and made his grand exit. Honestly for the best. You can’t even remember the last time you flirted with someone who wasn’t Daniel, and look how spectacularly that turned out.
You down the rest of your whiskey in one go. Stacey whistles playfully from the sidelines. All you can manage is a feeble smile in response. It feels as though the lights dim a little lower, the sound of boots hitting the hardwood floor echoing in your ear. Euphoria pumps through your bloodstream, and then Country Girl (Shake It For Me) starts blasting on the jukebox, and well—your brain just sort of short-circuits.
“Can’t possibly be comfortable in that outfit, sugar.”
Warm breath fans against your ear, woodsy cologne trailing close behind. Your heart thumps, almost as if the organ knows who it is before you do.
Slowly, you turn to face the owner of the voice.
The first thing you see is a black bandana. Your eyes travel further up, up, up, until they snag on the plumpest mouth you’ve ever seen on a man, two metal rings looped through the bottom lip. They continue their climb, landing on captivating eyes that sink their teeth into you. Dark brown tresses poke out from under the brim of his hat, but you can still make out every inch of his sharp features.
“Never seen you ‘round here before.” He raises an eyebrow. “Anyone with that outfit on gotta be from the East. Ain’t seen a girl in heels in this bar in my whole life.”
“Maybe I like standing out,” you say, tilting your chin up and puffing your chest out. The whiskey’s doing wonders for your nerve. “Someone’s got to remind you boys what real shoes look like.”
The edges of his mouth curve upwards, pondering if he’s impressed or amused by your bite. Secretly, you hope it’s both.
“Sugar, those things are a workplace hazard. You’re tellin’ me you can run in ‘em?” Under the dim lights, his eyes twinkle, setting your chest ablaze with something other than the burn of whiskey.
“I don’t need to run anywhere. I’m a New Yorker. We walk at a fast pace in 7-inch heels.” You’re not well-versed in the whole flirting thing, but this has to be what it’s like… right?
That gets a real laugh out of him, head tipping back, and you feel an absurd little spike of pride at having caused that sound.
“That so?” He moves from behind you, leans an elbow against the bar, angling his body toward you. He travels in languid movements, like he’s got nowhere else on earth to be. “And here I thought you Yankees just had bad manners and worse weather.”
“We’re not rude,” you scoff. “We’re blunt. Honest. There’s a difference.”
He takes a step closer, and the scent of him encroaches, your brain turning fuzzy. “Mm. Didn’t realize those were the same thing.”
“Cousins. Close enough.” You shouldn’t have downed that drink. Now you really need another, because you’re certain you won’t make it out of this conversation in one piece.
“Then let me ask you somethin’, since you’re so honest.” His eyes flicker to your parted lips before jumping back to your eyes.
“Go ahead.”
The music comes to a halt, and Carrie Underwood’s voice blasts through the speakers. You’ve never really liked her music all that much, but her misplaced pep talk might be exactly the kind of bad influence you need.
His head tilts in your direction. “You ever met a Southern boy before me?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“So you must not have heard ‘bout Southern charm, sugar. That’s supposed to be our whole thing down here.” His eyes dare you, jaw twitching with glee at the way you press your thighs together.
“I’ve heard that.” Carelessly, you shrug. “Haven’t seen much evidence of it yet.”
“Keep talkin’ like that and I might have to prove it to you,” he says, voice only a little mocking.
Your body can’t help but lean in his direction, like sunflowers facing the light on a warm summer’s day. “I’d like to see you try, cowboy.”
“Mm.” The man hums, studies you for another moment. Then, he straightens and reaches for the brim of his hat. “Well. Where are my manners?”
He pulls the hat off his head, revealing disheveled chestnut hair that’s longer than you anticipated. You want to run your hands through it, know what it feels like to tug on the locks. The gesture is almost comically formal against the backdrop of the bar, but on him, it doesn’t look like a joke at all. He reaches for your hand. His palm is warm, calloused, swallowing yours whole. “Jungkook.” His eyes don’t dare leave your face. “And who do I got the pleasure of speakin’ to?”
A shuddering breath escapes you, legs clenching.
“[Y/N],” you stumble over your words, trying to find your voice.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl. Must be my lucky night,” he grins, and you have to wonder if he says that to every girl who isn’t from here. You stick out like a sore thumb in this bar, but how his eyes track your every movement suggests he doesn’t mind one bit.
“What’re you drinkin’, sugar?” he asks, nodding toward your empty glass. Oh. That. You had almost forgotten it was there, lonely and sad.
“Whiskey.”
His eyebrows lift, mouth curving into disbelief. “You sure about that? You don’t seem like a whiskey girl to me.”
He’s right, which only makes it worse. Turning to the bar, he lifts two fingers. “Stace. You mind makin’ one of those strawberry margaritas for our city girl here?”
Stacey’s already grinning cheek-to-cheek before she even gets close, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Absolutely.”
While Stacey works, you take the opportunity to look at him properly without the panic of being caught. He’s tall, like most cowboys that are written in romance novels. His chest looks like it could double as a wall. A very nice wall you wouldn’t mind being pressed against.
Stacey slides the margarita across the bar, sugar-rimmed and flamingo pink. “Here you go, hon.”
“Add it to my tab,” Jungkook says, not bothering to glance over.
“Of course, Kook.” She tosses you another friendly wink, and the swell of confidence bubbles up inside you.
He nudges the glass another inch toward you with two fingers. It’s a little dominant, something you’re not normally used to. But you follow the order, taking a sip. It’s exactly what you wanted. Cold, candied, the tequila barely whispering under the sugar, and you have to stop yourself from outright moaning at the bar.
“So why you out here, sugar?” he asks, “Don’t seem like a bar for a girl like you.” Jungkook places his hat atop his head again, and you’re almost devastated to see his hair go.
You set the glass down, lick a stray grain of sugar off your bottom lip. His eyes stalk the movement. “I live here now. I work downtown.”
His gaze doesn’t move from your mouth fast enough. “Like a corporate job?”
“Indeed.” As you speak, you notice his pupils are blown so wide there’s hardly any brown left. He hasn’t moved his eyes from your lips. “And I’m assuming you ride horses?”
He barks out a laugh, loud enough that a couple heads turn near the pool table. “A little more than that.” His finger points off toward the back of the bar, toward a broad-shouldered man laughing with the group by the pool table. “That’s Namjoon. Owns a ranch a few miles out. I handle his shit. Y’know, paperwork, horses, bulls, all of it.”
“So you’re a rancher.” You toy with the straw in your glass, and you can’t miss the way he seems entranced by every move you make.
“I’m a lotta things.” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “Rancher’s one of ‘em.”
“What are the others?”
There’s something lingering in the air. New city, new boy, new life. You’re back to square one, the bottom of the societal food chain. You get to forge your own path here in Austin. For one night—and maybe other nights—you get to be someone else.
“Depends who’s askin’.”
“I am,” you retort coolly.
“Then I guess you’ll find out,” he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear “Eventually.”
The bar noise fades around you, Carrie Underwood’s righteous fury bleeding into another tune, until it’s just the two of you and a few inches of space neither of you seem all that interested in closing yet. “Hmm,” you hum. “Horses and bulls sound dangerous.”
He chuckles. “Knowin’ how to handle somethin’ wild is mostly about knowin’ when to be gentle and when not to be.”
“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?”
“Could be." He shrugs. “But also, I just really like my job, sugar.”
“As do I,” You take another sip, making a point to pucker your lips around the straw.
Jungkook’s gaze is different, far more scandalous than any other man you’ve been with. It almost feels dirty when his eyes scan your face. “Figured someone like you’d be home by now. What is this, your first night out since you got here?”
It is, in fact, your first night out since you got here, and you’d rather die than confirm it.
“I wanted to immerse myself in the culture,” you say instead, lying through your teeth with admirable conviction. “It’s one of my greatest fantasies, actually. Cowgirls, horses, the whole lot of ’em.”
“Oh really?” he smirks. You’re distracted by the strand of hair flopping from beneath his hat, and you wonder if the curtain matches the drapes. “How ‘bout cowboys?”
“I’m still gathering data on them.” You tap the rim of your glass thoughtfully. “Field research, if you will.”
His knee brushes against yours as he leans in. The man has never heard of personal space. “I would love to hear your findings.”
“Well, actually, I think I need to run a few final experiments.”
“Like what?” He tuts, fingers migrating from the bartop to your pant-covered thigh. They linger, not pressing down harshly. “Humor me, sugar.”
A burst of confidence rushes through you. You get one chance, and you really, really, really don’t want to make the same mistakes again. Reaching up, you pluck the hat right off his head.
It’s heavier than you expect, but soft in your grasp. Warm, like it’s been sitting against him long enough to steal some of his body heat for itself. You settle it on your own head, tipping it back so it doesn’t slide down over your eyes. You must look ridiculous, blazer and silk blouse under a cowboy hat that’s seen ranch work.
But how he’s looking at you, you might as well be wearing nothing at all.
Jungkook’s jaw goes taut, gaze darkens, and the fingers placed on your thigh flex before relaxing.
“Well, sugar.” His voice drops several octaves, and the whole bar spins on its axis until you nearly topple over. “If you’re gonna wear my hat, you know what they say?”
Your response is no louder than a whisper. “What?”
Smirking, he leans in until his breath ghosts your ear.
“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”
Oh god.
Your eyes flicker down to his lips, then his captivating eyes, and he follows suit. If he really wanted to, he could probably kiss you right now, could take you right on the bartop and you’d let him. The sugar from the margarita and the whiskey swirls in your stomach, mixing with butterflies you haven’t felt in years. There are moles scattered across his face, a few near his lip and some under his cheek, and you think that you could connect them into a constellation if you had a pen and several more drinks.
But then he steps back, and tips two fingers toward the brim of the hat that’s no longer on his head.
“I’ll see you ‘round, sugar.”
He strolls off toward his friends, and you blink into the void, hat heftier on your head than when you first put it on.
God help you, you really want that ride.
Frankly, this is the most desperate thing you’ve ever done.
That’s really saying something, considering one time, you sprinted after a situationship four blocks down Fifth Avenue in four inch heels, caught your foot on a crack in the sidewalk, and introduced your face to the concrete in front of a hot dog stand. Or, there’s also the time you showed up to a first date a week early, realized halfway through appetizers that something felt off, checked your phone, and had to sit alone with a bread basket before leaving.
All of that pales in comparison when you realize you’re sitting at the same bar, in your corporate outfit, awaiting a man who you may never lay eyes on again.
You take a nervous sip of your strawberry margarita, the periphery of your eyes doing more work than usual. Coyote’s is quieter tonight, a few stragglers nursing drinks at tables, and playing something slow on the jukebox. No pool game in the back, no men in cowboy hats, no broad shoulders filling out a black button-down.
You’ve probably made a colossal mistake.
“Need a refill on the marg?” Stacey circles back after tending to some older men at the end of the bar, brows raised.
“Nah, I’m okay,” you sigh. “Thanks though.”
Slowly, Stacey looks around the bar, stares at the drunk men at the end of the bar, and decides you’re more worth her time. She places both elbows on the bartop and leans in. “You lookin’ for someone special, hon?”
“No!” you yelp, practically leaping out of your stool in dissent. “Absolutely not. I just—don’t even know anyone here. I just like the margaritas.”
“Uhu,” Stacey nods, something in her eyes twinkling.
“I really do. You make a mean marg.”
“Sure you do,” she toothily grins. Her eyes pan over your outfit, a similar vibe to the one you wore yesterday to work. Today, you’re wearing a silk blouse and a pencil skirt that jugs your curves. “You know, most people take their work clothes off before they come out for a drink.”
“Well, I came straight from the office.” You square your shoulders, puff out your chest as though you have something to prove.
“Two nights in a row?”
“I’m testing out the bars in the city,” you quip.
“Mhm.” She doesn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth, and she’s not even trying to hide it. “What is it you do, exactly?”
“Marketing director. I just started.” You take a sip of your cocktail to bide time as Stacey widens her eyes in shock.
“No kidding.” Her eyebrows lift. “What brought you all the way out to Austin? You don’t exactly scream Texas, no offense.”
“None taken,” you giggle. You’re not entirely sure how your silk blouse and skirt could come off as anything but condescending, uppity New Yorker. “Believe it or not, an ex-boyfriend who doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants.”
Stacey’s pupils blow up, and she throws her head back to cackle, loud enough that one of the older men down the bar glances over. “Oh, honey,” she says, reaching for the cocktail shaker without seeming to realize she’s doing it. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”
“Well,” you swallow, exhale a shaky breath. And then you say, keeping your eyes on nothing but your near-empty glass, “My boyfriend of three years was always upset I was busy at work. He said I cared too much about it, but not about him. I thought I was doing a good job at dividing my time equally… but I guess not. Found him in bed with a girl on a Wednesday night in our apartment we shared.”
Your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. Retelling the story allows you to replay the night like a horror movie film outtake reel. And everytime, you ask yourself, how could you be so stupid? So naive? So nonchalant?
Stacey slides a fresh margarita across the bar. “Please tell me you at least threw something.”
“Nope. Just stood in the doorway, said his name, turned around and left.” Even now, it’s as clear as day; you marched out, heart drumming in your chest as you fled down the stairs of your building, not even bothering to listen if he even said your name or chased after you. It didn’t matter either way, because he never once tried to beg for you back.
He let you go.
“Men,” Stacey snorts, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t know a good thing if it slapped them ‘round the head.”
“Men,” you agree.
Sometimes, you can’t help but blame yourself, and wonder if it’s less about men, and more about your inability to care about anything but your career growth.
“You know what your problem is?” she says, pointing at you. "You’ve been datin' the wrong kind of man. All that New York finance guy, blazer-wearing, artisanal-coffee-drinking bullshit. What you need is a little Southern charm.”
“Oh really?” You have to hide the smile that threatens to bloom on your face.
“I’m just sayin’ what the people are thinkin’.”
“No one, especially me, is thinking that.” Except you are. More precisely, of one that loaned you his hat and never claimed it back.
“It’s what I’m thinking," she says, wiping down the bar. "You ever even dated someone who works with their hands? Outdoors?”
You open your mouth to argue and realize you don't have a rebuttal for that. Every man you’ve ever dated has had some stuffy job, like finance or law, which is somehow the most depressing thing that’s popped into your head all week.
“I just need to get back on my feet,” you say instead. “New city, new job, new start. I’m not looking for anything.”
“Sure, sure.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll pretend I believe ya.”
You slump forward on the bar. “I just need to focus on myself for a while. Get settled. Figure out what I actually want without someone else’s opinion clouding everything.”
“Healthy, but you’re no fun,” she pouts, flinging the rag over her shoulder. “Look hun, your ex sounds like a real piece of shit. But you deserve way better than that.”
“Yeah,” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “I’m starting to think so too.”
Stacey wipes her hands on the towel over her shoulder, turning back to you. “A fresh start in Austin, Texas. You picked a hell of a place for it.”
“Yeah…” Your eyes avert around the shoddy bar. You try not to make eye contact with the coyote head. “It’s a lot.”
“You’ll love it. Give it a month.”
“You think?”
“Ella Langley didn’t write Choosin’ Texas ‘bout us just for shits n giggles,” she chuckles. “People come here thinking it’s temporary and then they wake up one day and they’ve got boots and a favorite two-step song.”
A shiver runs down your spine. “Good god.”
“That’s just Texas, hon.”
You laugh, and she looks awfully pleased with herself. The two men down the bar gesture her over, and her eyes flick over your shoulder before a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
“Southern charm might be closer than you think,” she murmurs, and then saunters off to her customers.
Shaking your head, you take a sip of the margarita, and you swear it’s stronger than your last. Stacey clearly plans on fucking you over.
“Didn’t think lightning struck the same place twice. Guess I was wrong, sugar.”
The hair on the back of your neck stands tall. Anxiety and desire blend in your stomach until the two become indecipherable.
The sip of your margarita stalls its path down your throat, making a home, and an embarrassing croak exits your mouth. Your eyes water, one hand firmly placed on the bar, looking like one of those warning ads for choking customers.
A strong hand lands between your shoulder blades. Pats once, twice, with an ease that makes your heart rate kick up a notch.
“Easy there. Bar’s not the place to go out.” You can hear the sarcasm in his tone, the smirk that’s probably curled upon his pink lips.
“I’m fine,” you wheeze.
“Uhu.” He takes the stools beside you, coming into plain view. You;re not sure what you expected him to look like this evening, but somehow, he looks even more delectable than last time. He’s sporting a new cowboy hat, a black one with white detailing that matches his jeans and top. Once he settles, he signals to Stacey for a drink with two fingers. “Surprised this place didn’t scare ya away after the first time.”
You square your shoulders, wiping the final tears from your eyes. “New Yorkers are resilient.”
“Hmm,” he mindlessly hums, letting his eyes drag up and down your figure, a clear assessment that has your thighs clenching to hide the arousal pooling in your panties. “Nice to see you again, by the way.”
There’s a smudge of something on his forearm, below the edge of his tattoos. Dirt, maybe, or grease. You wonder if he came straight from work, or errands, or whatever it is Jungkook does with his day besides looking like a wet dream.
“Is corporate attire all you own, sugar?” He tosses bills on the table as Stacey slides a cold beer toward him. You do your best to ignore her pointed smirk.
“Are boots and hats all you wear?” you retort.
He laughs and leans an elbow on the bar, angling toward you the same way he had last time, almost as if his body naturally points in your direction. As you gaze into his brown irises, you can’t stop thinking, can’t slow the waterfall of thoughts gliding down your brain. You’re not from here, don’t dress like anyone in this bar, don’t know the words to a single song on that jukebox, and can’t two-step to save your life. There are women in this city right now who are objectively better suited for him. Your brain implodes trying to understand his interest in you.
“Can I ask you something?” you say.
“Go ‘head.” He takes a swig of his beer, lips shiny from the liquid.
“Why are you over here?”
He deadpans. “Come again?”
“I mean…” Vaguely, you gesture around the room, at the bar that’s filling up with women laughing near the jukebox. “You could be anywhere in this bar right now. Talking to anyone. So why are you sitting here talking to me?”
A flash of expressions shift across his face. “You think you’re not worth talking to?”
“Never said that.”
“Implied it,” he grins. He pauses, traces the condensation on his beer bottle. “Maybe I’m intrigued.”
A feeble laugh escapes you, but he doesn’t mirror the action. Oh. He’s not joking. “For the record, I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re real terrible. Don’t know why I bother.”
“I am serious. I have no plans on learning either.”
He holds your gaze for a moment. “Never asked you to get on one, sugar.” His eyes rake over your face as if he’s searching for more, and finally, he pushes on, voice steady. “I’m over here because I wanted to be. That a problem?”
It’s an offer as much as it is an out. If you told him it was a problem, you’re certain he’d leave you alone, never talk to you again. But you really, really don’t want that.
“Not at all.”
Jungkook nods in finality and takes a pull of his bar. Silence follows, but it’s not uncomfortable.
“Can I ask you something now?” he says.
“Fair’s fair.”
“You don’t got someone back in New York, right?”
“No,” you sigh. “Not anymore, at least.”
His eyebrows scrunch together. “He let you go?”
“Kind of.” You don’t really feel like elaborating, and he lets it go, but you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches, there and gone in a breath.
“His loss.”
“What about you?” you wonder. “You’ve got to have someone, or something.”
“Ain’t got a girl,” he shrugs. His body slants toward you so that your knees brush. Your cheeks warm at the contact, but he doesn’t move away.
“No?” Your margarita is watered down and vile now, but you take a sip anyway.
“Ranch takes up most of my time. Sun up to sundown, most days. Not a lot of room left over for much else.”
“Doesn’t that get lonely?” you ask.
He considers it, tilts the neck of his beer bottle between two fingers. “Sometimes… but it’s a good life. I don’t need a lot. Just the ranch and the right company, every now and then.”
His pupils are blown so wide you can’t spot any brown in them. He’s staring at your parted lips. “I could probably settle for the right girl. A good girl. Smart, funny, prettiest in the damn room.”
You think he’s talking about you. He must be. It might be wishful thinking, but just maybe, just this time…
“That’s a very specific type,” you retort.
“Gettin’ more specific by the minute.” With that, he takes a swig of his beer, eyes never leaving yours.
You pick up your own drink, taking a long sip that burns your esophagus. “Stacey made this too strong,” you awkwardly laugh. It feels like someone turned the temperature up on the thermostat by ten degrees, shut all the fans off.
“Stace always does,” Jungkook shrugs.
When he sets his beer down, you can calculate how little space exists between his stool and you. Mere centimeters divide the two of you, and you can soak up his scent, a woodsy musk. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to show you the ranch sometime. Horses get real excited around pretty girls. Scout’s honor.” He holds up two fingers.
“You were a boy scout?” you laugh.
“Three weeks in the 4th grade. Got kicked out for letting the ponies loose at the state fair though,” he shrugs. “In my defense, they looked very unhappy.”
He watches, mystified, as you laugh again. “I don’t know if the ranch is for me.”
“It’s just horse, open land, some fresh air. Nothing like what you’re used to, I’d imagine.”
“Exactly,” you knowingly smile. “All we have is smog, overpriced coffee, and tall buildings.”
“Can’t have that.” Disapprovingly, he shakes his head. “Come out to the ranch. I’ll make you coffee that costs nothing and tastes better than anything you’ve had in your life.”
“Bold claim, cowboy,” you tease.
“Think you can tell I always get what I want, sugar,” he retorts. You open your mouth to reply with something witty, but a tingle, pins and needles, lands on your thigh, and when you look down you see Jungkook’s veiny hand resting. Fingers splayed wide, palm radiating heat through the thin fabric of your slacks.
“How many horses do you have on the ranch?” Your voice has gone airy.
“Seven right about now. We lost one last spring, and Joon took it hard.” His hand doesn’t waver. Instead, his thumb moves, carelessly tracing patterns on your pants.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumble, staring daggers into how large his hand is compared to the rest of you.
“It’s the nature of it. You get attached. Hard not to.”
“Do you…?” you pause, swallow thickly until your tone gets warbly. “Get attached?”
The double entendre isn’t lost on him. “I do.”
You are going to need Stacey to pour a glass of ice water directly over your head. His thumb traces another path up the inside of your thigh. Your mouth dries up like the Sahara desert in late August.
You want to be someone who leans into this. Want to be the girl from night one, the one with liquid courage and reckless new-city energy. You want to tilt toward him and let whatever this is become whatever it wants to be. But underneath it, a quieter voice resides within you.
The one that remembers thinking everything was fine right up until it wasn’t.
“I don’t know if I’m..” you start, then press your lips together. He taps your thigh twice, urging you on. “I’m not sure I’m ready to be attached yet.”
Automatically, your body is bracing for impact, like he’ll toss you on the side of the road for something shiner, something ready.
But Jungook’s expression does not falter. He finishes the last of his beer and sets the bottle down, rising from the stool to his full height. “When you’re ready, sugar,” he reaches out, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you know where to find me.”
For most, life isn’t sunshine and rainbows.
And it’s not like one wakes up and the color has drained from everything overnight. It’s small increments, tiny ones, that add up, and they’re unrecognizable until you can’t remember the last time you did something for yourself. You used to believe in love the way meteorologists believed in weather—inevitable acts of nature that happened to everyone sooner than later, in its own time, in its own particular way. You believed that people who found each other meant to find each other.
But just like weather, the clouds part and things unravel in messy ways. The couple in your freshman dorm who were so in love you deemed it aggressive, who broke up over Thanksgiving and couldn’t look at each other in the dining hall after. Your college roommate, whose boyfriend of four years sat her down on a Sunday morning and said I just don't think I’m in love with you anymore. She sat very still for a long time after she told you, and you thought I will never let that be me.
But then it was you, it was your own demented heart, it was your own boyfriend who cheated on you, and you suddenly didn’t know which ordinary Tuesday was the last good one.
You still don’t know if there was a last good one at all.
“You gonna liquidate my bar tonight, hon?”
Stacey’s shrill voice cuts through your train of thought, and you blink back into the bar. The neon sign flickers above the bar, and the usual horny men sitting down the bar tip their hats at you. A shudder of disgust travels through you. She’s leaning on the bar in front of you, brow arched, nodding at the margarita you’ve been nursing for the better part of an hour, contemplating the nuances of life.
“Perhaps.”
She refills your water glass without asking and props her chin in her hand. “You know damn well not to do all that thinkin’ round my bar. Tell me what’s wrong, I might be able to help.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” you sigh, playing with the straw wrapper. You slump against the bar, the fatigue of your mind raving catching up to you.
“I ain’t Sherlock but I can tell something’s up, sweetie.”
You could deny it one more time, but you think Stacey will dropkick you out of the bar and leave you without any more alcoholic beverages.
For a week, you’ve avoided this very bar. Thus, you haven’t run into Jungkook in a week. It was on purpose, simply because you couldn’t give him the hope that you were ready by running into him again. But bars that you felt comfortable being alone at were far and few between, and you knew Stacey would be waiting for you.
It’s been seven days of you daydreaming of walking into this bar and scanning the back corner by the pool table before you’ve even found a stool, of telling yourself you’re not looking while very obviously looking, and telling him you’re ready for whatever he wants to offer. And at the very least, give it a shot.
One week feels longer than it should for a man you’ve spoken to twice. You don’t know his middle name. You don't know his family lore or his favorite pair of boots or whether he’s ever read a book for pleasure or what he sounds like when he’s just had a bad day.
But you do know one thing: he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, like he was ready to lean over the bar and devour you whole.
No one’s looked at you like that in a long time.
“Fine,” Stacey squints her eyes into evil little slits. “If you won’t talk I will. You’ve looked at that door eleven times since you sat down, and I’ve got a fresh margarita with your name on it, and sometimes thinkin’ about nothing looks a whole lot like thinkin’ about something… or someone.”
A massive gulp of your margarita slithers down your throat. Then another, and another, until you set it down and peer at Stacey with drunk goggles. Her jaw is set in a no-nonsense way, and you recognize how she’s only ever seen you at your most pathetic across this bartop.
What’s one more time to add to the tally?
“Am I stupid for not hooking up with Jungkook?”
Stacey’s face remains stone cold. She reaches for the tequila. It’s not your usual brand, a more expensive one you haven’t touched since New York.
“The thing is, I wanted to.” Stacey should really file a restraining order against you for sharing your deepest, darkest thoughts with her under the influence of one very strong margarita. “I really wanted to. He’s very attractive. And he’s not how I expected him to be, like a bimbo cowboy.”
Stacey says nothing. Continues making the margarita, pouring strawberry puree into the shaker.
“And it’s not even, it’s not like I’m opposed to it. I am a grown woman. I know how sex works. I’ve had one night stands before, and they’ve generally been fine, sometimes better than fine, and Jungkook looks like he would be better than fine, which is part of the problem too.”
Her hair flips wildly as she mixes the shaker behind her shoulder. You barrel on, “I don't know if I’m actually not ready or if I’m just scared, and I don’t know how to tell the difference anymore between self-preservation and self-sabotage. Daniel made me feel like an idiot.”
You prop your chin in your palm. “Was it my body? My personality? Was it the way I talked too much at dinner parties or the fact that I can’t fall asleep without the TV on or just, like, was I boring? Was I just boring to him? Am I even hot?”
A glass filled with pink liquid slams in front of you, dropping with a decisive thunk, sugar on the rim.
“Drink.”
Your nose scrunches up in disgust as the smell of tequila wafts into your nostrils. Stacey rolls her eyes, smacking your arm playfully, and you fold under zero pressure.
“Sweetheart, even in that god-awful collared shirt, I can see you’ve got a hell of a body on you. I would throw you down on that pool table and find out for myself if I swung that way,” she nonchalantly shrugs, and it takes all your might not to spit out your drink.
“Stacey,” you scold.
“Nuh-uh,” she tuts, “You’re stunning, darlin’. You are not the problem. You were never the problem. The problem is a man who ain’t know what he had and traded it in for a girl who’s probably not even half of you. That’s his cross to bear, not yours.”
When you sip the margarita, the tart taste of strawberries floods your tastebuds. Stacey has ruined every margarita you will ever have anywhere else for the rest of your natural life.
She raises an eyebrow. “What are you scared of with Jungkook, specifically? Ol’ Kook has been around the block, but he ain’t dangerous.”
“Well… I’m more scared that it’ll be good.”
It even sounds ridiculous leaving your mouth. You know it’s idiotic to place all of your emotional baggage on a cowboy who wants to fuck you.
“I’m scared it’ll be good. That he’ll be… that it’ll be good, and I’ll want more of it, and wanting more of it means having something to lose again, and I just,” you stifle a humorless laugh. “I just got here. I just put my furniture in an apartment I’ve never lived in, in a city I don’t know yet, in a state I didn’t grow up in.”
Stacey purses her lips in the way your mom usually does when you know you’re being irrational. “I’ve worked at this bar for nine years. I’ve watched a lot of people sit on that stool and talk themselves out of things, and not one of them has ever come back and said I’m so glad I stayed scared.”
“Whatever.” You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over this. He probably doesn’t even think about me. Probably just another girl on his list to bother when he’s drunk.”
Stacey deadpans, expression souring. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” Although, after two of her strong margaritas, you might be.
Her dish rag comes flying across the bartop, smacking you straight in the arm, leaving a vibrating pain in your arm. “Ouch!---”
She flings it again, leaving another welt on your skin. “Stacey, what the fuck—”
One more on the other arm to even the score out. “Alright, enough with the smacking, I’m a customer—”
“You’re my charity case and you’ll take what you can get.” She tucks the rag back into her apron. “That man has come into this bar every single night for the past week lookin’ for you, only to take one look around, find me instead, and leave lookin’ like somebody canceled Christmas. I’m insulted.”
Before you can even roll your eyes, the rag comes flying out of her pocket once more, aimed at your arm.
“I said enough—”
“Then don’t roll your eyes at me.”
“I didn’t even—”
“Kook doesn’t care about girls,” Stacey continues. “Never has. He’s got his ranch and his boys and that’s the full extent of his social calendar. He doesn’t go out of his way to chase people.”
Then, as almost an afterthought, she adds, “I ain’t never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you in those little work outfits.”
Under wishful thinking and margarita-induced delusion, you have been trying to ignore the truth of her words. Even as you think about that first night when you met him, you remember it as the most natural thing in the world. Neither of you seemed to be searching for anything other than a drink in the bar. But of all the connections people make in this world, you two stumbled upon each other.
Jungkook could’ve kissed you that night, you think. You probably would’ve let him. But then he let you have the out, left you sitting there with his hat on your head, the hat that sits on your windowsill now as a reminder of your almost.
Stacey’s expression resembles compassion, eyes softening as she watches the gears turn in your head. “Can I tell you something without you waving your hand at me again?”
“Probably not, but go ahead.”
“He did ask me about you the other day,” she says. “Asked if I’d seen you and if you were doing alright. Last night, you two just missed each other. He sat right where you’re sitting now for twenty minutes nursing one beer before he gave up and left. Kook nurses a beer for nobody.”
“He doesn’t even know me,” you snort, gathering the condensation of your watered-down drink.
“He knows what kind of drink you like. For some men, that’s further along than most.”
And that’s a lot more than you plan on giving to anyone else but him.
“Stacey, can I ask you something else?”
“‘Course, darlin’. Anything for you.”
You know what to do. It’s as clear as the sun after a summer storm.
“What do cowgirls wear?”
Oh god.
Oh god.
Who knew cowboy boots were this tight around the calves? The white fabric digs into your skin, leaving imprints you’re sure will never erase. The hem of your ridiculously short denim shorts rise up your ass, practically digging into your thong. Before you left your apartment, you made a promise to yourself—one you’re very close to breaking—that you won’t pull those shorts down.
This get-up can’t possibly be comfortable, but never mind what you think. It’s not about you or your outfit choices tonight.
This was not what you had in mind when you asked Stacey what cowgirls wear. What you had in mind was something tasteful. What Stacey had couriered to your apartment via her cousin Deanna, who runs a boutique off Fifth Street, was a white lace top cropped to somewhere just above your navel, distressed denim shorts, and boots the color of fresh cream that zip up the side and are currently engaged in warfare with your calves and ankles.
You felt like a prize cow up for auction. A very well-dressed prize cow, but one nonetheless.
You swing the door open to Coyote’s. It’s rowdier on a Friday night. The place is packed shoulder to shoulder, girls in outfits like yours and boys in their finest everything, hats and buckles and boots, the jukebox fighting to be heard over the noise of two dozen conversations happening at once. You push your way through the packed space, fighting your way to the bar where Stacey and her counterpart are furiously making drinks.
God, these shorts are really tight up your ass.
Her hair whips around as she tries to tend to five people at once. You don’t dare try to get her attention on a busy night like this. But as if she can sense your presence, she turns around, and the shaker nearly flies out of her hand. “Good god almighty.” Her eyes grow to the size of saucers, then lets out a whistle that anyone can hear above the music. “Atta girl!”
She slaps the counter with one palm, then grabs her colleague by the sleeve without looking at him. “Pete. Pete, turn ‘round.”
The aforementioned man turns around, mimicking Stacey’s expression. “Well. Welcome to Texas, ma’am.”
You smile politely. “Thank you, Pete.”
“Told ya,” Stacey squeals, reaching for the tequila, pointing at you like she’s won first place at an arcade. “Told you. Did I not tell you?”
“You told me.”
“What’d I tell ya?”
Your brows furrow, racking your brain as you try to remember words, which for your sake, were many. “That I had a hell of a body and you’d throw me down on the pool table—”
“No!” she rolls her eyes. “That you’d clean up nice,”
She shoots Pete a look that makes him stop ogling your tits and find the other end of the bar very interesting. She starts on your margarita, and you settle onto your stool and try not to let your eyes do the thing they want to do, which is scan the back corner by the pool table.
Three older men are nursing beers at the far end, next to a couple sharing a basket of fries. A row of women line the jukebox, scanning the room in hopes of finding their cowboy for the night. Somehow, you relate to them now more than ever.
“Ain’t no way a pretty girl like you is all alone tonight.”
A man’s voice appears behind your left shoulder… and it’s completely and utterly the wrong fucking voice. Not the right timbre, or warmth, or scent underneath it that makes you want to lean into it.
Said man sidles up beside you, and you peer up at him. All things considered, he’s not unattractive. Brown hair, good jaw, a Miller Lite in one hand and a handsome smile that’s probably worked on most people. He tips his hat and leans against the bar. “Colin,” he offers.
“Nice to meet you. [Y/N].” You give him your hand to shake, and he does so politely.
“You new ‘round here?” His flirting is more than apparent.
“That obvious?”
“Little bit.” He grins. In a life where you hadn’t spent the last two weeks being dismantled by a man with a lip ring and a ranch, you might have smiled back with intention. “Can I get you a drink?”
“She’s got one.”
Stacey slams the margarita down on the bartop with enough force to make the sugar on the rim jump, and looks at Colin with an implacable expression. “Move it Colin. This one’s Kook’s girl.”
Colin’s hands defensively come up, the universal gesture of a man who knows what hills are and are not worth dying on. “My bad. Have a good night, ma’am.”
“Sorry about her,” you call after his retreat. Colin was perfectly nice and none of this is his fault.
“Don’t you dare apologize to him,” Stacey scolds. “You’ll be fending ‘em off all night with that outfit. I hope you prepared.”
You gaze down at yourself, and a flicker of doubt moves through you. “I don’t look dumb, do I? Be honest. I can handle it.”
“Sweetheart, the only person in this bar who’s gonna think you look dumb is you.”
Of their own accord, your eyes drift around the bar again.
Stacey takes the time to add, “And Jungkook, is definitely not going to think you look dumb.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes for the nth time since you’ve met her.
“Move along,” Stacey says, turning back to her next customer, waving you off with the dish rag, “Go on. I’ve got work to do.”
“I haven’t seen you care about a work since the day I met you—”
“Scram, kid.”
You peel your hand off the bar like a kid being dropped off on the first day of school, a pit of reluctance settling in your stomach.
Almost immediately, the attention begins. A few men tip their hats at you, while another does a double take while aggressively elbowing his friend in the ribs. Someone lets out a low whistle that you feel in your spine, and you nod politely, keep moving.
It’s profoundly strange. Sure, you can recognize you’re a pretty girl. But in New York, you were invisible, which is to say completely unless someone wanted something from you. Here, people look at you like you’re someone they want to be near, no matter what they can get from you. You just wish it was one specific person doing the looking.
Migrating towards the back, you push through clusters of people, squeezing through gaps in the crowd. The women are less forgiving than the men. Some eye your outfit, then look away in disgust.
Eventually, you find a sliver of wall near the back and stand near it, not on it, margarita held tight to your chest. From here, you can see the layout of the bar. The dance floor, the jukebox, bodies packed between you and the exit. Groups of men cluster together like men do at bars.
“Kook! Over here, man!”
Your eyes find the source before your brain catches up. A blonde, fit man weasels through the crowd, waving down the one person you’ve been hoping to see.
There’s no slow motion, no cinematic lighting change, no romantic song swelling up from the jukebox at the precise moment. People around him part without noticing they’re doing it, a gap opening up like the bar itself is making room for Jungkook’s grand entrance.
Your stomach drops through the floor. Butterflies that you want to convince yourself are just anxiety or tequila detonate all at once, wings beating against your ribs so feverishly you press your hand flat to your chest to hold it all in.
This is stupid, you think. This is so stupid. He’s just a man.
He reaches his friend, and you can see him under the dim lights. Jungkook’s in a black jean jacket, wife beater underneath, black hat adorned on top of his head. He’s smiling, saying something, unaware of you pressed against this wall.
Two women near the jukebox drop their voices, heads together as they giggle. A girl in red boots nudges her friend while eyeing him.
Fuck. You hadn’t once stopped to think about all the competition you might have.
You wonder how many girls he’s offered a ride, or to see his ranch.
His eyes move across the bar, and on instinct, your spine straightens. He seems to scan the bar, eyes moving through the crowd. Past the jukebox, the dance floor, past the bar.
And then, after what feels like eons, his eyes land on you.
The noise of the bar goes fuzzy around the edges, heart leaping into your throat as you hold his gaze. His eyes drag down the length of your body, pausing at the sliver of your waist. He continues on, past the shorts and down to the boots that hug your feet. From meters away, you watch his jaw set and gaze darken.
Jungkook tips his hat, and you raise your glass.
Turning to the friend beside him, he whispers something brief into his ear. The friend turns to look at you then swivels back to Jungkook to shove him in your direction.
Electricity lights behind your sternum and radiates outward, down your arms, into your fingertips where they’re wrapped around the cold glass, and you think Carrie Underwood was right. Those damn cowboy casanovas.
He moves through the crowd in your direction, eyes unwavering from yours. His musky, tree-like scent hits you first. Up close, the black jean jacket sits across his broad shoulders. His lips are curled into a sinister smirk that would scare you if you didn’t find him unbelievably attractive.
“Howdy, cowboy,” you grin up at him.
Jungkook cocks his head. His hand comes out, two nimble fingers catching the hem of your lace top. Your heart leaps clean out of your chest and goes somewhere it can’t be retrieved from. “This all for me, sugar?”
“Don’t get too cocky.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’ll try not to.” He doesn’t bother pretending he’s not ogling you.
“Trying to get in touch with my Texan roots, y’know?” you joke, playing with the straw in what you hope is flirtatiously.
“Yeah? C’mon then.” He holds his hand out, chin tilting up. “Give me a twirl, sugar.”
With a smile, you place your hand in his and turn, jutting your hip out. You rotate under the light and when you come back to face him, his eyes have darkened enough that you can hardly see the brown in them.
He politely whistles, still holding your hand but bringing it down. “Well. If I knew Texas was gonna do that to a city girl, I’d have started recruitin’ from New York a long time ago.”
“You scouting for others?”
“Never,” he chuckles. He braces one hand against the wall beside your head. “You know, I’ve had a cowgirl fantasy or two as well.”
“Have you?”
“Mhm. Used to think it was about the boots." His eyes drop to your shorts, the way your hips hug the fabric. “Think I might’ve been wrong about that.”
“What’s it about then?”
“The girl wearing ‘em.”
“Scout’s honor?” you tease, and the smile that curls upon his lips sets your insides on fire.
“Always,” he salutes. “I was getting worried I wouldn’t see you ‘round here no more.”
From here, you can really see the height difference between you two, the way he towers over you. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Is this a goodbye, sugar? Don’t break my heart,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest.
Involuntarily, you grin. “I wanted to make sure when I came back here, I knew what I wanted.”
For a moment, he’s quiet, expression shifting. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, and his thumb rubs circles on your knuckles. “And now what do you want?”
“Hi, Kook.”
It’s one of the girls you spotted earlier. She’s batting her eyes like she’s got a speck of dust in it, and is eyeing Jungkook in a way that makes her intention crystal clear.
“Hey.” Jungkook glances at her for a second, maybe two, before his gaze is back on you.
“I wanted to come over and say hi. Know it’s been a while since we last saw each other,” she purrs, ignoring your daggered eyes.
“I guess,” he shrugs, a protective finger looping through the belt holes in your shorts to pull you an inch further into him. Suddenly, you feel painfully inadequate. She’s actually trying to dissuade him to pick her instead of you.
“Remember when we spent that night under the stars last month? Just you, I, and a bottle of Jack—”
She shifts her weight onto her other foot, and she casts a furtive glance at you as if to question your presence. You’re questioning your existence right about now too.
“Hm.” He interrupts, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Her lips twist as though she’s just bit into a lemon. Then she sends a harrowing look in your direction, and you’re reminded that you’re the reason he won’t give her the time of day. You don’t really give a shit, though.
“Oh. Alright, then. Have a good rest of your night.” Her tone is tinged with hurt as she turns on the heel of her boots and flocks back to her group of girls, all of whom are busy throwing dirty looks at you.
Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t pay much mind. His dark eyes are still fixed on your face, thumb still looped through the hole.
“That wasn’t very nice,” you say into your drink.
“You want me to be nice to her?” he coyly smiles.
You think you’d rather lose all your limbs in a fire.
You shrug in silence. Jungkook tilts your jaw up to meet his eyes. “You were about to say something before.”
“Was I?”
“Before we were interrupted,” he retorts, settling his hand in your jean pocket.
“Oh.” Finding the words doesn’t come easy, even if you know exactly what you want to say. Instead, you settle on, “Did you drive here?”
“‘Course, sugar.”
“Well… you wanna get out of here?”
Amusement crosses his face. “Damn right I do.”
He plants a warm hand at the small of your back, guiding you toward the door. You drop your half-drunken margarita on a nearby table. As you let yourself be steered by him, there’s a smug smile glued to your face, especially when you catch the eyes and whispers of girls. There’s something about this city, this man, that makes you confident in yourself.
Jungkook parked his car in the back of the filled lot. From there, the noise dissipates into nothingness, nothing but the sound of bugs chirping and cars in the distance on I-40. Out here, you can forget about your old life.
“Earlier, you asked what I wanted.”
“I did, sugar.” He’s loitering with his keys in his pocket, a smirk evident on his lips as he leans against the driver’s door of his pickup truck.
You gnaw at your lower lip. “I think I want to repay my debts to you.”
“Really?” In the dark of the night, you can hardly make out his obsidian eyes, the shadows on his face settling. “How do ya plan on doing that?”
“Think I owe you that ride still.”
His lips come crashing down onto yours, large hands weaving into your hair, tugging on it. You unabashedly moan into his mouth as he tugs you further into him, like he wants you to live in his skin. Your hand lands on his chest, and you feel the broad muscle under his tank, the rapid flutter of his heart. His tongue licks into your mouth, sloppy and full of desire, and you don’t even care about how your whimpers sound against him. It’s all so sudden your body takes a moment to find its rhythm, but when you do, you realize how soft his lips are, how such a good fucking kisser he is. You probably shouldn’t have expected anything less from the Austin's communal mattress, but that’s neither here nor there.
The hand once pressed against your back wanders down, down until he’s cupping your ass firmly. He kneads the skin, and he groans into your mouth, lips hot and wet against your own. Austin, Texas is known for its sweltering heat, but with Jungkook’s body against yours, the brisk, night air can’t even cool you down.
His lips trail off your lips, pressing against your cheek, and you feel the cold metal of his piercing against your burning skin. “You look so pretty in this outfit, sugar.”
Your body combusts under his weight and words. His tongue slides back into your mouth, hand moving from your ass to your neck where he gently clutches around it. “Wore it for you,” you whisper between kisses.
“Hm.” he pecks your lips once more. “I was hoping so. Must be real lucky to be the first cowboy to have you.”
“And the last,” you say before leaning back in for another messy kiss, drunk off the way he tastes, more than any alcohol could ever give you.
His hands come down to cradle the back of your thighs, and before you can protest, he’s lifting you, pressing your back against the door of his truck. Gasping, your hands scramble for purchase around his neck, thighs snugly hugging his waist. Jungkook’s lips press against your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses wherever he can. You want all of him, more of him, by any means you can get it. Your fingers entangle in his dark locks, tugging at the nape. He groans, “F-fuck, we need to get in the car, sugar.”
“Mhm, take me there, then,” Your smile is dopey as he carries you around to the passenger side, opening the door and sitting down so he can plop you directly onto his lap. His thighs are firm muscle beneath you. He slams the door shut, lips finding yours once more. Your knees cage him in, and he digs his fingers into your flesh. You can hardly keep up with the movement of his tongue, can’t really do anything but open your mouth and take whatever he gives you.
For once, you don’t care about anyone seeing you, or what anyone might think. Luckily, the lot is empty, save for people who are far more worried about entering the bar than leaving, or whatever you’re doing in this vehicle.
“Lift your hips up for me, doll,” he mutters, lips hardly breaking from yours, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shorts. You do as he says, allowing him access. He slides your shorts down your legs, depositing them on the floor of his truck. Your knees feel like jelly, quivering with anticipation as he tugs your underwear off next. Desperately, you fall back into his lap, clit pressed against his jeans for as much friction as possible.
Beneath you, you can feel his hard length poking through his jeans, and your cheeks warm up at the thought of him getting hard from just some kissing. You gently test the waters, hips rolling into his crotch. He grunts, hands steadying your movements. “Fuck, sugar, I won’t last long if you plan on doing that.”
“Who says I want you to last long?” you whisper, lips tracing the shell of his ear. And then he’s grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you in, in, in, kissing you like he wants to swallow your essence entirely. He pulls the straps of your top down until your tits pop out. You gasp at the sudden exposure, cold air causing your nipples to perk up. His fingers come to play with the pert bud, and you whimper atop him.
“Most perfect tits I’ve ever seen, sugar.” He trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your collarbone, tongue licking a path down to your breasts. His lips wrap around your perked nipple, and a choked moan escapes you.
Your fingers intertwine in his hair, tugging, and that elicits a groan from him. His tongue flicks the nipple up, down, and your back arches against the dashboard. You tug at his hair as he messily sucks your tits, leaving bruises you’re sure will last weeks. Jungkook’s hips rut into your sopping entrance hopelessly, and his length pokes into your inner thigh. You’re pretty sure you’re creaming all over his pants, not that he even minds. On every hitch of his hips forward, his teeth grazes your nipple, undoing you.
Truth be told, you’ve been soaked since the moment you laid eyes on him. Since the moment you saw the hat upon his head, muscles bulging out of everything he owns. You push his jean jacket off his shoulders, seeing the tattoo that extends across his biceps and collarbone, a myriad of color.
Finally, he peers up at you, swollen lips and blown pupils. You waste no time in pressing your lips to his again. He can probably taste the remaining sugar from your margarita on your tongue, and if anything, the thought seems to excite him, the thought that other parts of you may be sweet as well. Gripping onto his biceps, you can feel the veins that trace up his arms. A whine exits from the back of your throat. “Jungkook, touch me.”
“Hm, where, sugar? Use your words.” He presses a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips.
Words aren’t something you can muster, so you take his hand and place it against your clit, right where he can feel how fucking soaked you are, dripping onto his jeans. “Shit,” he curses, swallowing thickly. “You’re dripping. You been like this the whole time?”
Eagerly, you nod like a broken bobblehead.
One finger dips between your folds, gathering your essence before taking it back to his mouth and licking it clean off. “Just as sweet as I imagined.”
There’s no air left in your lungs to form words with, no brainpower beyond the feeling of wanting more, more, more. His finger finds your clit, and you throw your head back, moaning loudly that you’re damn near certain the entirety of Texas heard you. Toothily, Jungkook grins, pointer and middle finger rubbing circles against your clit. His tongue comes to lick a trail up your neck, sucking the sweet spot behind your ear. It’s like he has a map to you, knows exactly where to touch you to have you writhing.
A finger slides through your wetness before finally pushing into your entrance, down to his knuckle. Your fingernails rake down his biceps, leaving red marks in its place. He fucks the finger steadily in and out, thumbing at your clit simultaneously. “Ngh—fuck, don’t stop,” you moan, grinding into his finger. Just one isn’t enough, you know it won’t be, need to feel him fill you up.
“P-please,” you beg, although you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. But he seems to understand, pushing a second finger inside you, curling upwards to your sweet spot. Your body jolts forward, nails now digging crescent moons into his skin. “Oh fuck, feels so good.”
“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he groans. “Your pussy’s so tight and warm. Gonna be a dream to fuck you, sugar.”
“M-me either.” You shiver, and on autopilot, your shaky fingers come to undo his belt buckle, unzipping his jeans. “Please fuck me, Kook. I want it. Want to feel you inside me.”
“Yeah?” He presses open-mouthed kisses against your cheek and nose, “Want me to fuck you the way you deserve?”
A long, languid moan escapes you, anticipation leaping into your throat. “Please. Please l-let me give you that ride.”
“If you insist,” he devilishly smiles, pulling his fingers out of you, licking them clean once more. He pulls down his boxers as much as he can with you on top, gets out his cock, and hisses as he strokes himself a few times.
Shit. You should’ve known he would be big, but he’s at least twice the size of your ex. Saliva pools in your mouth at how veiny and red his cock is. His hat hangs over his eyes as he looks down at his cock, chest heaving and bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth.
It’s like a lightbulb flashes over your head, with an idea so sinister you almost can’t believe you came up with it yourself.
You get your hands on the soft fabric of his hat, nudging it off his head and placing it on yours. It’s a little too big, hangs over your eyes, but Jungkook’s jaw goes slack nonetheless. “You gonna give me that ride while you wear my hat?” His cock twitches in his palm as he lazily strokes it, eyes never leaving yours.
“Uhu,” you agree, replacing his hand with yours on his cock. He’s girthier than you imagined, can hardly fit the whole of him in your palm. He quickly moves to kiss you again, and you take the opportunity to glide the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering the arousal that’s pooled. You both moan in unison.
“Fuck, don’t tease me, sugar,” he grunts, eyes glazed over with lust.
Whimpering, you obey him, and his cock enters you in one go. Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and it’s a slow, torturous slide down, until your folds hit his pelvic bone. He sharply inhales, cursing as his head hits the headrest. Your legs tremble with how full of him you feel, how much of him bulges in your stomach when you look down. “Fuck, Kook. Y’you’re so big.”
Jungkook’s calloused hands run up and down your sides. His face is mostly hidden behind the shadows in his car, but you can make out his rosy lips and cheeks. “I know, baby, but you can take it. Go ‘head and give me that ride you owe me.”
Slowly, you move up and down, only a mere inch at a time. Just enough to see the bulge inside your stomach move a tad. The hat slides further over your eyes as you gently move. He tips it back, cupping your cheek so he can see how fucked out you look already. “C’mon, use me, sugar. Show me how you ride dick.”
You nod in response, your cunt clenching around his length. Arousal drips down his cock onto his abdomen, and your head hits the ceiling as you use all your strength to bounce on his cock. Loud whines and curses fill the space, Jungkook’s mouth buried into your neck, hands coming to spread your ass cheeks so you can take him deeper. “Yeah, that’s it. Ride my fucking cock, sugar.”
The sounds fog up the window—your pussy squelching with each thrust, the slap of his balls against your ass, his throaty groans.
“These fucking tits. Wanna see them bounce in my face all the time,” he says, a hand coming up to slap your hardened nipples, and you moan. A trickle of sweat falls down your back, falling into the fabric that has now pooled around your waist. “You doing good, sugar?” His voice is sinful, and your cunt clenches around him again.
“Mhm. Your cock is so deep inside me.” Bouncing becomes more tiresome, thighs trembling with pent-up desire. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy to ride cock as one had hoped, but you’re determined to get you and him over the edge.
His hair is ruffled by your fingers as he trails a path of sloppy, wet kisses to the valley of your breasts. “You look so fucking good with my hat on.” Even though the edge is tipping over your eyes again, he fondly peers at you, how utterly blissed out your expression looks, cheeks ruddy.
Somehow, he must feel the exhaustion creeping upon you, because he plants his boots onto the floor and bucks up into you, causing moans to elicit from you. “Fuck, your pussy’s so tight n’ wet. It’s like a fucking drug, sugar,” he croons into your neck.
His cock plunges in and out of you with more force. Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you tight, tight, tight to his chest, tits bouncing against him. You hold onto the hat, leaning against the dashboard so he can hit your sweet spot, just where you want him. “Oh—fuck, right there, Kook!”
His teeth drag against your skin, hips pistoning in and out. Puffs of breath escape his mouth and hit your skin. “If you were mine, would never let ya go,” he babbles, clearly pussy drunk. “Ain’t never letting you get near another cowboy. You’re all mine now, sugar.”
Clearly, your body takes a liking to the buckets of filth he’s pouring in your ear, and your walls clench around his length, your imminent orgasm creeping up on you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, and the pit in your stomach grows and grows, the knot almost coming undone as he continues hitting what you think might be your cervix.
You swear you feel him in your stomach as he says. “You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock? Make a mess of my truck?”
“Gonna cum, Kook. Please make me cum,” you chant, and then it’s a gush of wetness escaping you, back arching far enough that the hat falls onto the console, thighs trembling and jaw slack. Normally, you’d be embarrassed, but all you can think about is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, walls frantically clamping down on him as you ride out your orgasm.
“Are you gonna cum inside me?” You’re sure you sound desperate when you ask, but he peers up at you with hooded eyes and responds, “If that’s what you want, sugar.”
It only takes a few more pumps of his hips to send him over the edge as well, hips stuttering, before groaning and emptying himself inside you. Slumping against his chest, his cock twitches, then softens inside you, and all that can be heard in the truck is the sound of you two struggling to catch your breath.
“Holy shit,” is all you can say.
His nails gently run down your spine, sending goosebumps blossoming across your skin. “Good ride?” he jokes, pressing kisses down the slope of your shoulder.
“Totally worth it.”
And you mean it, every ounce of it. Can see the sunshine and rainbows, the things you thought were once hidden behind dark clouds.
Just like you thought it would, it was good. Probably even better than that, probably impossible to find a word in the English dictionary to describe it. Enough so that maybe, you’ll extend your year-long lease in Texas. Make it two, perhaps.
“Jungkook?”
“Hm, sugar?”
“Can you take me to the ranch?”
A chuckle reverberates through his chest, and you feel it everywhere his skin touches yours. “Yeah, darlin’. How ‘bout tomorrow?”
summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.)
pairing⇢ jungkook/reader
word count⇢ 19.8k 🤭
genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au
warnings⇢ sexual content, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, corporate nonsense, jk is a nerd but he's also really hot 😩
a/n⇢ omg, she's finally here 😭 this fic has been sitting in my drafts partially finished for literal YEARS lmfaoo. as in, jungkook didn't even have tattoos yet years ☠️ in fact, the whole plot for this was spawned from that time namjoon was on a live in his studio and jk visited in this yellow buttonup looking like a hot nerd and namjoon said he looked like he had an interview. it had to be 2018ish...i know my OGs know exactly what i'm talking about, but i'll put it below the cut for reference. ANYWAYS this was fun to imagine, but it's also entirely fiction so please don't attempt anything that happens in this fic lmao. mood for this fic is this. hope you enjoy~ 💜
When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.
Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.
While you’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every quarter the company sponsors an employee barbecue where everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.
“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”
Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though friendly, she has zero filter and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in certain situations where you found her topic of choice inappropriate.
Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate instead of your measly Assistant means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started and is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing).
“I think it’s nice,” you reply truthfully. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”
“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”
Your eyes dart to said Sales Boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?
An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from Accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”
“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.
“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “That sounds unnecessarily smelly. He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”
“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”
“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.
The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.
“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.
He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue button-up. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.
The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.
“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”
Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”
“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”
“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”
“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”
He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up.
“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.
“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”
“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.
Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.
Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”
“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”
“IT guy?” you prompt, hoping to slide past that last remark.
“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. They rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.
Wendy scoffs in disinterest. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”
“Soccer game?” you ask distractedly. A glance back to the coolers shows Jungkook is gone, and you don’t see him in the immediate vicinity.
“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy reminds you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”
To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching his athletic display across the grass anyway.
Monday morning—the start of the workweek, but also, rather depressingly, the end of the weekend. Everyone tends to be more tired and grumpy on Mondays (yourself included), and this is why your team considers it essential that you always stop by their preferred coffeeshop and bring in their drinks for a morning pick-me-up. You’re the lowest on the ladder, so you weren’t exactly sure how to refuse when you were asked one day if you would mind picking up some drinks for everyone, and then, after that, people kept sending you their orders like it was expected of you. The café is technically on your way to work and everyone always pays you back, but it’s still pretty irritating to have to forgo those extra precious minutes of sleep just so you can beat the long lines and get to work on time.
Today, you’re lucky enough to get ahead of the morning rush, but that means that you end up trudging into the building much earlier than you anticipated. You hope the coffee’s insulated cups do their job properly, because you really don’t have the energy to listen to Joy huff and puff about having to reheat hers.
Your trek to your cubicle slows when you realize that someone is already there, sitting in your chair and typing away on your keyboard. Their back is to you, swathed in an olive button-up, and it’s not until you get close enough to curiously crane your head to see their face that you recognize him. The guy from the barbecue last week—the one by the coolers.
He startles a bit when he sees you approach in his peripheral vision, eyes darting up at you in surprise.
“Hi.” You raise the tray you’re holding in an awkward greeting. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”
“That’s okay, _____,” he replies softly, wide eyes blinking a little from behind his round glasses. “I can get kind of spacey when I’m focused on something. I was just doing some updates on your machine and didn’t see you.”
“You…” Your head tilts curiously. “You know my name?”
A small smile touches his lips as he points to your computer. “I’m updating your machine,” he reminds you.
Not to mention the fact that he’s literally sitting in your cubicle, you name tag clearly posted on the frosted glass that separates your space from Joy’s. An embarrassed chuckle leaves you when you realize your dumbass mistake. “Oh. Duh. Wow, that was a stupid question. Let me just get out of your way.”
“No, no, I’m clearly the one in the way!” His head shakes apologetically. “I couldn’t do this update remotely and I thought you didn’t clock in for another half hour—sorry about that.”
“I don’t,” you confirm. “But I tend to get here a little early so I can sort out everyone’s coffee order.”
A brow raises in surprise. “Do they really have you making coffee runs?” he asks incredulously.
You hmm in confirmation, moving to set the coffee on everyone’s desks. “Rite of passage, I guess,” you call over the divider as you work. Joy’s order today isn’t as over the top as you know she can be, but you were still rather embarrassed to order it (vanilla latte with oatmilk—one and a half pumps cinnamon, one pump hazelnut, an extra espresso shot and extra foam with honey drizzle). The barista had looked at you tiredly but hadn’t voiced her obvious judgement when she rung you up.
“I guess,” you hear him say, but he doesn’t sound too convinced.
Coffee distributed and hands finally free, you return to lean against your cubicle, hovering as he continues to quickly type and click. You look at him pointedly, a small smile creeping across your face. “Speaking of grunt work, I hear you’re the printer guy.”
His lips quirk. “I’m also the expert at updating Microsoft Word, just so you know.”
You laugh, and his eyes crinkle in amused response. “Oh, well excuse me, sir.”
“I’ll let it slide this once. Since you’re new.”
“And so are you. That’s why you’re the printer guy.”
He just lets out a puff of air that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. This close, you can now see the tiny holes that are trailing up his earlobe—he clearly has multiple ear piercings, not just the ones you saw at the barbecue. There is no jewelry in them now, though.
“Jungkook, right?”
It’s his turn to look surprised, and you find yourself satisfied by the flush creeping up the back of his neck when he ducks his head in confirmation.
“Us newbies gotta stick together,” you stage whisper behind a conspiratorial hand before leaning decidedly away. “Anyway, let me stop bothering you and go make some coffee.”
His eyebrows scrunch in clear confusion. “Didn’t you just bring some?”
“…Yeah, I am only just now recognizing just how bizarre this must seem,” you say sheepishly. “But none of those were for me—fancy specialty drinks aren’t really in my budget, so I tend to just brew a cup here.”
“Did you say drinks?” a voice croaks, and when you turn your head, there’s Joy, walking towards the two of you. If her body’s sluggish movements weren’t enough to clue you in to the fact that she’s exhausted and possibly hungover, the designer sunglasses she’s wearing to tactfully hide half her face certainly do.
“On your desk,” you chirp as she walks past you without another glance. “Good morning!”
There is no response from the other side of the cubicle wall, and Jungkook frowns a bit, but you just give him a small shrug that translates to what can you do? before pushing off the wall to continue your trek to the kitchen. “You want one?” you offer. “I make a mean cafeteria coffee. Trial and error has taught me the exact temperature of tap water to use to make it taste less like sludge.”
His mouth smoothes back out at your joke, and though you wait for him to call you out on your ridiculous declaration, his gaze is already back on your computer. “No thank you,” comes his soft reply.
With a nod to yourself, you move to complete your task and leave Jungkook to work on his. When you return minutes later, newly-filled mug in hand, he’s already gone.
Today starts out pretty typically. After bringing everyone’s coffee, you settle into monitoring the company’s social media accounts. (When Joy first delegated this task to you, you were a bit confused, as social media is so vital to brands nowadays that handling it is technically a whole other full-time job. But it turns out you don’t have to do much above the intern level anyway—just answer customer questions and escalate issues if need be.)
Your manager has been out traveling for a week, but today she finally comes back to the office, and it makes for a nice change of pace when she hands you all of her scattered, hurriedly-scribbled notes and asks you to please transcribe them into something more cohesive and legible. Well, not nice, exactly (because at the end of the day, this is still busywork), but if you have to reply to one more Facebook comment with instructions that are clearly already on the product packaging, there is a pretty likely possibility you will scream.
This is at least slightly less mind-numbing. Instead of copy-pasting things from a prewritten script, you get to try to make sense of what your boss had been trying to say when she wrote turkey club in the corner of a page filled with random numbers and dates. Was this important? Was it simply her plans for lunch that day? You and your fancy college degree have the pleasure of trying to figure that out while Joy and Alan, the web manager, get to actually do important things that are in their job descriptions.
Still, like every day, you try to dampen your frustration, try to keep a positive attitude. Because ultimately, this is an opportunity to grow your boss’s confidence in you, and that’s exactly what you want. Though you’re a little disheartened by all the busywork, you remind yourself it will all be worth it in the end. Your hope is that if you put in the time, you’ll eventually be trusted with more of the nitty gritty stuff.
(You know…the stuff you actually got your degree for.)
But no matter how positive you are, things of course don’t go as smoothly as they should. After you’ve done a pretty fantastic job (if you say so yourself) of organizing and typing everything up, you send your manager the digital version. And, because you know the email may accidentally get buried in her inbox, you decide to print a physical copy for good measure.
You give the printer pretty simple, straightforward directions. One copy, double-sided (to do your part to save Mother Earth), the whole document typed in plain old black and white. But when you walk over, there’s nothing waiting for you in the printing tray. No humming to clue you in to the fact that the printer was working on your job. Nope. Instead, the admittedly ancient machine is quiet and still, and it stays that way for long enough for you to walk back to your computer to press the print button again, just in case you forgot to do so the first time. Still no dice. You frown, opening the paper tray to make sure it was full, then opening every other compartment that can possibly be opened to make sure there isn’t a paper jam somewhere.
Nothing.
Irritated, you stalk back to your desk, your first inclination to check with Joy and see if she has been having any of the same issues, but you find her chair empty. Probably got pulled into a meeting that they don’t find it necessary to loop you in on, even though it will ultimately be you who does all the grunt work for any action items the meeting produces.
Positive, you remind yourself, falling back into your chair and drumming your fingertips against your desk in thought. Maybe it’s not the printer at all. Maybe it’s your computer. You search your desk drawer for the introductory employee contact sheet HR had given you when you first started, and there he is—Jeon, Jungkook.
For a second, you consider sending him an email, but the green dot that displays he’s online has you shooting him a message instead. Much less formal, but likely quicker for the both of you.
You
Hey Jungkook! Sorry to bother you, but I can’t print for some reason
You
The printer over here is ignoring me, and I don’t think I’m set up to print by the art directors
Despite what you originally assumed, he doesn’t answer immediately, obviously focused on something else. Still, you only have to wait a few minutes before you hear the soft ding you were waiting for.
Jungkook Jeon
Hi, _____. You mean the large printer by the marketing department, correct?
You
Yes! I tried a couple times, but I don’t think the job even went through
You
Thought it best to just ask the printer guy 🙂
There’s a pause, one long enough that you worry that he’s forgotten about your lighthearted exchange from this morning. Shit. That was stupid of you. You’ve probably offended him. Fuck.
But if Jungkook is upset with you, he’s professional enough that it doesn’t come across at all in his next message. If anything, he just seems a little preoccupied.
Jungkook Jeon
Hmmm, let me check it out for you. Mabel can be a little uncooperative.
You
Mabel?
Silence again, this time for a good five minutes. You answer some emails so you’re not just sitting there twiddling your thumbs.
Jungkook Jeon
Sorry, was running some diagnostics in the background to see if I could find the problem
IT kinda calls that printer Mabel because we’re pretty sure she’s worked for the company for longer than all of us combined. Seems fitting
You can’t help but snort at that. Cute, and likely not inaccurate. Mabel, it is.
Jungkook Jeon
One of these days Mabel’ll finally retire, but it won’t be today—looks like she’s running fine. Do you mind checking for me and seeing if you can access the marketing server?
A few clicks, and when double clicking on the server icon doesn’t bring up the same list of folders it usually does, it confirms the conclusion the both of you have already come to—your computer is the problem, not Mabel.
You
No dice 😕
Jungkook Jeon
Got it. I think something went weird with your network connection after I updated your machine this morning. I can fix that for you!
You
Awesome! I appreciate it!
Jungkook Jeon
Of course! Can’t have my sparkling reputation as the Printer Guy tarnished so easily 😉
You
LOL
You allow him remote access to your computer when a pop-up prompts you to, and he gets you up and running before your manager’s meeting is even over.
Lunch has always been an interesting—albeit potentially exhausting—part of your day. You learned early on that attempting to take the break you were legally entitled to at your desk did not stop anyone from continuing to ask you for things. Unfortunately, there weren’t many solutions to this problem—you didn’t get paid enough to be able to consistently eat your lunches out, and you lived too far away from the office to go home for lunch instead. So, you started taking your lunch break a little earlier than most of your other coworkers did, ensuring that the cafeteria was pretty empty and allowing you the space to decompress and eat your bagged lunch in peace.
And as things usually went with this company, it didn’t take long for that peace to be interrupted. Once she noticed you disappearing from your desk, curiosity had Joy tagging along one day, and after that, it only took a couple weeks before both she and Wendy joined you.
(Later, you would have the great idea to simply enjoy your bagged lunch in the park a few blocks away, but the weather wasn’t always great and at that point, the other two started to expect you to eat with them.)
So that’s exactly how you’re spending your lunch now—scarfing down the soup you made a few days ago that you’ll eat until it’s completely gone, while Joy and Wendy giggle and gossip to each other. As much as they apparently want to eat lunch with you, they tend to be pretty nonplussed by how you never contribute much to their inane conversations.
And you’re fine with that. In the time it’s taken them to get comfortable invading your zen time, you’ve learned how to properly tune their tittering out. You’re good at nodding at the right times, at throwing in perfectly placed hums that indicate you’re listening, even when you’re not.
Today, it’s a sudden, uncharacteristic pause in their chatter that prickles against your diverted attention. “That’s weird,” you hear Wendy mutter, and that officially throws you out of you mentally making your grocery list. The intrigued way she’s looking behind you makes you reflexively turn, and that’s when your eyes set on Jungkook.
He hadn’t been there when you first sat down for lunch, but he is now, sitting alone a couple tables away. He’s the only other person in the cafeteria, but from the AirPods in his ears and the way his eyes are focused on his phone screen, you doubt he’s even noticed this fact.
Joy’s lips downturn slightly into a puzzled frown. “Hmm. IT guys never come down voluntarily from their tower.”
Your head tilts as you mull over that. That isn’t exactly true. You have only seen Jungkook in passing a few times over the last couple weeks, but those few times prove IT aren’t exactly the antisocial specters the two women in front of you keep painting them as. You have even exchanged the short pleasantries with him that are socially expected when crossing paths at the coffeepot.
“Wonder what he’s doing here?” Wendy says, not nearly quietly enough in your opinion. Embarrassment flashes hot through you, inwardly chastising yourself for continuing to associate with such casually judgmental people. You’re already mentally preparing to apologize for your lunch mates when a covert glance out of the corner of your eye shows that Jungkook’s still paying your group no attention, taking distracted bites from his sandwich as his head bobs slightly to whatever is playing through his headphones.
“Whatever,” Joy says with a dismissive shrug, and then just that easily, the two are back gossiping about Cindy in HR.
From then on, you notice that Jungkook continues to eat lunch in the cafeteria at the same time as you. Sometimes, he beats you there, already at his designated table and munching on whatever he brought that day. If your eyes meet, he’ll send you a small smile in greeting before immediately dropping his focus back to his phone. If you’re there first and throw him a wave of acknowledgment, he always returns it, as is polite and expected of two coworkers who don’t know each other beyond their forced proximity.
And you think nothing of it, too busy being your department’s errand girl, the person who gets assigned all the tasks no one else wants to do. The amount of interaction you and Jungkook have is only marginally higher than what you have with Namjoon in Finance, who periodically reaches out to you for any missing receipts for charges on the Marketing department’s credit card.
This slowly starts changing as you begin to have more and more technical problems. You being assigned to put together multiple PowerPoints and research whatever market trends tickles your boss’s fancy means you constantly have an ungodly amount of tabs and applications open. This means you’re not really surprised when your computer—an older model that is definitely on its last leg—starts freezing and giving you pop up errors. A force restart seems to fix the problem, but a new one emerges—now, no matter how many times you hit the print button and walk over to your designated printer, nothing awaits for you to pick up. Even scrolling through the printer’s print history shows no record of your jobs being in the queue. It’s bizarre—you even make sure to confirm you’re connected to the servers, and that doesn’t seem to be the issue this time.
Frowning, you make your way back to your desk and scroll down your chat messages until a familiar face appears.
You
Hey Jungkook! I can’t seem to print—think something weird is going on with my computer today
A soft sigh of frustration escapes your lips, fingers drumming irritably against your desk. It isn’t even noon, but the day is already looking to be a long one.
Resigned, you settle in to wait for him to answer you in the chat, but the little bubbles that indicate he’s typing never pop up. Instead, you’re surprised when movement in your peripheral produces Jungkook himself, slowing in approach of your desk, though his focus is still on his phone screen. He must have gotten your message in the midst of doing something else.
“Oh! Hi,” you greet him eagerly. “Just the person I was looking to see.”
He looks up at you from beneath the curtain of his bangs, a small smile touching his lips as he stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. “Just the person I was looking for,” he returns. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Mabel is being a bitch again,” you say with an irritated sigh. “Every time I try to print, nothing is happening.”
Jungkook snorts, amused, and it’s only then that your brain registers exactly what you just said. Swearing at work is unprofessional so you make it a point not do it, but that one slipped out so casually. “Oh—sorry.”
But if Jungkook is offended, it certainly doesn’t show in the responding chuckle he lets out. “That’s definitely on brand. I can fix that—let me take a look.”
You move to relinquish your seat, but he’s already leaning over you before you can do more than shift your weight. So you just let go of your mouse so he can control it instead, scooting to the side a bit and trying your best not to think too hard about how he’s close enough for your clothes to brush. Christ does he smell good.
Jungkook clicks around a bit, no doubt checking to make sure your computer is up to date and connected to everything it’s supposed to. “Is this what you’ve been trying to print?” he finally asks, brows furrowed in concentration.
You blink at the question, realizing with dawning horror that you were accidentally distracted by his proximity. You clear your throat, shaking your head a little at yourself in an attempt to clear it of all thoughts that aren’t solidly on the task at hand. “Yeah.”
He clicks the print button, just as you have done for the past ten minutes, then straightens with a shrug. “Let’s give our old girl a visit and see what her deal is.”
You stand, following him around the corner to the copy room, where Mabel has proudly taken residence for who knows how many years. The fact that you can already see she’s humming with activity as the two of you approach has your eyebrows knitting in confusion.
Jungkook seems equally confused, reaching in the tray for the stack of paper that was just spit out and turning it over to confirm both of your suspicions. The report you’ve been trying to print for the last twenty minutes sits in his hand, likely still warm from how quickly and easily Mabel completed Jungkook’s request. He holds it up for you to see, his big doe eyes peering at you quizzically through his glasses. “This printer was the one that wouldn’t work for you?” he asks.
“Yeah, I definitely sent it to this one. Repeatedly,” you insist. Embarrassment prickles across your skin. “I swear it wasn’t working two seconds ago!”
Jungkook smiles when he hands you the papers, and it somehow softens his naturally cherubic face even more. “You just wanted to say hi to me, huh?”
“Clearly Mabel likes you more than me,” you sniff at his teasing. “Sorry for wasting your time.”
“You didn’t,” he says simply. He hovers for a few more moments as you check to make sure all the pages are there. “Let me know if you have any more issues, okay?”
“Will do,” you agree, mind already back on your work as you both turn to part ways. “Thank you so much for your help!”
“Anytime.”
“Didn’t you have a date last night?” Joy asks.
It’s lunchtime again, early enough that the three of you are still the only ones in the cafeteria. While both Joy and Wendy are munching on some overpriced salads they had delivered from a restaurant a couple blocks away, you’re eating a boring ham and cheese sandwich that you haphazardly slapped together in your rush to get out the door this morning. Vaguely, you do remember Wendy mentioning something about an upcoming hot date, but she was always rambling about a hot date, and frankly, you don’t care enough to keep up with any details. Everything you know about her love life—and her, in all honesty—has been dumped onto you without you having any say in the matter.
“I did,” Wendy squeals, excited as always to have the opportunity to talk about herself. “His name was Miles. We’ve been talking on Tinder for the past week—he was really sweet and seemed to want to get to know me. Last night he took me to a nice restaurant, really wined and dined me.”
“Wow,” Joy says, eyebrows raised. “That sounds promising. When are you gonna see him again?”
“I’m not,” Wendy scoffed. “He was nice and all, but he’s only 5’7. It’ll never work out.”
“True.”
You’ve been trying your hardest to zone them out, but the longer Wendy prattles on, each sentence more baffling than the last, you can’t help but interject, “Doesn’t the app let you filter out height preferences?”
Wendy pauses, a raise of an eyebrow betraying her surprise at you finally participating in her lunchtime shenanigans. “Not on the free version.”
“So why did you even entertain him if you knew you would never consider him seriously?”
“..because I wanted to go to dinner?” Wendy replies flatly, the look on her face doing nothing to hide how stupid she thinks your question is. “Besides, he got what he wanted out of the deal. After dinner I took him home and let him fuck.”
The flippantly casual way she throws out the vulgar word feels like a record scratch, especially since the three of you are, in fact, still very much on company premises. Wendy doesn’t seem to notice just how much she’s scandalized you, continuing to prattle on at full volume about how the sex was pretty good for a Tinder date, even though he refused to eat her out.
At this point, you’ve long slowed in your chewing, now entirely too incredulous by the absurdity of the situation you’ve found yourself in to eat.
“You didn’t suck him, did you?” Joy asks.
Wendy scoffs. “Of course not! I’m not giving head to some random anyway, especially if he’s not gonna give me mine first.”
“Can we not talk about this?” you mumble.
They both turn to stare at you, judgement plain on their faces. Wendy snorts. “Wow, _____. I never took you to be a prude.”
“I did,” Joy slides in under her breath.
You let out an agitated huff. This is ridiculous. “I’m not a prude.”
The two of them share a look. After a pause, Wendy finally asks in a way that indicates that it doesn’t really matter what you say because her mind is already made up, “Then what’s the problem?”
Aside from this conversation being a massive HR violation?
Wendy continues smugly, as if she’s figured you out, “Talking about oral hit a nerve…interesting.”
Yes, Wendy! you think sarcastically, fighting the intense urge to roll your eyes. The whole rest of the convo was good and dandy—oral was definitely the line, though!
Joy just looks at you, her eyes narrowing the longer she does. Her scrutiny makes your skin prickle in irritation. “You have gotten head before, right?”
“Okay!” you say sharply, stuffing the uneaten half of your sandwich back into the bag. “One, that’s neither of your business, and two, this conversation is completely inappropriate. Let’s change the subject, please.”
It’s quiet for a moment, both of them visibly surprised by your response. Joy actually looks a tiny bit proud that you stood up for yourself, but Wendy just sniffs and mutters, “That obviously means no.” Ultimately, they both back off, choosing instead to chatter about the newest design of Joy’s nails.
You exhale a tiny sigh of relief. Wendy was hitting the nail too close to the head and you truly didn’t feel like explaining your life story to a nosy coworker who was nothing more than your acquaintance, at best. Now that they’ve finally let you out of the hot seat, you’re fully planning to spend the rest of your lunch hour zoning out in relative peace.
But before you can properly dissociate, you hear someone cough behind you.
Your blood runs cold. You already know who it is—no one else tends to eat lunch this early.
“How long has he been sitting there?” you whisper, already dreading the answer.
Joy waves an unbothered hand. “I don’t know, like five minutes?”
Five minutes. Long enough to have heard…
You’re immediately mortified, and it must show on your face, because Wendy just snorts and says way too loudly for your comfort, “Oh, relax, this is probably the most action he’s gotten in months. I’m doing him a favor.”
What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. “Are you serious right now?”
“Calm down,” Joy says, rolling her eyes. “Look, he’s not even listening to us.”
And a slow, discrete turn of your head confirms what she says—Jungkook, in an ugly salmon button-up today, has his earbuds in, eyes downcast to his phone screen, lips soundlessly forming the words to whatever song he’s listening to. You feel a tiny bit of relief, but embarrassment still roils deep in your belly, suddenly making your half-eaten sandwich completely unappetizing.
You stand, grabbing the brown paper bag that contains the remnants of your lunch and hoping against hope that you’ll be able to bolt without him noticing.
“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Wendy sighs, annoyance bleeding into her tone. “I told you I didn’t realize you were a prude. We can talk about something else.”
You bristle, but tamp down the urge to defend yourself and point out again that you aren’t a prude, you just don’t want to be the office harlot either. “It’s not that,” you lie. The judgmental look in Joy’s eye only softens when you say, “I just remembered I forgot to print the printouts for the meeting this afternoon. I’ll see you guys later?”
“Sure,” Joy says dismissively, and Wendy says nothing at all. They’ve already moved on, no longer interested in your swift escape, attention eagerly back on the details of Wendy’s weekend. That’s works perfectly fine for you—you’ve had enough of being the center of attention for the day.
Blessedly, Jungkook doesn’t even look up when slink past him and out the door.
It’s hot.
Third quarter is well underway, which means that it’s time again for the quarterly company barbecue. That also means it’s hot as balls.
You suffer quietly, trying not to add to the stank atmosphere Joy and Wendy are already creating due to the heat. It’s an ambitious goal, especially since you’re already sweltering beneath your blouse—which was reasonable to wear within the chilled walls of the office, but feels rather ridiculous now, under the relentless beat of the sun. Despite being grateful for the free food and break from your maddeningly boring work, you can’t help but mentally yearn for the indoors, where there’s proper shade and air conditioning and decidedly less bitching.
“I don’t know why they don’t just cater something for us to eat inside,” Joy mopes, dabbing at her brow with what you already know from experience to be a cheap, scratchy napkin. “How is anyone supposed to enjoy themselves if we’re melting?”
“It’s probably a ploy,” Wendy quips. “The more uncomfortable we are, the more likely we are to get back to work.”
“The date’s been on the calendar for months,” you point out wearily. “They had no way of knowing there’d be a heat wave today. Besides, the company’s already paid for the food. I doubt they intended to purposely waste that money.”
Joy scoffs in retort. “The company also knows throwing an outdoor event in July is the same as throwing one in Satan’s asshole.”
Wendy sniggers, but you don’t answer, biting back your response that outdoor barbecues are common during summer, and at least they don’t have you out here in the snow. Because honestly? This is only your second quarter with the company, and who knows what the fourth quarter barbecue looks like.
All you can do is free some of the buttons on your blouse, undoing as many as you can while still being office-appropriate. As it is, you now have a little cleavage peeking out, but with how hot it is, you figure no one will say anything.
“Look,” Wendy says with an unsubtle tip of her head. “Looks like the soccer game is still on, at least.”
Fluttering the hem of your blouse in an attempt to get some circulation, you reflexively respond to her prompting, eyes following her line of sight. A few tables down, the Sales team has finished their meal and appears to be actively gauging coworker interest in joining their game. From the decently-sized group that’s starting to form by the open field, you think they’re pretty successful, despite the heat.
Joy groans, lifting her long hair with a hand in an effort to cool off the back of her neck. “I don’t know how they’re doing all that when it feels too hot to breathe.”
Inwardly, you agree with her, but Wendy just gives a lazy shrug and says, “Hey, if we’re gonna roast to death, at least we’ll be properly entertained.”
“True,” Joy muses. “And they’re gonna be sweatier than usual.”
Wendy’s eyes glaze over a bit at the thought. You grimace, amazed that these two always seem to have their heads in the gutter. That’s my cue. “I’ll be right back,” you say, brushing off the back of your slacks as you stand, but they pay you no mind when you walk away.
You’ve already finished your meal, but it can’t hurt to take another look at the coolers. It’s so hot that you’ve already downed your first beverage, so a new one is in order. When you arrive to the area, two people from Customer Service pass, nodding at you in acknowledgment as they make their way back to their table. You’ve only just started to reach for a cooler lid when you hear someone address you again.
“Hey,” a familiar voice says timidly behind you. “How’s it going?”
You reflexively turn your head, simultaneously surprised and not at all to find Jungkook standing there. He’s got on a long-sleeved button-up despite the heat—grey, checkered with a red and navy plaid—and you can’t help but wonder how he’s not sweltering. Though, the noticeable sheen on his face and the way his damp bangs are starting clump together tells you he just might be.
“I’ve had better days,” you answer honestly, swiping the back of your hand across your forehead. Before you can catch yourself, that same hand is vaguely gesturing at him, head to toe. “How are you not melting?”
His lips twitch, amused. “I definitely am,” he admits. “I actually hoped no one was over here so I could stuff some of the ice from these coolers down my shirt without being judged.”
You snort. “Hey, who’s judging? Certainly not me. Knock yourself out; just make sure you leave me some.”
He taps his chin, jokingly in thought, but to be honest, he does mildly look as if he’s actually considering it. “Well, we wouldn’t want the beverages to get cold…”
“Eh, there’s probably not that many in here anyway. They could probably consolidate coolers.” To prove your point, you bend over, cracking open one of the red ones next to you and peering inside. The expected assortment of generic sodas greets you, looking admittedly very refreshing floating in their ice bath. “See, this one isn’t even full.”
You angle your torso a bit so you can meet his eye properly over your shoulder, but as soon as you look up at him, his gaze hurriedly skirts away, color crawling up the back of his neck. You stand with a frown, confused by this, but ultimately brush off his weird behavior when you notice Namjoon from Accounting sidling up to the two of you.
"Hey guys," he greets you, a friendly smile dimpling his cheeks. "We're getting some people together for a soccer game. I know it's really hot, but would either of you want to join?"
You’ve often seen Namjoon chatting with Hoseok in passing, and twice have even seen them leave the building for lunch together, so it doesn’t surprise you that the accountant is helping recruit for the Sales team's traditional barbecue pastime. What does surprise you, however, is that when he casually claps a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, the younger man first responds by blinking owlishly at him behind his glasses, and then, a few seconds later, giving him a nod of assent.
Obviously you don't know Jungkook very well—not at all, really, outside of your ongoing feud with Mabel. But you didn't take him to be the type to be into playing outdoor sports, particularly in this weather, and you certainly didn't expect him to agree so easily. A smile from Namjoon and suddenly all thoughts of stealing cooler ice are gone.
Namjoon turns back to you, but you're already shaking your head. "Nope, no thank you! Y'all have fun. I'll just supervise from over there in the shade."
"Fair enough," he chuckles, and then he's leading Jungkook across the open field to meet up with the others.
Mildly more interested in the game now, you take this as your cue to grab the beverage you came for—a can of a Lipton knockoff and a bottle of water for good measure—and return to your table.
Joy and Wendy are still yapping when you approach, though in your absence, Joy has apparently decided to move to Wendy’s side of the table. It only takes you following their line of sight to quickly recognize why—that side of the table has an unobstructed view of the upcoming soccer game. Well, unobstructed, so long as you change your seat too. Awkward about intentionally getting in the way, you pause for only a moment before ultimately reaching for the end seat perpendicular to them instead.
When you lean over a little to pull your chair out from under the table, Joy finally deigns to acknowledge you, ticking an eyebrow. “I can see down your shirt,” she tells you offhandedly.
Your head snaps down, and you realize she’s right—undoing those few extra buttons has made the billowy fabric more susceptible to gravity, particularly when you leaned over. You yourself could see your whole chest and the basic bra that supported it, and at this angle, you doubt your blouse covered much of that from Joy’s gaze. A hand immediately snaps up to press the material back in place, but before you can even get properly embarrassed, her attention is ripped from you, eyes wide at something behind you.
“Holy—”
Wendy's jaw drops. Your head reflexively turns in the direction they're gawking at.
And before you can stop it, your jaw drops too.
Your tablemates have been known to be dramatic, and are certainly the type to stretch a fact or two. But it’s only now that you fully understand their fixation on these Sales soccer games, because yes, sometimes they do indeed take their shirts off. Like now.
Other than one girl from Compliance, all of the game’s recruits appear to be men, and as such, the group has chosen to distinguish teams by shirts vs. skins. And while the sudden appearance of skin naturally draws most people’s attention, your attention only gravitates towards one person. Cause what the fuck.
You almost don't recognize him, your brain rapidly shuffling through the information it's collected about him over the past few months and struggling to reconcile with what your eyes are actually seeing. Because the Jungkook you know wears glasses and long sleeves and has an unassuming hairstyle that looks suspiciously like a bowl may have been involved at some point.
But the person you're looking at now? Glasses have been discarded, apparently no longer needing optical assistance, and he’s ditched the button-up, sweat making the white sleeveless tank he has on underneath spottily transparent and divulging the dusk of his nipples. Now that you can properly see the taper of his slim waist, his shoulders are proportionally more broad than you realized. And, since he clearly has no regard for your rapidly rising blood pressure, Jungkook decides now is the perfect time to reach over said shoulders, grab fistfuls of damp fabric, and pull. The sight of him slipping the shirt over his head—the ink of his hair sinfully mussed, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement—has you reflexively swallowing, mouth dry.
He's absolutely ripped.
There's no other way to say it. A superior specimen, built and honed in a way that's only possible through years of hard work and discipline. He's still lean enough that you can rationalize how you’ve never picked up on that amount of muscle hiding beneath his unassuming dress shirts, but you're still gobsmacked.
Your mind spins, struggling to come to terms with the near impossible fact Jungkook actually pulled a Clark Kent on you. Well, pulled a Clark Kent if Clark Kent was also covered in gorgeous ink, pigment swirling up his right arm from wrist to shoulder. From this distance you can’t see the exact designs that make up his intricate sleeve, but you can tell it was composed with a purposeful eye.
Jungkook is absolutely ripped and tattooed. Jungkook. Printer guy Jungkook.
Flustered and trying not to be, you quickly look away, clanking your jaw shut and trying to focus on the plastic tabletop instead. Dear god, this is embarrassing. You really just gawked at your coworker! He was minding his own business and your jaw just reflexively unhinged like a degenerate. God, you hoped he didn't see that.
But any mortification you have is apparently not shared by the other two at your table.
“Is that Justin?!” Wendy demands rather shrilly, eyes wide, and the volume of her question would embarrass you even more if your brain could process any other reaction right now other than straight static. “Justin from IT?!”
You swallow thickly, your responding correction weak and delayed. “Jungkook.”
“Finally,” Joy groans, pushing her plate away dramatically. “Some good fucking food!”
You can’t help it then—your eyes drift back up, lured to the soccer players once more and zeroing in on him immediately. Seemingly unable to stray from his form, the heat already producing a sheen over his golden skin even though the game hasn’t started yet.
Surrounded by a few surprised male coworkers, Jungkook’s slightly hunched into himself, shy at the sudden attention. Even with the distance, you can see how Hoseok claps Jungkook on the back, just as animated over his newly revealed physique as the members of your table. But while everyone else is excited by this revelation…
Across the field, Jungkook innocuously turns his head in your direction. Like magnets, his eyes hone in on yours, your gaze locked for a few seconds until another loud What the fuck?! from Wendy frees you from the spell and you hurriedly look away again, a completely different kind of heat washing over you.
Jesus, you need to get ahold of yourself. There’s no way he was actually looking at you—it’s too sunny, and he’s not even wearing his glasses! He probably can’t even see that far.
But when you brave another peek in that direction and realize you can literally count his abs from here—
What the fuck, indeed.
Mutely, you watch the game unfold, not as self-conscious when it becomes clear that the whole office is doing the same. Though Joy and Wendy have been very salacious in their excitement for it, the soccer game is evidently a company barbecue highlight for others as well. And you’re sure Jungkook joining the fray has only added to the interest, as he’s a completely new addition to the equation.
And to your continued astonishment, Jungkook is good. He’s fast and lithe and brazen. He proves to you, again and again, that he can kick the ball with such ferocious accuracy that the other team’s goalie eventually stops trying to get in his way and simply resorts to trying to protect their vulnerable body parts instead. His intensity only entices reciprocal energy from everyone else, and what has traditionally been a lighthearted game between coworkers has now transformed into a group of competitive men who feel they now have something to prove.
Joy and Wendy are delighted by this development, squealing and cheering and tittering amongst themselves. You sit quietly, still trying to mentally process this new development, but when you start to feel embarrassed by just how much you’re staring, you decide to call it a day. No one really notices when you stand and gather your trash, and luckily the distraction of the game means you’re able to slip out without any fanfare.
This quarter’s barbecue being on a Friday means you’re blessed with a weekend to decompress and regroup. Unfortunately for you, the office doesn’t just…move on from the event like it has in the past. Instead, this particular barbecue was apparently such a success that you continue to hear chatter about it for the next week, mostly in passing. But while everyone else makes small talk about how much fun they had, Joy and Wendy choose to hone in on the only thing they truly consider worthy of discussion—Jungkook.
Today, just as they have every day for the past few months, they join your table when you take your early lunch. However, to their increasing irritation, the object of their current fixation isn’t here. In fact, Jungkook hasn’t showed up to the cafeteria during your lunch time since before the barbecue, and you inwardly have to admit it’s a little strange without him. You sat at different tables and the two of you never really said much to each other beyond the expected niceties, but you’ve gotten used to his presence all the same.
You actually have barely seen him at all, with Mabel on her best behavior this week and Jungkook seemingly busy with something that has kept him mostly out of common areas. Still, with your embarrassingly strong reaction to him at the barbecue, it’s probably for the best. You’re a little wary of what your first proper interaction is going to be like, and you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to be as normal as possible.
Your female lunchmates don’t seem to have that same mindset.
“Does he just not eat anymore?” Joy huffs. “I literally haven’t seen him all week!”
Wendy picks at her salad, lips twisted in a displeased grimace. “I actually saw him yesterday.”
Joy’s head snaps to her. “What?! You didn’t tell me that. What happened?”
“Since casually running into him doesn’t seem to be working, I figured I’d try getting him to come to me. So I unplugged my keyboard and messaged him, but he didn’t show up for like 40 minutes,” Wendy sighs irritably. “And when he did, he looked at me like I was a moron.”
Your lips twitch in amusement before you can stop them. Joy immediately says exactly what you’re thinking. “Well, you are a moron. You sat there for 40 minutes with your keyboard unplugged!”
Wendy soldiers on like she didn't hear her, undeterred from her gossiping. “So he came over in his ugly button-up and judged me! Plugged the keyboard back in and walked away without even saying anything.”
Despite not properly running into him all week, you actually did see Jungkook’s shirt in passing yesterday as he was turning down a hallway at the far end of the office. Wendy’s right—it had been an ugly puce. You found it endearing.
“He didn’t even roll up his sleeves,” Wendy mourned. “The least Jamal could have done was give me that.”
You pause in the chewing of the tuna sandwich you brought from home, exasperated. “Jamal,” you repeat flatly. “Really?”
Wendy waves her hand at you dismissively. “You know who I mean!”
“I mean, he’ll probably be more willing to talk to you if you treat him like an actual person.” Your quip is reflexive and indignant, and it kind of throws all three of you off guard. Joy raises an eyebrow at you and your sudden vexation, but you still add, though more subdued, “You know. Making an effort to remember his name is a good start.”
“Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Wendy sniffs, though she doesn’t seem very offended by your callout. Over the months you’ve superficially gotten to know her, you’ve come to notice that she doesn’t really take much seriously—a simultaneously admirable and frustrating trait. “If you wanted dibs, you could have just said that.”
You feel heat flush up your neck, denial attempting to sputter from your lips, but true to form, Wendy has already moved on, tittering about how it’s about time the office had some proper excitement that wasn’t just meetings and spreadsheets.
“And speaking of meetings,” Joy pipes up, passing you a nonchalant look, “don’t forget to order those sandwiches for the client meeting tomorrow.”
“Sandwiches?” Your mind blanks. You knew your boss was hosting some clients in the office—had even been working on a lot of grunt work to prepare for it—but no one had mentioned anything to you about any sandwiches. “I thought she was wining and dining them?”
Joy let out a mildly irritated huff. “No, they have to catch an early flight home, so the plan has changed to a working lunch. Weren’t you listening in Monday’s meeting?”
No, you hadn’t been listening, because you weren’t invited to the Monday’s meeting. So it looks like a plan had been made and tasks assigned to you…without anyone bothering to communicate that. Typical.
You close your eyes for a second, jaw working as you attempt to tamp down your ever-brewing frustration. If they intend on you ordering from the usual place, it may be too late to cater for delivery, which means you’ll probably be stuck figuring out how to transport multiple giant platters from a restaurant five blocks away.
“Do you mind forwarding me the request you sent? I must have missed it,” you respond neutrally, knowing full well the original email had never been sent to you. You stand to leave, the rest of your lunch break instantly soured by the revelation that you apparently have time-sensitive action items that are encroaching dangerous territory. “Just want to make sure I get the order correct.”
Joy nods, attention already back on Wendy and only half-listening. In the meantime, you’ll have to research alternatives, just in case.
While you’re lucky enough to find an acceptable last-minute catering option that will also, blessedly, deliver, that doesn’t mean you’re free to take a breather.
It’s now the end of the day, and one by one, you see everyone around you log out and head for the elevator. Even Joy, who leaves right on time, despite knowing just how many tasks your small team still needs to complete for the big meeting tomorrow. What’s left is mostly grunt work, and while you are undoubtedly a grunt, it’s been clear for a while now that Joy no longer sees herself to be included in that category. So even though having more hands on deck would speed things along considerably, she still gathers her purse and gives you a cheeky finger wave on her way out.
At some point, the cleaning lady makes her rounds, scooting past you with a murmured apology to empty your trash can, but eventually even she disappears. Hell, even the sun abandons you, the soft glow fading from all the windows and stranding you with the cold fluorescent lighting that only remains on in your part of the office, because the lights have motion detectors.
And so it’s just you, kneeling on the carpet and surrounded by a gazillion binders. Ensuring relevant reports and Powerpoint presentations are accurate and sending digital copies to your boss for her to have on-hand. Attempting to print physical copies and assemble them into binder portfolios your clients will be able to follow along with during the meeting.
Attempting, because Mabel is, of course, choosing now to live up to her bitchy reputation. She won’t print on the right-sized paper. She won’t collate. She won’t be cooperative at all, and you’re too exhausted for this shit. Physically and mentally exhausted, trying your hardest to rein in the frustration that’s slowly expanding in your chest, crawling up your throat and triggering a familiar burning behind your eyes. It’s not fair.
An exasperated noise escapes you without thinking, a loud, guttural thing. None of this is fair.
“_____?”
Your head snaps over your shoulder in surprise, not at all expecting anyone else to still be in the building. It’s Jungkook, because of course it is. Brows knitted in confusion, a black leather jacket thrown over his marigold button-up for some reason. He’s standing near the doors that exit into the lobby, evidently about to begin his trek home before you unwittingly paused his endeavor.
“What are you still doing here?” he asks, but before you can even deign to answer, he’s already taken a few steps towards you and followed up with a clearly concerned, “Are you okay?”
You take a breath, struggling to calm the storm within you. None of this is his fault, nor his problem, and you should just force a smile on your face so he can be on his way and leave you to your self-pity. But you’re tired, so tired, and simply don’t have the capacity to pretend anymore. You swallow around the lump in your throat, and when you do speak, the thickness of your voice betrays the tears that you’re fighting to keep at bay. “No.”
This only seems to alarm him more. He’s standing next to you now, as close as he can get with the array of binders and papers you have scattered on the floor around you like a fortress not meant to keep anyone out, but rather, to keep you inside.
“What’s the matter?” he asks gently.
“Oh, nothing,” you snort derisively, blinking rapidly at the ceiling in an effort to try to stop the inevitable. “Nothing. It’s just well past 7pm and I’m still here in this godforsaken building attempting to print out and hole punch and assemble twenty copies of this presentation. I can’t even get the printer to do what I’m asking it to! And there’s no fucking reason I should still be here because the could have been done last week if my boss didn’t keep making nonsensical changes based solely on vibes. And tell me why there are six people on my team but no one thought to help me or take any sort of ownership of this at all—as per usual—or even buy me a fucking coffee for once! I haven’t eaten a proper meal all day but everybody just assumes they can go home because things will magically get done like they always do because they will! I will always make sure that they will! Every day it becomes increasingly clear that nobody in this fucking company gives a flying FUCK about me or my free time or my sanity—”
If he’s put off by your potty mouth, Jungkook certainly doesn’t show it. He just manages to catch your gaze from behind his glasses and simply replies, “I do.”
Your never-ending rant rapidly dissipates on your tongue, brain struggling to comprehend what he just said. “…What?”
“I care,” he repeats softly. “How can I help?”
The sincerity in his tone renders you mute, too stunned to do anything more than watch as Jungkook drops the backpack he’s had slung over a shoulder onto the floor, tossing his newly removed jacket on top of it without much thought. He’s unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, the reemergence of an ink-covered forearm making your brain stutter even more. Now that there’s much less distance between you, you can more accurately make out the shape of a delicate tiger lily, the languid form of a snake.
Jungkook clears his throat, the noise snapping you out of your stupor and making you realize you were just staring at him in silence, for who knows how long. Dammit. “What do you need?” he tries again.
“Um, first we can start with Mabel,” you croak, mouth now embarrassingly dry. “No matter what I do, she refuses to collate.”
Jungkook shoots you a smile that softens his whole face. “Lucky for you, I’m the printer expert, remember? Don’t worry. We’ll get this fixed and be out of here in no time.”
He holds out a hand and you reflexively grab it, allowing him to guide you to your feet. Together, you make your way to the copy room, where Mabel has stubbornly been giving you hell all night. Jungkook gets right to work pushing buttons while you stand to the side, awkwardly shifting your weight a little from foot to foot.
“So why are you still here?” you ask, curiosity finally forcing you to voice the question that’s been looping in your mind since he first appeared. “It’s late.”
“It is,” he agrees, focus still on the printer. He kneels down, opening the paper tray. “There’s this huge system update that’s set to roll out next week. My whole team has been hunkering down and pulling late nights.”
Oh. That explains why you haven’t seen him around much since the barbecue. “That’s tough.”
“We’re finally almost done,” he shrugs. “And I’m clearly not the only one working overtime.”
You don’t say anything when he looks up at you pointedly, so he turns back to the printer, pulling a stack of paper out of one of the trays.
“I think this may be part of the problem. Someone put the wrong-sized paper in here. Or, at least, Mabel thinks it’s wrong. She’s confused.”
“Well, she can join the club,” you mutter, and he puffs out a laugh, shutting the drawer and pressing some more buttons.
“Come on, let’s try again.”
Something touches your elbow, and though it shocks through you like he electrocuted you, you have the good sense suppress any embarrassing reaction to what you quickly realize is just his hand. Instead, you let him guide you back to your desk, trying not to focus too intently on the heat of his skin on yours.
Jungkook waits for you to login to your computer, clicking around and changing some settings once you step back and allow him free rein. Then, you can hear a distant hum coming from the copier room, and you know immediately that he’s succeeded. Dutifully, he goes to check anyway, returning to you with a stack of perfectly collated paper.
“Thank god,” you groan. “Now let me just print fifty more of those so I can start organizing these binders.”
With the crisis averted and his job done, you fully expect him to gather his pile of stuff and hustle to the elevator before you can trap him into doing anything else. Instead, Jungkook goes to pick up the additional copies from the printer for you, and he actually gets down on the floor next to you to start putting everything together. He watches you assemble one binder for reference, but then he’s easily doing the same and doubling your completion speed.
And slowly, gradually, your nervous system calms. The two of you work like a well-oiled machine in what would be comfortable silence, if your brain wasn’t so loud. Now that you’re not actively panicking, a completely different feeling starts to seep into you—embarrassment. You can’t believe that Jungkook actually caught you on the cusp of a breakdown, during which you looked so pitiful, he felt morally obligated to stop what he was doing and help you.
“I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” you say after a while with a grimace. He’s way too nice and you’re way too pathetic. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night—I promise you don’t have to stay with me. Now that everything’s printed and organized, most of the work’s done. I should be out of here in no time.”
“Well, I promise you didn’t ruin anything. And with two of us, you can be out of here in less time than that.” He looks up with a soft smile from where he’s hole punching a stack of paper, the muffled ka-chunk of the device punctuating his point. “I don’t mind, _____. Really.”
“But I do,” you murmur, looking away. Unable to meet his eyes. “I really appreciate your help, but I feel bad taking up so much of your time.”
“Well, don’t. I didn’t really have plans tonight anyway, and I’ve been working so much that it’s probably better that I get in some socializing time.”
“Not that I’m very good company,” you snort derisively.
There’s a pause, one long enough that you wonder if he heard you. But then he’s moving a little closer to you, tipping slightly sideways to tap his shoulder against yours. Reflexively, you turn back to him, finding his eyes kind.
“We all have our off days, and that’s okay. But they’ll dull your shine if you let them. Don’t.” He bumps your shoulder again. “Besides, you and I have to stick together, remember? Or did you not really mean it when you told me that?”
You did tell him that, didn’t you? Months and months ago. You're surprised that he even remembers that.
There's an amused quirk to his lip, one that you can't help but feel yourself soften to, even as his focus turns back to the task at hand. And all at once, you feel yourself flooded with gratitude. You've been thankful for his help this whole time, of course, but now you almost sag with it, the relief at knowing someone is finally in your corner, the sudden sense of security and support visceral and a little overwhelming.
Before you fully realize what you're doing, it's you who leans closer, aiming to give a him a grateful kiss on the cheek. But your lips don't quite land on their intended target, because just before you succeed, Jungkook unconsciously senses your increasing proximity and reflexively turns his head back to you.
It's his lips yours coincidentally brush against, the accidental kiss timid due to his surprise and your chaste intentions. But the kiss is also soft, his lips plush and rather easily yielding to yours.
Quickly realizing your mistake, you pull back, eyes as big as saucers. You stare at him in stunned silence and he stares back, eyes all pupil.
A horrified apology is immediately crowding the back of your throat, but right before you set it free, Jungkook's Adam's apple bobs, an errant tongue absently swiping across his lips.
Huh. This isn’t exactly the reaction of someone repulsed by an unwanted kiss. He still hasn't said anything, but he hasn't moved away from you either. He's just watching you. Waiting.
...Waiting?
With caution but with clear intent, you lean back in, and to your surprise, he meets you halfway, noses bumping a little before he tilts his head and your lips slot perfectly together.
This kiss is immediately different from the last. Jungkook mindlessly drops he binder he's holding, body angling more solidly towards you so he can properly meet the rapidly rising intensity. Well, meet may be the wrong word, because he's the one whose hand quickly reaches up to cradle your chin, gentle pressure a silent request to for you to tilt your head a bit more. And when you comply with the change in angle, it's him who deepens the kiss, the slow lave of his tongue coaxing your lips to part, open and wet.
You pant hot into his mouth and he breathes you in, offering no resistance when you push even closer, hands wandering across his shoulders, fingers ghosting up the back of his neck before drifting to idly toy with the hair at his nape. He hums contentedly, not unlike a purring cat, and does it again when your tongue joins his in a slow glide.
You lose yourself in the sensation of it all, unable to notice anything beyond the heat that is rapidly building between you like fireworks ready to explode. Your head spins, swimming with endorphins and high off the smell of him. The taste.
A playful nibble of your lip unexpectedly has a rather desperate keen escaping your throat. You pause, making to pull back in your embarrassment, but the sound only seems to activate Jungkook, who follows you in your attempted retreat, mouth chasing yours in its reluctance to part. It's only when your back finally touches the floor that you realize he's slowly guided you there. You've been in a haze, too swept into the plot of the movie you've somehow found yourself in to do anything but be pulled along.
As naturally as breathing, your find your knees have parted, and Jungkook easily slips into the space you've created for him, almost trancelike. As if he doesn't even realize he's doing it, too focused on exploring the fever of your mouth. He's leaning most of his weight on the hands he has posted on either side of your head; even still, every single millimeter of you that does touch him is sparking like live wires, euphoric goosebumps rippling across your skin. You let out a shaky breath that fogs his glasses, but even that doesn't stop him, just makes him pull back from you just enough to be able to whip them off and toss them somewhere, wholly unconcerned.
Emboldened by this, you sling a leg over his hip, and he eagerly accepts your invitation, settling on you properly. You're covered in him now, pelvises properly flush, and now that he's caged you in, Jungkook takes the opportunity to glide his lips away from yours and trail across your jawline instead. You shiver, every atom of you buzzing at his touch, and his mouth continues its trek, sucking hot down the column of your throat with just enough pressure that you know color will bloom there later.
Your hips reflexively jump at his ministrations, your skirt riding further up your thighs, and the hard press of him against your panties has you swallowing down a moan. He freezes for a fraction of a second, but then his hips respond to the lure of yours with a more intentional roll. A contented sound rumbles in the back of his throat, tongue dipping to meander across your collarbone.
This is crazy. This is crazy. But you can't quite find it in yourself to care much as the two of you rut against each other on the office floor, your hand gliding up his back to root in the hair at his nape.
Your hips undulate restlessly, eager to meet the crest of his wave, and Jungkook matches your intensity, catching your earlobe between his teeth. Your shared grind is measured but deliberate, and even through his pants you can feel the hard shape of him pressing right against your aching core. A particularly pointed roll has Jungkook shuddering hot into the shell of your ear, and that is what finally tamps down the last of your restraint and triggers something much more primal.
Dizzy with want, your hands scrabble between you and aim for the button of his slacks, eager to be properly introduced to what’s underneath. But to your slow horror, Jungkook freezes at the touch, motionless for a few breathless seconds before he actually starts lifting off of you and pulling back. It’s only when he’s completely sat up and is staring at you that the full weight of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
You really were just dry humping. A coworker. And you were doing it on the premises of the place that pays your fucking bills! Making out, dry humping, and you were actively aiming to do much more if he hadn't stopped you.
What the fuck has gotten into you?
You scrabble upright, dizzy with the mortification rapidly seeping deep into your bones. Stupidly, you blink at him, paralyzed with embarrassment but unable to look away. A deer in headlights.
Jungkook stares right back, eyes dark and all pupil. Dazedly, you wonder if you look as fucked out as he does—there’s a smattering of red across his cheeks, and his hair has been thoroughly mussed by your own hands. A tongue dips out to swipe over kiss-swollen lips, stealing your attention away from the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
And suddenly, you’re able to kickstart into gear.
“I am so sorry,” you burst out, panic nearly choking you. “That was highly inappropriate and I seriously don’t know what came over me—”
It takes you a few moments to register that he’s moved back in, and that it’s the returned press of his lips that interrupts your babbling apology before it can properly catch its stride. You’re almost too afraid to respond in kind, as if you’ll somehow scare him away again, but the insistence in his kiss practically knocks the breath from your lungs. Patiently, he coaxes your rigid lips back pliant. And only when it’s clear you won’t try to run away does he lean back a second time, but only enough to see your eyes properly.
“No,” he murmurs, breath fanning hot over you. “That was very much appropriate.”
You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, too shell-shocked by this turn of events and actively battling your triggered fight or flight response. “Um. Then…then why did you…”
Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, as if he’s gathering himself. “I want to,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself, but then he’s looking right at you again, gaze heavy with resolve. “It’s just…do you mind if I try something first?”
That throws you for a loop. Your jaw opens then shuts again while you contemplate his question, as well as your answer. “I mean, I guess? It depends on what it is.”
That you don't instantly reject him visibly unwinds a tension in his body that you only now realize was there. A rather feral look crosses his face, immediately inciting goosebumps to ripple across your skin in anticipation. But then the intensity of his expression dims, edged with something more contemplative. Jungkook gives you a pensive nod then stands, looking around curiously. “Hey, where does that viper sit?”
You blink, bewildered. “…The who?”
“The one who’s always with you at lunch.” He locks eyes with you, tongue poking through his cheek. “You know. The one who’s on your team but still had no second thoughts about leaving you here tonight by yourself.”
Joy. He’s talking about Joy.
The question makes you pause in suspicion, but you still hook a thumb towards the cubicle next to yours, on the other side of your shared wall. “There. Why?”
“No reason,” he says with a sly grin, holding out a hand to you. You take it without question and he easily helps you to your feet. But then before you can process it, he’s slid both hands around your waist and easily lifted you off the ground, already in route to the exact cubicle you called out. You yelp in surprise, your arms reflexively circling his neck—your legs, his middle—in your body’s scramble for balance. But Jungkook’s hold on you is secure, grip moving down to the back of your thighs instead, and now that your chests are once again flush, you can actually feel his chuckle. His amusement provokes yours, and you can’t help but giggle as he carries you over to Joy’s cube as easily as if you weigh nothing.
Clearly, his exercise routine is working out for him.
After using a hand to sweep some objects out of the way, Jungkook carefully sets you down on Joy’s desk, right next to her monitor. Your mirth only grows at the feeling of whatever printouts she left for later review crinkling under your weight, at the sight of displaced pens rolling off the edge and disappearing to the ether that is the floor.
Jungkook has set you down, but he doesn’t pull away, just leans down and recaptures your eager lips. He’s tall enough that he’s kind of hunching over to kiss you, neck really craned, but he doesn’t seem to care much about that, kissing you with the same ferocity as moments before, when the two of you were entangled on the carpet. And you can’t help but match his fervor, hands reaching to guide his slim hips even closer, into the widening gap you naturally create for him between your legs.
Time constricts and expands, an endless and meaningless concept. Because all that matters now is the tongue he slips past your lips to slide against yours, slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of you. All that matters is how fucking great he smells—like clean laundry and smoke and warm skin speckled with sweat—something you’ve always caught whiffs of, but now completely surrounds you, invading all your senses and sending your lust into overdrive.
“Is this what you wanted to try?” you pant hotly when your lips finally separate for a moment in your quest for air. “Defiling Joy’s desk?”
He’s leaning his forehead against yours while he also attempts to catch his breath, and he’s so close that it would be hard for you to miss his amused flash of teeth. “Sort of. I’d like to defile it more thoroughly, though. Starting with this.”
Jungkook leans in for one last kiss, one that starts at your mouth, moves to your neck, and to your surprise, continues down the line of your body. Over your collarbone, careful hands popping open a few buttons of your blouse so he can nestle more surely into the curve of your breasts, warm lips skating across eager skin. For a few moments, he actually nuzzles his face into your middle, a gesture you find rather sweet before he incites a shiver through your body by licking against your clothed navel. And before you can fully realize what’s happening, he’s slipped to his knees.
You look down at him in surprise, body still slotted between your legs, but this time more eye-level with the secret, needy part of you that has been thrumming excitedly with every beat of your heart. “What are you…”
“You’re always doing everything for everyone else,” comes his murmured reply. “Will you allow me to do something for you?”
Your brain is still so hazy from the spell of his mouth that it takes you a moment to recognize what’s happening. What he’s asking for. But when his large palms are hot against the naked skin of your thighs, gentle pressure urging them to part even more, it all hits you like a truck. Your eyes dart around, paranoid. “Jungkook,” you hiss. “…Here?”
“They’re too cheap to put cameras anywhere other than the lobby.” He turns his head, lips pressing reassurance into the side of your knee. “And no one’s here.” His reminder as gentle as the kisses he continues to adorn you with. “Just you.” Kiss. “And me.”
He’s right, you know. No one else is here to witness the series of bad decisions you’ve just made—to witness the ones you’re still seriously considering.
Still, you hesitate.
Jungkook’s staring intently at you, doe-eyed and cherry-lipped and deceptively innocent despite what he’s requesting of you. “Please?” he asks again, oh-so-sweetly. Reverently prostrating before your altar, praying for the blessing of an ambivalent goddess. You. “I just…I really want to. Ever since that day, I can’t stop thinking about it and I—please?”
Your brows furrow as you try to make sense of what he’s saying, still scrambling to keep up with this current turn of events. What day? Your mind whirrs, jumping around before finally settling on an embarrassing memory you’ve willed yourself to forget.
Lunch, where Wendy somehow got you to admit you’ve never gotten head, and Jungkook, purportedly oblivious, too busy on his phone to ever pay your table any attention.
…Except from what he’s saying right now, he had heard every word. Heard, and filed it away for safekeeping, only revealing to you now, when he can possibly do something about it.
Absently, your tongue dips out to swipe across your lips, and Jungkook’s attention visibly strays towards the action, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs and sending electricity straight to your core. God, do you want to say yes. Even though you’ve never done this before, your inexperience is not at all the reason for your reluctance. It’s the optics. You’re at work.
Your head tilts as you try to accurately take stock of the situation. You’re at work. But technically, you should have clocked out hours ago. Technically, this job has been stealing a lot of time that should have been yours to choose what to do with. Case in point—you’re the only person on your team still within a five-mile radius of this godforsaken building. Because everyone else deserted you without a second thought, designating you to be the one who struggles to print presentations for a meeting that has been on the calendar for literal months.
But.
While it’s easy to assume they forced this fate upon you, Fate is not one easily compelled to do another’s bidding. And, trapped in the gaze of the sweet man still patiently awaiting permission to ruin you, you can’t help but wonder if this has been Her plan all along.
For months you’ve been doing everything for everyone else, so unhappy and stressed that each day in this place only wound you tighter and tighter. So…what if you finally just let yourself snap? Did what you wanted for once? Stopped following the rules that nobody else ever seemed to and just let go?
You exhale. Fuck it.
“Okay.”
Jungkook grins, boyishly innocuous at first, but rapidly morphing into something much more devilish as you watch. He turns to kiss your knee again, and you startle a little at the action, newly on edge. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, still holding your gaze. Making sure you can see his resolve. “I got you.”
“Okay,” you say again, but that’s easier said than done, especially when he takes the opportunity to gently push your knees even further apart. Naturally, your skirt rides further up, and you can’t help the apprehension that washes over you at your increasing lack of modesty. Still, you hold true to your word, aggressively tamping down the urge to scramble off the desk and pretend this all never happened. But though you brace yourself for what comes next…
Jungkook doesn’t move.
Long moments pass before you can’t help but say something. “Are you just gonna look?” Because that’s all he seems to be doing, laser-focused on the juncture of your thighs.
He visibly stirs at the sound of your voice, but still doesn’t do much more than tsk at you. “Don’t rush me,” comes his light reprimand, eyes still locked on what you’re sure at this point is a growing dark spot on your panties. “I don’t half-ass things and I definitely won’t rush this. No one’s here, so just relax and enjoy the ride.”
Your jittery nerves have you reflexively mouthy, but your retort swiftly dies on your tongue when his hand finally moves further up your skirt—further inward—and two fingers pointedly press right against that dark spot and glide over your clothed lips. You gasp, fighting against the urge to snap your legs shut when he slowly circles your clit and sends sparks dancing down your legs.
“Better?” he murmurs.
“Much,” you squeak.
“Good,” he says, eyebrows knitted in thought as he circles and circles. Your thighs twitch, and he leans forward like he can’t help himself, nose pressing solidly against you with a long, audible inhale.
A fascinated oh falls from your lips, heartbeat accelerating excitedly in your ears, but Jungkook only responds by nestling further against your pussy, tracing the length of your lips with a slow, wet swipe of his tongue through the fabric. He breathes hot against your clit and you inadvertently buck at the stimulation, only inciting the wicked curl of his lips. He looks up at you darkly through the curtain of his bangs, and something unexpected and primal simmers beneath your skin.
“Can I have these?” he asks huskily, lightly snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin.
You clear your throat, suddenly wishing you had the foresight to put on something more interesting today than your unassuming cotton undies. “Have as in you won’t give them back?”
He lets out an amused puff of air, tilts his head. “I haven’t decided yet.”
You nod your assent. You’re now impossibly invested in where he plans to take this, and it’s not like you don’t have more pairs at home. “Knock yourself out.”
Immediately, his hands are up your skirt. They’re big, but they’re also gentle, caressing your thighs and even taking a slight detour to the meat of your ass before continuing their mission to the band of your underwear. When he starts to pull, you help him, shifting your weight so he can slip the fabric over your hips and down your legs.
Jungkook’s Adam’s apple dips when his eyes are finally able to feast on you without a barrier. “So fucking hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, and then without further warning, his mouth seals around your sex.
You whimper in surprise, not at all used to the sensation of someone kissing you there. And kiss you he does, carefully at first, judging your reaction. But when you do nothing but grip the edge of the desk, biting your lip in an attempt to stifle the rather desperate sounds crawling up your throat, he swiftly devolves into kissing you with the same passion as he had the lips on your face. His tongue laps at you with sure, even strokes, dragging across the seam of you and then through it, making sure to slide along your clit on every upstroke.
Your breath quickens, jaw falling slack. You weren’t sure what you imagined oral sex to be like before this, but you never expected how easily your body submits to his ministrations. Almost without you realizing it, your thighs part even more, hips automatically canting down to meet his eager mouth. A hand reaches for him, fingers winding through his hair and rooting there, and Jungkook hums in approval, his own hands wrapping securely around your thighs, your ass. His fingers sinking into the yielding softness of you, gently holding you steady against his face while you start to gyrate and moan.
God, does he look good down there. He’s always looked good, even before you knew what he was hiding behind those shy smiles and nerdy glasses, but something about the sight of him, jaw working as he sucks on you, lashes fluttering in pleasure in his quest to please you—
Without warning, he detaches with an audible pop, and a disgruntled sound reflexively leaves you. Breathless, you start to ask him why he stopped, but the words die on your tongue when you realize he’s staring at you again. That he pulled back for a moment just so he can get a good look at the mess he’s making of you. So he can properly see how your pussy aches and drools for him.
“Good?” he asks, voice deep and thick.
“So fucking good,” you sigh. What you know he wants to hear, but also 1000% the truth. You’re starting to understand what Wendy has been blathering about, but is it always like this? Or is it Jungkook in particular who is making you so unbelievably aroused? Is your rapidly snowballing crush on him that strong, or does pussy eating simply rank high on his skillset?
As if he can hear your thoughts, Jungkook moves to slip a finger into you, and you can’t help but moan when he breaches you, the digit sliding in so easily that he quickly adds another, thumb pressing surely into your clit as he starts a slow drag in and out.
“Shit,” you shudder, eyes rolling back into your head. Hips sliding further off the desk, reflexively seeking the delicious stimulation. One of your hands scrabbles across the desk, unconsciously trying to root you, and you’re much too preoccupied with how good he’s making you feel to notice when you accidentally knock over a mug full of pens. A stapler clanks to the ground. “Fuck.”
“Look, baby,” he breathes, moaning along with you when the pet name immediately makes your pussy flutter. “Look.”
At his encouragement, you do. You watch the flex of his tattooed arm as his fingers continue to disappear within you, a lewd squelch coinciding with his movements. You watch as he adds another finger, the additional stretch immediately noticeable but even more delicious. You watch him watch you, eyes all pupil, lips swollen and slick with your desire.
“More,” you whine, frenzied and greedy. And Jungkook immediately heeds your call, leaning back in. He sucks on your clit with three fingers sunk in you, expertly crooked towards your pelvic bone, and you jolt, accidentally knocking something else off the desk. Neither of you pays the resulting clattering any attention, too wrapped up in the way you writhe at his ministrations. He hums in approval, the vibrations only intensifying your ecstasy. He flattens his tongue as your hips desperately circle, letting you control the stimulation. And when it’s clear you still need more, he changes tactics and rapidly laps at you instead, as if you’re a melting ice cream cone, while he beckons, beckons.
Your blood is volcanic, hot pressure bubbling beneath the prison of your skin, building and building within your core. The higher he takes you, the more the grip you have on his hair unintentionally tightens, but that only seems to urge him on, locking eyes with you as the thrust of his fingers turns harder and more calculated. Giving you no other choice but to finally erupt.
You cum with a loud groan, gasping through it while your cunt rhythmically clamps down on his digits, hard. Jungkook talks you through it, murmuring encouraging words your buzzing brain has trouble deciphering because his hand still doesn’t stop, pounding right into your g-spot and making your eyes cross and toes curl with the force of it. And when you finally can’t take anymore, jerking with oversensitivity, you grab him by the wrist in a wordless plea for mercy.
And Jungkook grants it. You can tell that he wants to play with you more—wants to guide you over and over to the precipice just see the look on your face when he shoves you off—but ever the gentleman, he reins in his enthusiasm and obediently slips his fingers out of you. He takes a few seconds to admire his handiwork, eyes shining with in reverence as he marvels in the dripping, throbbing, panting aftermath that is you.
“Wow,” you say, still dizzy with endorphins. Never in a million years did you think it would feel like that.
“Yeah,” he agrees, voice thick. “Wow.” He lifts his hand, remnants of you visibly slicking his fingers and webbing between the digits, and without a second thought, sticks them in his mouth and sucks. The resulting slurping of his errant tongue is nothing short of obscene, but your cunt flutters again anyway, interest clear despite being thoroughly satisfied only moments before. And when line of your essence starts to drip down your thigh, Jungkook makes sure to lean in and catch it with his tongue.
You shiver with the feeling of him on you again, mouth hot and wet, thighs still trembling. He’s taking his time, tongue dragging a slow path back up to the source, determined to feast upon the rewards of his efforts. But you can’t take it anymore. God, he’s so hot. He’s so fucking hot and you want him so fucking bad.
You need him. Biblically.
Near delirious, you reach for him, hands scrabbling across his shoulders, fingers trailing the back of his neck and guiding him to stand. Arms circling his waist and pulling him closer to you—close, close—Jungkook easily slotting into spread of your thighs.
He follows your unspoken commands easily and without question, looking down at you with a rather pleased smile that crinkles his eyes in the corners. Determined to steal the breath from his lungs, just as he just did to you, you lean in to lick that smile pliant and open. There’s a curious taste on his tongue that it doesn’t take long to deduce is you, and that’s only even more of an aphrodisiac, revving you up further.
Your hands continue to roam, sliding down a little to grope his backside, startling a laugh out of him. But when your fingers tease the waistband of his slacks, his delight visibly shutters away into something else entirely.
“You don’t have to do that,” he breathes, even as he reflexively bucks into the hand you’re using to palm him over his pants. “This was about you.”
“Then let it be about me,” you counter, a mischievous smile curling your lips. Even through his pants you can tell he's hard. That he wants this just as badly as you do. Still, when he gasps out a wait, you obediently stop your ministrations and move to take your hand back.
He doesn't let you get far, lacing his fingers through yours and visibly considering his next words for a few moments before settling on, “What do you need?”
It’s a simple enough question, but you can't help but be immediately reminded of him saying these exact words to you, a little over an hour ago. Now, however, they sit heavy on his tongue, heady and syrupy in hushed invitations.
The revelation hits you all at once, heart pounding excitedly in your ears.
You need only ask. You’ve only ever needed to ask.
And since all caution was thrown to the wind the moment you agreed to let him suck your soul out through your pussy...
“You said you’ve been thinking about me? Well, I’ve been thinking about you too. For a while, even though I’ve been trying not to.”
You’ve had his attention this whole time, but the way Jungkook's regarding you now, now that you’ve said that? He's hanging onto every word, so hyper-focused that it would unnerve you if this wasn’t exactly what you were looking for.
“So…” Adrenaline has your fingers restless against his, but you still dive headfirst. “What I need is for you to fuck me and finish what you started.”
A beat. One where he holds your gaze, the space between you so electrified that you’re surprised you don’t see sparks. But then he’s on you again, mouth meeting yours in a frenzied clash of lips and teeth, and this time he doesn’t stop you when your hands scrabble for his fly.
Jungkook wastes no time, smoothing his hands up your legs and pushing your skirt out of the way. He lets out a shuddered breath when you stroke him through his underwear, when you reach down the waistband and grip him properly.
He’s warm and thick in your hand, and the thought of him finally in your guts damn near has you vibrating. Just like you thought before, he’s already nice and hard, but you still pump him a few times just to revel in the proof of what you’ve done to him. Velvet over stone.
And despite having all the time in the world when the foreplay is for you, Jungkook doesn’t seem to have any patience for himself. You’re only able to enjoy the weight of him in your grip for a few passes before he’s surging into action. Strategically, he grabs you by the knees and lifts, maneuvering your legs into the crooks of his elbows. The move opens you up to him further and forces you more horizontal, leaning back on your forearms, nearly pressed against the cubicle wall.
The way he ate you out moments before ensured you’d be primed for him, your pussy soft and slick and just begging to be filled. When he finally lines himself up and begins the slow press in, your jaw immediately falls open, tongue going lax at the intense pleasure. “Oh my god,” you manage to whine, eyes threatening to roll shut.
The unhurried way he’s sinking into you is likely in effort not to unintentionally hurt you. Because after everything else, why not add another thing to the ever growing list of surprises you’re learning about your unassuming coworker—not only has he been tatted and muscular this whole time, but his dick is also fucking huge. Without even realizing it, you’ve stopped breathing, the pressure of him nudging your walls apart too much stimulation for your body to continue even subconscious functioning.
As if he can tell your brain is actively short-circuiting, Jungkook’s hands circle your thighs, thumbs kneading the flesh in mild distraction for when he finally bottoms out. It’s only now that you can properly notice the effect you’re having on him—hair starting to stick to his forehead from perspiration, teeth grit as he struggles to stay still for you. But you don’t want him to be still.
“Fuck me,” you whimper, wiggling in your impatience and making him suck in a breath. “Please. Give it to me.”
The resulting roll of his hips has him swearing and you seeing stars. “Fuck. You can have whatever you want,” he says, already making good on his promise with a slow grid. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
It’s good, so good, especially because Jungkook uses his grip on your thighs as leverage to ramp up his thrusts, easily maneuvering you over his cock in a way that has your toes curling. By the time he’s really fucking you—jaw set, brows furrowed in concentration—you’re crosseyed and mewling incoherently. You should be embarrassed by the sounds he’s pounding out of you, but you’re so focused on the overwhelming pleasure that you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.
Chasing the high you already feel him leading you towards, you lift one of your legs to change the angle, and he catches on immediately, helping guide your ankle to hook over his shoulder with a distracted kiss against the bone. And it’s deeper this way, the angle ensuring he brushes against your spongy nerves with every stroke, only making you spiral faster.
He notices, of course. Notices how quickly he’s taking you to your end and revels in it, sliding a hand inward and he thumbing your clit, fast and hard.
You jolt at the extra stimulation, gasping and overwhelmed. “Oh my goddd…”
“Come on,” he croons, his dulcet tone at odds with the wickedness of his hand. His dick. “Don’t you want to cum for me?”
“I…” you choke out, struggling to form any sort of coherent thought as you feel everything get tighter. “I…”
You see his lips moving as he presumably says something else. But you can’t understand anything other than your own moaning when your pussy finally locks down. This orgasm is somehow more intense than the last one, your thighs rippling with the force of it, your hands desperately scrabbling over the desk in an effort to find something to ground you.
And Jungkook fucks you through it, still talking, and it’s only when the whooshing in your ears starts to subside that you can finally decipher what he’s saying in between his own moaning. “There you go. Being so good for me. So good.”
Your only reply is your gasping breath as your orgasm slowly fades, replaced with oversensitivity. But you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want this to stop, reveling in the feel of him on you, in you. And Jungkook doesn’t, instead sliding your leg off his shoulder so he can grab you by the waist with both hands and properly yank you forward, moving you over his cock to his liking.
The desk creaks with your effort, a rhythmic cacophony with the harsh smacking of his balls against your ass. You mewl, needing him closer still, and curl your legs around his hips, locking your ankles. He’s now trapped against you, but he groans like that’s exactly what he wanted, both hands gliding up the length of your body to grasp the back of your neck instead, giving him even better leverage to plunge into you, deep, deep. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, licks into your panting mouth.
At this point, his thrusts are turning manic, but you’re meeting every one of them, deliriously following him in his descent into madness. But when he catches your lower lip with his teeth, your breath hollows, and then, quicker than you can register it’s happening, you cum again, spasming around him with a long, high-pitched whine.
Jungkook lets you ride it out, but this time, his thrusts slow while you thrash. And it’s not until your soul finally floats back into your body that you realize he’s already pulled out of you and is bucking into his own fist instead.
You almost took him over the edge with you, you realize. Though he clearly has incredible stamina, you have finally brought him to his limit, and everything inside you glows at the knowledge that he’s here, roughly pumping himself, moans falling freely from his lips because of you.
Entranced, you reach for him, delighting in the whimper he lets out when your fingers wrap around his base. His own hand immediately falls to grip the edge of the desk instead, and you glide your fist up, finding his cock sticky with your juices. Jungkook just rests his head in the crook of your neck and lets you jack him off, whining through it when you match his previously punishing pace. And it doesn’t take long before he finally, finally splashes hot over your hand. Against your thigh.
Your hand slows, twisting your wrist and milking him for every drop. Intent on extending his pleasure, just like he made sure to do for you. And you only stop when he flinches away from your touch, twitchy and shivering as he leans against you.
Reluctantly, you let go. The two of you share the same balmy breath, struggling to calm your racing hearts. And when Jungkook finally backs away from you, unhurried in the way he gathers himself back into his slacks, there is a wildly satisfied grin on his face.
You’re satisfied too, though you try to have some sense of propriety and use a tissue from the box next to Joy’s monitor to wipe off the sticky evidence of his pleasure. Throwing away the evidence, you hop off the desk, locating your long-discarded panties and slipping them back on, smoothing down your skirt.
“So,” you tease lightly. Your head swims a little with the knowledge of what you just did, but you’re surprised to realize you feel zero guilt about it. “Is your plan to stick it to everyone who’s wronged me? If so, we should do it on Mabel next. That’ll show her.”
Jungkook laughs, a giddy, giggly thing. He’s now doing his best to pick up and replace everything that fell from Joy’s desk during your romp. “Nah, I could never disrespect her like that. That ol’ girl’s been such a great wingman these past few months.”
That’s a rather curious statement to make. You frown a little, shoot him an inquisitive sound.
“You always call me when Mabel’s not working,” he shrugs. “So when I wanted to see you, she was nice enough help.”
You can’t help it—a smile creeps across your face, equally bashful and flattered. He wanted to see you! For months, by his open admission. “And the printer knew exactly when you wanted to see me?" you joke. “Sounds like dark magic to me.”
Jungkook’s valiantly trying to straighten and smooth out some of the papers the two of you disturbed. “Deleted some print jobs,” he replies offhandedly, clearly distracted by the task at hand.
Record scratch.
There’s an extended silence as your brain shuffles through different iterations of his sentence, trying to decipher exactly he meant by that. Because there's no way he just admitted to what you think he just did. “Did…did you just say you've been deleting my print jobs?” you ask incredulously. Because there’s no way.
There’s no way, yet at your words, Jungkook immediately stiffens. His lips part, but he doesn't defend himself. Doesn't say anything at all—just drops the pen he’s holding and stares at you with wide eyes.
Holy shit. Holy shit. He really has been doing it! He obviously hadn't meant to tell you that, but the relaxation of afterglow has clearly removed the filter between his brain and his mouth.
The weight of his revelation hits you, seemingly happenstance events connecting in your mind and starting to fall into place. All the hassle and irritation that stupid printer has been giving you, and it turns out Mabel has been working just fine?!
“Please don't be mad,” he pleads, finally finding his voice.
“Are you seriously saying that all this time—”
“No! No, I only did it a few times,” he sheepishly rushes to correct you. “And I promise, I haven’t done it in weeks.”
“Seriously?”
“I just...wanted an excuse to talk to you!”
“Jungkook, you literally talk to me all the time!”
“About work! Not—” he averts his eyes, lets out an irritated breath. “It’s just. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out.”
You blink, gaping slightly as your whirring mind tries to process what he’s just told you. “Ask me…out?”
“I didn’t mean to do…all this.” He waves a hand over the mess the two of you are still cleaning up, clearly embarrassed. “I mean, at least not before buying you dinner first.”
Moments pass as you stare at him in stunned, disbelieving silence. Then, like a volcano erupting, laughter bursts from you, loud and sudden. Because what the fuck? You can’t believe all of this is actually happening to you. In real life. “You jackass,” you cackle. “Do you have any idea how much grief that printer has been giving me? I’m over here stressed and you’ve been gaslighting me and doing it on purpose?”
“Just a few times,” he repeats, visibly confused by the juxtaposition of the mirth in your voice and the actual words you’re saying.
“And that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a jackass,” you laugh. “But…” You clear your throat, suddenly somehow shy, despite everything that has occurred and been said. “…I suppose you can still take me out to dinner.”
“Yeah?” His lips stretch into a slow, hopeful smile.
“Yeah. Now, if you want. I think we’re pretty much done here.” You smile back, quickly taking stock of the binders still scattered across the floor. Most of them are completed, but whatever else you need to do can be done tomorrow morning. “Besides, I seem to have worked up an appetite.”
Jungkook looks nothing short of smug, but you suppose you can’t fault him that. “Well then,” he practically purrs, “Let’s hurry up and feed you.”
Moving in comfortable silence, the two of you finish putting everything you’ve disturbed back in their original spots, gathering the last of the binders and stacking them neatly on your desk. You reach for your purse while Jungkook goes to collect his hastily discarded belongings.
“So,” you start. “Where are you taking me? It’s kind of late.” This late on a weeknight, kitchens would be shutting down soon.
He pauses in sliding his leather jacket back on, frowning a little as he realizes you’re right. “Shit,” he mutters. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
“You can,” you say with an unbothered wave of your hand. “That can be next time. Let’s just find something quick now.”
“So you’re saying I get a second date?” he grins.
Oh. That is what you just implied, isn’t it? You would be embarrassed by how forward you were being if Jungkook wasn’t visibly delighted by it. Wow, he really does like you. And since the feeling is mutual, you just look away coyly and say, “If you play your cards right.”
Jungkook hoists his backpack over a shoulder, and it’s only then that you see what else he happened to be carrying in his hands when he dropped everything for you. A helmet.
You gesture towards the object with a curious incline of your head. “What’s that for?”
“My bike,” comes his easy answer, but that’s not the kind of helmet that one wears for bicycle rides. No, this one is made for something much faster.
Now that you think about it, you’ve seen the motorcycle in the parking lot before—you’ve just never really given it a second thought. And now you can’t stop thinking about it, because the unassuming vehicle you’ve often passed on your way into the building has been Jungkook’s the whole time. Your mind is blown. How many more times is he going to surprise you tonight?
“…Do you always drive a motorcycle?” you ask incredulously.
“Depends on the day,” he shrugs with grin. “Sometimes I take the bus, but I like to ride my bike when the weather’s nice.” His eyes are bright with pride, visibly happy to have impressed you.
Your mouth opens and closes, thoughts racing so fast your tongue struggles to hold onto any of them. Before you realize you’re doing it, you blurt, “Alright. Are you even real?”
Jungkook blinks owlishly at you, clearly not expecting that question. “What?”
“I thought I’ve known you for months. But was any of that real?” you repeat. “Hell, do you even need glasses?”
“Of course,” he rushes to say. “It’s all me. I can just be a little shy, is all.” Wow, he actually said shy with a straight face, as if he didn’t just finish ravaging you over multiple surfaces. “And I like to be professional, so this place doesn’t get to have all facets of me. I know you can relate.”
You can. Your constant struggle to not complain? To be professional and work hard and hope you’ll be rewarded for your efforts? Obviously that’s a reason why the two of you ended up in this situation in the first place.
He ducks his head a little, tapping the glasses he picked up off the floor in petition for their validity. “And these really are prescription. I mean, I can mostly see without them, but since I stare at computer screens all day, it’s less strain on my eyes.”
“Oh,” you say quietly, feeling silly to have even asked. But who knew the quiet IT guy who kept mostly to himself was also this? Buff and tatted with a wicked tongue that you’re now intimately acquainted with.
Shyly, he holds his helmet out to you. He hesitates before speaking again, almost like he’s afraid of spooking you. “Wanna go for a ride?” And from the way color lightly blooms across his cheeks, you get the sense that he’s offering you more than just protective gear.
You take it without second thought.
The next day you and Jungkook get off the elevator together, a respectable distance between you, but arms still brushing too often to be casual. When you come to the hallway that will force you in separate directions, you pause.
“Have a good day,” you say. Jungkook grins, the delighted brightness of it baring too much teeth and crinkling his eyes in the corners.
“You too,” he winks. “Let me know if Mabel gives you any more issues.”
You snort at his brazenness, biting down a smile as you head to your cubicle. Your whole body buzzes, glowing from inside out.
You’re technically right on time, but you’ve definitely arrived later than usual, and that’s obvious when you head over to your department and find Joy already there waiting for you. She frowns as you approach, no doubt clocking your empty hands and wondering how she’s going to make it through the morning without her expected syrupy caffeine fix.
To her credit, she doesn’t call you out on it, but you don’t really care if she does. You’re done playing errand boy. From now on, everyone else will have to stop before work and get their own shit, if they want it so bad.
Because it’s all so clear to you now. You’re here, and you’re going to do your best, but you’re not going to let this place wear you down to jaded slivers. You’re going to work hard and learn all that you can, but you refuse to be anyone’s lapdog.
They will respect you. And your value will be recognized and rewarded—or you’ll simply find somewhere else where it will.
Joy must sense your new resolve, because she simply hovers by your desk and chirps, “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“Did you have a good night?”
Your lips quirk. “You could say that. What about you?”
“Eh, it was okay,” she sighs. “Met a guy for dinner, but I don’t think that’s going anywhere.”
So while you were stuck here last night, having a grade-A meltdown, she was on a date. That tracks.
Joy chatters on while you put your things away, not seeming to notice or care that you’re not particularly interested in what she’s saying. And while this would normally irritate the living shit out of you, today, it doesn’t.
Today, your eyes can’t help but glaze over as your mind drifts back to how your night went. Today, you just hum agreeably until she gets bored with you and decides to go back to her own cubicle.
And when you hear her ask over the wall if you’ve seen her stapler, you just smile and smile.
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part one
4-7-8 | series | married couple, husband!jk, angst, jealousy, first love, marriage issues, miscommunication, yearning, hurt/comfort
you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you.
eveything in you | f2l, roommates au, pregnant!reader, ex!bf jimin, smut (mdi)
you want a baby and Jungkook is willing to help.
depend on me | hybrid au, friends to lovers, roommates au, oblivious!jk, overprotective!jk, smut (mdi)
you’re so used to letting Jungkook do everything for you. he babies you almost and you’re both constantly reminded of the strangeness in your friendship. you’ve always loved him but he can’t see you as anything but the little bunny girl he used to protect. you change his mind
long way home | single dad jk, boxer!jk, friends to lovers, angst! | one of my favorites!!
jungkook's life makes an 180 degree turn when he's suddenly a single dad and while you're trying to help him come accustomed to the new circumstances, your long-standing friendship takes new turns as well.
cornflower blue | established relationship, fluff & smut, soft!dom jk, praise, fingering, dirty talk, creampie | mdi !!
nights were your favorite time with your boyfriend. the nights where you laid in bed together, tangled up in each other without any thoughts of the real world.
cry for me | husband!jk, fluff & smut, soft!dom jk, dacryphilia, overstimulation, praise kink, oral, fingering, creampie, cockwarming, smut (mdi)
lazy sunday mornings with your husband always end the same way: jungkook taking care of you, praising you through every tear and reminding you how much he loves you.
after a long night taking care of your baby, your husband notices how exhausted you are and makes it his mission to help you relax, reminding you how loved and appreciated you are.
home | fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, depressed!reader, green flag!jk, lovesick!jk, confessions, fluff & smut (mdi)
after disappearing for a week and shutting everyone out, you end up at jungkook’s apartment. what starts as comfort between friends with benefits turns into long-overdue confessions, reassurance, and a love neither of you can hide anymore.
timing | series | exes to lovers, second chance, parent au, ceo!jk, angst, fluff, smut (mdi), slow burn, emotional growth, family, happy ending.
after years of loving each other at the wrong moments, you and jungkook keep finding your way back together. through heartbreak, missed chances, growing pains, and unexpected twists, you're forced to ask yourselves one question: if you're meant for each other, was it ever about love—or simply about timing?
shatter with me | mini-series | surrogacy au, model!jk, best friend's husband, forbidden love, pregnancy, infidelity, divorce, heavy angst, slow burn, smut (mdi)
when you agree to become a surrogate for your best friend and her husband, you think you're helping them build the family they've always dreamed of. but as buried secrets come to light and their marriage begins to crumble, you're forced to confront feelings that should have never existed in the first place.
coquet | series | escort!jk, fake dating au, strangers to lovers, wedding au, jealous ex, family drama, angst, fluff, smut (mdi) | this is one of my favorites 4everrrrrr
when you're forced to attend your brother's wedding alongside an ex you never truly got over, hiring an escort seems like the perfect solution. what begins as a simple arrangement soon becomes something much more complicated when jungkook starts feeling less like a stranger and more like someone you never want to let go of.
will it fit? | roommate au, roommate!jk, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, size kink, soft!dom jk, comedy, fluff, smut (mdi), confession
after your roommate catches you in a series of increasingly embarrassing situations, a conversation about a certain dildo spirals into confessions, unresolved tension, and the realization that you've both been crushing on each other for much longer than either of you thought.
under the blankets | boyfriend!jk, established relationship, tattooed couple, body worship, teasing, overstimulation, rough sex, aftercare, fluff & smut (mdi)
what starts as a quiet morning spent admiring each other's tattoos quickly turns into a heated reminder of just how obsessed you and jungkook are with one another.
daddy issues | older!jk, best friend's dad, age gap, forbidden romance, accidental pregnancy, daddy kink, praise kink, possessive!jk, smut (mdi)
what starts as an innocent crush on your best friend's father quickly spirals into a secret relationship built on desire, validation, and blurred boundaries—until one unexpected pregnancy changes everything.
before you | tattoo artist!jk, friends to lovers, accidental pregnancy, fake parenthood, found family, protective!jk, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending (mdi)
jungkook has taken a huge place in your life after he tattooed you, and you can’t even picture how life was before him. he has always been there for you since day one. but how will things change after you find out you’re pregnant?
a hero's journey | editor!reader, best friend's boyfriend au, missed timing, lost confession, friends to lovers, pining, workplace au, angst with happy ending, smut (mdi)
jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story.
when worlds collide | series | college au, ballet!reader, fuckboy!jk, tutoring au, strangers to lovers, opposites attract, angst, slice of life, smut (mdi) | not complete
since your mother's passing, life has been a whirlwind. balancing ballet and college while keeping a low profile was your norm—until jungkook stepped into your world. despite his reputation and popularity on campus, he keeps insisting on your help, pulling you into the spotlight you've always tried to avoid.
home | drabble | idol!jk, military au, established relationship, bam, reunion, domestic fluff, long distance, military enlistment, light angst
since jungkook's enlistment, you've grown used to missing him in the little moments—especially when bam waits by the door for someone who isn't supposed to come home yet. but one ordinary evening turns into the perfect surprise when the person you've been longing for suddenly appears on the other side of the door.
first position | college au, established relationship, best friend x reader x jk, threesome, friends helping friends, comedy, smut (mdi), alcohol, marijuana use | one of the filthiest smuts ever
your best friend's ex might have broken her heart, but the fact that he never managed to make her orgasm is somehow even worse. determined to show her what she's been missing, you and jungkook decide to take matters into your own hands.
burning hour | idol!jk, established relationship, yacht date, summer vibes, playful banter, fluff, smut (mdi) | rich boyfriend jk living his best yacht owner life
there's nothing better than spending a relaxing day on your boyfriend's yacht, soaking up the sun and waiting for the sunset. unfortunately for you, jungkook has other plans—and they involve making sure you pay attention to him instead.
tropes: single dad jk, boxer!jk, friends to lovers, !angst!
word count: 49.5k (+ drabbles)
summary: jungkook's life makes an 180 degree turn when he's suddenly a single dad and while you're trying to help him come accustomed to the new circumstances, your long-standing friendship takes new turns as well.
*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ**✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*
part 01: cockblock
the one where you babysit jungkook's baby and somehow let the night end up with being a cockblock for him.
part 02: promises
the one where jungkook breaks his promise for the first time.
part 03: drunken confessions
the one where you had a little too much to drink and, oops, your lips are pressed against someone else's.
part 04: oh, you mean the babysitter?
the one where jungkook fucks up.
part 05: girlfriends and boyfriends flashback_01_
the one where you think calling jungkook will make you stop missing him but it actually worsens the ache in your heart.
part 06: apologies and excuses
the one where jungkook tries to apologise for his behaviour.
part 07: first time
the one where jungkook has to deal with your rejection for the first time.
part 08: the night i lost hope flashback_02_
the one where you're drunk and ask jungkook a question and he unknowingly crushes all your hopes with his answer.
part 09: birthday surprise(s)
the one where jungkook wants to surprise you on your birthday but then he gets surprised with a half naked jimin in your apartment.
part 10: best friends
the one where you're reminded why you love jungkook so much.
part 11: needing him flashback_03_
the one where you're absolutely broken and there's only jungkook you need.
part 12: weird behaviour
the one where jungkook is acting weird but you can't tell why.
part 13: little bear
the one where you miss nabi.
part 14: needing her flashback_04_
the one where jungkook is absolutely helpless and there's only you he needs.
part 15: concerned granny
the one where even the grannies in the coffee shop start missing jungkook.
part 16: unwanted guests
the one where jungkook proves to you that he's always there for you when you need him.
part 17: betrayal
the one where you're not enough for jungkook.
part 18: stolen kisses flashback_05_
the one where your foolish heart thinks it'd be a fun idea to kiss jungkook at a party.
part 19: double chocolate cookies
the one where traditions are broken.
part 20: pillowtalk
the one where you realise that talking to jimin helps you to mend the broken pieces of your heart.
part 21: new beginnings flashback_06_
the one where jungkook gives up.
part 22: oopsies & ouchies
the one where jungkook can't control his jealousy.
part 23: three words
the one where jungkook explains himself.
part 24: star-crossed
the one where jungkook regrets everything.
part 25: just friends flashback_07_
the one where jungkook isn't enough for you.
part 26: long way home
the one where decisions are made.
⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧⌒ ⛦
extras:
• snoring monster new!
jungkook has a habit of snoring, and nabi had enough of it.
• missing you
you're on a summer girls trip and jungkook and nabi miss you a lot
• grumpy baby
nabi is teething
• obsessed
jungkook and nabi are obsessed with your mummy milkers.
• fighting jealousy (m)
you distract jungkook while he's boxing.
• sleepy mornings (m)
you're sleepy and needy
• midnight interruption (m)
all jungkook wants is a little alone time with you, but nabi doesn't agree.
• his type
you pout about wanting jungkook's attention
• pretty in pink (m)
your first valentine's day with your boyfriend.
• baby
jungkook calling you "baby" for the first time.
• mummy milkers
you taking care of nabi.
• can u give me a hickey?
you asking jungkook for a hickey.
↬ your mum's reaction to the hickey
• fake mama
jungkook pretending you're nabi's mum in front of a stranger.
• first meeting
jungkook meeting nabi for the first time.
• why are ur cheeks so red?
you making jungkook flustered.
• jk's spa salon's special treatment
jungkook helping you to relax.
• can i cuddle u?
your first sleepover at jungkook's place.
• tummy hurt
jungkook comforting you during your period.
• he's never made a woman not cum
you telling jungkook how men fail to please you in bed.
• jelly jk
jungkook stumbling upon you and taehyung making out on your bed.
pairing: college student!jungkook x college student!reader
synopsis: Y/N only meant for the date to last an hour. Just long enough to make the point of it worth it, but short enough to keep things professional. But between stolen glances and intertwined fingers, time just seems to go by far too fast. Especially with Jungkook.
Jungkook, who’s so gentle and so easy to be around. Jungkook, who doesn’t ever judge you for the way you complicate something as simple as painting.
And him? Oh, he’s screwed.
Because the only thing on his mind after that date is a certain law student, who has no business being in his life.
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
“I have to see her again, it can’t end like this.”
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
genres: fake-dating ish?, angst (sorry 😞), romance, rom-com, dual pov for a bit, MAJOR yearning, coming of age, college!au, slow burn, opposites attract, academic fmc x artistic mmc, fluff, explicit content, flirty, tension, college!jk, slice of life, mature language, hopeless romantic
wc: 2.8k (sorry i got carried away…)
preview, pt1 (current)
Chapter 1: The Date
The word “date,” nor the concept of keeping your Saturday night free of all studies for said “date,” was ever in your vocabulary. In fact, the only time “date” ever showed up was the date to your next final or project. So getting ready for something that didn’t involve having your tote bag filled with textbooks hanging off your shoulder was so incredibly foreign, that you had no other choice but to turn to Teddy for outfit inspo.
She went on a damn spiral, tossing clothes out of your closet until she finally found the one that looked perfect.
“I’m telling you right now, Jungkook will go insane over this outfit,” she said proudly with a grin so wide she might as well have turned into the Cheshire Cat. And you prayed to God that she was wrong in every way possible, because you didn’t need Jungkook thinking you looked good. Or worse, asking for another date. This was strictly professional; a hangout, if you must, to raise money for whatever showcase the art students had.
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
When you first made plans with Jungkook for your “date,” he didn’t say much at all, and you wondered if you remembered wrong, considering it was 7:10 PM and there was no sign of him.
“Meet me at the front of the art building. 7 pm, don’t be late or I’ll find you myself.” Jungkook said with a devastating grin.
He’s late, and you started to think that maybe he even forgot. Or ditched.
This was a terrible idea.
You contemplate texting Teddy something dramatic (like “I’ve been stood up, hope you’re happy”) but your thoughts were cut off as the door to the building swings open.
Out came Jungkook, dressed casually in jeans and a white shirt, sleeves straining against his biceps. Tattoos on full display too and, unfortunately, you struggled to not stare.
He grins, his eyes lighting up, and leans his forearm against the doorframe. “You came,” he said, voice easy.
“Mm,” you nod and rock back and forth on your heels in a nervous manner. “I thought we’d just be going for coffee or something?”
“Coffee?” He repeated, almost seeming offended. “I actually want my girl to enjoy her date,” he scoffed and held the door open wider for you.
You ignored the way your heart skipped a beat at the way he said my girl so casually, and stick your head inside in a cautious manner.
You hesitated, but eventually stepped inside. The studio smelled like turpentine, old wood, and something fairly metallic—paint drying, canvases breathing.
It wasn’t polished or neat. Supplies were scattered everywhere: brushes, half-finished sculptures, canvases leaning at strange angles. A battered stereo played low music in the background, something steady and old.
You stood awkwardly while Jungkook moved about the studio freely, as if he lived here.
“Hope you don’t mind getting dirty,” he said, eyeing you over his shoulder as he set up some sort of wheel mechanism.
You stared at him, heart pounding. “What…kind of dirty are we talking?”
Jungkook laughed, low and warm. “Relax. It’s just clay.”
He handed you an oversized apron, his fingers brushing yours for half a second too long…not that you were counting.
“Rule number one for tonight,” he began, putting his own apron around his waist. “Don’t think, just do.”
“That’s a terrible rule.” You muttered and followed suit, clumsily tying on the apron.
Jungkook chuckled and his shoulders shook with amusement while he watched you struggle to put on the apron. He casually stepped up behind you and took the strings from your hands, tying it for you instead.
You mentally berated yourself for the way your breath stuttered in your chest, and then you swear that the next time your heart is gonna skip a beat like that is because of nervousness for a test. Not for him; never for him.
“There is nothing terrible about being in the art studio,” he said while his large palms glided over the expanse of your waist, smoothing out the material of the apron. “Here, you just let go.”
You didn’t realize he moved away from you because you were still caught up in the way he so casually touched you, almost in a reverent manner. So much for not letting your heart skip for him.
You cleared your throat and turned to face him once more, watching as he continued to set up, what you assumed, the pottery machine. “Um, so, what exactly are we doing?”
“We’re doing pottery, obviously,” he paused and glanced at you, big eyes catching yours from under the fringes of his hair. “Have you ever?”
You carefully approached him next to the machine, watching as he pulled up a single stool in front of the wheel. “Um, no. Never.” Pottery, or anything art related, was never really your thing. The last time you ever did something remotely close to arts was probably in elementary.
He stood up with a huff, hands on his hips, and nudged his head towards the stool. “Sit,” he said, “I’ll teach you.”
“Wait so, we’re just getting right into it? We’re not…talking?” You asked before hesitantly taking a seat on the stool, staring at the wheel like it was completely foreign and would eat you alive within seconds.
“I don’t mean to be rude but judging by your body language, I think it’s best to skip the small talk.” He chuckled softly and before you could retaliate, you felt his chest brush right up against your back. You might as well have gotten whiplash from how fast your head turned to look at him.
Cheeks flushed and eyes widened, you glanced up at him, sitting so close you could basically smell his cologne. Something woodsy and citrusy, but also clean like detergent. Your eyes met his and from this close, you noticed things you probably would never have paid attention to.
The tiny mole under his bottom lip; the slight crinkle around his eyes when he smiled. The glint of his lip ring, twitching every time he brushed his tongue against it.
What the hell? Stop staring!
“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked, voice stuttering despite how desperately you tried to keep it steady.
He blinked down at you before breaking into a dimpled grin. “Relax. Just gonna help you get your flow then I’ll move to my own spot.” He reassured, before giving your arms a gentle pat.
Okay. There's two things you’ve learned about Jungkook so far. He smells awfully too good, and is insanely unaware of how naturally charming he is. Well, isn’t that great for you?
He slapped a heap of clay on the wheel before dipping his hands in a nearby bowl with water, then gestured for you to do the same.
“Pottery is easy,” he started. “You just need to have steady hands and the rest comes naturally.”
Easy was solving limits and linear equations. Easy was learning and memorizing civil wrongs and harmful acts. Easy was not molding a piece of clay into some mug or pot.
But regardless, because you literally had no other choice, you dipped your hands in the water and hovered them over the clay awkwardly.
“So…” you shifted to get comfortable and positioned your hands awkwardly over the clay. “How does this work?”
“Basically,” he hesitated for a second before gently resting his hands over yours. Big and warm, the contact had goosebumps rising on your skin. You prayed he wouldn't point it out because your best excuse would be because of air conditioning…but the room felt awfully hot. “You press down on this pedal,” he nudged your foot with his, letting you press down as a quick demonstration. “There you go,” he mumbled quietly, tone holding a hint of praise and encouragement behind it. “And your hands just kinda…move over the clay. It’s easier said than done.” He chuckled and you hated the way his breath brushed against your ear, because it sent that awful fluttery sensation down your spine again.
“Right,” you mumbled before clearing your throat. “Why are we doing pottery again?” You couldn’t help but ask. There were literally a hundred other things to do, and this guy had to choose the most messy, nuisance of an activity? Is he setting you up for failure or what?
“Because it’s fun,” he shrugged. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
He encouraged you to press on the pedal again and when the wheel hummed to life, he gently guided your fingers to the clay. “It’s mostly about feeling where the clay wants to go.”
“That sounds strangely philosophical,” you frowned, earning another soft laugh from him.
Soft and breathy and oh so ridiculously heartstopping.
God, stop. stopstopstop–
At first, Jungkook let you feel around with the clay by yourself.
Your hands glided carefully over the spinning clay, slow and deliberate, approaching it the same way you approached everything else in life—with caution, precision, and the quiet confidence that if you followed the instructions, you'd get it right.
You'd always gotten it right.
So naturally, you assumed this wouldn't be any different.
The clay promptly collapsed in on itself with a pathetic thud.
You stared at it.
"...Seriously?"
A quiet laugh sounded behind you.
"No stress," Jungkook said, his voice low and reassuring by your ear. "It's a little finicky at first."
Your brows pinched together.
"I can—"
Before you could finish insisting you were fine, his fingers slipped gently between yours.
"I've got you."
His hands guided yours back to the clay with practiced ease, steadying the uneven pressure until the wheel began to cooperate again.
You should've been focused on what he was showing you.
Instead, all you could think about was how warm his hands were despite the cool slip of water and clay coating both of your fingers. How his broad chest brushed up against your back every time he leaned an inch too close.
It should've felt strange.
Messy and uncomfortable. Instead, it felt…oddly natural.
And that realization alone was enough to send an embarrassing rush of butterflies tumbling through your stomach.
For God's sake...
It was just pottery.
So why did your heart insist on making it feel like something more?
“There you go,” he praised softly, head right next to yours, voice deep and honey-like in your ear. You had half a heart to shove him away but somehow, you kept still.
“Okay…this is weird.” You mumbled, watching as the clay molded perfectly with the help of his hands guiding yours. Fingers slipped across the slippery, slick material, gliding up and down while the wheel spun in a slow, easy manner and the clay rose gradually.
Calling it weird was the only way you could deflect how you were really feeling.
“Weird?” He repeated, glancing at the side of your face with slightly furrowed brows. “It’s just clay.”
Well, this boy was clueless. How could you explain that the clay wasn’t the thing that was weird; the immediate dynamic; the way both your hands moved so perfectly in sync, was the thing that was weird. Because nobody had actually fallen into such an easygoing rhythm with you before so quickly.
You were difficult, demanding, but he just…made everything so easy. You realized you weren’t even thinking about your classes or exams, just the boy who was oh so gentle with you, and the clay that changed in whatever way you wanted, giving you full control.
“Um,” you eventually cleared your throat, realizing you had been zoning out. “I dunno…just feels slimy.” You deflected because what else were you supposed to say? The truth? Never.
“Slimy,” he repeated with a small snort. “That’s a new one.”
Christ, being with this guy was going to be nothing short of a nightmare.
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
“There, all done.” Jungkook finally eased back with a proud smile, and you wondered why the hell you felt disappointed from the lack of warmth.
Between casual chatter and frustrated sighs, you ended up making a mug. Crooked, but a mug nevertheless. Its handle was slightly askew as well, but Jungkook picked it up as if it was a masterpiece.
You, on the other hand, couldn't help but frown. It looked ridiculous.
“Not bad for a newbie,” Jungkook teased, poking you on the rib to which he earned a startled noise from you.
“It looks like a two year old made it.” You grumbled, a slight pout in your tone.
“No,” he stands from his seat and places the mug carefully on the drying rack. “It’s got character.”
You rolled your eyes because obviously he was trying to make you feel better…and oddly enough, it was working.
“Whatever,” untying your apron, you tossed it in the dirty cloth rack before turning to Jungkook, watching as he cleaned up the wheel. He was unfairly attractive, you had to admit. Veins popping along his strong forearms every time he scrubbed a little too hard, brows furrowed in concentration, tongue tucked under his lip ring.
“Are we done now?” You asked after clearing your throat, looking everywhere but at him now. Way to be discreet.
“Done?” He repeated around a snort, standing up and dusting his hands off on his apron. “We’re just getting started.”
𓍯𓂃𓏧
You told yourself you’d stay for just an hour, because you had a civil procedures textbook waiting for you back at your apartment. You told yourself you wouldnt do anything too artsy or too messy–wanted to keep your hands clean.
So how, on God’s green earth, did you end up sitting next to this damn art major, shoulders brushing occasionally, and painting mugs?
Not even the heavens could answer that.
"You know..." Jungkook glanced over at your mug before looking at his own. "I don't think I've ever seen someone paint with such serious concentration."
You didn't bother looking up.
"I'm trying not to ruin it."
"You look like you're taking an exam."
"I practically am."
He laughed, dipping his brush into a bright orange paint.
"See? That's your problem."
"My problem?"
"You think too much."
"And you don't think enough."
"...Fair."
You blinked.
"...You agreed with me?"
"I'm an artist, not delusional."
Before you could question further, he spoke up.
“Would you look at that,” Jungkook started, holding up his mug next to yours. His was coloured in bright oranges and yellows; intricate flower designs that only artists could perfect the details of. Yours?
Neutral browns and greys, because you didn’t know how to be creative. Even painting was like a perfectly curated task; it had to look perfect, be perfect.
“You’re a natural.” He said with a dimpled grin, nudging your side with his elbow. That simple comment had you snapping out of your mind, blinking up at him like some lost deer. You never knew how to take compliments.
“It’s all right,” you mumbled as you placed the mug on the drying rack, right next to Jungkook’s, The contrast was almost comical.
“Well, this was…nice. But I really should get going now.” You immediately deflected, grabbing your tote bag from the floor, paint smudging over the fabric. You had already overstayed your welcome, and if you stayed any damn longer, you didn’t know what you would end up doing.
“Oh,” Jungkook nodded, brushing his hands off on his jeans, caught off guard by the sudden shift in your demeanor. Had you two not just been getting along? He almost sounded disappointed but you told yourself it was your mind playing tricks. “Yeah, no, of course.”
A beat passed.
"I guess it did get kinda late."
It was only ten.
The sun had barely started to set.
But neither of you pointed that out.
“Thanks for helping with the fundraiser,” he said as he followed you to the door like some lost puppy; doe eyes staring into the back of your head. “I can tell this isn’t your thing but I appreciate it.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly with a smile that had your stomach flipping.
Why? You refused to acknowledge that.
“Yeah, no problem. Hope the art gala goes well.”
“Thanks! Maybe I–”
You didn’t even let Jungkook finish before you were scurrying off, desperate to get out of this situation. To get your damn bearings together and eliminate all of these stupid, fuzzy feelings in your chest.
Meanwhile, Jungkook?
Oh, that boy was a mess.
Not only did he never even plan on getting as far as painting the mugs with you, he also didn’t realize how effortless it was to be around you. Sure, you were a little dense about things, a little stuck up. But conversations came naturally–he learned you were a law major, lived by yourself, and had a cat–and the more he learned, the more he wanted to be around you.
Oh, this was bad. So, so bad.
Because this was supposed to be a one time thing, but as Jungkook watched your retreating figure like a fool–hand clutching that tote bag he recognized from the auction, soft pink babydoll top complementing your skin, and white maxiskirt flowing gently in the breeze–he realized that this wasn’t enough.
He had to see you again, one way or another.
a/n: omg guys much anticipated chapter 1!! finally omg. i love these two sm like i was a giggling fool writing this entire chapter. sorry it was so late! i've been so so busy with work and stuff but i tried super hard to get it done for you guys! hope it's up to ur expectations and i hope u guys love it as much as i do. they're literally my babies :> (also i didn't think ppl would actually like this so lmk if u wanna be tagged for the next part!) and sorry for any typos!
in which jeongguk jeon, the frattiest of all frat boys, has been trying to get you to go out with him since freshman year, no success. what if the events that occur in junior year change your opinion on jeongguk and you actually give him a chance?
rich! jeongguk x reader
warnings: detailed virginity loss (minors, go away!), use of yn, jk is a little dumb sometimes but he’s a sweetheart, jk is a frat boy, minor mention of SA (nothing too triggering (i hope)), i love yn, taehyung mention 🫶🏼, yn is thick asfff (#needthat), desperate jk, use of both jeongguk and jungkook (i’m an indecisive bitch sorry), he gets the girl!
another scenario with this couple ‘couple’s getaway’ !
——-
Jeongguk needs no introduction. There was not a single soul at Berkeley University that didn’t know of him. Even the freshmen got introduced to who he was on their first day. With a powerful presence, daddy’s money, and unfortunately for you, a gorgeous, gorgeous face and muscles for days, Jeongguk takes the entire world by storm. He had that something about him that makes every guy want to befriend him and makes every girl want to be with him.
He was a business administration major, now in his senior year; his goal? To take over his father’s many businesses when he graduates. He could have done that without college, but his family put a lot of importance on education.
He was simultaneously in a frat and also lived alone in a penthouse off campus. You always wondered how he was allowed to be in the frat if he wasn’t living in the fraternity itself. But he’s the king of Kappa Sigma; they couldn’t vote him out. You met Jungkook at a party thrown by a friend’s friend, who is also friends with Jungkook, during the second semester of freshman year. He approached you with charming confidence, asking for your number. You declined politely, and he has not left you alone since—following you around, asking you out, giving you gifts, inviting you to parties that you never ended up attending, asking your friends about you, pretending to share your interests to get closer to you, and so on and so forth.
The one thing that was good about freshman and sophomore year was that you had no classes with Jungkook. So the last two years, you had Jungkook-less classes, except for the ones he decided to barge into uninvited and declare his love for you. Junior year came, and with it, Jungkook decided to sign himself up for the 18th-century literature class with Professor Sullivan.
Your major was English literature.
Professor Sullivan’s class was one of your favorites—the debates, the topics, the atmosphere. Also, the fact that Professor Sullivan liked you a lot. The topic of this lesson was: the role of women in literature in the 18th century.
"Women in the 18th century played very crucial roles as empowered figures; that is a fact. Authors like Mary Wollstonecraft, for example; she challenged societal expectations and wrote incredibly critical narratives that advocated for women’s rights,” you argued with a steady voice.
From across from you, you heard a voice you dreaded. "Yn, no one can argue with you about the existence of women authors at the time, but were they really all that empowering? I mean, they pretty much all were dependent on men. For example, ‘Oroonoko,’ written by a woman, yet it represents a male hero, while the female perspective is secondary.”
“Well, Ben, if you had taken my argument or really, any historical context into consideration, you would understand that, male hero aside, a woman producing literature of any kind in that era meant that she was asserting herself in a male-dominant, or rather, in a female-submissive world, and that in itself is resistance. It embodies power. I rest my case."
Ben was about to open his mouth to argue back when the door to the lecture hall interrupted him.
"Mr. Jeon, you are half an hour late," Professor Sullivan spoke to the interrupter.
In that moment, Ben became the least of your worries, sexism and all. You felt as if your life was upside down and you couldn’t get it up. What the hell was he doing in this class? This isn’t even his thing; he will fail! He will fail miserably!
"I sincerely apologize, Professor. It won’t happen again," the deep voice apologized before stepping forward and finding a seat.
As his piercing brown eyes found yours, the usual smirk found its place on his lips, and them and their owner made their way directly towards you. He sat down with the same expression on his face. "Hey, gorgeous. Miss me over the summer?"
He put his muscular arm around your shoulder and kept his head tilted to the side to stare at you, admiring the beauty before him from head to toe. You were wearing flared jeans and a tight pink long-sleeve shirt that accentuated your generous breasts. "Cute outfit, baby. Pink is your color; I’ll make sure to buy you lingerie in that same shade."
Before you could answer, Mr. Sullivan stated: "Mr. Jeon, we were just discussing the woman’s role in 18th-century literature. I am sure Ms. Ln will fill you in on what you have missed so far, but I wish for you to pay attention to the rest of the lecture. I know Ms. Ln is much prettier than I am; nonetheless, I hope you can find it in yourself to pay more attention to me and less to her."
The whole hall broke out in laughter, amused at the professor’s wit. Jungkook just continued smirking at you, seemingly also amused at the professor, and you sat in silence for the rest of the lecture, blushing.
The lecture ended quickly after, all the students making their way out, and you would’ve done so as well, but you needed to have a little talk with the man sitting beside you first.
"What are you doing here?" you nearly hissed at Jungkook, who was still sitting, your arms crossed around your chest.
"What do you mean, baby?" he provoked. "You don’t want me here or something?"
One thing that can be said about Jungkook was that he was a very persistent man. Even after your countless rejections, he somehow managed to come back stronger, bigger, and harder to fight off.
"You know I don’t want you here! What are you even doing here in the first place, Jungkook? What do you want?" Your hands were on your full hips as you questioned him.
He looked up at you with a shimmer of amusement and a raised eyebrow, his eyes tracing every curve. "You know, Yn, you look really good from this angle."
The thought of kicking him in the head came to you, but you fought it off. "Answer my question."
"I’m not gonna answer a question you already know the answer to. You know damn well why I’m here; I want you, and I wanna see you, and I want you to finally go out with me so we can live happily ever after and put me out of my misery," he proclaimed, with the spirit of Romeo possessing him.
"You just did, though," you noted with a smirk.
"Huh?"
"You just answered a question I already know the answer to." With that, you grabbed your bag and swayed away from the man, who was too distracted watching you walk away to comprehend that you were gone.
___
On a Friday night, you had a lot you could do: read a new book, talk to your mom, whom you hadn’t seen in two months on the phone, organize a sleepover with your friends and watch a movie, finish the five essays you haven’t finished yet, go off campus and try new food, and if you don’t like it, get the food you know and like and eat it.
But in Avery’s opinion, there was nothing better to do than to go to the Kappa Sigma party. You would usually not necessarily disagree; a party is sometimes exactly what you needed, but not this Friday and not at Kappa Sigma.
"Avery, did you forget the 100 times that I have told you he is now in my 18th-century lit class? I had to see him three times this week for almost an hour each lecture. Those are three hours where I had to see him, where I had to hear him speak," you dramatically articulated. "And if you count the times that I have seen him in the halls, and the one time I saw him in the library, and the one time he came into my poetry class and sat there, watching me for 20 minutes before Professor Sinclair told him to leave, and the one time he came here to give me flowers and ask me out, that makes like a hundred thousand hours that I had to see him this week. I do not wanna go to his party!"
Your roommates all looked at you like you just fell down from an alien spaceship. Nora was the first one to react. "Your math skills are really bad, Yn."
Avery rolled her eyes. "True, but that’s besides the point; Yn, why are you whining that the hottest and richest guy at this entire university wants you and has been wanting you for the last two years? That’s a flex, girl! Now, go put on a sexy ass outfit on that sexy ass bod and let’s. go. out."
"Woooo!" you heard Sasha yell from the kitchen, making you crack a smile amid your misery.
"Alright, but next Friday, I choose what we do," you claimed, with full intention of keeping that promise.
_
You and all four of your roommates arrived at the Kappa Sigma house with outfits that nobody else could compete with. You were wearing a tight, black off-shoulder shirt and a red mini skirt that emphasized your already emphasized thickness. Topped off with soft glam makeup and black heels, you felt like a real woman.
"Welcome, ladies," the deep voice that could only belong to Taehyung greeted you. "Sasha."
"Hi, Tae," Sasha purred, her hands quickly finding his neck, leaning into a passionate kiss.
These two had been a couple for a few months now, after a whole year of being on and off. Despite the stereotypes of frat boys, Taehyung knew how to treat his girl right.
You entered the house with one friend less; Sasha disappeared with Taehyung into the chaos that is the current state of this house. Your other roommates quickly disappeared as well, much to your dismay.
Now, your goal was to socialize, maybe drink a little something, but not too much because of the essays that you would have to write the next day. Your eyes scanned the house for a familiar face, and it landed on one.
One that was looking you up and down with hunger. He signaled you to come over where he was sitting with a bunch of girls and one other guy. You shook your head no, so he came over.
"Yn! I’m glad you came, baby." He hugged you, and you only half-hugged him back. "You look gorgeous, of course."
"Thanks, Jeongguk," you said politely.
You and he had a complex relationship; the first time he saw you, he showed romantic interest in you, showering you with affection and gifts. He never stopped. You always rejected him, no exceptions, even at times where you wanted nothing more than to say yes. Yet he was always kind to you, and you were kind to him (most of the time). Your mutual friends always brought you together; it was as if you couldn’t escape one another—to his pleasure and to your dismay.
"Lemme get you something to drink," he went into the kitchen and came back with a soda can. "Here, I know you usually don’t drink, so I got you a cola; hope that’s fine."
"It is, thank you," you smiled softly and started drinking the cola. "So, you’re interested in literature this year."
You only started a conversation because you knew he would not leave your side the entire night anyway, and you would prefer it if you picked the topic of conversation instead of him.
"Hell yeah, I love me some Samuel L. Jackson," he stated, making you laugh.
"You mean Samuel Johnson, you idiot," you said, giggling as you pushed his strong arm playfully.
He watched you giggle, gazing as if you hung the stars. "Yeah, yeah, same thing, same thing." With his boyish smile, he said, "Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by signing up for the same class as you. It was kinda out of pocket, even for my standards. I know the last person you wanna see is me, so if you want me to drop it, I will."
Your jaw metaphorically dropped at Jungkook’s words. Those are words that came out of Jungkook’s mouth? Does that mean that he will leave me alone completely if I wish? What does this mean?
A strange emotion settled deep inside you; you started wondering if you had done something wrong or if he perhaps found another girl he wanted to ask out even more than he wanted to ask you out.
"Jungkook, it is your right to choose whatever class you want to be in; I can’t be mad at you for that. Besides, you will learn a lot from Professor Sullivan; he’s great," you reassured him with a sweet voice.
"Yeah?" He grinned, recognizing that this was your way of saying you did not want him to leave.
"Oh yeah, he is a delightful old man. The stories he has to share are amazing. Did you even know he’s married to Professor Martinez? The reason why she hasn’t taken his last name is that he was against it, telling her, ‘Maria, if you take my name, that is erasure. Erasure of your life before my appearance, and erasure of your beautiful Mexican heritage, Maria. Do not change your name to mine; I am technically your oppressor.’ He told us that story maybe about 23 times, and he made sure to roll the r real hard," you found yourself joking with Jungkook, as your mind took you back to Avery’s earlier words.
It was not the first time that your friends said the same words to you; they always expressed their envy and their confusion about the situation with Jungkook. But you were thinking much deeper than them.
Much to everybody’s surprise, you never had a boyfriend, and you were also still a virgin. The most you did was a kiss you shared with a guy at your high school graduation, which you immediately regretted. You had high standards. For yourself, for your future, for your future husband, and for everyone you allowed to enter your life. It was not about not having options; God knows you had many. It was about knowing for sure that the man you give these things to—your trust, your dignity, your virginity, your love—would be the right one, the one that deserved it. The idea that Jungkook—the man who gave you his undivided attention for two years straight and spoiled you without being asked—was perhaps the man for you didn’t sound so unbelievable anymore.
When you were a freshman and before you met him, you heard stories about him—stories of the parties he threw, the money he had, the many girls he fucked. These stories made you cautious, even though he put in real effort to get closer to you, you were hard to impress, and it was even harder for you to get out of your shell of self-protection.
Jungkook howled with laughter at the things you told him about your professor; either he found them genuinely amusing, or he was just laughing because the stories came out of your mouth.
“So, what will you do?” he asked once the laughter died down a bit.
You tilted your head innocently. “What do you mean?”
He looked at you with such tenderness, your innocent eyes captivating him.
“When we get married, will you keep your name, or will you take mine?” he posed the question so casually, yet so longingly.
You shrugged your shoulders elegantly, taking a small sip from your forgotten cola. “I will probably take yours.”
The words you said that Friday night made Jeon Jungkook the happiest man on planet Earth, and probably all the other planets in the universe.
_
“So, you little minx sat down and talked to Jungkook basically the entire fucking party, and you didn’t even get up once? You didn’t even complain about it!” Avery was almost lost for words; key word, almost.
“What’s the big deal? We talked, so what?” you shrugged it off.
“Everybody’s talking about it, you know. They think you might finally give the guy a chance,” Nora chimed in. “I always knew you would eventually cave; I mean, with those arms and that black card, I would’ve folded a long time ago. There’s a rumor he has a seven-inch dick, by the way.”
Just as you were about to say something, Sasha entered the living room, having just finished talking to Taehyung on the phone. “What are you girlies talking about?”
Avery answered, “Oh, just about Yn and Jungkook getting married and having six kids.”
You threw a pillow at her head in response, and Sasha smirked at the mention of her boyfriend’s buddy. “Yeah, I heard what happened. Tae told me Jungkook went crazy after talking to you, saying that this will be the year that he will claim you as his and that there’s not a single person that can take away the happiness that he’s experiencing at the moment. He literally can’t stop talking about you.”
You suppressed your smile successfully and shrugged your shoulders again. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal. I mean, you all left me lonely at that party, and he was the first familiar face I saw, sooo… I had nothing better to do.”
“God, you’re such an odd person. The guy wants you so bad, just give him a chance. You think it’s not noticeable that you are also kinda into him, but if you weren’t, you would’ve blocked that guy a long time ago, and you would’ve gone crazy on his ass with all the things he does to get your attention, but you don’t,” Tanya argued with a sly smirk on her face. “You may be mysterious to other people, but you can’t fool your best friends, who have been living with you for two years.”
Avery and Nora both agreed with Tanya’s words by nodding their heads crazily, and Sasha said a loud ‘true’ from the kitchen across the living room, where she was preparing five hot chocolates for you.
“I do go crazy; I always go crazy; I always tell him off. You all have personally experienced me going off on him for things he did and said,” you defended yourself the best you could, before taking the hot chocolate out of Sasha’s hands with a small ‘thank you, S.’
“Yeah, but it’s not really a ‘fuck off, I don’t ever wanna see you or hear you again’ type of ‘going off’; it’s more like a ‘ugh, Jungkook, I can’t believe you did this again. Please do it again’ type of thing,” Avery mocked with a high-pitched voice and fluttering eyelashes.
“Oh my God, I do not do that.”
“You kinda do, now that I think about it,” Sasha finally sat down. “I mean, I have seen you pick fights with men flirting with you before, and you are a completely different person with them versus with Jungkook.”
The others thought about what Sasha said, and it was almost like a collective epiphany. They all looked at you with the same look on their faces; almost an accusatory expression.
“You totally like him; oh my God! Yn likes Jungkook. It makes so much sense; I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Nora expressed with exciting energy.
You felt a rush of relief coming over you, almost as if you were carrying a secret that you wanted out. You had no idea if that feeling was a good sign or a bad one.
“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, girls. I do not ‘totally like him’; I may be just starting—emphasis on just starting—to warm up to the idea of giving him a chance,” you revealed. “But Sasha, promise not to tell Taehyung about this, ‘cause if you do, Jungkook is gonna know by default, and I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”
“I won’t; I promise. This is just soooo exciting,” she spoke. “It’s just gonna be really hard to keep to myself, but I will try.”
“No, you won’t just try; you have to actually not say anything. You forget how indecisive I am; I could change my mind about this in an hour, so if you tell Taehyung, he will tell Jungkook, then Jungkook builds up hope and confronts me about what he heard, and I’ll just be like, ‘Oh, that was nothing; he’s just messing with you,’ and can you imagine how hurt his feelings would be? I really don’t need that on my conscience,” you explained thoroughly, your dramatics intact as they always were.
“Oh my God,” they all said in unison.
“What?”
“You care about his feelings!” Avery exclaimed, standing up dramatically. “You like him, like, like him. Admit it, admit it, please, please, please.”
“Shut up. I’m going to bed now. Buh-bye.” With that, you exited the living room, leaving your friends to talk about your situation for another hour before also going to bed.
“Remember when he got her a Cartier bracelet?”
___
“I will form six groups consisting of four students; each group discussing the topic I will be assigning them,” Professor Sullivan revealed.
“Ms. Ln, you will be grouped with Ms. Jones, Mr. Jeon, and Mr. Davis,” he spoke loudly. “You will be discussing Rousseau’s ‘The Confessions’ and prepare a presentation on identity and selfhood that is due next week, on Monday.”
You dreaded being in a group with Ben Davis, who had been nothing but a pain in your butt since you got to know him, but at least the assignment was the one that you wanted.
Jungkook, who sat next to you, smirked and nodded his head. “They couldn’t tear us apart if they tried, angel; this is meant to be.”
“Who are you even talking about? Who’s they?” Confused by his words, you asked.
“Just the world. You know how much these people hate real love,” he flashed you his trademark smile, making you push his arm playfully.
"Could you two stop flirting so we can start with the assignment?" the annoying voice of Ben whined, sitting across from you, with Lily Jones joining in the seat next to his.
“Alright, let’s dive in,” you started talking. “I personally think the most transfixing part of ‘The Confessions’ is how Rousseau emphasizes his intentions to be authentic. He exposes himself without shame or any sense of privacy, which for the time challenged societal norms completely.”
Lily nodded in agreement; Jungkook was busy staring at your lips as you articulated your opinion, smiling with his arm still around your shoulder. Ben, on the other hand, pulled a face you could only describe as disgusted. “Authenticity? The only authentic thing about Rousseau is that he is able to whine about his feelings like a pubescent girl. It feels almost like narcissism to me.”
"What a stupid take, Ben. With Rousseau writing this book, he laid the foundation for modern notions of individuality; the book challenges the reader to think about their own identity, their individuality," you explained your point further.
“I don’t need a stupid book like this to tell me about my identity or my individuality. It’s literally just a dude whining and rambling about his feelings and whatnot. No one wants to hear it,” Ben snapped.
Jungkook looked between you and Ben while you were arguing; seeing your agitated face when you hated someone made him realize you didn’t hate him at all. You even leaned closer into his arms.
“Well, I think we can use this as a talking point in our presentation,” Lily stated her idea. “How our perception of the book is similar to how we perceive ourselves; there are people like Yn, who confront and explore their feelings, thus creating a healthy relationship with the self, and there are people like Ben, who repress and ignore them, which makes for an angry person; which, by the way, is also an emotion.”
You and Lily giggled at her words, sending each other glances as to say, "God, I fucking hate that guy."
Jungkook decided to chime in. “That’s a good idea. We can use it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the self, to question it. If you are so opposed to Rousseau’s vulnerability, that’s a big indication of your own issues with vulnerability.”
You observed him as he spoke, astonished at his participation. You leaned in even more, to the point where your bodies touched as a way to show him you liked what he said.
“Oh, shut the hell up, man,” Ben shot back. “We all know you’re just here ‘cause of her; you don’t actually give a crap about all this.”
Jungkook simply smirked at him, already having figured out how easily provoked Ben was.
“He obviously cares more than you, ‘cause with that attitude, we are never gonna get a presentation done, much less start,” you defended Jungkook sassily, with a displeased expression sent Ben’s way, who just mumbled, “Yeah, go on, defend your boyfriend.”
“True,” Lily sighed. “By the way, where are we gonna prepare our presentation? The common rooms are always too loud, and all lecture halls are always occupied, and I don’t know about you guys, but my dorm isn’t exactly a mansion.”
You thought about Lily’s concern for a second, and the same resonated with you; your on-campus apartment wasn’t small, but you shared it with four very loud girls.
“We can do it at my place; I don’t mind,” Jungkook offered with a squeeze on your shoulder. “Then I finally have an excuse to invite my baby over.”
You looked up at him, meeting his mischievous eyes. For a moment, you shared intimate eye contact before Ben coughed to get your attention. “At your penthouse? Pff, no thanks. I’m sure a professor will let us use a room here.”
“You are not serious, Ben. Jungkook just offers us to go to his huge penthouse and you decline? I must say, I have never known such a dedicated hater; it’s almost admirable,” Lily admitted her admiration for Ben’s consistency.
“Why the fuck would we go there? It’s off campus, and it’s a penthouse; it’s so… distracting and unnecessary,” Ben debated, irritation written all over him.
“It’s a 15-minute walk and a five-minute drive, man; it’s not in Mexico,” Jungkook concurred, unable to find reason in Ben’s opposition.
“And what’s wrong with it being a penthouse? I personally would love to just hang out at a penthouse. It would make uni work a lot easier, actually,” Lily stated.
“I agree,” you shared, making Jungkook grin like an idiot at the image of you in his house. “And since this is a democracy, and we have one vote against three, we will meet at Jungkook’s penthouse next Sunday; of course, if that works for you, Jungkook."
“Works perfect!” he excitedly responded.
Ben was looking pissed as always; Lily was already thinking about all the pictures she was going to ask you to take of her in the penthouse for her Instagram, and Jungkook and you seemed to be in your own little world, gazing at each other.
“Thank you, Jungkook; that’s really nice of you,” you expressed with a smile, lifting your face to his to plant a short kiss on his cheek.
His heart raced at the unexpected movement; you had never done that before. He froze, his gaze lingering on you for a long moment while you gathered your belongings at the signal of class dismissal. One by one, the students gradually walked out, and you followed suit with Jungkook trailing behind you. He advanced in your direction, watching your hips sway.
“Yn!” he called after you, resulting in you turning around.
“Yes?”
“Go out with me tomorrow night at 7:00, just you and me,” he called out flirtatiously, gaining the attention of everybody around him, but only having his eyes on you.
You grinned mischievously at him before replying, “I don’t know about that… you’ll have to impress me first.”
To anyone else, it might sound like a rejection, but to Jungkook, it sparked a glimmer of hope that made his heart leap with resolve. Until now, it had only been ‘no’s and ‘no thank you’s. He was more confident than ever that he would capture the heart that had captured his.
___
“Yn, what did you do to Jungkook?” Sasha came back from a date night with Taehyung. “Tae told me he can’t stop smiling and is just sitting there, being cheesy as fuck.”
You were writing a sonnet for your poetry class as she barged into your room, looking stunning. “What made him think it’s about me? Let the man smile and be cheesy in peace.”
After Sasha looked at you with a look that said ‘you know damn well,’ you confessed, “He asked me out, and I—”
“You finally said yes??” she quickly interrupted with a dropped jaw.
“Nooo, I said maybe if he impresses me,” you continued. “Oh, and I also kissed him on the cheek.”
“You. Did. Not!” Sasha put a hand over her mouth, a loud gasp leaving it. “No wonder he is a smiling idiot; you broke him!”
“No, I didn’t ‘break’ him; I’m simply doing what I already said I am doing; I’m warming him up, giving him hope,” you explained, putting your pen down. “Because there is a very high chance that I will agree to go out with him soon. I just need that something.”
“That something?” Sasha repeated, confused.
“Yeah, that something; that one moment that makes me go yes, this is the man I want,” you further explained. “I have a good reason, two actually; I’m picky, indecisive, and also a virgin, so if I let him in and then, for some reason, regret it, I will be destroyed. And if I suddenly change my mind after giving him a chance, it will hurt Jungkook really badly, and I don’t want that.”
Sasha looked perplexed and deep in thought at your words, as if puzzling them together and making sense of them. “Oh wow, I never thought of it like that, but now, I totally get you.”
“Well, finally!” you smiled at her and giggled. “Anyway, what are you and Tae wearing to the Halloween party? Cause I was thinking…”
___
You and your girls took Halloween very seriously. You loved the dressing up, the makeup, and you always utilized the only day in the year where it was socially acceptable to be someone else entirely.
Of course, there were always at least six simultaneous Halloween parties going on on campus, and you had to choose between them, which was never a hard decision to make since Kappa Sigma always won. If they’re throwing a party, no other party stood a chance.
You decided to dress up as something cute yet sexy but very recognizable. Last year you came as Jane Eyre, and not a single person guessed your costume right. You decided to go with Chel from ‘The Road to El Dorado’; a white maxi skirt with two slits on the sides, a pink tube top, and statement jewelry with your hair down. It was low effort, yet very effective.
Nora went with Cher from Clueless, Avery of course was Shego, Tanya went creative and dressed as 2010 Justin Bieber, and Sasha and Taehyung were Morticia and Gomez Addams for the night, catching many envious stares.
After all the assignments, the essays, and the overall stress of uni the past few weeks, you hadn’t felt that alive and sexy in a while. Your maxi skirt was clinging to your full lower body seductively, and your tube top took on the very shape of your chest. You looked damn good, and you were ready to feel good too. Promising you wouldn’t drink too much, you took it slow.
Moving your hips seductively to the beat of a The Weeknd song while closing your eyes and tilting your head back, with Avery and Nora dancing together in front of you. Tanya was nowhere to be found, and Taehyung and Sasha were having their own dance party, grinding and kissing like there was no tomorrow. The dancing continued, and with it, the staring. You wished you could just dance at a party and have everybody mind their own business.
After a couple more rounds of dancing and drinking, you felt a firm hand gripping your hips. Turning around immediately, you pushed the guy away and looked at him, terrified. “What the fuck?? Get your filthy hands off of me!!”
Your friends stopped their dancing for a moment to see what was going on. They found Ben, dressed as Patrick Bateman, groping your hips like you were his property. “Just having fun, bird; don’t get all upset.”
Avery and Nora yelled at him, but it wasn’t effective. The scene caused such a huge stir that even Sasha and Taehyung got out of their trance, watching your fight with Ben.
“Yo, dude, get the fuck outta here, or I’ll call the cops on you,” Taehyung stepped in, pushing Ben completely out of the way. “What the fuck made you think you could do this, huh?”
As if he knew just when to step in, Jungkook in a cop uniform just arrived at the scene, asking what was happening.
A very drunk Ben slurred his words in an almost incoherent tone, facing Taehyung. “Look, man, she’s dressed like a slut. So I’m gonna treat her like a slut.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened at Ben’s words, trying to make sense of the situation. He followed Ben’s eyes that were directly watching you, all of your friends and Taehyung just standing shocked, and the only thing between you and Ben was a protective Taehyung. Ben was talking about you.
Without putting any thought into his actions, Jungkook stepped in and punched the guy in his face, causing him to stumble down to the ground, where Jungkook kicked him in the face before crouching down and spitting on him. “What the fuck did you just say??! Did you touch her, huh? Did you fucking touch her? I swear, I’ll kill you; I’ll fucking kill you, man; this is your last day alive, ‘cause I’ll kill you.”
You had no idea what to do in this situation, so you just watched with a shrinking posture, similar to your friends who were all in shock at the scene of Ben lying on the ground, his blood pouring out while Jungkook continued to throw punches. At that point, the entire party stopped and just observed the scene.
"Jungkook, that’s enough. I’d love for you to kill him, but I don’t wanna see you in jail, bro," Taehyung calmly spoke, in order to ease the tension. Jungkook listened to him, standing up; a look that furious had never been on his face.
He turned to you, taking your hands in his, his face softening at the sight of you. “Everything okay, baby?”
You nodded weakly, semi-visible tears rolling down your cheeks. Your instincts told you to hug him, so you did. He immediately pulled you closer to him, his hand on your back and your chest against his as he soothingly rocked you back and forth. Everybody was watching you, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care.
“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to relax,” he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd and into one of the bedrooms. “Want me to carry you?”
For the first time in those 30 minutes, you cracked a tiny smile, knowing that he was so very serious about carrying you in front of an entire party. “No, that’s fine; I can walk.”
Ignoring the intense eyes of the crowd, you two made your way upstairs.
Your eyes were still slightly watery with tears, and you were still holding onto Jungkook’s hand as you both sat down on the bed. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
He offered you an irresistible smile and brought you in tighter against his solid chest, allowing you to hear his every heartbeat clearly. “That’s my job, baby; no need to thank me.”
“You really didn’t have to do that; I don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me, Kookie,” you spoke against his chest, with a soft, alluring voice, using his nickname to make him happy. “Ben really isn’t worth your anger at all.”
Jungkook took in your entire figure from above you with a gleam in his eyes. “Yn, I will do anything to protect you. I won’t ever allow anyone to harm you.”
You gently pulled away from his chest to meet his loving gaze. You never understood the books where the main character described a romantic encounter by saying ‘it felt like we were the only two people in the world’ until that moment. He leaned in closer, maintaining eye contact. You placed a delicate hand on his muscular arm—too gentle to stop him from getting closer, yet firm enough to prevent yourself from melting into him.
You were face to face with him now—breathing the same air. “You really mean that?”
“I couldn’t be more sincere,” he whispered, the warmth of his words meeting your full lips, his hands firmly placed on your soft, naked waist. “You know, we’ve never been this close before.”
“Yeah,” is all you managed to say, avoiding eye contact.
Suddenly, Jungkook pulled away, standing up, offering you his hand. “As much as I want to kiss you, I don’t think we should do that right now. You obviously drank tonight, and I want you to want to kiss me, and I want you to remember kissing me.”
You nodded and took his hand, not knowing what to say or do. As you stepped outside again, Jungkook’s broad shoulders became your view, him leading you downstairs again to take you home.
“Jungkook?” you said his name quietly, almost in a whisper.
He turned around, watching your shorter and smaller frame from above, looking absolutely tempting. “Yeah?”
“I’ll go out with you.”
___
The week after the Halloween party was exhausting; there were exams, essays, and seminars.
Besides the exams and usual uni duties, Jungkook was very enthusiastic about your first date. Being secretive about what he’d planned, getting your friends to ask you what you expected from a first date in an unsuspecting way, not wanting to annoy you so that you wouldn’t change your mind. It was very endearing.
You were also looking forward to the date, but you were much more subtle about it. Jungkook didn’t care about secrecy as much, telling every single person he knew that you agreed to go on a date with him; the news spread fast, and every student knew about your date.
Taehyung reported to Sasha that he jumped up and down, screaming and shouting out of the windows, “I DID IT! I FINALLY DID IT!” And later, when the pizza they ordered arrived, he tipped the delivery guy 300 bucks and told him, "The love of my life finally agreed to go out with me; I wish for you the same. I wish for every longing soul to experience the same happiness I am in right now, but I don’t think that’s possible because only she is capable of making a human feel this way. Goodbye and good luck, brother."
As for your shared class, he was insatiable. It was about the only time that week where you were able to see each other, and he had made good use of those three hours. In just three lectures, he got you a Swiss chocolate cake with a picture of himself printed on it because Avery informed him chocolate cake was your favorite. He got you a beige rose Lady Dior purse because it "goes well with your complexion," and a pink diamond ring, which he said was "nothing compared to the future engagement ring, of course." Before he signed up for your class, he gave you a gift once every two weeks, so this was a lot even for Jungkook. You told him it was all unnecessary, and he said, "No, this is very necessary; gotta spoil my future wife."
You were drowning in your assignments, your MacBook completely overheating when your name was called.
"Yn! There’s a package for you on the table," Tanya, one of your roommates informed.
You got out of your room confused; you couldn’t remember ordering anything in the last few weeks, and Jungkook usually liked to give you his gifts in person. “Are you sure it’s for me?”
Tanya playfully scoffed at you, reading what’s on the package again. “Is there another Yn here that I have yet to be introduced to?”
You scoffed back, taking the package into your room. Your impatient self couldn’t resist tearing it open to see what’s inside. A note, a small box, and a big white box with the words ‘Givenchy’ on it. Your breath hitched.
The note read: ‘Wear this to our date, gorgeous. Yours forever, JK.’
Almost scared to do so, you opened the white box, revealing a gorgeous, long blue silk dress. Then you opened the smaller box, which held a beautiful 24k gold necklace and matching earrings inside it. That idiot. You smiled to yourself, but quickly realized you shouldn’t.
You were a princess, and you deserved to be treated like one; he was just a rich enough man to comply.
You freed yourself from the clothes you were wearing. Carefully, you took the dress out of the box and put it on.
It fit like a glove, harmonizing with your every curve. The neckline was low, exposing the perfect amount of cleavage.
How did he know my size?
You put the dress back into the box neatly and pulled out your phone.
7:26
Yn: How do you know my size?
7:29
JK: I’m glad you got my little gift. Do you like it?
7:31
Yn: Yes, it is very nice; thank you. It was not necessary at all.
7:32
JK: I’m glad, baby; can’t stop thinking about tomorrow.
7:34
Yn: I’m really excited too.
7:36
JK: Promise you won’t be disappointed.
___
Whistles and girly screams were heard all over your apartment when you stepped out of your room, wearing the blue silk dress that clung to your wide hips and showcased your full chest perfectly; in soft glam makeup and your hair in an elegant updo, dazzled with the matching set of necklace and earrings, a pretty black purse in your hand. You looked the very image of beauty.
“Damn, girl!” Nora let out, impressed by your beauty.
“Does it look good?” you asked. You knew you looked beautiful, but you needed the extra assurance.
“Are you kidding me? You look ravishing, absolutely radiant; your body is just wow,” Avery complimented, observing you from head to toe. “Is that a new dress? It’s soo fucking gorgeous.”
“Yeah, it is; Jungkook actually sent it to me to wear today.” You felt your cheeks heating up at the knowing glances of your friends.
“Mmhmh, he’s a good man, Yn; a good man,” Sasha quoted a TikTok sound. “He’s so gonna freak when he sees you!”
“Is that what was in the package a few days ago? The guy’s got taste; gotta hand it to him,” Tanya chimed in. “When is he picking you up?”
You looked at the clock and answered, “Just in 3 minutes.”
About two seconds after you said that, a knock was heard from your front door.
“Ooooh, somebody’s eager,” Nora wiggled her eyebrows.
You walked to the front door, opening it after letting out an ‘I’ll get that.’
Before you stood Jungkook, wearing black tailored pants and a sophisticated white button-up shirt tucked into his pants, emphasizing his small waist and his muscular frame. In his hand, he held a big bouquet of pink and red roses.
“Hi, Jungkook,” you greeted him with a million-dollar smile.
He observed you with the biggest grin in the world, letting his eyes travel up and down your frame. “You are the most beautiful woman on Earth. Here, these are for you.”
He handed you the bouquet, which you took gracefully. “Thank you! They’re beautiful.”
Your friends freaked out, all attentively watching the interaction.
“Let’s go?” Jungkook said in a questioning tone. You nodded.
“No funny business, mister! We want her home by 11,” Avery screamed while you and Jungkook made your way out. Jungkook laughed, giving her a thumbs up.
“Yeah, you better not try anything with our girl; remember, we see all!” Sasha joined her, while Tanya and Nora made kissing and moaning noises, causing you to facepalm.
“Let’s just go, Jungkook,” you expressed in an embarrassed voice. “I’ll see you girls later!”
Once you were out, you looked at Jungkook apologetically. “I am so sorry; they’re literally so embarrassing sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Jungkook chuckled, taking your hand in his. “Let them have their fun; they’ve been waiting for this day as long as I have.”
You bit your lip as your eyes met his longing ones.
“Now, let’s go,” he started walking faster towards his car. “I got us reservations at Quince.”
Quince was an Italian restaurant that you only heard of but never entered; it was much too expensive for you to even consider. It was not like you were poor; it was just that Jungkook was wealthy.
You both made your way to the car together; he opened the door for you and then entered himself.
“This is a really nice car,” you stated, taking in the car with a wide-eyed look.
“Yeah?” He started the engine. “It’s a Mercedes-Benz Maybach Exelero.”
You simply nodded, still looking around amazed.
“You know, I’m beyond happy you finally agreed to go out with me,” Jungkook admitted, one hand on the wheel and the other hand finding your thick thighs. “I lost hope there for a while, you know?”
“Well, what can I say? I’m an incalculable girl,” you teased, putting a hand over his, linking your fingers. “You will never figure me out, Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s dimple was visible as you gazed at him while he looked ahead.
“Remember when you told me you’re never going out with me? Well, now you are,” his voice reminisced. “So, I think I will figure you out, Yn.”
You decided to push his buttons a little. “Are you telling me you would wait over two years to figure me out? I didn’t peg you for a patient one.”
“I would wait a lifetime just to get a little piece of your heart and be able to call it mine, Yn,” he professed, his hands tightened, and his eyes gazed at you with yearning.
You didn’t know what to say.
_
The dinner at Quince was a dream come true; Jungkook rented out the entire restaurant for you, the view was breathtaking, every dish was a work of art, and the service treated you like royalty.
“So, do you like it here?” Jungkook asked you as you shared a slice of the best chocolate cake you had ever tasted.
“I love it!” you enthusiastically replied. “It is so beautiful here, Jungkook; honestly, thank you so much.”
The harpist was in the back, playing soft melodies that warmed your heart. You could not believe Jungkook planned all of this for you, and a sense of regret washed over you as you realized this was the man that you had been denying for two years.
“No need to thank me, baby; the important thing is that you’re with me,” he took a piece of cake with his fork and held it in front of your mouth, which you then ate, blushing. “I got something for you.”
Jungkook made a hand gesture, and as if on cue, a staff member came in, holding a framed picture in their hand, handing it to Jungkook.
He held it up for you to see; it was a star map, a very beautiful one. “This is the star map of the day we met—3rd of October, 2 years ago.”
Your eyes widened. “You remember the day we met?”
“Of course I do.”
“Jungkook, it’s so beautiful. I’ll hang it up on my wall,” you admired it while he admired you. “You’re really spoiling me.”
“Of course, baby, that’s my job,” he answered, taking your hand in his. “Now, let’s go; I have something planned for us.”
_
“Where are you taking me now?” you inquired; his secrecy wasn’t scaring you, but you were a naturally curious person.
“It’s a secret, baby. I promise you’ll love it,” Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, responsibly, and his veins ripped along his forearms, your eyes glued to the thickness of his arms.
“Ugh, fine, if you wanna be secretive about this, be secretive about it,” you feigned dramatic annoyance. “Just know that I’m hating every minute of it.”
“I think I can live with that since we’re just three minutes away,” he teased, his dimples evident.
“Three whole minutes of me hating it… you are a very cruel man, Jeon,” you shook your head, enjoying the breeze of the Californian air.
When you arrived in the parking lot of a bar, he pulled up saying, “We’re here!” before stepping out and jogging to your side, opening the door for you. You took his hand, letting him lead the way into the bar.
“A bar?” you asked in a suspicious voice. “Jungkook, a bar is not the place you take a lady…”
He knew you were joking and chuckled lightly.
“Just wait till we get in; you’ll love it,” his excitement was apparent, which confused you even more.
You stepped inside the bar, which was actually prettier than you imagined it would be; it had a calming feel about it. It didn’t look like a traditional bar; there was a stage set up and seats for an audience where about 30 people were already sat.
“Sit here,” Jungkook took your hand and brought you to a seat right in the front.
He made his way onto the stage, which led to you asking him, “What are you doing?” but he didn’t answer your question and just stood in front of the mic.
“So, uh, I wrote a poem a few weeks ago about the girl I love—a girl I have been trying to get with for two straight years and failed every time. I know how much she loves poetry,” Jungkook spoke to the crowd, his eyes gleaming with happiness. “And exactly a week and two days ago, she agreed to go out with me. Actually, this is part of our date; she’s sitting right there.”
He pointed at you proudly; the crowd cheered at the cute story he told and then observed you and cheered some more before letting him continue.
Jungkook looked self-assured, but there were little hints that showed you he was nervous to be standing in front of a crowd the way he was. “Yn, I know your writing is way superior to mine, but I hope you like this regardless. I’m gonna read it now.”
The crowd slightly giggled at his comment, but you could only focus on catching your breath and stopping your tears because you had never expected Jungkook to be as amazing as he was.
“In grand halls where soft echoes linger,
I spread petals, gold on gray floors.
Yet no amount of riches can sway you
To feel what’s in my heart, what I adore.
Two years have passed like silk through fingers,
Each moment woven with hopes and dreams.
But in your eyes, there’s a distant wonder;
You craft your path, and it’s not what it seems.
I’ve painted skies with vibrant colors,
Called stars to shine above you, glowing bright.
But love, I find, goes beyond gold and shine—
Sometimes a simple heart knows what feels right.
Yet here I stand in this space, laid bare,
With wealth at hand, but your laughter’s far away.
I’d give it all, just to share a moment—
To glimpse the dreams you cherish and replay.
Though riches fade like whispers in the dark,
My love, unyielding, still holds the spark.”
The crowd erupted into applause, gasps, and "awe's" and "Girl, marry him's" as Jungkook finished. You sat there, frozen in time and frozen in the words he dedicated to you; your heart beating faster than it should be, and singular tears rolling down your face.
Jungkook left the stage, eagerly approached you with the softest smile. “Did you like it?”
You couldn’t utter a word; you only stood in front of him, shook your head slightly in disbelief, and threw your arms around his neck tightly, jumping into his arms, hiding your face in his chest. You cried.
“Hey, why are you crying? Was the poem that bad?” he half-joked, running his hands over your hair soothingly.
As you finally parted from him, you glanced at his face, adoringly and implored, “Kiss me.”
And so he did. He kissed you hard like a soldier reunited with his loved one after many years; his hands were firmly on your waist, exploring other places of your body—in that moment, you were alone. In that moment, it was only Jungkook and you as you lost yourself in each other.
You stayed like that for a few minutes, lost in each other before staying at the bar for a while, listening to talented poets reciting their work.
___
“I can drive you back to the dorms, or you can—” Jungkook started.
“No, I think I wanna go back to your place,” you quickly interrupted. “Of course, if that’s okay with you.”
After leaving the bar, you entered his car, lips still swollen from all the kissing.
“Of course it’s okay with me; you said exactly what I hoped you’d say,” he smiled. “You know, the girls will probably beat me up tomorrow for not bringing you back.”
The drive to his penthouse wasn’t long at all; it was just enough to talk for a while and enjoy the evening view.
“Oh, absolutely not; they are totally secretly celebrating this because all they’ve been wanting me to do these past two years is give you a chance,” you admitted, also smiling. “Now that that happened, I can just tell you the complete truth; there is nobody more into this than them.”
“Damn, so even with a whole secret support system behind me, it took me two years?” He tsked, finding amusement in the admission. “That’s embarrassing for me.”
You looked up at him through your lashes and tilted your head; he was focusing on the road, but glanced at you as much as he could. “If you were anybody else, it would’ve taken you five more.”
He leaned in to steal a quick kiss; the prideful expression on his face was clear to see. “That’s really good to know.”
You drove around for the next 10 minutes; finally, you arrived at his luxurious penthouse, which was adorned with a huge terrace and a chic entrance that you rushed to hand in hand.
You had already been to his penthouse for the project, yet its beauty didn’t fail to impress you once again; being in this position made it look even more magical.
As soon as you stepped inside, Jungkook grabbed your waist and gently held you, with his lips finding yours again. You stumbled into the spacious yet warm living room. As your lips still moved in sync and passionately, your hands roamed his body, exploring every muscle, every inch. Your gasps intertwined with his heavy breathing, your chest against his. He guided you to the couch and sat down, without breaking the kiss, and with firm, strong hands on your hips, he seated you on his lap.
Your heated core met his clothed, hard dick in sensual movements, the grinding gradually getting quicker and more effective. You felt his hardness press against your covered pussy, leading to feelings unknown to you. Your dress crept up higher with every movement of your generous hips, his hands now on your ass, kneading it while moaning into your mouth.
“Fuck, Yn, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathed, breaking the kiss for just a second before going back immediately, earning an agreeing moan from you.
His hands wandered over your entire body, holding your slightly pudgy stomach and traveling up to your full breasts. You couldn’t contain your moans from coming out, your lips moving against his as if they were made for them.
But there was something on your mind that you still had not mentioned to Jungkook.
“Wait, Jungkook—” you interrupted your session with a breathless voice. “I—I have to tell you something.”
He was confused, his face slightly flushed with hazy eyes and parted lips. “Yeah, anything, baby.”
“I’m—I’m a... virgin,” you almost whispered, still sat on his lap, lowering your head so you wouldn’t have to face him. “But I wanna do this.”
His grip on your hips loosened for a second before he firmly grabbed you again. “Oh.”
Your heart sank a little, not knowing what to make of his response.
Just a few seconds later, he continued, “We can take everything slow, baby; we don’t need to rush into anything; we’ll do everything at your pace.”
You nodded, raising your head again to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Kookie.”
“Of course,” he kissed you gently.
“Okay, we can go back to making out now; I just have a tiny problem,” you noted, easing the tension caused by your revelation. “I don’t have anything to wear, and I can’t stay in this dress the whole night.”
Jungkook chuckled and slowly stood up. “Wait here; I’ll get you a t-shirt.”
The few minutes it took him to get you a shirt gave you a chance to take in your luxurious surroundings; the lavish, over-the-top kitchen facing the living room brought a smile to your face, knowing that Jungkook in no way cooked or had any culinary skills whatsoever.
“Here, wear this,” Jungkook came back with a black shirt in his hands. “Next time, we’ll be prepared. Gotta make sure you have your own closet here.”
Your heart beamed at his display of commitment, knowing he was serious about everything he said.
You took the shirt, turning your back to him. “Can you help me zip the dress down? I can’t reach it.”
He obliged happily, zipping the dress’ zip down, his hands lightly brushing over your uncovered back, his lips pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. You turned around, letting the dress fall down, exposing you in just a lacy black lingerie set that left little to the imagination.
His gaze traveled over your entire figure, lips grazing his teeth with a spark in his eyes that conveyed a thousand unspoken thoughts.
“Damn,” he uttered after you put on the shirt, which barely reached your thighs. “Can’t believe you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
With newfound confidence, you pushed his chest, resulting in him ending up on the couch once again, and sat down on his lap with an alluring smile.
“I wanna finish what we started now,” you purred against his lips, guiding his hands to your waist. The rhythm of your seductive hips brought his breath to a halt, guttural "fuck's" escaping him.
You quickly stripped away his shirt, revealing his muscular arms and defined abs—all for you to run your hands over and admire, his dick noticeably growing. In response, Jungkook took off your—or his—shirt, leaving you in just a lacy bra, your tits practically spilling out of it; a sight he adored more than anything.
“Shit... please, let me take off the bra,” Jungkook desperately implored, to which you just as desperately nodded. “Just wanna see you like that.”
His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra before completely unfastening it, exposing your big tits and hard nipples. You were surprised at your lack of shyness, feeling completely free and comfortable, exposed in front of Jungkook like that.
“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your bare breasts before leaning in, gently taking one into his mouth, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You pushed your head back from the overwhelming pleasure, one of your tits getting sucked and the other one getting kneaded, while you desperately chased the friction, your thinly clothed pussy rubbing against his dick. It was an erotic experience; Jungkook was introducing you to a new world.
“Baby, if you keep moving like that, I’m gonna cum in my boxers,” he hissed, his strong arms stopping your movements momentarily.
You were both in a state of haziness; desperation was strongly felt in the air. Your pussy was sticky and slick, aching for more.
“Then fuck me, Jungkook,” you whispered urgently, his breath stopping for a second.
“Are you sure about this, Yn?” he sincerely asked, locking eyes with you to look for a speck of uncertainty; he didn’t find it.
“Yes, I’m so sure,” you answered him steadily. “All I want is for you to fuck me.”
With that, Jungkook didn’t waste any time. He stood up, still grabbing your hips firmly while your legs were wrapped around his waist, and carried you toward the elevator, your bare chest pressing against his and your head lazily resting on his broad shoulders. Finally, he carried you to his bedroom, gently throwing you onto the bed.
He looked at you from above, lips caught between his teeth. He hastily put his hands on you, wanting nothing more than to take off your lace panties, the only thing holding him back from seeing you completely bare. So, he did, slipping your panties down your legs until they’re completely off.
His fingers traced your now bare pussy, lightly teasing it, eliciting a gasp from you. “That’s the prettiest, wettest fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”
You blushed, not knowing what to say.
Slowly, Jungkook’s hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, taking them off entirely. His thick, long dick was freed, settling on his lower belly. The pre-cum shimmered on it, ready to enter you at any moment.
Your breath hitched, taking it all in for a second; your eyes widened at the powerful sight before you. He stood above you, symbolizing dominance, while you were naked, sitting on the bed, looking up at him with innocent eyes.
“Can I just…” you leaned forward, facing his pretty dick, giving it a lick.
“Fuck, Yn, yes please,” he stepped forward a bit to give you easier access. “You ever done this before?”
You shook your head, maintaining eye contact. His eyes darkened, turned on by your innocence. Strong hands found your hair, guiding you closer to him.
You gave him more licks and kisses, swirling your tongue around it and kissing every inch of it before finally taking it into your mouth entirely. He was big, so you struggled a little to breathe properly, but you wanted to keep going for him.
“Shit, baby, you’re doing so good,” he groaned as your hands started working him while your full lips were wrapped around him, sucking him. “Just like that.”
Bobbing your head up and down, you slightly gagged around him, but your hand on his hip signaled him to thrust into your mouth further, which he gladly did. The huge bedroom echoed with his shameless groans and praises.
He smelled clean and tasted salty, sort of musky; it was comfortable having him in your mouth. You continued to explore his dick, recalling all the blowjob wisdom given to you by your friends and the internet, and implementing it.
“Baby, I’m close,” Jungkook’s words were barely a whimper, sending more arousal to your slick pussy.
His words elicited desperation in you, desiring nothing more than to give him pleasure. You bobbed your head harder, his groans getting louder and his thrusts quicker. His hands tightened around your hair; it was obvious he was losing control, chasing his high.
The heat was building, Jungkook’s voice getting louder, and a few seconds later, a warm, salty liquid filled your mouth, which you instinctively swallowed. You released his dick from your grip and looked up at him.
His head was tilted back, eyes closed and breathing heavily before he finally looked down at you, leaning in and giving you a kiss. He put his boxers on again.
“You did so great, baby,” he praised, now sitting next to you on the bed. “I’m glad I’m your first... and last.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’m glad too.”
You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes; he soothingly whispered sweet nothings into your ear. With determination, you started grinding against him again; this time, your bare pussy against him. A rush of blood was sent to his dick, slowly getting erect again.
“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” Both of his hands were positioned on your moving hips, furthering the friction between you.
“Yeah, I do, actually,” you admitted in a sultry whisper, licking his upper lip playfully.
“Yeah?” His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips.
“Hmmm, yeah,” you tilted your head flirtatiously, giving in to another kiss. “So, are you gonna fuck me today or not?”
Jungkook chuckled, clearly amused by your directness. “Baby, I just want to be sure you’re 100% sure about this.”
“I am sure!” you spoke with a tinge of urgency. “Can’t you feel my wetness? I need you, Kookie; I need you to be inside of me.”
The contrast of your words and the usage of his silly nickname made Jungkook’s heart race. He felt the urge to take you right then and there.
With a quick shift, he stood up, grabbed a soft towel and put it on the bed, and gently pushed you so you lay on the bed, ready for him to enter. He towered over you, fingers finding your wet pussy again, playing with it. After removing his boxers again, he fisted himself, the sticky sound of pre-cum finding you; you enjoyed the view more than you would admit. He opened a pack of condoms and took one out, wrapping it around his big dick.
“You sure you’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, I’m sure,” your bratty attitude started to show.
Jungkook came closer, parting your legs slightly, taking in the sight of your pussy, glistening for him. As he approached your entrance, he maintained eye contact. “This is gonna hurt a little at first, baby, but tell me as soon as it’s too much, okay?”
You nodded, your eyes filled with anticipation and nervousness. “Okay.”
He held onto you gently and slowly entered your wetness, eliciting a loud gasp from you. As he entered further, you grabbed onto him tighter, burying your head in his shoulder and clawing his back with your nails. “Fuck, this pussy is so fucking tight.”
“Does it hurt, baby?” he gently asked through heavy breaths, his thrusts continuing to be soft. You nodded. “It’s okay; just a moment and it’ll feel good.”
And he was right; just a couple of seconds into more soft thrusts, the pain transformed into satisfying pleasure that quickly took over, your gasps turning into soft moans.
“Jungkook… fuck me harder,” you begged, pushing him down and closer to you; your bodies sticking together even closer than before. “Please.”
Gradually, his thrusts became harsher, lips moving from your neck to your tits that were begging for his attention and his big hands that gripped your ass. Your desperate grip on his back firmed as you clenched around his dick, causing his breath to hitch. He deepened his thrusts, hitting your walls sensually, introducing you to a pleasure you never knew you could feel.
“Shit, you feel so good around me,” his deep, grunting voice hugged you. “Gonna fuck you stupid; nobody else can touch you like that.”
His ongoing rambling about how good you felt, how beautiful you were, and how long he had waited for this made you feel like you were the most cherished woman on Earth. You couldn’t believe that this was happening. If someone had told you two years ago that you would be in Jungkook’s penthouse, his dick ramming into you deliciously; you would laugh in their face. But here you were.
To add an element of surprise, you suddenly changed the position, turning the both of you around and pushing him down to the bed, taking control as you rode him up and down. A cocky smirk formed on his annoyingly pretty face, looking up at you in admiration.
“You learn quick,” he praised in a grunt, putting his head between your bouncing tits.
You were too lost in pleasure to respond, your ass clapping against his balls and your hands were all over his broad upper body, savoring every inch of him. Your head tilted back in bliss as his dick slipped in and out of your wet, tight pussy; a sight that Jungkook enjoyed very much.
“Baby, I’m close, shit… I’m so fucking close,” he informed with a breathy voice, bitten lips, and hazy eyes, dick thrusting up more desperately than before.
Your walls tightened more around his throbbing dick, indicating to him that you were also close. “Yeah? Me too, baby.”
After a minute of passionate thrusting and bouncing, Jungkook’s body suddenly tensed, reaching the edge. He released a warm flood of cum with a loud “fuck” coming out of his mouth.
With a grind of your hips, a moment later, you also reached a pinnacle, your breath hitching and your eyes closed. You got off of Jungkook and laid next to him on the bed, both of you still trying to come down from the high you experienced.
He slowly stood up, grabbed the bloodstained towel he laid under you to put it in the washing basket, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. “You did so good, you know that?”
You simply smiled sheepishly, also getting up to clean yourself and pee. When you came back from Jungkook’s extravagant bathroom, he was lying on the bed now wearing boxers with an eager smile. “Come here.”
You obliged with swaying hips, your naked figure waltzing over to his king-size bed, laying your head on his chest. “Today was amazing, Jungkook. Thank you for everything.”
He held your hand in his, kissing your head gently. “Baby, that was nothing; I wanna thank you for everything. It’s really special to me, what you did.”
“It was easy, being with you and all,” you admitted in a soft voice. “You know, I feel surprisingly very comfortable with you, Jungkook; it’s weird.”
That made him chuckle; his chest left a vibration. “I think I’m gonna take that as a compliment…?”
“You should.”
“I don’t think this needs to be said, but I hope you know this means we’re together now,” Jungkook started, now looking deeply into your eyes from above. “Like an item, a thing, boyfriend and girlfriend, soon to be wed, a coup—”
You stopped him with a giggle, laying a loving hand on his chest. “I get it, Jungkook, and I know.”
“Good.” He tightened his grip on your shoulder, smirking as he looked down at your naked body. “Next time, I wanna cum inside; so you better get started with birth control.”
“Jungkook!!”
——-
i hope whoever reads this enjoyed it🫶🏽🫶🏽 btw the poem is completely AI generated😭 i really wanna make this sort of a series like write a bunch of different scenarios for this couple; pls tell me your opinion on that.
your world crumbles when you're forced into a marriage with jeon jungkook, a man whose commanding presence terrifies you, reminding you of your father's cruelty. yet beneath his coldness, jungkook’s unexpected kindness stirs a spark of hope, making you question everything you fear. your life together starts—an emotional journey of two hearts seeking comfort, healing and a chance at love.
pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader
genre — arranged marriage au, forced marriage, marriage of convenience, age gap, reader is of age, forbidden love, forced proximity, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, rich ceo!jungkook, shy!reader, virgin!reader, poor!reader, obsession and possessive love, pining, slow burn, contrast of worlds, romance, drama, lots of angst, smut, fluff
warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, soft dom!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, hurt and comfort, this chapter is full of fluff, romantic moments, morning cuddles and fondling, mentions of wet dream, jealous!jungkook, the couple being so clingy and lovey for each other, also bam having the best time with his parents, she helps him shave, deep communication, nostalgia, past trauma and abuse, yearning and longing, love confessions, SO MUCH comfort, he teaches her how to drive (or tries to...), tension filled moments, sexual frustration, mentions of scars and accident, midnight car date, domestic fluff, semipublic sex, car sex, mentions of virginity, multiple sex scenes, multiple orgasms, mutual masturbation, dry humping, jungkook cums on his boxers, hickies, lots of makeout like nasty kissing, hair pulling and scratching, sexual fantasies, sexting, oral sex (f. receiving), lots of nipple play and breast play, clit play, teasing and edging, cum denial, car sex, cum swallowing, fingering, stretching, clothed sex, shower sex, intimate touching, body worship, spit play, emotional sex, orgasm denial, jungkook gets blue balls cause of her, lots of grinding, she grinds her pussy on the egde of the table, clit stimulation, dirty talk and degradation, squirting, he talks her into an orgasm, ends in a cliffhanger cos the best part is yet to come...
wc — 26k
a/n — a huge shoutout to my babes @jeonette , @cupidsbling and @perfectlyoongi for giving bbv sm love and support and to all of y'all, thank you lots lots (y'all are so special to me and will always have a special place in my heart) hope you enjoy this chapter to the fullest and let me know your thoughts because your feedback always means a lot to me, chap 13.5 will be posted very soon so stay tuned, mwahhs !!! <33
series masterlist | main masterlist
“mhmm…”
you lay sprawled on your stomach on the bed as the early morning light hits you though you still remained deep in sleep. completely relaxed. your body completely bare and the sheets draped low over your hips, it only concealed your bottom leaving everything else naked.
your back rose and fell with each of your breaths. one of your thighs had entirely escaped the blanket and remained bent lazily, your hair a chaotic mess on the pillow. you were mostly a comfy mess because of the way you'd burrowed into jungkook's chest the night before, also a bit sweaty from his body heat.
you looked endearing in jungkook's eyes. he just knew he wanted to wake up to this every morning of his life.
you let out little noises in your dreams—tiny breathy sighs and mewls that seemed to rise and lower based on what you saw behind your eyelids. the noises were almost sensual as if even in your subconsciousness you replayed the intimacy you'd shared with jungkook. the way his hands and mouth had worshipped you these past days
it had been several days now since that night of his nightmare when he'd woken up in panic searching for you which led to the mutual desperation as you both pleased each other that left you both relieved and so wrapped in each other with the promise that you wouldn’t leave him.
since then the days had fallen into a routine of recovery and closeness as you barely left his side and tended to him. as you timely gave him his meds, changed his bandages and more, it was your presence alone that had helped him truly heal.
jungkook had stirred awake earlier than you, which was his usual habit but he didn’t leave the bed right away, wanting to stay in the cocoon with you. he lay propped on one elbow, now wearing only black boxers that did little to hide the evidence of his constant desire around you. his dark eyes fixed on your sleeping form, drinking in everything as if memorizing them in his head. the look in your face that almost made you look younger, utterly at peace in a way he'd rarely seen.
he'd give anything to keep this peace for you forever. his arm draped possessively over your waist, his palm over your stomach tracing the skin there as if to remind himself that you were real. he found himself doing that much more often now after both of your separations.
his thoughts were all over with emotions and such immense love that his chest ached with a protectiveness that made him want to shield you from the world forever and how pretty you were like this, he thought.
he smiled softly as he saw you drool slightly and it only made him love you more. he could stare at you all day. the curves of your body in all the right places drove him mad with want and you were absolute perfection.
he was so damn lucky, luckier than a man like him had any right to be to have you choosing him every day despite all his flaws. to wake up to this, to you wearing his promise ring, the diamond glinting in the light where your hand rested near the pillow.
and your fingers curled slightly as if even in your sleep you reached for him. those kitten like noises you made pulled at him the deepest making him hold you tighter as his chest pressed against your back. the way you were so vulnerable and trusted him completely in your unconscious state as you shifted even closer to him.
he lets out a breath and couldn’t help but think of all the ways you’d saved him, piecing him together.
“hn…”
you made another dreamy sound and shifted again turning fully onto your stomach before curling back toward him as your breasts pressed flush against his chest in the process. he pulled you impossibly closer, spooning your tiny body against his and your legs instinctively spread a little for him causing one of his muscular legs to slide between your thighs until your warm pussy rested directly against it. the contact made him groan lowly as he gripped you harder against him, touching you all over before leaving open mouthed kisses against your shoulder.
his tongue came out to taste the sweat against your skin before tracing the red hickies he'd left there before. his hand roamed, stroking your tummy up and down before his fingers dripped into the curve of your waist tracing the shape of it, a smile on his lips as he realized the healthy weight you’ve gained since you became his wife. you were no longer sick and starving which he made sure of and as he suddenly circled your belly button almost teasingly, you almost whined his name in sleep or he didn’t know if he was imagining it.
your body sank further into him with those sweet noises that were like music to his ears and it was almost lulling him to sleep once again.
he spent long minutes just touching you like this and listening to you, his nose buried against your neck inhaling the scent that was so yours, vanilla and something feminine and that scent was now mixed with his own. he could never get tired of that specific scent.
he couldn’t resist and licked a stripe up the column of your throat and it made you arch into him, gripping his shoulder slightly as your legs clenched more around his thigh, your cunt growing more slick as he pressed his thigh into you more. perhaps your dreams turned more sensual who knows?
his hands slide up caressing the underside of your breasts feeling their weight before he pays attention to your nipples, which were soft at first but hardened into hard peaks as he tweaked them. he watched in rapt fascination at the way your nubs hardened so quickly for him as his thumb rolled them until they remained painfully erect.
he sure was taking full advantage of the closeness of the moment and the way you were pressing your breasts even closer in his hands.
“ah…”
he was painfully hard now, his cock straining against his boxers from holding back as he cupped your ass admiring your face, the furrow of your brows and your body squirming as you dreamed. he places a kiss against your cheek, resting his nose there as he thinks of how many days it's been since he'd been home after the accident.
he considered heading to the office later today for the first time in a while but for now he pushed the thought aside and focused on you. his hand traced shapes on your back, breathing against you as his hard bulge pressed against your stomach. he always usually had a morningwood but you were making it worse and he didn’t wanna disturb your sleep so he soaked in you like that, closing his eyes and just reliving your presence.
that’s when his phone suddenly buzzed silently on the nightstand. he kept it muted these days because he didn’t want work to interrupt his time with you and he didn’t pick up anyone’s calls unless it was important. he looked at the caller id and it was from work of course. he wanted to remain longer in the comfort bubble you'd created together but his phone rings once again.
he lets out a grunt of annoyance before carefully untangling himself from you though not without pressing one last kiss to the back of your thigh.
you whimpered at the sudden loss of his body in your sleep, your hand immediately sliding across the sheets to the empty space he'd occupied. your fingers curled there longingly and he sat on the edge of the bed grabbing the phone, his grumpiness returning.
“what is it?” he mutters irritably.
talking quietly so he wouldn’t disturb you. his eyes remained glued to your form as one of his men from the office went on about how jungkook should be there and the money loss they faced in the past few weeks but jungkook didn’t give a single damn about it because to him that money was nothing and he was already rich enough to buy three more companies like the one he owned currently, but none of it mattered when it came to you.
he listened absentmindedly when you kicked the blanket lower exposing your bottom as well. now fully in your bare beauty, your legs spread a bit more to reveal everything.
“fuck…”
jungkook's mouth goes dry at the sight as your pussy is fully visible now, folds slightly swollen from the oral attentions of the past few nights as your clit throbs when the cool air brushes against it while you sleep so soundly, completely unaware of how exposed you are right now, it is as if your body itself knew who to trust.
your pussy folds parted enough to reveal the tight hole that was gaping emptily almost like it was testing him to see how long he could wait before he filled it with something completely big. it looked tight enough despite his fingers never leaving it and as a droplet of your arousal came out, he squeezed his phone so hard it almost cracked.
it was taking everything in him to not come down and steal that droplet with his tongue and taste you, to hear more of your noises as your thighs muffled his ears.
you were still a virgin so pure still… even after several nights together because he honored his promise of taking it only when you were ready and it was torture for him. like he was dying.. a slow death. he wanted you more than air itself but he was set on waiting for you until you truly wanted and needed it.
he lets out a harsh breath as the guy on the other end calls jungkook's name when not receiving any response.
“i’ll be there soon and also keep everything and everyone prepared for me if you don’t wanna get yourself fired.” he growls.
jungkook was taking his anger out on the poor guy as he stutters in actual fear but jungkook already ended the call because work could wait a little longer.
he then grabs a cigarette lighting it before he takes a deep drag and exhales toward the window, something he needs very much right now while his gaze continues devouring you. your body looked so utterly used and cherished, yet untouched. he lies beside you in bed once again and watches you sleep like that as minutes or probably an hour pass as he smokes and answers a few more work calls.
you slowly emerged from your sleep as your eyelids fluttered open bit by bit and the first sensation that you registered was the solid body of jungkook beside you. his strong arm draped over your waist, his low murmurs as he talked on the phone though you realized with a start that he was awake already, looking at you that made your heart skip. he was propped up slightly on one elbow while clutching the phone on the other.
“yeah handle it yourselves. i don't care how.”
as your sleepy eyes fully met his, a small knowing smile tugged at his lips and he ended the call abruptly, tossing the phone on the nightstand and turning his full attention back to you. it was immediate like the world outside had ceased to exist the second you stirred.
you flushed instantly when you realized about your nudity despite everything you’d shared in the past days, everything that has taken away the barriers between you. still you couldn’t help but instinctively clutch the sheet higher pulling it up to cover your breasts. your skin still tingled from where his body had been pressed against yours all night as your thighs clenched unknowingly.
“hi..” you whisper shyly.
not knowing what to say instead of that simple word, jungkook's eyes softened further at the sound as he took you in with adoration, the sleepy haze in your eyes still making you look even more endearing. so his. he shifted closer without hesitation as his free hand came up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before he cupped your cheek.
“hi beautiful.” he murmurs back warmly.
your cheeks pinked further as he came even closer and rested his forehead against yours as his thumb stroked your cheekbone as he nuzzled against your nose like he can never get enough of you. you bit your lower lip nervously, still holding the sheet tightly as you searched for words to break the intimate silence.
“did… did you sleep okay?”
you asked with genuine concern because even though days had passed since the accident, you couldn't help but worry about him because he still got frequent nightmares and sweated a lot through the night but you didn’t leave his side at all, at night he kept water bottles on the nightstand for you so you wouldn't have to go downstairs for water and whenever you had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, you always let him know. there were times when he sweated through the sheets and you’ve changed it for him even though he was embarrassed about it and wanted to clean it himself but you insisted because caring for him felt like second nature to you now.
your free hand brushed lightly over his arm and he chuckled softly, grabbing that hand and pressing a kiss against the back of it before pulling you even closer until your bodies were flush again, his leg sliding between yours once again because he loved doing it.
“better than okay.” he replies.
“i slept like a damn rock because you were here.”
his eyes locked on yours to show his honesty.
“best sleep i’ve had in forever. you chase the bad shit away, you know that?”
he paused his hand sliding down to rest on your waist.
“what about you baby? how did my girl sleep? you were out cold making those cute noises, shifting closer to me every time i moved hmm?”
your cheeks burned even more as you huffed, thinking of how you'd fallen asleep all naked against him the night before as you ducked your head slightly but didn’t wanna lie.
“i slept really well…” you breathe.
you lifted your gaze again, worry creasing your brow as you rested your hand on his chest.
“but how are you feeling really? does your head hurt at all this morning…?”
he shook his head as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“i'm good i promise… head's fine, no pain like at all.”
his voice dropped lower.
“mm you took such good care of me these past days. don't know what i would've done without you hovering and feeding me.” he says lovingly.
“i feel stronger already, ready to face the day… mostly.”
you smiled at that, wanting to avert your gaze but his intense staring hadn't let up, his eyes taking in your features with an obsession that made you squirm slightly under the sheets and it was like he was falling in love with you even more every day as if that was even possible because you were already the center of his world. you looked so captivating in the morning and how small you looked in his arms.. you were beautiful not just physically but in every way that mattered.
your eyes widen as it falls on his chest, on your drool mark from where you slept against him completely unaware and you immediately cover your face in embarrassment.
“i’m sorry! let me wipe it off—”
but before your hand could reach his chest, he caught it placing it right beside the stain so you weren’t able to touch it.
“don’t you dare wipe yourself off from me.”
he answered huskily as he closed the distance, face inches from yours and he said it as if he was proud of it and embraced it instead of finding it nasty.
“can’t help it. you're so fucking pretty in the morning with those pink cheeks and messy hair, it makes me wanna keep you here forever.”
you whimpered at his words, your heart racing as his expression got serious suddenly almost amusing.
“but… aren’t you forgetting something? won't you give me my healing kiss? been waiting patiently.”
the words sparked an immediate giggle from you as you remembered how you'd made it a habit to kiss his scars each day until he got used to it and would even remind you to do it whenever you forgot. he titled it as a “healing kiss”. you laughed about how cheesy it sounded but he didn’t deter from it and neither did you because it meant a lot to him.
you pushed yourself up slowly the sheet slipping down to your shoulders as you leaned over him, his eyes furrowing in concentration as he held you. your fingers gently part his dark hair to reveal the healed scar on his forehead which was no longer bandaged after you'd removed it a few days ago because his scar has fully closed from your relentless care. that scar held so much meaning for him, he said it didn’t bother him at all because it had been the pain from it that brought you rushing back to his side.
he believed it was a symbol of his love and how you'd chosen him.
you pressed your lips to it lingering far longer than necessary as you felt him exhale shakily beneath you, his arms wrapping around you tighter as if it grounded him. when you pulled back, his eyes were filled with emotion.
“godd thank you.”
he whispered roughly then tilted his head, stealing a peck from your lips.
“those noises you were making… what were you dreaming about hm? sounded like you were having a good time there.” he questions.
your lips part at his words as the memories of the dream flood back which were filled with everything about jungkook and the closeness and arousal from sleeping bare with him had turned the dream intimate as if his touches on you in reality were happening in the dreams too, he had that power over you to even enter your dreams.
but right now you were in a mood to be playful.
“oh... well it was about another man.”
you bite your lip to hide your grin knowing exactly how he'd react and he did because his eyes narrowed in a mock glare as his grip on you tightened possessively.
“what the fuck did you just say?” he demanded.
it was filled with amusement as he saw the way you were trying to hide your smile as his body shifted suddenly to flip you onto your back making you gasp. he hovers above you, pinning your wrists beside your head as the sheet falls away completely to reveal your naked body.
“another man? dreaming about someone else while you're naked in my bed huh?”
you give him an innocent look even though you struggled to fight your composure.
“uhm yeah… he was kissing me while his hand drifted lower and it felt so good—”
you couldn’t finish your words as his hand came down to spank your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt but it sent a jolt straight to your core.
“oh.” you squeak.
“are you trying to kill me baby? or just get published?”
you burst into giggles, unable to hold it back anymore and you kind of felt bad because he looked hurt as well.
“i’m kidding! jungkook i was kidding—oh my god, your face—”
“brat.”
he mutters but his lips were already crashing onto yours, cutting off your laughter with a deep kiss that quickly turned into something urgent. he bites your lower lip enough to part them as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting you with long strokes before sucking on your tongue making you moan into his mouth.
your hands fly to his hair tangling in it and he manhandles you once again, gripping your hips to reposition you until you are straddling his lap as you can barely keep up with the kiss at how he moves you like you were his to arrange while he was eating away at your mouth.
the kiss deepened further as he explored every corner of your mouth with his tongue as if he were trying to claim you with the kiss alone and you felt all his fierce jealousy in that alone. one hand cradled the back of your head to angle you perfectly while the other roamed greedily. over the curve of your ass and up to cup your breasts and going up and down like that, groping you to his liking until you arched into him with his name muffled on your lips because of how hungry he was.
you struggled to keep up feeling dizzy from the insane makeout session. it felt like he was kissing you with the desperation of someone who knew he had to leave soon, something you weren't aware of yet. you gasped again as his stubble scratched lightly on your chin and he groaned deeply in response as his hardness pressed insistently against your wet cunt as you rocked instinctively against his clothed cock which sent pleasure shooting through both of you.
eventually he pulled back just enough to breathe with a suckle on your bottom lip and a string of saliva connecting the both of you before breaking as both of you panted heavily with swollen lips.
“never joke about that shit again.” he rasped.
“you're mine, only ever mine. got it?”
you nodded breathlessly legs wrapping tighter around his waist as you felt him poke right at your entrance, his length twitching inside his boxers as he fought to grab your ass and grind you hard against him so he squeezed your hips instead. he inhales, his arms crushing you to his chest as your breasts squish against him, he buries his face in your neck.
“fuckk princess... i don’t wanna go anywhere today, just wanna stay like this.”
his lips pressed small kisses against your skin as you looked up at him in confusion and he knew he had to say it.
“i… i have to head to the office.”
he admitted reluctantly after a long moment.
“been avoiding it too long and things are piling up.”
worry surged through you immediately, your hands drawing up to his face to pull him back as you searched his eyes.
“but you’re still healing. it’s too soon.. what if something happens?”
you couldn’t help but overthink and you knew his wounds had healed fully but you still got anxiety thinking about him getting in the car and that he might get in an accident again. he's been constantly protected in the house but you didn’t know what would happen once he goes out all alone.
“hey... i’m fine angel.” he soothed.
he rubs your back to comfort you.
“the driver is taking me so there will be no risks. i’ll be careful, i swear.”
he says as if reading your mind as he nuzzles your nose.
“i don’t wanna leave you either but i’ll be back before you even know it.”
you nodded slowly still unsure as your eyes glistened and he pulled you down for another kiss, exploring your mouth urgently because he wanted to memorize everything before he had to leave. you were both breathing heavily, your legs still locked around his waist as you both cuddled each other.
his stubble had grown over the past few days since you left him because he hadn’t shaved at all while he was grieving and those had scraped a lot against your soft skin during the kisses. leaving faint beard burns on your cheeks and neck and other places in your body where his mouth has been. he had always kept himself clean shaven before but while he was focusing on you and his recovery, he had pushed it aside but god, those stubbles… they had become an issue now because every time his face buried itself between your legs to lap at your pussy, it scratched your skin and it stung in the best way, it always made you moan. you could also feel how it affected him too and he'd rub his face harder against your skin because he loved marking you and hearing your noises.
jungkook pulled back to look at you now with loving eyes as his chest rose and fell under your hand as he caressed your back but you could sense the fact that he didn’t wanna leave the bed either. he signed, his free hand coming up to scrub at his jaw as it drew your attention there and he frowned slightly feeling how rough it had gotten. he was almost pouting that made him look both grumpy and boyish as you looked at him warmly.
“shit look at this. i've let myself go… these damn stubbles, i’m sorry i didn’t mean to scratch up that pretty skin of yours.”
his eyes flicked to the red marks on your cleavage that you'd gotten again recently from where his face had brushed against you and guilt filled his expression but was also mixed with desire.
“but goddamn the noises you make when they rub against you… those little whimpers when i taste that pussy or kiss your thighs… it drives me insane angel, makes me so fucking hard every time.” he growls.
you blushed at his words remembering exactly how those beard burns felt and the thought of it makes your clit throb, it was embarrassing how responsive you were to it because you loved the slight pain mixed with pleasure.
“koo…”
you whispered as you shifted in his arms, shyly nibbling at your lower lip.
“i... i don’t mind them.” you admitted.
you looked down at his jaw tracing the line of it, feeling the roughness against it compared to his usual smoothness.
“it feels… different.”
his eyes blazed at that but then he shook his head, determination winning over the lust for a moment.
“no baby. i wanna shave, i don’t want to keep marking you up like that unless it’s with my mouth on purpose.”
he lifted your chin up for your eyes to meet his.
“come on… help me? please?”
the way he asked in his deep voice, his eyes locking onto yours with that vulnerability he only ever showed you so you nodded which made him grin so big that your heart skipped a beat.
then with a sudden surge of strength, he pulled you to him making you sit up but before settling you down enough for you to reach for his discarded t-shirt on the floor, the one he had worn yesterday and your other clothing items thrown far when he'd taken them off you. you slipped it over your head as it draped loosely on you because of how oversized it was as you smoothed it down and there was something intimate about wearing his clothing with you completely bare underneath, it was like him hugging you while you're naked.
you caught jungkook watching you as his eyes roamed over you slowly taking in the sight of you, your hard nipples still prominent in the thin material. god he loved this. he loved you naked of course but there was something about you in his clothes, wearing them so naturally like you belonged wrapped in him always. it made him overwhelmed, the kind that had been building since the moment he first saw you.
“fuck angel..” he says in awe.
he reached out to tug at the hem of the shirt.
“you look so good in my stuff… i could watch you all day.”
he pulled you close nuzzling against your cheek as he brushed your lower lip. without another word he stood, scooping you up in bridal style with only one arm as if you weighed nothing and you squeaked in surprise wrapping your arms around his neck.
“jungkook wait! i can walk.” you protested.
but there was no real fight in it because you loved it when he carried you like this even though you'll never admit that and he rumbled out a chuckle as he pressed a quick kiss against your forehead.
“i know you can baby but i like carrying you, i'd carry you all the time if you let me.”
he states it as if it's a matter of fact and your lips jut out in a pout as he walks into the bathroom and carefully sets you down on the counter and you almost whimper at the sudden cold against your bare thighs or you don't know if you're just extra sensitive from your arousal and your still wet cunt.
jungkook's eyes immediately dropped to the space between your legs as he stepped closer, his hands gripping your knees spreading them apart firmly so he could slot himself between your thighs, he pressed forward fully until the hard length of his brushed so close against your inner thigh as he settled in.
“stay just like that.” he grumbles.
his hands slid up your thighs tracing a path that did nothing to ease the building tension.
“i—i don't know how to do this.”
you shudder a bit nervously because it is only obvious that you haven't and he smiles, his eyes growing fond.
“it's alright sweet thing. just start with the shaving cream at first and grab the razor. i'm here yeah? i'm happy with you doing whatever you think is right.”
“okay…”
you nodded shakily trying to focus as you reached for the shaving cream and razor from the drawer he nudged open with his elbow as you looked at him with parted lips and he tilted his head back slightly exposing his throat and jawline. his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed watching you with half lidded eyes as you lathered the cream carefully over his cheeks. he didn't remain still though, squeezing you slightly as you brought the razor to his skin.
“be still koo. i don't wanna cut you mistakenly.”
“i wouldn't mind if you did. you know i'd always bleed for you.” he teases.
but your expression remained solemn because you found no humor in it and you would never hurt him willingly and him knowing your fragile heart, he knew that you'd blame yourself for it especially after everything so he stole a peck from your lips and decided to stay still for the sake of you.
you focused intently biting your lip in concentration and being very careful as you scraped away the foam and stubble in even lines as his breath hitched but he kept his eyes locked onto you as he couldn't help it, one hand drifted lower to cup your ass under the t-shirt kneading the flesh.
“fuckk you look so sexy doing this.” he groaned.
he feels himself releasing precum and soaking his boxers as the tent in his boxers grows even larger and you could feel him pressing insistently against you every time he shifted closer. your pussy clenched in response and you were getting needier at the teasings you’ve been facing since you woke up.
“my good girl… taking care of me like this.” he breathes out.
you whimpered at his words trying to steady your hand for another stroke, gliding the razor and rinsing it before repeating. that’s when suddenly his thumbs brushed dangerously close to your core and he grabbed one of your ass cheeks to hold you open causing direct coldness to meet your gaping holes.
“koo..”
you writhed against the counter as you gripped his shoulder.
“you’re distracting me.”
your breasts brushed his chest through the shirt and he smirked cockily, leaning down to look at you and getting the foam on your neck as he placed a kiss there earning a gasp from you.
“am i? sorry baby... can’t help it when my wife’s sitting here and helping me shave.”
you tilted his head, a determined look on your face, despite how he affected you, you tried to get the work done and he chuckled as more parts of his face were cleared. you continued like that, stroke after stroke as you worked around his jaw and upper lip, your hands still trembling as both of your chests rose and fell together. his hips subtly rocking forward now and then and his t-shirt that you were wearing has ridden up to reveal your lower body.
“almost done.” you croaked.
you tilted his head for the final patches.
“hmm.”
he hummed in approval as his hands roamed higher one slipping under the t-shirt to trace your waist, the other still cupping your ass as he pulled you to the edge of the counter so your pussy hovered close to his clothed boner. you breathed hard to steady yourself as the last stubble was gone then you set the razor aside, grabbing a towel to wipe away the remaining foam from his face revealing his flawless skin that now begged to be kissed.
he was so handsome that it was hard to breathe sometimes.
“is it okay?”
you asked slowly as his eyes opened blissfully and he looked at himself in the mirror, a raw expression on his face because he never thought this would be his life. shaving and taking care of himself has always been solely done by himself but now he has a wife who makes everything better and whom he loves more than life itself so even if you made a mess on his face right now, he'd still be the happiest man ever.
“more than okay but the aftershaves next, remember?” he rasps.
he didn’t want this moment to end and he knew he was being a bit needy but he could see that you were enjoying it too, along with the tension that was there. he wants to take you right here but he's holding himself back for the right time as you grab the aftershave, pouring some into your palm before you pat it gently over his face. jungkook inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for a bit before opening darker than before and fixed on you.
“smells like me again… like us.” he whispered.
it was a smell that he was so used to once but felt so foreign due to the separation between you and now it felt like coming home as you applied it, massaging it slightly. he was looking at you with hooded eyes that made your breath tremble.
he couldn’t hold back anymore, his face dipping capturing your lips in a hungry kiss as his newly smooth cheeks brushed your skin without the scrape but his hands were everywhere pulling you flush against him. he made your legs wrap around his waist as he pressed so close and hard until there was no space between you, not even air could pass. the hard ridge of his cock slotted perfectly between your folds as you both moaned as you grew heady from his scent, the aftershave mixing with his manly scent made your head spin as his tongue tangled with yours.
“shit.” he cursed.
he pulls back to look down at you.
“god look at you.” he murmurs roughly.
“shaking like this after taking care of me… all bare under my shirt just waiting to be touched. i can't fuck—”
his hand fists your hair in desperation as his brow furrows.
“i don’t wanna go to that damn office. i don’t want to leave you not even for a second.” he mutters angrily.
“then stay.”
your words almost make him feral because you voiced your need for him to stay too and he couldn’t hold back any longer. his hand pushed your hair to the side before pressing hot kisses trailing down the column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave bruises.
“oh koo.”
you squeal slightly at his rough movements but his tongue comes out to soothe the marks he left giving you a mix of pain and pleasure. the wet pull of his tongue makes you arch into him as your hands fly up to tangle in his damp hair as a whimper escapes you.
he moves lower kissing your collarbone, nipping at the skin there until it's red then down to the swell of your breasts where the shirt has slipped aside from your squirming exposing one nipple to his eyes. his mouth latches on it so suddenly that you cry out and even through the fabric on the other side he latches on it, sucking harder and deep in circles that make the material soak with his saliva, clinging transparently to your hardened nub. the fabric added extra friction and he suckled harder, his teeth scraping suddenly.
“jungkook ahghh.”
you let out a broken noise of his name as his tongue flicks the tip of your nipple rapidly as if he's trying to suckle something out of it and your head falls back.
your face contorted in overwhelmed pleasure, mouth open in a silent gasp as he switches sides without mercy giving both the nipples the same torturous attention until the shirt was completely soaked with his saliva and you were pulling his hair harder. that’s when he believes that he had his fill and left you a writhing mess, he pulls back to admire his work with a satisfied groan watching your heaving boobs. he turns you to putty with just breast play and it blows his mind every time.
“you’re so fucking perfect.” he growls.
his hips start to rock forward grinding hard, his hand grips your shirt up your waist to reveal your pussy and his soaked length grinds against your bare pussy slowly, spreading your slick lips around him.
“these tits… i love sucking on them. you love it too don’t you? when i play these pretty nubs mhmm?” he gruffs out.
you can only nod frantically, moans tumbling out uncontrollably as he grips your thighs to spread you even wider before pressing your back hard against the wall for leverage as his body pins you there.
“o—oh god koo, wait—” you whined.
before you could finish your words, he was on you as he started dry humping you in earnest holding your legs tight around his waist.
and the movements were almost animalistic as he rolled his hips, causing his clothed cock to drag up and down your dripping folds perfectly and it was even more intense for you because you were fully bare but he could fully feel how wet and warm you were despite wearing boxers.
“ah… ah…”
you let out mindless whimpers as the head of his cock bumps your swollen clit on every upstroke, spreading your pussy lips wide and coating his boxers in a mix of your juices and his leaking precum.
his expressions twisted, his jaw clenched and his eyes grew even more dazed as he looked at your own pleasured reaction, his brows drawn together in concentration. he almost makes motions with his hips that resemble him fucking you and you bite your lip red, tears forming in your eyes as you moan openly now.
“please cook more hahh.”
you keened as your legs trembled around his waist and he bared his teeth with a groan.
“more huh? you want more?” he mocks almost.
his words turn your mind hazy but you cannot answer as your nails dig into his shoulder with breathy noises as wet squelching noises echo in the bathroom from the collision of him going at you and even your own hips meeting his in return. he kisses you messily through it all, his tongue plunging into your mouth mimicking thrusts and what he's doing below as you let out muffled noises in his mouth and he pulls back for air only to dive in again, sucking on your tongue until you're dizzy.
“feel that baby?”
he pants against your lips deeply as his hips snap harder now pinning you firmly to the wall with each movement and you didn’t know if only dry humping could be so intense. it reminded you of the party night and your first time ever letting him touch you so intimately which ended soon due to your fears but now not an ounce of fear was left in you for the man before you.
there was only desire and love.
“you’re gonna make me cum like this aren’t you? just from humping you like an animal, godd i can’t stop. tell me you want it.. to make you cum all over my boxers.” he snarls.
you can only sob in response, eyes closed as you grip the edge of the counter tightly.
“answer me y/n.” he demands.
“yes yes, please please.” you babble.
as your hips move wanting him to angle directly at your clit because his hardness feels extra good there, you couldn’t agree more to his words because you did feel like an animal who was trying to take everything without getting the real taste of him pounding your pussy.
“good girl.”
he praises and glances down between your bodies, eyes locking on the erotic sight of his cock sliding through your glistening folds and the way your swollen folds spread wide for him and as he focuses on hitting your clit directly, it literally throbs against him and he does it again and again to see it throb like that.
“j—jungkook!”
his black boxers were fully soaked with combined fluids as strings of slick connected you on every pull back and it unraveled him further.
“fuck yeah sweet girl… you’re making a mess on me.” he grunts loudly.
a look of agony takes over his face as he watches your head thrown back, he can never get enough of the sight of both of you so damn connected and not connected at the same time.
“uhh gosh koo, i’m gonna—it’s happeningg.”
your voice breaks in a wail as you grab a fistful of his hair to ground yourself as your legs are almost weak and he grabs your ass cheeks harder to angle you to meet his thrusts.
“shh let it happen baby... i’m right here.”
he encourages you and when he grinds particularly hard against your clit while sucking another bruising hickey onto your neck, you shatter. a keening cry escapes your throat as your body convulses in his arms, your pussy clenching emptily against his cock.
you grind back against him like a bunny on heat and he watches mesmerized for a moment before squeezing your ass and helping your movements. slick after slick coats his boxers and both of your stomachs as your head falls back with a scream of his name in your mouth.
a tear slips down your cheek as you bite down on his shoulder and he follows seconds later because just the feel of you orgasming was enough to push him. his hips stutter and he buries his face in your neck with a broken moan.
“fuck baby, i’m cumming. i’m cumming for you ughh—”
hot spurts of his release fill his boxers, seeping through to paint your sensitive folds stickily too as his body shudders against yours while he holds your hips to anchor himself. he doesn’t set you down just holds you pinned there as both of you pant harshly, sweaty skin sticking together as his arms tremble slightly around you.
a breathless laugh comes out of him suddenly as he pulls back to look at your face with softness and amusement.
“shit.” he chuckles hoarsely.
his forehead drops to yours still catching his breath.
“i just… i came in my fucking pants like some horny teenager. i haven’t done that since.. hell maybe never baby but you… fuck, you make me lose my mind.”
he came so hard just from dry humping and you can see it in the way his expression shifts from laughter to wonder like he's still processing how deeply you affected him.
you rest against his chest with a whimper, not being able to find words because you feel so ruined too and his heart pounds not just from the orgasm but from the realization of how his body is so completely yours to react like that. he presses kisses against your damp cheeks and swollen lips, holding you tight as the tremors slowly leave your body.
“you’re my everything princess. everything..”
his voice cracks with emotion as you cling back just as desperately, legs still locked around him.
“koo…” you coo longingly
and that mention of his name alone expresses more than words can and your sweet tone as both of you continue hugging each other, the stickiness still between your legs but further proving how perfectly you fit together. you still feel flushed as the air smells like his aftershave and sex and the next few minutes go with him helping you clean with a wet cloth and also himself.
you hop down carefully, legs a little wobbly as you pad barefoot toward the door and glance back at him. jungkook is still leaning against the counter, eyes tracking every moment you make a curve in his lips as he admires the afterglow you had. the morning beauty and the afterglow mixed together in you and you looked like the most beautiful woman in jungkook's eyes.
“i’m gonna go make breakfast.”
you say a little hoarsely from all the moaning you'd done against him only minutes ago as you avert his gaze shyly. you clear your throat, trying to sound casual like you hadn’t just been dry humping him like your life depended on it.
he pushes off the counter immediately, shaking his head.
“no.”
he uses the tone when he's decided something and there's no point in arguing about it as he steps closer and reaches for your wrist.
“you’ve done enough these past few days, changing bandages, cooking for me and staying up with me when i couldn’t sleep. you’ve taken care of me nonstop. it’s my turn now.” he finally says.
your heart does that stupid fluttery thing it always does when he says things like that and looks at you like this, like you're something precious.
you feel his thumb brushing against your palm and you close your hand around it.
“koo you’re still healing and you’re going to go to your office soon. i don’t mind—”
“i’m fine.” he interrupts.
he steps closer until you have to tip your head back to hold his gaze as his free hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing a red mark from the beard burn from earlier.
“i’m more than fine and i want to cook for you, let me please?”
you open your mouth to protest again because it was the least you could do for him after everything he's done for you but the look in his eyes stops you. you can see how much he needs this to give back to take care of you the way you’ve been taking care of him. so you sign and give in with a dramatic roll of your eyes that makes him grin.
“fine.” you mutter.
pretending to be annoyed even though warmth is spreading through your entire body.
“but i’m not just gonna sit there and do nothing.” you fuss
he smiles and leans down and pecks your nose.
“you can make the coffee the way you like it which coincidentally is the way i like it now.”
you nodded before you blinked up at him.
“you hated coffee before didn’t you?”
“i used to hate a lot of things.” he says simply.
he guides you out of the bathroom and toward the kitchen, his hand at the small of your back.
“then you came along in my life and changed lots of things.”
the deep meaning behind his words makes tears well in your eyes as he guides you further in the kitchen before you can say anything as you stand in front of the coffee maker. you still remember the first time you saw it and how happy it made you but never did you expect that it was for you because why would he?
you stood there staring at it for a long time feeling high on emotions, maybe from the closeness between you both but it was also because no one had ever noticed something so small about you, let alone gone out of their way for you. you don’t think that you'll ever get used to everything that he's done for you till now. you move toward it as jungkook starts pulling ingredients from the fridge like eggs and some veggies, along with the sourdough bread he knows you love so much.
“i still can’t believe you bought this monster just for me.”
you whisper shakily as you prepare to make coffee and he doesn’t look up from his task but you can see the smile.
“you were drinking that instant shit every morning and i know you hated it. i wasn’t going to let my wife suffer like that because you love coffee? i’m buying the whole damn factory of it if you want.”
he says such things so casually that it makes it hard for you to breathe sometimes as the word "wife" hits you and you busy yourself with the coffee so he doesn’t see the tears in your eyes.
you lean against the counter watching him as the coffee starts brewing and he chops the vegetables with one hand and simultaneously toasts the bread and you look at the way he looks with his loose messy hair, looking domestic and relaxed making something in your chest feel too big for you.
“so now you’re the one staring at me hm?” he chuckles.
you gasp and look away causing him to smile bigger as he tugs you towards him turning to look at you fully.
“it’s just…”
you didn’t know how to explain as his eyes met yours with a gentleness there that made your knees weak.
“i like taking care of you.” he says quietly.
“i didn’t get to do it for a long time. let me have this.”
your throat tightens. remembering the days you’ve spent at mrs. hans’s place and also the accusations you’ve thrown at jungkook, even though several times he’s mentioned that it wasn’t your fault but you still couldn’t move on from it. how you'd sat alone on a different bed wondering about jungkook, if he was okay, if he missed you even half as much as you missed him because you did even when you claimed that you hated him.
he turned the stove off and crossed the distance wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his cheek on top of your head as he placed a hand against your stomach, yours coming up to rest over his.
“i missed this.” you breathe.
“just… normal mornings. with you.”
his fingers tighten over yours.
“me too.” he rasps.
“more than you know..”
when the coffee finishes brewing, you reluctantly let go to pour two mugs and when you turn back, he's plating the food too, filling your plate with too much food—more than you can ever complete.
he sets both plates on the island and pulls out the chair for you and he makes you sit beside him close enough that your bare thighs brush against him and he can’t help the little hum of appreciation that escapes him at the contact. he watches you take a bite with a fond look.
“good?” he asks.
you nod mouth full and he smiles happily but you wouldn’t ever say otherwise because his cooking was that good which he never admitted to as you both eat in comfortable silence with bam somewhere in the distance as he wakes up and starts looking for attention.
he steals kisses from you whenever he can and you think, not for the first time.
that this is what healing feels like.
after both of you were done eating, he decided to go upstairs freshening up and getting ready for his office.
you couldn't resist the urge to clean the dishes even though jungkook had insisted, murmuring that you didn't have to do anything and mrs. kim would arrive soon anyways and handle it all but you couldn't sit still and decided to wash them anyways because you didn't want to burden mrs. kim and she was too nice anyways. the act of washing dishes reminded you of how used to it you were now that this was your life now.
upstairs in the bedroom, jungkook prepared for the day. it felt like the first time in an eternity that he was donning a full suit and he slid the white dress shirt on first as it hugged his muscular body. he buttoned it up slowly leaving the top few undone, he glanced at himself in the mirror taking in how few of his scars were barely visible now.
his eyes softened as he looked at your clothes right beside his since he made space for you in his closet and how perfect they look together, like your stuff just always belonged with his. he pulled on the black suit and adjusted it before putting his hair in his usual man bun. he looked so much like the ceo whom everyone feared now so different from the love for you that changed him and that cracked his guarded heart so wearing the suit now felt both familiar and strangely new like stepping back into a life he'd almost lost.
you dried your hands on the kitchen towel and made your way upstairs, pushing the door open and silently stepping inside as you watched jungkook putting on his watch, his tie draped loosely around his neck the way he always did when he wanted you to take over. his reflection caught yours immediately, his eyes locks with yours as he smiled affectionately.
“oh mamas.. i was about to call you.”
the nickname makes you blush red as he extends one arm toward you in invitation as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear feeling suddenly shy under his gaze and you cross the room, slipping into the warm circle of his arm as he pulls you flush against his chest, your back to him as both of you now look in the mirror, his tall frame enveloping your smaller one completely, his chin resting on top of your head as he holds you like he never wants to let go.
the reflection shows a couple so intertwined and the sight overwhelms jungkook at how perfect it is. for what felt like an eternity, you both simply stood there in silence, breathing together as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your side dipping just beneath the hem of the shirt to brush your bare skin making you shiver. he held your gaze in the mirror and dipped his head and pressed an open mouthed kiss right over where your pulse raced as he sucked slightly making you yelp and grab at his arm and he groaned in satisfaction.
“god...” he whispered against your skin.
“missed putting on these suits and feeling like myself again but mostly… i missed you doing this, your hands on me tying my tie.”
you looked at him in the mirror as you saw his eyes almost well up in tears which he didn't put any effort to hide and your breath hitched.
“every time i even glanced at this closet when you were gone, it fucking hurt baby because it reminded me of you and how you'd help me every day before i left for the office. it reminded me of how i lost you and broke you with my stupidity.“
his voice cracks as he thinks of how he couldn't even bear looking at a single tie without wanting to burn them all if it'd even ease a little bit of pain. his arms tighten around you as one hand slides up to rest just below your breasts and he holds you as if he's just making sure you're not going anywhere once again as he breathes hotly against your ear and continues.
“but now… now you're here and it feels right again. you make everything right.”
you let out a sob in his words, you couldn't hold back the wound in his voice cracking something inside you as you clung to his arms, your small hands covering his large ones and he buried his face against your hair and shushed you sweetly.
the position you both were in made the memories of the first day in the maldives come back as his eyes met yours with such love in the mirror that it stole your breath and it transported you both to that day when you were inside the villa and he helped you unzip your stuck dress after surprising you for your birthday and he taught you about pleasure for the first time that too without even touching you. the memory made heat pool in your belly even now and you tilted your head to press your cheek against his chest.
“you know...” he started.
“i always knew how to tie a tie.” he confessed almost bashfully.
“learned it out of necessity but with you... i—i pretended to not be able to do it every time just so you'd help me and i'd get an excuse to feel you near me and touch me.”
he stammers, almost embarrassed to admit it because he would wear ugly crooked ties for the rest of his life if it meant you'd keep touching him like that because one day those were the only moments he could have you near him and not hating him and he'd take those few seconds to take in your pretty face to his heart's fill.
you turned around to look at him, your hand fisting his suit as uncontrollable tears streamed down your face, your heart feeling like it might combust and he himself fought back tears as he cupped your cheek and wiped some tears away, kissing some away as you remained quiet for a bit just because he's confessed one of his deep secrets you felt the need to confess one too especially because of the safety he provided and the way he trusted you.
“i—i learned for my dad.” you whispered back.
your eyes close at the bitter memories and pain but his hold on you made you steady.
“back when things were... different. when he still pretended to be normal with a regular job and everything. i spent hours watching tutorials of how to tie a tie even practicing on anything i could find even my teddy bear once and i wanted to surprise him that if i helped fix his tie just right he’d see me.”
a sad smile takes over your face as you look down at jungkook's chest, your fingers twisting the fabric nervously as you think of how you got the idea itself to do it from one of the movies you watched where the daughter helps her father fix his tie and he always gives her hugs and so much of his love and little naive you so yearning for her father's love had thought she could try.
“i thought he'd see me, he'd say something like ‘thank you’ or ‘good girl’ or just... acknowledge me. it took me so many tries jungkook so many, where the knot would come loose and i struggled but i kept going because i wanted his love so badly.”
a whimper leaves you as jungkook doesn't speak a word, letting you finish but you could feel the tension on him, you couldn't lift your eyes to meet his yet and his grip on you tightens as you take a deep breath before continuing.
“and even when i finally helped him every day he never said a word, not a single one as if it didn't even faze him and he even ended up yelling at me one day for messing up one of his ties—it hurt so much that i pushed it away and eventually stopped doing it, stopped looking for his validation and i almost forgot how to do it entirely... until you.”
your eyes snap up to meet his finally as you finish, your bottom lip quivers at the memory and how dumb you were to think you could win your father's love and the countless tries you'd done ever since you were a kid and failed every time and you blamed yourself and asked yourself if the fault was on you that you were not a good daughter and that's why he didn't love you. why couldn't he love you like your school friend's father did? like the fathers in books and movies who'd give up everything for their little girls? where did you go wrong?
that was until jungkook and now how he appreciated even the smallest bit of you and how he loved you so unconditionally even when you hated him and pushed him away one day, how you mattered in his eyes and maybe… that was when all together you learned that no one should chase behind love. the one who's supposed to love you and truly adores you would always come running for you no matter what, no matter the circumstance. you were learning more every day.
jungkook's eyes were darkened with anger and such sorrow as his hands cradled your face tenderly as he could so clearly see you as the little girl who's been neglected so badly always. he leans down and kisses some of your tears away, his jaw clenching with the rage he felt towards your father.
“oh my sweet baby...” he breathes.
he wished he could give you the moon if he could and all the love this world could provide you until you forgot that lowlife of a father who never deserved a precious daughter like you in the first place. this made jungkook see red just like the day when he attacked your father.
“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.”
he murmured apologies as if it were his own fault that you went through all this trauma.
“i'm so sorry he was too blind to see what was right in front of him, you were a kid trying so hard and giving everything, he didn't deserve a single second of it but i see you yeah? i see you every goddamn day my angel.”
he makes sure you look directly in his eyes and soak in every bit of his words so you understand as he continues even fiercely.
“you're perfect, you hear me? perfect in ways he could never even dream of understanding and i'm never ever going to take that for granted. you've healed parts of me i didn't even know were broken just by being you you got that? tell me you get it.” he pleaded.
“jungkook.” you whimper and shake your head.
“tell me you do.”
he begs, he wants you to know how special you are and he's going to make sure of it.
“i do, i do.”
you let out a muffled cry as his lips meet yours so you'd know how much he means each of his words.
when you finally pulled back, he tried distracting you and put your hands on his tie making you let out a teary smile as you sniffled and decided to focus on your present because it was yours. you carefully did it with practiced precision, rising onto your tiptoes to reach properly as he bent a bit too so you could work confidently. his height always made these moments so intimate and his sheer size made you bite your lower lip as you adjusted the tie and his hands settled on your waist to steady you then slipped beneath the hem, tracing the shape of your hips dangerously close to your still bare heat.
“y—you always distract me when i’m trying to do something.”
“do i?”
he acts innocent making you huff but the flush in your cheeks was undeniable as he watched you the entire time as a soft chuckle left him from having to bend so much.
“always need to bend for my tiny wife hmm?” he teases you warmly.
“so tiny and so fucking cute, i might have to get on my knees just to let you reach soon.” he smirks.
you pouted up at him, cheeks burning with fake anger even as a laugh bubbled out of you as now the sadness from earlier has disappeared into something playful.
“heyy it's not my fault that you're literally a giant.” you retorted.
you swatted lightly at his chest.
“some of us are normal sized you know? not everyone can be a walking giant jungkook.”
he laughs loudly at that as he pulls you closer, looking at your adorable point as his hands slide down to grope your ass playfully making you yelp as your eyes widen.
“giant? i'll take it.” he grins.
“it means you get the best view from up here watching you getting all cute and it means i can do this whenever i want.” he grumbles.
he kneads your ass with no shame at all, pulling you flush against him so you can feel the hard evidence of his arousal that always seems to be there when you're near him.
“stop it!” you giggled.
half heartedly pushing at his shoulders.
“i'm not gonna tie your tie anymore, do it yourself!” you exclaimed,
“oh no you don’t.” he growled playfully.
he went to grab you again but you already ducked under his arm and bolted from his grasp, laughter spilling from you as you darted out of the bedroom and ran downstairs.
“you're not escaping that easily baby. come back here!”
you glanced over your shoulder and stuck your tongue out naughtily.
“catch me if you can!”
you called breathlessly with laughter as you rounded the corner into the living room. you ran feeling all carefree with that playfulness that jungkook always managed to coax out of you. he didn't even run fully, just his big strides were enough to catch up to you effortlessly closing the gap so suddenly and you nearly tripped over the edge of the rug in excitement with a yelp escaping you as you stumbled forward but his arms were there instantly, wrapping around you from behind and catching you securely.
he spins you around in a whirl, your legs lifting off the ground as you let out a happy screech laughing so hard that your stomach hurts and his own laughter mixes with yours as the world spins in circles. bam comes rushing at the chaos and barks excitedly at the scene and jumps on jungkook's legs, tail wagging as he thinks it was all a game and he wanted to be part of it, it all added to the madness. breathless and dizzy from laughter jungkook finally slowed before pulling you up so your legs wrap around his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck and you buried your face in his neck, breathing hard from the adrenaline and he held you close, one hand supporting your thighs as his own laughter faded into small chuckles.
“caught you.” he murmurs.
these past few weeks have been emotional for both of you and seeing you happy like this makes everything worth it and he's successfully taken your mind off your father.
“fuck i love hearing you laugh like this. it's the best sound in the world.”
you clung tighter, nuzzling into him as your fingers buried in his man bun.
“you have to leave soon...” you whispered sadly.
you didn't want him to go but you couldn't voice that because you didn't want to sound overly clingy but you both have been inseparable for weeks and him suddenly leaving reminds you of all the bad times like something might separate you both again and the way jungkook held you hard enough to hurt, it was sure that he didn't want to go too. jungkook groaned and he carried you. a few steps pressing you against the nearest wall for leverage.
“you think i wanna leave you?” he rasps.
“sweet thing, i'm going to be crazy without you. i'm going to think of you in my shirt all fucking day. you think it's easy for me? all i want to do is strip this suit off and throw you over my shoulder and spend the day buried inside you making you scream until you forget everything but my name.”
he speaks each word from all his fantasies as if nothing in the world existed but you. his words send fire inside you until you feel like you're burning as you whimper, your eyes growing half lidded with a want that you don't even need to voice for him to understand.
you wanted him to do exactly what he said. he cups one of your boobs under your shirt, making you arch into him.
“goshh jungkook.”
you gripped his wrist weakly as you glanced down at bam who was still watching curiously, not leaving the scene yet.
“bam’s right here… he’s staring.”
jungkook followed your gaze then smirked wickedly not stopping his ministrations as he pinched your nipple lightly, drawing a moan from you.
“let him stare.” he mutters.
he leans in to capture your lips, tonguing you.
“his mama’s just getting some lovings and i’m sure he wouldn’t mind that would he? isn’t that right boy?”
bam blinks innocently at his question as jungkook tweaks one of your nipples between his thumb and you try to push him away but your body betrays you as your hips rock slightly toward him on their own as he gropes both of your breasts just because he can and squeezes sharply enough for your back to lift.
“i don't want to leave you like this... needy and wanting—”
you didn't let him finish his words and pulled him in for another kiss by pulling at his shirt because you didn't want to waste any more time and he let out a guttural noise at your desperation as he ground subtly against your stomach, touching you all he wanted before he had to leave tangling in your hair and your back. his hands were everywhere and you were lost in it, not even able to breathe as you messily kissed each other and made noises, kissing like it was the end of the world.
he finally pulls back and you pant and look up at him with hooded eyes, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and he groans.
“don't do that. don't fucking do that…”
he's about to combust and he brushes your bottom lip to fix it as he looks away and closes his eyes to breathe in and out a few times to control himself.
“i’ll be back soon..” he says again.
eyes laced with sinful intent as he places one last hard kiss so hard that it almost bruises your lips then he sets you down gently and adjusts his suit with a glance in the mirror and he looks reluctant. you followed him to the main door, worry still in your face despite knowing your husband is strong enough to handle everything but you couldn’t help it.
“be careful…”
you reached up to smooth a wrinkle on his shirt, hand lingering there.
“please.” you whisper.
he caught your hand, pressing a kiss against your hand and then one on top of your promise ring.
“i will, i promise.” he murmurs.
“i’ve got you to come home to.. nothing’s taking me away again okay?”
“i’m gonna text you.”
you nod and he caresses your cheek one last time before placing a kiss against your forehead, squeezing your hand and he steps out closing the door behind him, leaving you standing there with his touch and scent clinging to you like a second skin. you stood there for a long moment as your heart ached at the sudden emptiness in the space he occupied. he's only been gone for a few minutes but it feels like hours and you watch through the tall windows as his black car disappears in the driveway and you pray in your heart that he returns to you safely as you try your best to push the thought of his accident away.
he's going to be okay. he will.
you exhale and force yourself away from the mirror as you pad toward the kitchen. your pussy is still tingling from the earlier frenzy in the bathroom. bam distracts you who is already waiting by his bowl for his mealtime and he looks up at you with big eyes as you appear and it loosens something in your chest. you crouch down, scratching behind his ears the way jungkook does and he barks and licks at your palm.
“hey, my sweet boy.” you murmur.
“did daddy leave you too huh? he left both of us didn’t he?”
you giggle as he licks at your hand again as you busy yourself with his food and refilling his water as you sit cross legged on the ground while he eats, running your fingers through his fur. a few hours pass like that with you playing with bam once he finishes eating and you even read a book with him beside you.
that’s when your phone buzzes on the counter where you’ve left it, pulling your attention to it as you stand and almost skip your way to your phone. the sight of his name makes you smile wide with giddiness as your cheeks flush as you see the contact labeled ‘husband 🤍’ something that he saved during a playful moment between you both.
you press the phone to your chest, your heart doing that fluttering thing again.
meanwhile jungkook in his office is like a king back on his throne as employees at the sight of him rush past, conversations dying mid sentence as he passes. the receptionist stammers a good morning that he doesn’t return and he hasn’t been here in weeks and the absence of his presence has let a certain relaxation creep in.
well that ends today or worse.
his assistant almost ends up falling back in front of his intimidating presence as she updates him about the schedules and he bids her away with a wave of his hand. he enters his corner of the office after attending a meeting where he ended up making a grown man piss his pants and he got angry at the lack of work and only one stare of his dark eyes was enough for them to get back into work.
he loosens his collar and drops into his chair with a heavy inhale and pulls out his phone again, his thumb brushing over the heart you last sent him. just the small emoji was enough for a smile to tug at his mouth but work wasn’t any simpler and he continued being ruthless. he knows he's being harsher than necessary but the frustration of leaving you alone at home and coming to work needed an outlet and these people are paid to take it.
even as he works, his mind never gets off you and every time he thinks of the moment between you and him in the bathroom, it makes him hard once again which he tries to hide with a hand in his pocket and binge smoked. how pretty you looked while cumming for him and your noises. he's going crazy without you. he catches himself staring at nothing, pen tapping against the desk wondering what you're doing right now probably still with bam.
that’s when the door opens without a knock and only one person would dare to do that, was taehyung, who walks in with a grin already in place.
“well look who’s back from the dead.”
jungkook glances up and his expression softens just a fraction.
“tae.” he acknowledges.
taehyung drops into the chair across from him.
“heard you were scaring the interns again. one of them looked like he was about to cry.”
jungkook snorts, leaning back.
“they’ll live.”
taehyung studies him for a moment, the grin fading into something more serious.
“how’s your head? really?”
jungkook shrugs, cracking his fists.
“fine scars healed and i don’t get headaches anymore.”
he pauses and then adds, almost quietly.
“she took care of me a lot you know?”
taehyung's brows lift.
“yeah? the past few weeks… how have they been?”
jungkook's gaze drifts to the window as he reaches for his cigarettes and lights one with a lighter as he goes deep in thought.
“like breathing for the first time in years.” he says with genuine emotion.
“she didn’t leave my side and took care of me nursing me like i’m a damn kid. even when i had occasional fevers at night, she stayed up several nights too.”
he exhales the smoke as his brows peak at the center.
“i woke up every morning, and she was there, she never left me.”
taehyung watches him quietly, no teasing now.
“i thought i’d lost her for good too.” jungkook continues almost to himself.
“when she walked out… i thought that was it that i'd fucked up beyond repair but she came back and she's still choosing me.”
his voice cracks as his fingers tighten around the cigarette.
“i’m not letting her go again ever.”
taehyung leans forward.
“when did you realize she’s the one for you?” he asked a question that he's been thinking about.
“july 21st when i first saw her, i knew she's the one wearing that brown sweater as she fed that puppy.” jungkook breathes.
“you remember the fucking date?”
jungkook huffs out a laugh but there's no real humor in it.
“only for her. everyone else can still go to hell.”
they talk for a while longer. taehyung updates him on smaller deals he handled in jungkook's absence and jungkook listens with half an ear while his thoughts stays on you. eventually taehyung stands, clapping him on the shoulder.
“don’t work too hard. go home to your wife.”
as taehyung was about to leave, jungkook called for him.
“thank you for everything and for telling y/n everything.”
it was awkward for jungkook to thank him because he's never done that but well, this falls into another of the many things that have changed in him since you came into his life. he couldn’t imagine his life without you or taehyung.
taehyung's lips curve up slightly and he nods because the only thing he ever wanted was for jungkook to be happy in his life and he was glad that jungkook was finally getting that but taehyung only hoped jungkook didn’t lose himself in the process like he did when you left him because his love could be madness too.
and taehyung prayed that this madness wouldn’t end up killing him one day.
a few more hours go by with meetings and calls and by late afternoon jungkook has had enough because his entire being hurt from missing you. he keeps glancing at the last few texts you both shared like a lovesick puppy and he couldn’t help it as he stands abruptly in the middle of a presentation.
“we’re done.” he finally says.
as the room freezes, he's already walking out before anyone can respond.
in the car he tells the driver to drive fast as he leans back and thinks of you waiting for him at home because one day he despised going home too early from work because it was too quiet and too lonely so he'd spend the majority of his time in his office but now the only thing he looked forward to
he's coming home to you and nothing else matters.
jungkook pushed through the front door of the house as he paused for a moment and called your name softly at first.
“baby?”
and then louder when there was no immediate response
“y/n i’m home!”
but he was only greeted by silence with no sounds of your footsteps or your sweet voice and his heart stuttered slightly as he felt panic surge through him. the same fear that had haunted him since the accident still didn’t fully leave him—that he’d come home and you’d be gone again that you’d finally realized you deserved better and left him.
his eyes darted frantically around the living room as his breaths came shorter, fists clenching at his sides. it’s all his fault, he shouldn’t have left you alone. he forced himself to move toward the kitchen wanting any signs and then he saw it on the table: the newly cooked food which made him stop dead in his tracks.
the plate of food you'd prepared for him and kept covered with plastic wrap to keep it warm for when he comes home to eat it. beside the plate sat his evening medicines lined up in the little pill organizer and the sight hit him hard, replacing the panic with such gratitude. you’d done this for him even when he wasn’t here when you shouldn’t have. even when mrs. kim was there, you wanted to cook for jungkook specifically and it made him feel so utterly seen in a way he’d never known before you.
that's when the sound of the running water reached him from upstairs and relief washed over him so hard that his knees buckled because you were here. you were home. you were waiting for him and he moved without wasting time, taking two steps at a time.
you kept the bathroom door ajar thinking you were home alone so you didn’t bother as you stood under the rainfall showerhead, your eyes closed peacefully, your head tilted back so you didn’t hear him. jungkook froze at the sight of you all bare wet body, your breasts with hard nipples. a water droplet clung to one of your nubs before falling away and then continuing down your stomach to the mold between your legs. an almost pleasurable look on your face as you signed because you felt too relaxed and it caused jungkook's jaw to clench. you looked like a goddess under the spray and jungkook could only stand there transfixed as his eyes devoured every inch of you.
he could never get enough of you.
this moment reminds me that he was about to lose you, that he might have died that day in that accident. his chest ached, that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the love of a man who knew he didn’t deserve you but would spend every day trying to be worthy of him. how had a monster like him, stained with too much darkness been given this angel who cooked his meals, took care of him and showered in his bathroom with the door unlocked because she trusted him completely?
he must have shifted or breathed heavily because you turned suddenly, eyes widening as you gasped.
“jungkook!”
your voice came out breathless as your arms hovered getting the urge to instinctively cover yourself but they lowered because it was just jungkook even though the shyness didn’t fully leave you but you were getting used to it as your fingers fidgeted in front of you.
“when did you get home? i didn’t hear you come in, i was just… finishing up.”
he couldn’t answer immediately as his eyes locked onto your breasts rising and falling with your quickened breaths as he stepped fully into the bathroom then let the door click shut behind him, his clothes getting all wet but he couldn’t care about anything except you. he missed you so much even if you both have been apart for only a few hours. you shifted under his intense gaze, wrapping your arms around yourself now self consciously as you grew more fidgety when he didn’t talk.
“talk to me koo… you’re scaring me.”
finally he found his voice as he closed the distance.
“i can’t believe it.” he rasped.
“i can't fucking believe a bastard like me got someone as beautiful as you for a wife that you're here in my shower, waiting for me like this, g—god my chest...”
he pressed a hand over his heart, his brows furrowing in pain.
“it hurts baby. it hurts how much i don't deserve you, how lucky i am that you stayed.” he breathes shakily.
“oh jungkook… come here.”
you could only provide him all the love that he deserved through your actions.
“i missed you so much today. all day just thinking about you coming home.”
“i missed you more than you know.” he murmurs.
he took your hand and pulled you into him as your naked body pressed to his clothed one as you yelped your breasts crushed against his hard chest as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. he hooked one of your legs around his waist, effortlessly lifting you slightly off the tile so you were held completely against him as you gripped his shoulders.
“hmm tell me about your day angel.”
he breathed against your ear, loving the feel of your body against his after being separated as he pressed a kiss against your earlobe.
“what did my pretty wife do while i was gone?”
you flushed but didn’t mention how lonely it has been without him so you mentioned the other details as your fingers curled over his wet shirt.
“i cooked for you, took care of bam… just waited. how was your day? you look exhausted.”
he growled as his forehead dropped to yours as he inhaled your scent like he was starving, his body pressed even closer to the water making his clothed body transparent.
“wanted to kill every single person in that building.” he confessed darkly.
he breathes hotly against your lips, his hands slide down to grab your ass and squeeze it earning a moan from you.
“held back only because i couldn’t wait to get home to you… the day felt like hell without you.”
you cooed and leaned closer to him as his nose nudged against your cheek and you felt the way his body slightly trembled, not from the cold but from the relief of having you close to him again. he captures your lip and tongue sliding into your mouth as his mouth does those swirly sex motions that always make you feel dizzy and your clit throbs in response as you clutch at his shoulders.
the water continued pouring over both of your entwined bodies as you couldn’t help the needy noises that escaped every time your nipples brushed against the hard texture of his suit. you whimpered into the kiss and arched into him seeking more of the contact, your hips rolling subtly against his thigh where he still held your leg hooked around his waist, the position opening you up completely.
“uh… hm…”
you make muffled noises as his free hand roams upward cupping your breast, his thumb lazily rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger until you're gasping into his mouth and pull away to breathe. you notice his suit becoming even more destroyed from the way you're fisting it and from the water that you didn’t notice in the haze of pleasure.
“koo... your suit…”
you managed to breathe out between kisses, you knew how much he hated ruining his clothes especially suits but he only chuckled against your lips at your words.
“fuck the suit.”
he mutters, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulls back.
“worth every damn penny if it means i get your sexy body ruining it all”
he grumbles against your neck trailing kisses there, biting and sucking as your head falls back giving him more access as his hand kneads your ass in time too.
“ahh jungkook.”
you whined as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and you were pretty sure the marks on your neck would never fade because he always puts new ones on top of old ones.
“you want me baby?”
shivers go down your spine at his question as you nod desperately.
“i want to hear you say it.” he grunts.
“yes i do please…”
your hips meet him and his own buck against your pussy and he could feel how you're dripping despite the water falling on both of you.
“let me check how wet your cunt is for me, yeah?”
his hand didn’t stop there, sliding down with intent as his fingers disappeared between your thighs where you were already slick and he glided through your folds with ease as he spread your arousal and circled your clit. you cry out softly as his thumb presses against your clit before moving just touching lightly enough for you to grind against his hand to search for more as your legs tighten around his waist to pull him closer. his cock pressed against you as he breathed harshly.
“so wet for me aren’t you?”
his fingers traced along your slit, never dipping inside as he watched your face contort and your lips part.
“my good girl waiting all day getting this pussy ready for me without even knowing it.” he growls.
“please… more koo ngh—”
your head falls back against the tile as your free leg is barely able to hold your weight as he touches you and he groans at your plea.
his tongue thrusts into your mouth in time with the way his fingers tormented you sweetly below, dipping almost inside your heat just enough to stretch you before retreating and rubbing your clit instead. he continues doing it cupping your pussy and never giving you the relief you want as you become a shaking mess but he almost does it willingly as if he just wants the relief of touching you as he pulls back and you cling to him with what little strength you have.
“just want to feel you skin to skin baby.” he whispers so longingly that you nod against him.
he undressed swiftly then peeled away all his clothing before pulling you back into his arms as you both stood under the shower hugging each other.
the desire didn’t fully fade but it did give in to the need of just touching each other and holding the other close after the separation because of all the traumas and panics. you both took turns washing each other and just touching and kissing until the world outside faded and it was only the two of you.
intertwined always.
after a shower, jungkook decided to take you to the home library and your heart feels lighter at the smell of paper as he follows close behind you, both of your hair still wet and clinging to your backs.
the room steals your breath again because you still can't believe it, every detail of the room library feels deliberate like he built this space from inside your heart without you ever telling him the exact shape of it like he just always knew it like the back of his hand. you stop in the middle of the room turning slowly taking it all in again even though you've been here before like the night of his first nightmare but seeing it now in the light of day hits differently as tears glisten in your eyes as you press your fingers to your lips, trying to hold it back but the tears come anyway slipping down your cheeks before you can stop them.
jungkook is at your side in an instant, his hand settling on your shoulders turning you towards him.
“hey... baby, what's wrong?”
his thumb brushes a tear away.
“did i.. did i do something wrong? if you don't like it, we can change anything just tell me—"
“no.”
you choke out, shaking your head quickly as a watery laugh escapes you.
“no jungkook, it's perfect. it's so perfect i don't even know what to say.”
you look up at him and the words tumble out before you can stop them.
“you built this for me with your own hands, and i still can't believe it...” you whimper.
his expression softens as he cups your face in both hands, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
“i'd build a hundred more if it made you cry happy tears instead of sad ones.” he murmurs.
“i started it soon after you left. i couldn't sleep, couldn't think or do anything except miss you so much that i was going crazy and i remember how your eyes lit up for books and even in your diary you mentioned a home library and that's your dream.. so i had to.”
he pauses and looks at you with such emotion.
“i thought… i'd make this for you. if i gave you the one thing you wanted most maybe you'd come back… t—that you'd forgive me and see how serious i am, how much i love you and how sorry i am.”
your breath catches as you step forward without wasting time and wrap your arms around his waist and press your face against his and shed your tears against him.
“i don't deserve you.” you sob.
“i feel like such a crybaby right now but i can't help it. i never thought i'd ever have something like this not even in my dreams—my own library and you built it with your own hands… you even hurt yourself while building it didn't you?”
he chuckles as he tightens his arms around you, cradling the back of your head.
“just a few cuts here and there.” he admits.
“nothing dramatic but yeah… every cut, every time i did something wrong and had to start over, i just kept thinking about how you'd look standing right here and it's worth every drop of blood baby.”
his words were more true than anything because when he was a broken man building the library for you for days, he'd imagined this exact moment.. he wanted to see happiness in you for completing one of your dreams among so many more he's going to complete in the future.
seeing you like this makes everything worth it.
“don't cry anymore baby.. you know it hurts me. i already made you cry enough.”
you fist his shirt and let out a chuckle between your tears but you couldn't stop your tears as you felt so overwhelmed.
you sniffled and smiled.
“i love it. i love every single thing about it and—”
you stop yourself, cheeks flushing because the words were there on the tip of your tongue and instead you rise on your toes and kiss him pouring everything you can't say into it and he kisses you back like he understands anyway.
“come on.” he says, taking your hand in his.
“let me show you around properly.”
he leads you along the shelves, pointing out details with a pride that makes your chest hurt in the best way.
“i had someone ship all the books from your old place—the ones your father didn't throw out anyways. they're all here and i also made sure not a single one of your belongings was there anymore.”
he stops at one section, pointing to a set of books.
“and these… i remembered the authors you mentioned. i might've gone a little overboard.”
he mutters almost sheepishly because there are dozens or hundreds of new special editions of books by your favorite authors, you've only ever seen in pictures online.
you notice the small details he's even put like a small brass plaque on one shelf that reads 'read' or 'to be read' along with genres too so it's easy for you to sort out and you can recognize them well.
you're crying again by the time he finishes the tour and he pulls you down onto the wide cushioned window seat, settling you between his legs so your back rests against his chest and one of your favorite books is already waiting on the side table as if he just knew what you wanted to read next.
“shh no more crying now sweet girl or i'm gonna start to think you hate it.”
“read to me?”
he asks attempting to distract you and make you enjoy yourself as he presses a soft kiss against the side of your face.
“i love hearing your voice.”
you nod and open the book with trembling fingers as you start reading aloud, soon very slowly you get soaked in the book just like it happens every time and being surrounded by books makes it even more special.
jungkook listens in complete silence, chin resting on your shoulder occasionally pressing a kiss against your neck. every so often he asks a question that proves that he's paying all his attention: “is this the part that always makes you cry?” and more questions each time you answer him
the two of you lost in the story and in each other.
time goes on like that as the room goes darker as you keep on reading and he doesn't move an inch until you're leaning fully against him while he holds you. you spend time kissing his hands too, kissing each of his scars that has almost healed, he's got them in the process of making the library because every single one of his efforts and every shelf built by him said the same thing.
i see you, i love you and i'm not going anywhere.
and for the first time you start to believe it might be true.
once the reading session in the library was over, he decided to head to the kitchen to make you something and he turns to you with that soft smile only ever reserved for you and carries the two mugs over, handing you with yours before settling down beside you.
“here baby, i made you some hot chocolate, extra chocolatey like you prefer.” he murmurs affectionately.
you took a sip and let out a contented hum at the rich taste, smiling up at him as you nestled closer and his free hand traced circles on your back.
“finally having something other than coffee yeah?” he quips.
you gasp and push at his chest with a laugh.
“can't blame you though because i'm just as much of a coffee addict now.”
he took a sip from his own mug watching you as you talked for a while like that about nothing and everything as he talked more about the library and how he sorted each book, his thoughtfulness wouldn't stop making butterflies flutter in your stomach. especially at the belief he had that you'd come back no matter what.
he believed that mostly.
from the library he suggested moving to the indoor garden and you both walked there hand in hand with bam trotting ahead of you as he sensed the shift in routine because usually you'd visit here all alone but now jungkook tagged along and he was ecstatic about the fact that his parents were together. you paused looking at the lilies that were just growing when you last saw them but now they were in full bloom and they'd grown so much. jungkook grabbed the watering can from the shelf and filled it as you stood beside him and took turns pouring water over the soil.
“look at them.” you said, leaning down to touch one petal of the lily.
“they're so beautiful now. bigger than i ever imagined.”
you glanced up at him and he set the can down to rest a hand against your shoulder as he swayed you gently.
“yeah, just like us.” he says, almost quietly enough for you to not hear him.
because it was the truth just as the flowers have bloomed, your relationship has bloomed from the ground up despite everything and now it looks so complete.
“my mom… she loved lilies so much.” you whispered as you thought about the past memories and how your dad ruined every good thing in her life.
“i haven't seen lilies planted like this since i was little.”
your voice cracked, tears welling up unexpectedly as you turned to face jungkook.
“do you think… she'll ever be fine jungkook? really fine? will she come back… to me from the coma?”
he pulled you closer immediately, one hand stroking your back as he pressed several kisses against your forehead.
“look at me y/n.” he says fiercely as he cups your cheek.
“she will be fine. i know it. she's strong like you and now she's getting the best treatment. she will come back to us baby. i believe it with everything i have. we'll make sure of it you get me?”
you nodded and swallowed, his words giving you new hope and he told them as if he believed your mom would be okay one day and you clung to it. he guided you to the wooden bench, pulling you into his lap as you both sat as bam came up and nuzzled between you both, tail wiggling happily as jungkook leaned over to pet his head while keeping you secure in his arms.
“look at this guy. he thinks it's playtime.”
jungkook's expression turns nostalgic as he glances around.
“i used to watch you from up there you know.”
he pointed upward to the huge window on the wall, the one overlooking his home office upstairs.
“you and bam would sit right here every afternoon and you’d play with him or read to him... just here even when you hated me so much and i'd stand at the window just watching, telling myself one day you'd see me differently.”
your bottom lip wobbles at the vulnerability in his voice as you shift and cup his cheek, brushing back one of his hairs that escaped from his man bun.
“i see you now.” you reassured.
“i see all of you—the man who built this for me, who planted flowers and loved me when i couldn't love myself… i see you.”
you kissed his cheeks, his jaw and his neck, wherever skin you could find as he let out a shaky exhale, gripping your waist as his own lips trailed up and down your collarbone. that's when your phone rings loudly enough to cut through the peaceful romantic bubble you and jungkook were in and you pause pulling it out, a frown on your face as you see the screen. it was everything you didn't expect.
it was your father.
your stomach twisted as you looked at jungkook whose expression darkened instantly as he saw it too.
“don't pick it up.”
he said immediately as he held you protectively as if the sheer sight of your dad calling you made him doubt.
“he doesn't deserve a second of your time y/n.”
you hesitated as your heart pounded but something in you, the new strength he'd helped you find, pushed at you especially after your last visit at your father's place and the way he brainwashed you.
“i... i need to. just this once please. i got this.”
you gave him a comforting look, squeezing his hand and he nodded reluctantly though his eyes burned with anger as you hit accept and put it on speaker.
“hello?”
you said cautiously, the shakiness still present in your voice, a habit you had since you were a kid whenever you had to talk to your father.
“finally i've been calling. what the hell are you doing back with that psycho? i thought that night i'd told you enough about what he really is.” he spat.
“i thought you'd have some sense but you're just a dumb little girl aren't you? wait and watch till that fucker breaks you worse.”
jungkook's grip on you tightens, his veins standing out as he hears every word and he fights all his limits to not snatch that phone from your hand and give your father a good response but he stays silent for the sake of you and lets you handle it.
at your father's words, suddenly years of your suppressed pain started unleashing. 'dumb little girl' no, you were not that. jungkook reminded you several times that you were a strong woman who could stand up for herself and the more your father talked about jungkook, the more you saw red.
“no.” you said firmly, faster and then louder.
“no stop, just stop.” you exclaimed.
“you don't get to talk about him like that. don't you dare! jungkook is my husband and he's the only one who's ever truly loved me and you? you only ever used me, hurt me and took advantage of every bit of love i tried to give you. you tried to hurt my mom and made me the one person who was fighting for us both and for what?” your voice shakes as you go on.
your father sputters, shocked because you never talked back to him no matter what.
“what did you just—?”
“i'm not done!” you shouted.
“today you'll listen to me.” you breathed harshly.
“let me make one thing clear: stay away from me and my mom and from jungkook. i mean it, you sold me to him like i was nothing and now i'm happier than i've ever been. what do you want? to ruin it too huh?”
“i'm not a weak little girl. i never was because that was what you turned me into and i'll never be the girl you can manipulate once again and if you dare come near us again, if you try anything, i won't stop jungkook this time if he hurts you. just leave us alone! i'm finally happy and stop trying to take that from me.”
you were screaming and choking in your sobs while you were done going on and on unleashing everything you've ever stored in your chest, all the sorrow coming out as your father remains speechless on the other side for the first time in your life, shocked at the woman you are now that you stand up for yourself and he cannot break you because he can't. you don't even want to consider him your father anymore. you always thought he might change, that he might one day but no he wouldn't and he's gone to his limits and you don't want to have any contact with him.
jungkook's eyes were filled with rawness at the way you called him your husband, emotions and pride in his face as he watched you rage at your father. he pulled you closer, holding you tighter as he stroked your hair letting you cry against him as he didn't say anything for a while and let you just cry it out. you dropped the phone and cried harder and loudly as your whole body shook from the impact.
“shh baby, shhh.” he whispered.
he rocked you both gently in a soothing way as if you were a baby, cradling you.
“you did it. you did so fucking right. i'm so proud of you.” he coaxed.
“if he ever hurts you again, i won’t hold back. i’d kill him without a second thought but you... god, you were so strong so incredible.”
he couldn't hold back his words he wanted you to know that no matter what, he'd go to every extent to protect you and even if it meant having you hate him again.
“i don't care anymore. i hate him.. i hate him so much. i was so blind and i didn't see how much you cared and how you even fought for mom. i'm sorry jungkook. i wouldn't blame you, not ever.” you gasp loudly.
he pulled back to cup your face and thumbs wiped your tears roughly as his eyes burned into yours.
“don't you dare apologize you hear me? he doesn't deserve your tears.”
he kissed you deeply as you both tasted each other's tears as his tongue explored your mouth, kissing you until you got lost in him.
“no one will take you from me again.” he swears.
he nuzzled your nose, whispering fierce promises between kisses.
“you're so brave, so damn brave angel.”
bam who leans into you sensing your sadness, you held onto them together as your tears slow. you knew in your heart that you believed jungkook and all his words.
a few days have passed since then and it was well past midnight when you lay curled against him in bed.
jungkook was spooning you from behind, one arm draped over your waist as his fingers traced circles on your stomach as the sheets tangled around your thighs. his breath was slow against your neck but you could tell he wasn't asleep due to his movements and you sighed softly, pressing back into him and he responded by tightening his hold. the quiet was comfortable, the kind that didn't need filling but after a long moment he spoke up.
“baby...” he murmured.
“are you awake?”
you hummed, turning your head slightly so your cheek brushed his.
“mhm can't sleep?”
he exhaled almost a laugh and shifted, looking down at you.
“not really been thinking..”
his fingers resumed their touches along your waist.
“wanna go for a drive?”
you blinked surprised, twisting fully to face him.
“a drive? now?”
“yeah.” he quips.
“just... nowhere... just a drive.”
“been stuck inside too long and i miss going out with you.”
you smiled at the way he said it like it was the simplest thing in the world like taking you out in the middle of the night was something he'd been craving but as he mentioned that it made you feel anxiety because these days when he went to the office, it was his driver taking him.
“kook are you sure you want to drive? after—"
“i'm sure.”
he cut in gently after reading your expression.
“i promise sweetheart and i want him. we can even get food if we stop somewhere. does that sound good?” he grins, trying to lighten the mood.
“come on let me take my wife on a proper midnight date.”
you searched his face and after a moment you nodded, unable to resist the hope in his eyes.
“okay.” you whispered.
“but if you even get a little tired, we’re turning around.”
he beamed like you handed him the world and stole a quick kiss before rolling out of the bed to put on a simple black t-shirt and jeans. you smiled at how happy and excited he looked as you went for a simple yet casual light pink top that reveals a bit of your stomach and shorts, something he'd brought you months ago and it was revealing but still modest in a cute way, something that made you feel light and pretty and left your hair down.
when you stepped in the garage holding his hand, he knelt to slip your sandals on for you and he bent down for you. he held the car door open for you with an exaggerated bow that made you laugh and blush at the same time and once you got in, he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine as your hand gripped his nervously, he glanced at you.
“i need to tell you something.” he says before he starts the car.
“about the accident.”
you tensed but he squeezed your hand tenderly.
“when i crashed... i woke up and my head was bleeding glass everywhere and i was in so much pain i could barely move but the only thing in my head was your name over and over even in that state.”
he pauses and swallows, looking at the front.
“i broke the window with my elbow and climbed out and i didn't even know how i ended up at mrs. hand's place. i was half conscious. the only thing in my mind was to get to you and i was whispering your name like if i stopped i'd just… die.”
tears welled in your eyes instantly as you shook your head at the painful reminder.
“jungkook stop—”
“i need you to know.” he says almost fiercely.
“i've seen death close way worse than that night. this? this was nothing because it brought me back to you heck, i would've died that night if it wasn't for you, you saved me.”
he glanced at you.
“i'd do it a hundred times if it meant ending up at your door.”
you were crying quietly now, reaching across to cup his cheek as you didn't even want to imagine what would have happened to him that night if you didn't decide to look out the window and you wouldn't even know what happened to him. it hurts too much to even think of it and you thank the gods because he's okay.
“don't say that please.” you hiccuped.
“it's okay baby, i'm okay, we're okay i want you to know that yeah? no more fears.”
he places a kiss against the promise ring before he starts to drive and he rolls the windows down to let the cool night air rush in. you let your head fall back against the seat as his hand rested on your bare thigh and he smiled, looking at how the tension from earlier seemed to melt from you and now from him as well as he rubbed your thigh slightly.
“you enjoying?” he questions
“i like quiet with you.” you reply cheekily.
“good because i plan on keeping you right here for a long time.”
he promised.
several minutes pass and the drive continues as you let out a sigh and jungkook manspreads, feeling all relaxed as one of the straps of your slip slightly slips down your shoulder as the wind caresses your hair. jungkook drives with one hand, the other hand still gripping your thigh possessively and his fingers almost brush close to your inner thigh making goosebumps spread all over you as you try to breathe through it.
jungkook also put on slow music on the speakers that turned sensual too as if sensing the sudden shift in the moment and you looked at how sexy and effortless jungkook looks while driving with one hand and it made your heart race. the tension had been there for days, the constant touches and kisses left him aching for more. you glanced at him admiring the sharp line of his jaw, hoping he wouldn't notice as you noticed the curve of his lips that hinted at the mischief of his thoughts and you looked away before he caught you staring, feeling yourself get nervous and excited whenever he's in a playful mood.
after what feels like an eternity, his hand on your thigh intertwines with yours using his thumb to rub the back of it and after a while of driving, he finally slows the car veering off the main road to a secluded place that is hidden by trees and bushes—the kind of spot that's far from prying eyes or passing vehicles and it's also already very dark outside, he cuts off the engine. he turns to you then a half smirk on his lips as they roam over your form, the way the top had ridden up from where you're seated angled toward him, legs tucked slightly and his voice comes out husky, it makes your legs clench together.
“remember that time you told me you don't know how to drive baby?” he murmurs.
he leans closer, breath brushing your cheek as he reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt slowly.
“you said all shy and cute that one day you'd like me to teach you how you've always wanted to learn but never got the chance.”
you nod slowly as your cheeks turn pink, thinking about the confession. jungkook pats his thigh invitingly which is still manspreading.
“well tonight's the night. come here angel, lesson one starts right now—get that tight ass over here.”
his words make your eyes widen as you hesitate for just a second, biting your lower lip in that way you know drives him wild before carefully shifting over as you straddle him, knees sinking on either side of his hips as your panty clad cunt presses against his growing hardness that you haven't realized until now as you settle against his chest. his hands instantly grip your waist pulling you even closer until there is no space left between you.
“hi.” he rumbles.
his lips go over yours as his dark eyes lock on yours while one hand slides up to trace your cheek, thumb on your lower lip making you part it slightly.
“hi.” you breathe back.
your hands come to rest on his strong shoulder as he grins wider at your response hunger taking over his expression as he leans over to kiss your nose.
“good girl. now let's get serious, hands on the wheel. i'm gonna teach you properly.” he whispers.
he makes you turn around so your back is against his chest and you reach forward obediently, wrapping your fingers around the wheel from your awkward position and it feels almost weird and empowering in a way because you've never done this before but now you're getting the opportunity to. you listen as jungkook begins explaining the basics like how to speed up and slow down, how to grip the gear shift just right and more but even his words are carved with distraction as his free hand never stops caressing your inner thigh, sending shivers all over your body until you almost lose concentration.
in the beginning you truly do try to pay attention as you ask genuine questions too.
“so i press the brake before shifting gears?” and other of your confusions.
he answers with real guidance, his larger foot guiding yours to the pedals pressing your leg firmly in the process and this causes his thigh to slot perfectly against your pussy until you're straddling just one of his thighs and you bite back a whimper.
“exactly like that smart girl, you're picking it up so fast aren't you?” he praises roughly.
“my clever little angel learning everything i teach her on the first try yeah?”
his words are full of pride yet carrying a dirty double meaning about what he meant when he said you learn everything so fast like in the maldives when he taught you how to suck his cock properly. your heart thuds.
“thank you koo…”
you blush deeper feeling proud at his praises but also increasingly distracted by the way his hand creeps higher and suddenly his hand hooks over the edge of your shorts and he tugs them off, leaving you only in your top and panties.
“jungkook—" you gasp loudly.
“shh… just making you comfortable. you're getting too hot aren't you?”
he hums approvingly and places wet kisses against your exposed shoulder and he isn't wrong at all, you've been feeling too hot due to the tension but his idea hasn't helped much but has made it worse. you tilt your head exposing more skin for his mouth as soft sighs escape your lips.
“what's wrong baby? can't focus when i touch you like this?”
his hand suddenly cups you over your panty palm, pressing fully there as he feels how wet you are and you gasp sharply, hips bucking into his hand.
“jungkook… oh god wait, you're supposed to teach me…”
you whine but there's no real complaint behind it, only desperation.
“i'm teaching you good aren't i?” he grumbles.
you aren't even able to answer him as both of you soon forget about the lesson and get lost in each other. his calloused fingers caress your hips before dipping below making your breath hitch as if he's savoring the unraveling of your composure.
it's dark inside the car with only the moonlight being the only source of light and it made the environment even more intimate as his hand rubbed your belly that was exposed from your top. his eyes take in your panties and the way your arousal shines slightly because of the way the thin material clings wetly to your folds forming a dark patch.
“fucking hell look at you... already soaking for me and we've barely started.” he growls.
you moan at his words because they were so true and you felt naughty but you couldn't help it.
“mhmm fuck.”
the curse leaves you as he hooks a finger under the edge of your panties and tugs the fabric aside to fully expose your glistening pussy to the night air that seeps through and it makes you gasp and lift your hips slightly but he doesn't give you time to adjust instead he uses the soaked lace itself to press it firmly against your swollen clit rubbing in slow circles up and down, up and down again and again. you gripped desperately on the steering wheel in order to hold onto something as you squirmed.
“ohh h—hahh—”
your voice breaks into breathy moans as your hips start to rock on their own against his thigh beneath you without you being able to help yourself. your head spins as he presses particularly hard against your clit and grips your thigh tight.
“that's it ride my thigh like a good girl, grind that pretty pussy on me and show me how much you want it.”
he encourages as one large hand of his splays across your hip to guide your movements while the other leaves your clit and pushes the straps down your shoulder or the top and pushes your bra down as well for your breasts to be exposed. you arched your back with a loud keen as he groped one breast in his hand, tracing the areola with his finger and leaned down to latch onto the other one with his mouth, tongue flicking the peak and he teased the other one without touching the tip until you were whimpering his name and pushing your breast harder into his mouth.
“oh god koo.”
you let out a sob as his fingers dip down to collect some of your slickness from your cunt and bring the finger up to use that on your nipple as he tweaks and rolls your nipples easily due to it before he leans down to pop that nipple inside his mouth as he groans at the taste of you and the vibration of his groan makes you cry out as your hands slam against the window. your pussy gapes between your legs as it remains neglected while he lavishes attention on your nipples.
“these perfect tits… would you like me to slide my cock between them and fuck them? would you want that? letting me use every part of you?”
his words make your hips buck against his thigh as he shifts his thigh higher to grind perfectly against you.
“hmm? answer me sweet girl.”
“yes yes.”
your breasts heave with your pants as your noises turn high pitched and needy as your hips roll into him and he guides your hips in a circular motion that drags your wet folds against his jeans and the rough texture of it feels euphoric. he continued his torture on your breasts until you were writhing and murmuring noises. fingering, tonguing and pinching your nipples until they're swollen and aching. your breath comes out in wild endless puffs that fog the car glass even more that’s filled with hand stains from when you tried to grab onto something as you pull into his hair when he sucks on your nipple hard.
that’s when your eyes fall on the slight light coming inside the car and your nails dig into his shirt.
“jungkook nghh—”
you try to catch your breath so you can talk but your pleased noises keep on interrupting anyways.
“someone might see us out here.”
you glance nervously around, thinking someone might have just caught you both even though the possibility was very low but the thought of getting caught seemed to excite you further, the fear of it turning you on as you almost bounced slightly on his thigh. he laughs breathlessly against your breast as he switches sides, biting down gently to elicit another sharp whine from you and he soothes it with laps of his tongue before his eyes flick up to meet yours wickedly.
"let them fucking watch then—"
“i’d burn the world down before letting anyone see what’s mine but out here? no one’s coming angel, it’s just us. let me hear how good i make you feel.” he hisses out.
he doesn’t like it when you hold back your noises or try to hide your reactions because he likes to know exactly how good he's making you feel. his words make you even more horny as his hands leave your achy tits finally to go down and remove your panty fully making you shudder violently. his fingers collect your juices and coat it all over your pussy as if making a point and you struggle to breathe as he dips just barely inside to gather your arousal before withdrawing.
“koo.” you whimper.
“mhmm spit for me baby. get my fingers nice and wet.” he commands.
all your thoughts are hazy in front of pleasure as you obey without a second thought, the act lewd and spit onto his offered digits watching with hooded eyes as he coats them thoroughly rubbing them together with a smug grin. he brings them up to your nipples, rubbing the nubs until they peak hard and almost shine like twin diamonds in the moonlight before he leans down to blow against them making you twitch and sob.
“nghh hahh mm..!”
you make mindless noises and he smirks enjoying pushing you to your limits before he slowly trails the wet fingers downward, going teasingly slow before he starts tracing the slit of your pussy. he coats your saliva on your folds and clit.
“feels so good huh?”
“hold yourself open for me sweetheart.”
he rasps as he guides your own fingers down so you hold your folds open just the way he taught you to so it's easier for him and you do with shaky fingers as he hooks your legs completely so you're eagle spread. you sob at how exposed it leaves you because if anyone was even near, they could clearly get a detailed view of your pussy and it makes your clit throb harder. he rubs up and down your quivering hole, watching your face contort as you squirm wantonly.
“want me to finger you baby?”
he asks hotly against your ear and you nod dumbly, your hips lifting to meet his finger and you couldn’t take any more of the teasings.
“y—yes.” you croaked.
“slow or hard?”
the questions turned your face red but you were so impatient.
“hard, please.” you gasp.
“yeah?”
you can hear the grin in his voice as he finally gets one of his fingers inside you which slides in easily from how drenched you are and he immediately curls his finger into that spot that makes you see stars.
“oh god.”
your back arches so quickly that you feel like you'll fall over but he holds you tight with one hand splayed on your stomach as a broken moan leaves you. the feeling of fullness whether it's from his tongue or finger, you cannot get enough of but tonight he doesn’t stop at just one finger as if motivated by your eager responses so he adds another finger almost immediately stretching you wider.
“koo… koo!”
you babble his name and gasp while your pussy walls flutter around the intrusion as he pumps his fingers slowly at first before scissoring carefully. he thrusts in and out a couple of times, hearing your noises as your head buries in his chest biting on his shirt.
“you take two of my fingers like a champ now baby… think you can take another?”
he snarls almost from how affected he was as well because once you struggled to take his thick fingers but now your pussy seems to accommodate him. a droplet of sweat runs down your forehead as you clench around his fingers greedily and you don’t care about anything, you just need him.
“please anything, just don’t stop please please.”
you plead, your head thrashing side to side and he lets out a guttural groan at your reaction and how desperate you seem.
“my sweet poor girl... you want it so bad don’t you?”
he slowly impales you with the third finger and you let out a long cry and he leans down and sucks on a spot on your neck.
“shh... that’s it. you’re taking me so good.”
you gasp at the burn and he growls, his cock hard as a rock as he feels how tight and warm you are on the inside and how well you're taking him, milking his fingers.
“does it hurt?”
“n—no faster, please.”
he smiles at your words and works you open with slow thrusts before speeding slightly when he hears how vocal you're getting. his palm grinds against your clit with every plunge as you grip his wrist tightly but that doesn’t deter his movements at all.
“feel how i’m stretching this tight little cunt?”
his dark eyes lock on where his fingers disappear into your fluttering hole, watching your creamy arousal coat his skin with every slow withdrawal and plunge as he hears the obscene wet noises in the car. the atmosphere was too intimate with the sensual music still playing in the background and the darkness with the noises of what's happening inside. the car bounces more noticeably now with the thrusts of his hand and the desperate roll of your hips as your hips meet the motions of his hands too.
“fuck yeah.”
his bulge pressed against yours as he speeds up, curling his fingers relentlessly against your g-spot in that come hither motion.
“ah ah ahs” leave your mouth as your fingers claw at the seat almost tearing into it as your body trembles and thrashes at the way he expertly fingers you.
“koo!”
you sobbed as his thumb honed in on the torment and flicked your oversensitive clit in rapid strokes until you felt like you were going to combust. your legs kick against his and he encourages you with sweet murmurs against your ear as you feel ruined in the best possible way.
“dont run from it, take it honey..”
your juices drip down his wrist and soak through his jeans as his jaw clenches so hard, obsessively taking in the sight of his fingers plunging in and out of you coming out each time coated in your essence. his own breaths come out ragged as his cock strains painfully inside his jeans.
“my needy wife is losing her mind on my fingers. come for me and soak my hands.”
he slows for a bit before he ramps up again. fingers pistoning deep and fast and curling perfectly and he does that one thing that makes your mind blow. he presses his thumb hard against your clit and just holds it, it was like a switch that strongly brings out your orgasm.
tears stream down your face as you start hiccupping and your body convulses wildly in his lap as your toes curl from how severely it hits. you squirt out all over his hand and he groans loudly at the feel of it, he doesn’t pull out his fingers yet prolonging your orgasm, thrusting slowly until you're boneless and collapse forward against his neck.
you cling to him and he works you through it gently, now coaxing out whines from you as he draws out the last tremor until you're shifting away from his fingers and he reads your body better than you to know how far to push you.
“that’s it.” he soothes you.
he slowly withdraws his fingers with a wet sound that makes you both moan and he immediately brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied rumble.
his tongue swirls around each digit as if savoring the finest delicacy and his eyes don’t leave you, your lips part at the sight. you pant as your legs shake.
“can never get tired of your taste honestly…”
he murmurs huskily as he adjusts your top, tenderly pulling the straps back up your shoulders and fixing your bra carefully and he covers your lower body with his jacket that was in the backseat because your panties were too soaked for you to wear again and he doesn’t want you getting cold. despite that you knew you made a huge mess on his lap and the seat, he brings you close to him in an enveloping embrace and he kisses your forehead and your damp cheeks a few times, murmuring praises.
“you did so good for me angel.”
his lips brush your skin with each stroke, stroking your back as you cling to him weakly as both of your hearts race at the same rate.
“i’m sorry i—i made a mess.” you whimpered.
“shh it’s alright. i like it when you make a mess on me.”
he soothes you, pressing a kiss against one of your hickies as he massages your scalp slightly making you almost purr in comfort. but when the afterglow starts to settle and you shift expectantly in his lap, grinding weakly against the bulge of his that didn’t go down and he knew that you were hoping that he'd take more and probably find his own release as well. he knew you were aching for him to finally fuck you to completely fill the emptiness he's left behind but he stills your hips with a hand.
“not yet angel. i’ll fuck you when you’re truly ready and beg for me.. fully surrender. i won’t give in until then.”
you whine and he smiles at how you pout sulkily, your kiss swollen lips make it even more adorable.
“but i want you now… i’m ready, too.”
you pant against him rocking slightly and he groans deeply, his head falling back as he squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain but he shakes his head and strokes your back up and down in apologetic strokes.
“i know you think you are baby and fuck i’m dying to bury myself in you as well, to feel this tight pussy wrapped around my cock but listen to me yeah?” he hums.
“i want you to give yourself time and i will only do it when you’re fully ready and not rushing yourself and there’s no doubt or fear left.”
deep inside you're fuming quietly beneath the surface that you're ready damn it, that you want him to claim you fully and if he grabs you now and impales you with his cock right fucking now, you'd probably cry happy tears but jungkook knew better than you that it was your neediness speaking, that somewhere in you the past traumas from your father still clung so he will only do it when he's sure that you're fully ready.
he wants your heart and soul both into it, not just your body and if it means him getting blue balls, he wouldn’t mind.
he'd take a hundred cold showers and make himself suffer rather than take from you. he holds you close, placing kisses on your mouth despite the stiffness in his whole body from the unreleased desire.
but as he starts driving once again, he stops to get one of your favorite ice creams from a store that was closed due to the late night but jungkook bribed them with too much money and brought you enough snacks to last weeks as well.
because he wanted this sweet wife spoiled to the brim.
the next week was full of lingering touches and so much sexual tension that it was palpable like both of you trying to test how far the other could go.
jungkook was always holding back seeing how much he could push you because despite your neediness, there was still that shyness that meant you still weren’t confident enough to voice your needs and ask what you wanted but your body language always told him that you were burning as much as he was.
it was a tough week for both of you and jungkook was very close to snapping but he knew each day was breaking another fraction of your restraint. sleeping naked together or the press of his boner against you that seems to never go away and is perpetually there against your back whenever you brush against him—it was killing both of you.
it was like a game of agony. a game of hunger and desire.
this morning you were alone at home as your husband went to the office. bam trailed at your heels for a bit before he went to nap. you missed him already and boredom settled in after you'd spent time tidying up around the house and scrolling mindlessly on your phone but your mind kept drifting.
after a while an impulsive thought sparked. why not visit his office? you'd only been there a handful of times, always with him, never alone but he'd given you a set of keys weeks ago with a serious look on his face.
“this house is yours baby. everything i have is yours. visit wherever you want.”
it made you feel trusted and owned in the best way so you walked up the stairs and to his office as you walked to the door, you unlocked it with one of the keys. you walked inside and immediately you were greeted by the scent of his cologne and cigarette smoke because he spends so much time here. the office was intimidating and masculine just like him but to you it was like an extension of him, safe and familiar as you wandered deeper.
that’s when your eyes caught on the wall behind his desk and you squeaked slightly in shock as you saw framed photos from the maldives trip there. candid shots of mostly you laughing, reading by the villa pool, playing with sand, trying to build the sandcastle and you on the boat and a few pictures of you with jungkook, both of you laughing and one with him kissing your cheek. tears welled in your eyes at the nostalgia and how these memories. he'd put these up here in his most professional space and now, standing there for long minutes tracing the frames with your fingers, you wished you could go back in time.
where it was just two of you.
you let out a shaky breath and decided to wander more, after a while feeling playful, you walked up to his desk, running your hand over the smooth surface where he worked for several hours and sealed millions of deals. you sank down on the huge chair with a shy giggle because it engulfed you completely. you felt a thrill being in his space like this without him knowing also because you were the first person who was allowed here.
soon you couldn’t much longer and kicked your legs like a giddy little girl and bit your lower lip deciding to text him.
the texts escalated quickly from loving to sexual as you tried to regulate your breathing, your legs clenched together.
heart pounding you hesitated only for a moment before hiking up the t-shirt and snapping a scandalous photo of your thighs parted slightly so that your panties are visible along with the damp spot there. your face burning with how naughty you were being but you wanted to push him too for the last week of all the teasings and edging so with shaky fingers you sent another photo, this one with your panties pulled aside just enough to bare your cunt.
you bite onto your finger nervously before with a quiet scream, you hit send covering your face with your palms. you wondered what his reaction would be but you knew it was just jungkook and the texts he sent in response to your pictures made you squeal.
you try to reply to him and focus on the screen that lights up with his new messages, each one dirtier than the last one as he talks about what he wants to do to you when he gets home. you're trying. really trying to focus on typing back a reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard but you cannot focus from the way the area between your legs pulses and aches.
you shift restlessly in the chair seeking some relief by pressing your thighs together but the movement only makes it worse as the friction of it sends a spark of need through you. the material of the chair presses against you until a drop of your arousal lands on it lewdly.
in that restless wiggle, your elbow bumps against the stack of files perched on the corner of the desk that jungkook had just been working on before and it tumbles down on the floor, leaving papers and scattering across your feet. you mutter a soft curse under your breath for being clumsy and you lean forward to gather the mess as you push yourself up from the chair and you bend over the desk to reach the dropped papers.
your body arches in the motion, hips tilting forward and that's when it happens, the rounded corner of the desk presses perfectly against the front of your panties, pressing right over your mound and the sudden pressure makes you gasp loudly, your entire body freezing in place as the sensation goes through you like electricity. it's unlike anything you've felt before.
“ohh!”
the edge nestled exactly where you're most sensitive and it was immediate, making your pussy clench around nothing as you held the edge of the table for balance. you know you should pull away and fix the files and pretend this didn't happen but the need that's been simmering for days, building into something unbearable crashes over you until it drowns out every rational thought.
your breath trembles, and instead of stepping back, you press forward just a tiny fraction more almost experimentally. you roll your hips in a careful circle, grinding your panty clad cunt against the corner of the table feeling the hard ridge settle perfectly between your folds parting between the folds.
“oh godd.” you whimper.
the sensation is torture especially when the hard wood presses against your clit as your slickness seeps through your panties to make the glide smoother. a moan escapes you before you can stop it and you do it again, harder this time, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for balance knuckles whitening. your nipples get hard under the shirt too due to your arousal while your thighs begin to shake as you try to breathe.
the shame hits you at what you're doing and it is utterly dirty what you're doing, humping your husband's desk like a slutty girl in his office surrounded by his things but that very thought, the wrongness of it only turns you hornier.
your panties are almost transparent now, outlining your folds as you grind harder as your toes curl at the feeling. there's no room for any thought in your head except this feeling, this relief and how the hard table edge feels against your clit. you forgot about your phone that's abandoned on the desk where jungkook is still texting you.
you rock forward again and then back, finding a rhythm to press your throbbing clit directly against the edge and back to drag it along your slit.
“ughmm gosh”
you pant, the edge wasn't sharp enough to hurt but enough to give you that constant pressure against your most sensitive spot.
it makes wet sounds slightly and it makes your cheek turn red as you get so lost into it now, hips moving on instinct, making low wanton noises as you don't realize how much time has passed since you stopped replying to his texts until your phone begins ringing loudly with jungkook's name flashing on the screen and your heart lurches. you felt guilty but you can't stop, not when you're so close to some kind of relief and you didn't want him worrying so with shaky hands you reach for your phone and answer it before bringing it to your ear while still subtly rocking your hips, unable to fully halt your actions even though you feel embarrassed.
“h—hello?”
your voice comes out breathier than usual and it's so obvious that he'll hear immediately. there's a pause on the other end, then jungkook's dark manly chuckle comes out, the sound alone making your clit quiver against the desk.
“baby… what are you doing?”
you hear the scrape of a chair in the background, muffled voices abruptly fading away as he must have just excused himself from his meeting.
“i... i knocked some files…” you manage weakly.
but another grind forward makes you gasp softly mid sentence, the sound without a doubt, he hears and he recognizes it for exactly what it is.
“don't lie to me angel.” he growls.
his voice alone has the power to turn your insides to liquid and it brings the urge to cum even more as you press harder against the edge without meaning to.
“you sound like you're touching yourself. tell me what you're really doing—right now don't make me repeat myself.” he orders.
“hahh.”
you whimper openly now.
“i—i was at the desk… it brushed against me and i—”
he didn't need you to finish your words to know what you're doing.
“you're grinding on my desk?” he cuts in almost ferally.
“fuck baby, turn on the video now i need to see you.”
“koo i—” you hesitated.
your eyes widening in mortification at the command but the urge for release overpowers everything else as with trembling fingers you switch to video call. you propped the phone carefully against the remaining stack of books on the desk so the camera captures you perfectly as you see the mess of yourself, your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes as you straddle the corner of the desk.
his face fills the screen almost instantly as you look at him and see his tie loosened and his chest a bit exposed from where he's unbuttoned a few buttons and his jaw clenched so hard that a muscle ticks beneath it as he takes you in from what looks like his personal office room, the door closed behind him.
“holy shit.” he breathes out.
“look at you. my pretty little wife humping my desk like she's on heat huh? show me properly pull that shirt up.” he demands.
“koo!”
you whine his name softly and the degradation fuels you more.
“do it baby.” he growls.
“or i'll hang up and leave you like this with no relief.”
his words make you falter because if he ends the call now, you might as well cry because nothing gets you going like his voice or presence does. trembling all over, you gather the hem of the shirt with shaky fingers and pull it up to bunch at your waist, fully exposing your soaked cotton panties that are now clinging to you from how wet you are.
“angle the phone lower.” he demands roughly.
you swallowed and did as he told, angling the phone lower giving him an open erotic view.
“that's it.” he groans.
he shifted in his own seat and spread his legs, nostrils flaring at the sight.
“fuck you’re soaked through. you’ve been needy all week haven’t you? my poor baby.”
“so desperate she's fucking furniture because she can't wait for my cock.”
his words make your head fall back as your hips move faster and more urgently as he can hear the wet sounds of your arousal even through the call as it stimulates your clit further.
“jungkook... please…” you sobbed.
“please what?” he taunts, leaning closer to the screen.
you can see the bulge straining against his slacks now, his hand pressing down on it not being able to help himself, rubbing in time with your movements.
“tell me angel, do you want me to watch you being such a naughty girl? want me to see how wet you get thinking about me fucking you raw right there, bending you over and filling you up?” he groans out.
you sobbed because each of his words was your exact fantasy and you were so at your limit from the past week that you'd take anything he gives you and you'd even beg for it if needed, his expressions said that he was suffering the same.
“yes, yes, yes.” you babble which ends with a sob.
your thighs shake as you hump harder, your breasts bouncing under the shirt from your movements as each roll of your hips brings you closer and it was shocking even because you've been denied too long.
it felt like ten more jungkook's were watching you, surrounding you because his office was an intimate place and there were his belongings everywhere, it felt like he was watching you from every corner and it made you dizzy from need.
“put those panties aside.” he orders.
his voice thick with lust.
“let me see your bare pussy on my table dripping on it so i can smell your juices every time i work.”
his words make you bold as you hook your finger into the crotch of your panties and tug them roughly to the side, fully exposing your puffy pussy to his hungry gaze and the sudden exposure makes you squeal as your pussy meets the edge of the table with no barrier between them, it feels so intense that you cry out.
“oh, more more more.”
you chant to yourself dumbly because you always need more and more and having jungkook away without touching you is driving you crazy.
your arousal smears lewdly over his desk as you chase the release with abandon murmuring nonsense from how good it feels.
jungkook on the other hand, is gripping his chair so hard that it cracks beneath his palm as he's palming himself openly as he looks at how your pussy is just begging to be fucked and he grins sickly because he's shocked himself at how long he's held back from just taking that sweet little cunt.
“you're going to cum just like this aren't you? just because you want my cock so bad that you're looking for other ways to relieve yourself?” he questions angrily.
“yes koo, i need you so much.”
you sob, your head falling back as the pleasure crests higher and your hips stutter, clit throbbing wildly.
“uh… uh… uh…”
leaves you as you circle your hips slightly so the edge remains pressed against your clit rubbing it up and down in a way that makes it hard for you to breathe. you drool and sputter and you feel so pornographic.
“cum for me angel.”
his voice breaks slightly from his own restraint.
“show me how much of a bad girl you are so every time i sit there i remember how desperate my wife was for my cock that she came just from humping the table like a needy little thing.”
he bares his teeth as his own hips shift to his hands. he squeezed his cock hard as his words push you over the edge.
you cum with a keening cry as your body trembles so hard that you let out hiccupping wails, your pussy clenching hard around nothing and gushing around the corner, some spilling forward on his desk. you're gasping for air as your body sags forward and you almost fall on top of the desk, your forehead pressing against it.
tears stream down your face from the overwhelming feeling yet the frustration didn’t go away, nothing would help until it was jungkook finally taking your virginity.
jungkook looks wild on the other end, animal need in his eyes as his cock twitches from all the pent up frustration of the past few weeks and he didn’t want to cum with his own hands on his cock. the only time he will cum is when he's inside you.
he looks at the corner which is soaked with you as you still pant as your pussy gapes emptily and quivers, the sight makes him bare his teeth and he just knows that he won't be letting anyone touch the desk afterwards.
he's possessive like that.
he wants no one around anything that his wife touched and heck, he was even jealous of the table because you humped against it instead of him.
“listen to me carefully angel…”
his voice sounds mocking but full of dangerous intentions as you turn your head to meet his on the call, his face closer now.
“be ready, i’m coming home in a few hours.”
“and baby?”
he makes sure to look at you directly in the eye, looking almost angry and it makes your pussy pulse at just his look.
“be prepared because you aren’t leaving my bed for the entire night.”
he ends the call abruptly after that as his dark promise rings in your ears like a taunt and also like a warning of a predator before it pounces at the prey.
tags: enemies to lovers, royalty au, arranged marriage, childhood acquaintances to lovers, forced proximity, smut, angst with happy ending, virginity, possessive jungkook, shared bed, first time.
tropes: "we grew up together but we hate each other", "only one bed", "marriage of convenience", "i lied to protect you", wedding night protocol, "you are mine by contract and by blood".
warnings: 18+, explicit smut, virgin!reader, deflowering / loss of virginity, blood (from deflowering), finger fucking, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex (f. receiving), heavy praise kink, body worship, stretching, deep penetration, size difference, slow and deliberate pace, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, internal ejaculation / creampie, marking, bed creaking, rubbing, wet sounds, overstimulation, post-orgasm aftercare, dominant but gentle jungkook, submissive reader, mutual pining, contract marriage consummation.
word count: 11.6k
summary: Jungkook is the stoic and ruthless heir to the powerful Jeon Kingdom, and you are the princess of a realm forced into an alliance to secure borders. Bound by a political contract designed to prevent further blood, you are forced into a marriage with the boy you once loved in the gardens—and the man you’ve spent the last five years hating with every fiber of your being after an unforgivable betrayal.
As the court demands proof of your union and the crown weighs heavy on your brows, you must navigate a single night behind locked doors where the armor of your pride completely disappears. You thought you were just a duty to him, but as the masks fall in the wedding chamber, you'll soon discover that Jungkook has been playing a much longer game to keep you safe... and he has no intention of letting his queen go.
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The rattle of the carriage was a rhythmic torture that stuck at the base of your skull. Every bump on the road to the capital of the Jeon Kingdom reminded you that, with each meter advanced, your freedom was a little further behind, blurred on the horizon by the borders of your own home.
You wore the heaviest traveling dress your maids could find, armor of dark blue velvet and lace that protected you, at least symbolically, from the outside world. Your fingers, gloved, sank into the upholstery of the seat. You hadn't looked at Jungkook in the last three hours. You knew exactly what he was doing without having to see him: he would be leaning against the opposite backrest, with one leg crossed over the other, looking at the map of his new lands, or, worse, watching you with that silent smugness that had always driven you crazy.
"You can stop smashing the seat, Y/N," his voice cut through the air, deep and charged with an indifference you knew was feigned. "The silk of this carriage costs more than the dowry that your father bargained for until the last minute. You don't want to start your life here by owing repairs."
You tensed up. There it was. The same tone of superiority that he used when you were ten years old and he managed to knock you off the wooden horse. You forced yourself to let go of the upholstery and crossed your hands on your lap, turning your head to fix an icy gaze on him.
"If you think my dowry is scarce, you could have left me at the border," you replied with venom. " I'm sure we would both have been much happier. But of course, the Crown Prince always gets what he wants, even if what he gets is a wife who can't even stand the air you breathe."
Jungkook let out a dry laugh, a sound without a trace of humor. He slammed the map shut and leaned forward, invading your personal space. He smelled of leather, old paper and that aroma of cedar wood that always identified him.
"Make no mistake. I didn't "want" this. I wanted a secure border and an end to the skirmishes in the north. You are only the wax seal on the contract, Y/N. Nothing else."
Those words should have hurt, but they only fueled the fire of your contempt. The wedding had been an obscene display of wealth: white flowers that smelled of death, songs that sounded like elegy, and that moment in the cathedral where, in front of the archbishop, you had to put your hand on his. You felt his pulse, firm and steady, while yours galloped wildly. At that moment, as the village cheered a union you hated, you realized that Jungkook was no longer the kid you used to hide with in kitchens to steal cakes. He was a stranger made of stone and duty.
The carriage finally stopped. The sound of trumpets announced their arrival at the Jeon Grand Castle. The doors opened and royal protocol took over. You were forced to accept his hand to come down. His fingers squeezed yours with unnecessary firmness, a silent warning before you both had to pretend to court.
The reception was eternal. Bows, empty speeches and the scrutinizing gaze of your father-in-law, the King, who analyzed you as if you were a purebred horse that should give good heirs. During the entire welcome dinner, you barely had a bite. Jungkook, sitting next to you on your rightful throne, fulfilled his role perfectly: he poured you wine, commented on trifles about the weather, and occasionally brushed your hand with his just to let the nobles see how "lucky" they were. Every touch burned you with rage.
Finally, the ordeal ended. The official "Wedding Night", the one that everyone was waiting for with morbid curiosity, had arrived.
You were escorted to the royal apartments by your ladies. It was a huge room, lit only by the fire in the fireplace. And there, in the center, the bed. A monster of carved wood and linen sheets that seemed to mock you.
The door opened and Jungkook walked in. He looked tired, but his eyes shone with an intensity you hadn't seen all day. He locked the door and the sound of the bolt snapping in was like a shot in the silence.
You stood motionless in the center of the room, your feet sunk into the thick crimson carpet. Your shoulders were heavy; The wire structure and jewels of your wedding dress made you feel like a puppet that had its threads cut. You didn't dare turn around. You didn't want to see Jungkook, you didn't want to confirm that the boy who once challenged you to a race for the stables was the same man who now shared your breath in the gloom of a royal bedroom.
"Are you going to stay there all night, Y/N?" His voice came from behind, loaded with a tiredness that seemed to come from years, not hours. "The dinner ended an hour ago. Protocol is dead for today. You can stop pretending that you are a marble statue. "
You closed your eyes tightly. That tone. That quiet arrogance that always made you want to scream. You turned around slowly. Jungkook was taking off his white dress gloves, throwing them on a velvet chair with a blood-boiling nonchalance. His hair was slightly tousled and the first buttons of his jacket were unbuttoned.
"I'm not pretending," you said, and your voice sounded more broken than you would have liked. "I'm trying to assimilate how we ended up here. You and me. It's a joke in bad taste, Jungkook. "
He let out a dry laugh, without a trace of joy, as he approached the table where a glass jug of wine rested. A drink was poured, the sound of liquid falling down was the only thing that filled the void between you.
"A joke?" "No, it's politics," he replied, turning his back on you. "This is what we were told would happen since we were ten years old and we were forced to hold hands in the garden. "Someday, Jungkook, she will be your queen. Someday, Y/N, he will be your lord." You knew it. Don't pretend to be surprised now that the bill has arrived to be collected. "
"I knew it would happen, but I didn't think you'd be so..." You fell silent, looking for the word.
"So what?" He turned, glass in hand, fixing his dark eyes on yours. " So cold? So distant? What did you expect, Y/N? That after five years without speaking to each other, since that last argument in the lake, I received you with open arms and promises of eternal love? We know each other too well to lie to each other like that."
You walked to the dresser, needing something to do with your hands so they wouldn't shake. You began to unhook the heavy veil of your hairstyle, but your fingers, numb with nerves, became entangled in the silver hairpins. You grunted in frustration, tugging at your own hair.
Suddenly, you felt his presence. Jungkook had moved with that quiet speed he had always had. His hands were positioned over yours, stopping you. The contact was electric, a heat shock that made you hold your breath. It's been years since you've had it so close.
"You're going to pull your hair out," he whispered. His breath brushed the back of your neck, sending a violent shiver down your spine. Leave me.
"I can do it alone," you insisted, trying to push you away, but he gently squeezed your wrists.
"No, you can't. This hairstyle requires three maidens and you are alone with me. Stay put. It's an order, if that is of any use to you now. "
You stiffened as his long, skillful fingers began to work on your hair. You could see it in the reflection in the mirror: the Crown Prince, the warrior everyone was talking about, focused on removing diamond hairpins with a delicacy that didn't match the tension emanating from his body. Your eyes met on the glass, and for a second, the hatred dissipated to give way to raw melancholy.
"I remember when you fell off the cherry tree," he said suddenly, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled out the last piece of silver. "You had flowers in your hair and you were crying because you had torn your favorite dress. I helped you remove them all before your mother saw you. "
"And then you told me I was a fool for climbing so high," you remembered, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "You always had to have the last word, Jungkook. You always had to be the one who knew the most. "
"And you always had to be the one who didn't listen," he replied.
The veil finally fell to the ground, like dead skin. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders, and Jungkook didn't immediately withdraw his hands. His fingers brushed the skin of your neck, a minimal, almost accidental contact, but one that weighed tons.
"We're not those kids anymore, Y/N," he said, and his voice changed, deeper, more dangerous. "Outside this room, we are two strangers who must rule. But inside—" His hands went down to your shoulders, squeezing them with a firmness that forced you to stare at him in the mirror—... "Inside we are two people bound by a contract that demands blood and heirs. "
He let go of you abruptly, as if you were burning, and returned to his glass of wine. The silence fell again, denser than before. You sat on the dresser bench, feeling exhausted.
"Why didn't you look at me during the ceremony?" You asked, breaking your calm. Not once. "You made me feel like you were marrying a piece of furniture from the cathedral. "
Jungkook drank the rest of his wine in one gulp and put the glass down on the table with a thud. He turned to you, and this time, the mask of indifference had cracked. There was fire in his eyes, a mixture of rage and something that looked like pent-up hunger.
"Because if I looked at you, Y/N, it would have reminded me why I hated this arrangement so much," he blurted out, beginning to walk toward you with slow, heavy steps. "If I looked at you, I would see the woman who despises me and remember that I am going to spend the rest of my days tied to someone who would rather be anywhere else in the world. Do you think it's easy for me? Do you think I like knowing that the only reason you're in my bed tonight is because a piece of paper says so? "
He stopped in front of you, forcing you to lift your head to hold his gaze.
"I know there are guards at the door," you continued, ignoring the lump in your throat. "I know the bridesmaids will come at dawn. I know what has to be in those sheets, Jungkook. I'm not naïve. I have grown in this court as much as you have. "
"Then stop looking at me like I'm the executioner," he snapped, leaning over you, resting his hands on the dressing table on either side of your body, locking you in.
The space between you shrank until there was only a sigh away. You could smell the red wine and the metallic aroma of its armor. The hatred was there, palpable, but beneath it, an electric current of mutual recognition was beginning to boil. They knew each other too well; You knew the twitch in his jaw when he was nervous, and he knew the way your pulse quickened at the base of your throat when you were afraid.
"It's five hours before dawn," Jungkook whispered, and his gaze dropped to your lips before returning to your eyes. "We can spend them yelling at each other or remembering how much we hate each other... Or we can accept that, for one night, duty is the only thing we have left. "
He brought a hand behind your back, looking for the start of the endless row of buttons on your dress. His fingers brushed against the exposed skin of your neck and you closed your eyes, letting out a gasp you couldn't contain.
"This is not love, Jungkook," you warned, although your hands, of their own volition, rose to rest on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart under the silk of his shirt.
"I know," he replied, and for the first time all night, his voice sounded almost human, almost vulnerable. "It's just the truth. And the truth is, even if we hate each other, tonight there is no one else in the world for us but the other. "
He began to undo the first button, very slowly, as if he wanted every second of that humiliation—or that surrender—to last forever.
You felt the first tug on your back, a dry movement as Jungkook's fingers struggled against the first mother-of-pearl button. The silence in the room was so absolute that you could swear you heard the pendulum clock mechanism in the hallway, marking every second of your fall.
"Your father was always an exaggerated man," he growled. His voice was so close to your ear that you felt the warm air moisten your skin. "Fifty buttons for a dress that only serves to be torn. It's a perfect metaphor for your kingdom, Y/N: a flawless façade to hide a crumbling structure. "
You tensed at the insult to your home, turning your head slightly to try to look over your shoulder, but he clenched his free hand on your waist to keep you in place.
"Don't talk about my father as if you knew him," you snapped, feeling contempt rise up your throat. "He did what he had to do to save his people from your ambition. If we're here, it's because the Jeons don't know what the word "border" means. You only understand "conquest". "
Jungkook let out a snort, and you heard the click of the fifth button giving way. His fingers brushed the skin of your upper back, and a shiver you couldn't control ran through you. It was a contradictory feeling: his hands were rough, callused from years of wielding the sword, but they moved with surgical precision over your spine.
"Conquest?" he repeated bitterly. My father wanted this marriage since you were born. "I remember that he took me to his office when I was seven years old. He showed me a portrait of you and said, "That girl is half of your future kingdom. Learn how to handle it or she'll handle you." I spent my entire childhood seeing you not as a friend, but as a chess piece that I had to learn to move. "
"And did you succeed?" You asked, a trace of poison in your voice. "Do you feel like you're "managing" me now, Jungkook? While you take off this dress like you're my maid? "
You felt his fingers stop halfway down your back. The pressure of his hand on your waist increased, burying itself a little in the thin fabric of the corset you were wearing underneath. In the mirror, you saw how his jaw tensed and his eyes darkened.
"I feel like we're both dogs in chains, told to bite to amuse the court," he replied, his voice becoming dangerously low. "Don't be fooled, Y/N. My father gave me this castle and this crown, but in exchange he took away my ability to choose who I want in my bed. Do you think it's an honor for me to have to convince a woman who looks at me with disgust to give me an heir? "
He continued with his task. The dress began to sag, slowly opening up and exposing your spine line. The cold air in the room hit your bare skin, making you shiver. Jungkook paused for a second, his eyes sweeping over the expanse of your back with an intensity that made you feel more naked than you really were.
"I remember," he began, and this time his tone was different, less aggressive, almost nostalgic. "the summer of fourteen. When we escape to the river and your brother almost drowns trying to follow us. You stayed in your underwear to jump into the water to get it out. You were so reckless. So full of life. "
"And you scolded me for an hour as we drove back to the castle," you added, letting out an involuntary sigh. "You said that a princess should not show herself like this to anyone. Not even before you. "
"I said it because I didn't want anyone else to see you," he confessed, and the honesty of his words struck you like a slap. "Even then you drove me crazy, Y/N. With your pride and your mania for defying every rule. I knew that one day you would be mine and the thought that others might have seen what belonged to me by contract burned me inside."
You turned sharply, even though the dress wasn't quite unbuttoned yet, forcing him to let go. The fabric fell over your shoulders, revealing the start of your white silk corset. You looked him in the eye, looking for the boy you knew, but you only found the man who bullied you.
"I don't belong to you, Jungkook," you said firmly, although your voice trembled. "This contract says that we will share a kingdom and a bed, but my mind and my will are still mine. Don't try to convince me that this is something you wanted for "us." You wanted it for power.
Jungkook took a step towards you, invading your space, forcing you to back away until your thighs collided with the edge of the dresser bench. He leaned over you, resting one hand on either side of your hips.
"Power?" He whispered, his face so close you could count his eyelashes. "I have had power since I was born. What I don't have is peace. And you... You are the only person in this world who dares to look me in the eye and tell me that I am worthless. Do you have any idea what that does to a man like me?"
His eyes went down to your mouth and then to the neckline of your corset, where your chest rose and fell agitatedly. The sexual tension in the room became almost physical, a pressure on your chest that made it difficult for you to breathe.
"I have to finish with these buttons," he said, his voice now a hoarse murmur, laden with a need he was trying to hide under duty. " And then, Y/N, we're going to have to decide whether we spend tonight as enemies destroying each other or as two people who, despite everything, know each other better than anyone else on this earth. "
He brought his hand to your shoulder, slowly pulling the drooping sleeve of your dress aside, his skin brushing against yours in a contact that lasted longer than necessary.
You fell silent, gasping for breath, as Jungkook's words floated through the dense air of the room. Your mask of coldness, the one you had built so carefully over the past five years, began to crack. You looked him in the eye, and for an instant, you didn't see the arrogant heir who had just insulted your kingdom, but the boy who used to climb up your balcony just to show you a bird's nest he'd found.
All that rage, that sharp edge with which you responded to him, was nothing more than armor. Because the truth, the one that burned your chest more than the corset, was that you loved it. You'd loved him since you were six years old, and he gave you his first wooden soldier. But then, that winter came. That night at the winter ball where you heard him talking to his father, the King, and something inside you broke.
"You don't have to go on with this, Jungkook," you whispered suddenly. Your voice was no longer poisonous, only a deep fatigue. " You don't have to pretend you care about my pride. I know what you think of me. I heard you, you know? Five years ago, in the library in the west wing. "
Jungkook froze. His hands, which were directed at the loops of your corset, stopped in midair. His eyes widened a little wider, reflecting the light from the embers.
"You heard—what?" His voice dropped an octave, becoming a hoarse murmur.
"You told your father that I was just a 'necessary obligation,'" you said, and you felt the lump in your throat close. " That you had no feelings for the girl you had grown up with and that you would marry me just to secure the northern border. I spent my entire adolescence hoping that this "contract" would be something more for you... And that night I understood that I was the only stupid one who was in love. "
You looked down, unable to continue to hold his eyes up. The silence that followed was suffocating. You expected him to laugh, confirm his words, or just walk away nonchalantly. But he did nothing of the sort.
You felt his fingers, warm and trembling, brush against your chin to force you to lift your head. When your eyes met his again, you saw no mockery. You saw a raw pain, a desperation that he had never allowed himself to show before.
"Y/N..." He let out a long sigh, almost a wail. "You're a fool. You really are. "
"Now you insult me?" You tried to regain your borderline tone, but your voice broke.
"I told you because you were pressuring me to send you away," he confessed, getting so close that his forehead brushed against yours. "He was telling me that you were a distraction, that my feelings for you made me weak, and that if I couldn't prove that I saw you as a political object, I would marry you off to a duke of the southern lands to get you out of my way. I had to lie. I had to say the cruelest thing I could think of to get him to leave you alone, to allow you to stay close to me, even if it was as an "obligation". "
You froze. Years of accumulated hatred, silent weeping nights, and curt answers in the halls of the courtroom began to falter.
"Why didn't you tell me?" You called out in a whisper, tapping weakly on his chest with your hands. "You made me hate you, Jungkook. You made me hate every memory I had of us."
"Because if I told you, you couldn't have pretended," he replied, catching your hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles with a devotion that took your breath away. "My father is an expert at reading people. I needed you to hate me so that he would believe that I had no power over you. But look at me, Y/N... really look at me. "
He forced you to let go of your hands and put his hands in the loops of your corset, but this time there was no aggression. His fingers moved with a torturous slowness, undoing the first knot in front of you. You were face to face, so close that you could feel the gallop of his heart crashing against yours.
"I've spent five years watching you walk away, watching you throw daggers at me with your eyes while I was dying to apologize to you," he continued, undoing the second lasso. "The pressure of the corset on your lungs began to ease, allowing you to breathe for the first time all night. Do you think I like this contract? I hate him. Because you deserved to be courted, you deserved to be brought you flowers and to write you ridiculous verses like the ones I read to you when we were children. You didn't deserve to be handed over as a war trophy. "
The corset loosened enough that he could tuck his hands under the silk, caressing the skin of your ribs. The contact made you let out a gasp that this time was not from fear, but from a need that you had repressed for too long.
"Jungkook..." His name came out of your lips like a plea.
"Don't hate me tonight, Y/N," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please. I know that the world wants us to be kings, to be enemies or political allies... But here, behind this lock, I just want to be the guy who loved you before it all got so complicated."
Your hands, which had once been clenched into fists, relaxed and climbed up his shoulders until they became entangled in his dark hair. You pulled it gently, forcing it to shorten the last millimeter that separated them.
"I've been so lonely," you confessed against his lips, finally dropping all your defenses.
"Not anymore," he said before capturing your mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the one in the cathedral.
This kiss tasted like years of silence, shared secrets and a desperate urgency. There was no protocol, there were no princes or crowns. There were just the two of you, rediscovering yourselves under the candlelight as the corset finished falling to the floor, letting the vulnerability of both of you meet in the gloom of the room.
The kiss dragged on, not with the urgency of a stranger, but with the painful familiarity of someone who recovers something he thought was lost forever. You felt your fingers sink into the hair on the back of Jungkook's neck, tugging at it with a mixture of relief and reproach. The taste of his mouth, mixed with the trail of red wine, transported you back to the summers when they shared fruit stolen from the royal orchard, before the crowns weighed so heavily on their temples.
When they finally separated, their fronts were united. You were both gasping, the air between you charged with an electricity that was no longer just hate, but a spark of hope that you were afraid to acknowledge.
"I'm afraid to believe you," you whispered, your eyes fixed on his, which shone with an almost feverish intensity. "I've spent five years hating you to survive, Jungkook. If this is another of your political strategies, I swear I won't stand it. "
He didn't respond with words right away. Instead, he lowered her hands to the end loops of your corset, which was now only hanging from your hips. His fingers, expert and slow, undid the last knot. You felt the weight of the garment fall at your feet, leaving your body covered only by the very fine white silk camisole, almost translucent under the candlelight.
You felt exposed, not only physically, but emotionally. You had run out of armor.
"Look at me, Y/N," he asked you, his voice a silk thread. "There are no ministers here. There are no spies behind the curtains. There's just the boy who taught you to ride and the girl who swore to me that one day we'd be the greatest kings in history. "
He took a step back, but only to take off his own military coat. He threw it to the ground without looking at her, a gesture of contempt for the uniform that represented his duty. Then, he put his hands to the buttons of his white shirt. His eyes didn't leave yours for a second, as if he feared that if he blinked, you'd put back on that mask of indifference that had tormented him so much.
"Help me," he said, stopping his hands halfway across his chest. "If we're going to do this, if we're going to be one tonight, I want you to claim what's yours too."
Your hands were shaking when you raised them. Your fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt, feeling the scorching heat emanating from his skin. You began to undo the buttons, one by one, with a torturous slowness. With each button you released, you discovered more about him: the curve of his shoulders, the firmness of his chest, the scars you didn't know about—records of training and battles he'd earned while you were away, hating him.
"This scar..." you whispered, brushing your fingertip against a pale mark near his shoulder. "It wasn't there before. "
"It was two years ago," he answered, closing his eyes to your touch. "An ambush in the north. I was just thinking that if I died there, I would never have a chance to tell you the truth. That I would die being your enemy and that hurt me more than steel in the flesh. "
You finished with the last button and opened his shirt, letting it fall off his shoulders. Jungkook looked imposing in the gloom; The light from the fireplace cast shadows on his defined muscles and tanned skin. He was a man now, a potential king, but when he looked at you, you saw the same Jungkook who stayed awake with you when you had nightmares.
He shortened the distance again, wrapping his bare arms around your waist. The contact of his skin against the silk of your nightgown, and yours underneath, made you let out a trembling sigh. He glued you to his body, forcing you to feel the strength of his muscles and the unbridled beating of his heart.
"Outside, the world awaits a perfect queen and a ruthless king," he whispered against your neck, his nose brushing your skin, inhaling your scent of roses and jasmine. "They hope that our union will be a formality to sign maps. But in here... here I want you to be just Y/N. My Y/N. The one who insults me, the one who challenges me and the one who, in spite of everything, loves me as much as I love her. "
He brought his hands to the straps of your nightgown, pulling them down with a delicacy that made you tear. The silk slid down your body, falling in a soft whisper on the carpet. Now there was nothing left to hide. In front of him, stripped of all clothes and of your last defenses, you gave yourself completely; There were no more secrets or lies between the two. Only the raw and beautiful reality of your body exposed before his gaze, and the certainty of two souls who had searched for each other for half a decade.
You hugged him, burying your face in his chest, feeling the scent of sandalwood and man that was so intoxicating to you. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you, protecting you from the cold and loneliness you had felt for so long.
"Five years, Jungkook," you muttered against his skin, your hands caressing his back. "Five lost years."
"We have the rest of our lives to get them back," he assured you, lifting you into his arms effortlessly. "But tonight is just for us. There is no crown that weighs more than this desire."
He walked to the large four-poster bed. The linen sheets were cold, but the heat they both gave off was enough to set the room on fire. He left you on the mattress with infinite softness, as if you were made of glass, before positioning himself on you, resting his weight on his forearms so as not to crush you.
"I love you, Y/N," he said, and it was the first time you heard those words in a man's voice. "I have loved you in every letter I didn't send, in every toast I made in your honor when you were away, and in every battle I won just to make this kingdom worthy of you."
Your eyes misted up, and for the first time in years, you smiled for real. A smile that was just for him.
"Then show me," you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him toward you. "Prove me that the contract is wrong and that you don't own me... but my other half."
Jungkook lowered his head and kissed you, with a devout tenderness that made you understand that, even if the sun came out in a few hours and you had to face the court, in that bed you had already won the most important battle of your life.
Jungkook didn't rush. He stood on his elbows, watching you with an intensity that made you feel like he was reading your soul, not just looking at your body. His eyes swept over every inch of your skin with a reverence you'd never seen in him.
"You're shaking," he whispered, and his hand reached down to intertwine his fingers with yours, pressing them against the mattress.
"It's not because of the cold," you admitted in a thin voice.
It was the truth. It was the adrenaline, the relief, and the weight of five years of loneliness crumbling all at once. Jungkook let go of one of your hands and began to draw invisible lines on your belly, slowly rising towards your ribs. His fingers were warm and a little rough, and every place he touched seemed to light up in his wake.
"I spent so many nights imagining this," he confessed, lowering his head to kiss the crook of your shoulder. "In the northern campaigns, when the cold was so intense that my bones hurt, I would close my eyes and try to remember the sound of your laughter or the way you frowned when I beat you at chess. It was the only thing that kept me sane. "
You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips against your skin. Your hand went up his arm, marveling at the firmness of his muscles. He was no longer the skinny boy you used to run with; He was a solid man, forged by duty and war.
"I thought you had forgotten me," you said, your voice charged with an honesty you would have been ashamed to show before. "At every dance, at every official dinner, you looked at me as if I were a stranger. I convinced myself that you had erased everything we were."
Jungkook stopped and looked up to meet yours. There was a deep sadness in his dark eyes.
"Never," he said. "Every time I ignored you, it was a battle with myself not to cross the room, hold your hand, and get you out of there. I had to learn to be an outsider to protect you from my own feelings. My father... He knew you were my weak point. If he found out that I still loved you like this, he would have used you as a bargaining chip much sooner. "
He came down again, this time looking for your neck. His kisses were slow, almost lazy, as if he wanted to memorize the taste of your skin. You felt his warm breath against your ear as his hands continued to explore your figure, recognizing the curves that time and maturity had molded in you.
"You're so beautiful, Y/N," he murmured against your skin, and the tone of his voice, so filled with genuine admiration, made you feel a lump in your throat.
You forced yourself to move, seeking to be closer to him. You entangled your legs with his, feeling the rubbing of his hairy, firm skin against yours, soft and delicate. The touch caused you to gasp, and your body, which had been tense all day, finally began to relax, asking for more.
"Jungkook..." you whispered, arching your back as his hand circled one of your breasts, caressing the nipple with his thumb with a delicacy that made you burn. "I don't want to talk about the past anymore. I don't want to think about the sunrise or the sheets. I just want you to be here. With me. "
He pulled away enough to look at you, a small, painful smile pouring across his lips.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," he promised.
He brought his hand to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb before tilting his face to kiss you again. This kiss was different; It was deeper, more needy, as if he was trying to seal a promise that neither of them dared to say out loud. Their tongues met, dancing in a rhythm they had always known but now felt new, charged with a passion that no longer had to be hidden.
You felt the emotional tension slowly transform into a much more powerful physical need. Your hands went down his back, running down Jungkook's spine until they reached his hips, urging him to stick closer to you. He responded with a low growl, pressing his erection against your thigh, and the discharge of desire that ran through your belly took your breath away.
"I've missed you so much," you confessed between kisses, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders.
"And I to you, my queen," he answered, his voice growing hoarser. "My only queen. "
Jungkook started to go down again, but this time his kisses didn't stay on your neck. They followed the path of his caress, down your chest, stopping at every inch as if he were worshipping a temple. The slowness with which he did it was a delicious torture; It made you wish that he would hurry up, but at the same time, you wanted that moment of mutual discovery to last forever.
Jungkook moved away just a few centimeters, just enough for you to see the glow of adoration in his eyes, but not enough for you to stop feeling his warmth. His hand, firm and warm, went down your belly, leaving a trail of small spasms in its wake, until it stopped just above the junction of your thighs, where fine hair and sensitive skin made you feel more vulnerable than ever.
"Are you sure?" he whispered. His voice was a hoarse caress, charged with a restraint that made the muscles in his arms tense. "Once we cross this line, Y/N, there will be no turning back. Not only will you be my wife before the law, but... You will have entrusted me with the most sacred thing you have. "
You swallowed, feeling your heart hammer against your ribs. You looked at him, seeing the man who had spent years hiding his love under an iron mask just to keep you safe. You were no longer afraid of the contract, you were afraid of the intensity of how you felt about it.
"I'm sure, Jungkook," you replied, your voice steady despite the nerves. "I want it to be you."
He let out a long sigh, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and leaned over to leave a chaste kiss on your forehead. Then, with a slowness that made you want to scream in anticipation, it began to come down your body. It didn't position itself between your legs right away; Instead, he dedicated herself to worshipping every corner of your skin with his lips and tongue.
He kissed your ribs, stopping to listen to your frantic heartbeat. He went down to your navel, tracing circles with the wet tip of his tongue that made your toes shrink and your belly contract. Jungkook moved with the patience of a craftsman, as if he was discovering a treasure that had been buried for centuries.
"You're perfect," he murmured against your skin, his warm breath sending electric shocks straight into your pelvis. "All this time, imagining what you would be like... And reality takes my breath away. "
His hands went down to spread your legs apart with extreme delicacy. You felt yourself dying of shame for a second, the diffused light of the candles bathing your intimacy completely exposed before his expert eyes, but he didn't give you time to hide. Jungkook knelt between your thighs and rested his large hands on the inside of your knees, keeping them wide open.
His gaze swept over your femininity with an almost religious reverence. There was no vulgar lust in his expression, but a pure, hungry fascination with the center of your crotch, which was already beginning to glow subtly.
"Jungkook..." you gasped, covering your eyes with your arm, feeling the heat rise up your cheeks at the intensity of his scrutiny.
"Look at me, Y/N," he asked you, his voice vibrating with a soft but undeniable command. You slowly pulled your arm away and looked at him; He was there, the future king of an empire, kneeling before you as if you were his only deity. "Don't hide from me. There is nothing in you that is not worthy of worship."
He brought his hand to you, and you felt the first direct contact. His long fingers brushed your with the softness of a petal, barely a touch, but it was enough to make you let out a high-pitched moan that echoed throughout the room. It was the first time someone touched you like that, the first time you felt that pang of pleasure so clear, electric and overwhelming.
"Shh, don't worry," he whispered, watching your reaction intently as his eyes darkened. "Just feel."
He began to move his fingertips in slow circles, discovering your sensitivity, learning the exact rhythm that made your breath choppy. I was in no hurry to penetrate you; He seemed to enjoy endlessly watching your eyes glaze over and your hips rise unconsciously seeking more of his touch. His fingers slid down, finding the thick moisture that was already beginning to gush out of your canal, and he let out a low growl, a hoarse sound of pure satisfaction.
"You're so ready for me..." he muttered, and before you could process his words, he lowered his head completely.
The first contact of his hot, moist tongue against your center was like a burst of white light behind your eyelids. You shouted his name, sinking your hands in despair into the linen sheets, as he gave himself to the task of worshipping you with his mouth. Jungkook was not careless; He used his tongue with a precision that made you lose your sense of reality. It alternated long, firm licks from bottom to top with soft suctions directly at your most sensitive point, crushing your button and bringing you to an edge you didn't know existed.
You felt the rubbing of his nose against your pubis, the suffocating heat of his breath and the obscene wetness of his mouth consuming you completely. It was an absolute sensory discovery. Every time you tried to close your legs, overwhelmed by the intensity of the stimulus, his firm hands on the inside of your thighs reminded you that he was in charge and that he wasn't done with you.
"Jungkook, please... I don't know what this is..." You cried, your head moving back and forth on the pillow, losing control of your own body.
He paused for a second, only to look down at you, his lips shining with your own wetness and his eyes completely darkened with desire.
"It's the pleasure that belongs to you, Y/N," he said in a thick voice that seemed to come from the depths of his chest. "And only I am going to give it to you. Always me."
He went down again, this time deeper, exploring with his fingers the entrance to your canal while his tongue continued to work relentlessly on your clitoris. He inserted a finger, very slowly, feeling the natural resistance of your virginity. You immediately tensed up under the new pressure, but he stopped, kissing your inner thighs parsimonously to relax before continuing. He was preparing you, widening you with infinite patience, lubricating you with his own fingers, making sure that when the time came for real union, you would only feel love and not pain.
The sensation of his fingers moving inside you, in unison with the wet strokes of his tongue, pushed you to the absolute limit. You felt a growing pressure in your belly, an addictive tension that was crying out to be released. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he picked up the pace, his fingers moving more firmly and deeply, mimicking what would soon be his own penetration.
"Jungkook! You exclaimed in a broken cry, and suddenly the world exploded.
Your body arched violently upward as the first orgasm of your life shook you from head to toe in uncontrollable spasms. It was such a powerful release that you felt your lungs forgetting to breathe, your vaginal walls squeezing hard. Jungkook stood there, holding your thighs, receiving every contraction of your body directly against his face and fingers, drinking from your flow as if it were the most precious elixir of his kingdom.
When the tremors finally stopped and you collapsed against the mattress, exhausted and with your heart pounding, Jungkook immediately climbed up to cover you with his body. He kissed you with demented tenderness, savoring you on your own lips, mixing his juices, while his hands caressed your tousled hair.
"We're not done yet, my queen," he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his erection, huge, hard, throbbing, pressing hard against your thigh. " This has been just for you. Now... Now I want you to know what it means to be one flesh. "
You stood there, sunk in the silk mattress, your lungs burning from the effort to catch your breath after that burst of pleasure you never imagined possible. Your body felt light, almost ethereal, but at the same time strangely aware of every inch of skin. Jungkook slowly squeezed in, coming out from between your legs, and you saw him stand next to the bed.
The light of the candles, which were already beginning to burn out, bathed his figure in a golden halo. You watched him in silence, with half-open eyes, as he brought his hands to the zippers of his ball pants. The sound of leather and fabric slipping was the only thing that broke the sacred silence of the bedroom. When he finally got rid of the last thing covering him, standing completely naked before you, the air escaped from your lungs for a very different reason than the previous orgasm.
It was imposing. Jungkook had always been athletic, but the man in front of you was a work of art carved in stone and desire. His legs were strong, marked by years of military training, and his belly was defined by muscles that tensed with his every move. But your eyes couldn't help but go down to his crotch, and that's when you felt your face burn as if an ember had been brought to you.
You let out a brief, nervous laugh, a mixture of disbelief and modesty that you could not contain. You covered your face with both hands, sinking your fingers into your hot cheeks, as the echo of your own laughter echoed through the canopy of the bed.
"What are you laughing at, little queen?" His voice went deep, charged with a playful but intense vibration. You heard the mattress give way again under his weight as he knelt on the bed.
"It's just that..." you murmured between your fingers, sticking out only one eye to look at him—... "Jungkook, that's impossible. "
"Impossible?"
"You're not going to fit," you blurted out, and this time the laughter was pure nervousness. "You're going to... You're going to break me. I've known you forever, but I never imagined you'd be... like this. It's too much."
Jungkook let out a low growl, one that wasn't anger, but a masculine satisfaction that made him smile halfway. He didn't immediately come over to possess you. Instead, he sat on his heels in front of you, allowing you to process the vision of his manhood. His long fingers surrounded his own erection, which pulsed with a force that intimidated and fascinated you in equal measure. In a slow, deliberate motion, he began to move his hand up and down, spreading the pre-cum that glistened at the tip along the entire length of his member, preparing to ease the way for you.
The wet sound of his own hand against his skin made you close your eyes again, but you couldn't help but imagine it. You knew I was doing that for you, so that the transition from virgin to wife would be as painless as possible.
"Look at me, Y/N," he said, and his tone was no longer joking. It was a royal order, but charged with a tenderness that disarmed you. You pulled your hands away from your face little by little. "The human body is wise, and mine has been waiting for years to fit into yours. I'm not going to break you. I'm going to complete you."
He moved closer, crawling on the bed until his body was back on top of yours. The contrast between his size and your delicate figure has never been so apparent. His thighs, wide and firm, positioned themselves on the outside of yours, forcing you to open again. This time, you felt the tip of his erection, wet and hot, brushing your entrance, right where you still felt the throb of your recent orgasm.
"Jungkook, wait..." you gasped, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, looking for an anchor.
"Shhh... Look me in the eye," he whispered, lowering himself to capture your lips in a deep kiss, a kiss that tasted like promise. "I'm not going to move if you don't ask me. We are going to go millimeter by millimeter. I want you to feel every part of me coming into your life."
You felt how he rested all his weight in his hands at the sides of your head, hovering over you like a protective shadow. He started pushing, very slowly, with a constant and massive pressure that forced you to arch your back against the silk mattress. The feeling of fulfillment was immediate, overwhelming; You felt the raw texture of its veins and the scorching heat of its thickness stretching your skin millimeter by millimeter, forcing your vaginal walls to adapt to it. A groan of surprise and involuntary submission escaped from your throat. It was an experience that overwhelmed you, as if you were being claimed not only by the man you loved, but by an indomitable force of nature.
"It hurts a little," you admitted in a thin voice, pressing your nails into the bare skin of his back, feeling the physical barrier of your innocence firmly oppose his advance.
Jungkook stopped immediately, freezing the thrust. His forehead rested against yours, and you could see the beads of sweat running down his temples, glistening in the candlelight from the superhuman effort he was making to contain his own instincts and not lose control. His eyes were darkened, almost black with dilation, fixed on yours with an absolute, possessive devotion.
"I know, love. "I know," he murmured against your lips, giving you small wet kisses to draw your attention away from the sting. "Breathe with me. Just a little more and we'll be one forever. There will be no more contracts, no fathers, no kingdoms between us. Just you and me."
He waited with infinite patience for your muscles to give way, for your breathing to match his in the midst of that intimate invasion. Only when he felt that you had stopped tensing up and that your femininity was beginning to soften from the heat, did he push again. With a firm, slow, vertical thrust, he finally broke the last vestige of your childhood.
You let out a muffled sob, a mixture of sharp pain and emotional satisfaction so deep it brought tears to your eyes, as you felt him bury himself deep to the root, filling the void you had endured during those five years of solitude. Your insides contracted violently around his member, trapping him in a suffocating grip.
Jungkook stood completely motionless inside you, united at the deepest point possible, allowing the bloodstain that tomorrow the court would see to spread beneath you on the linen sheets as the final, irrevocable seal of your destiny. He put his arms around you, pressing you to his beating chest, and for the first time all night, you felt that the crown was no longer weighing anything.
"That's it," he whispered in your ear, his voice completely broken with emotion and desire. "You're mine, Y/N. And I am, at last, completely yours."
Time seemed to freeze the instant Jungkook finished reclaiming that space that, by right of love and contract, now belonged to him. You gasped, your eyes misty and your nails stuck in his shoulders, feeling that immense pressure that seemed to expand you from within, the pulse of his erection beating directly against your cervix. Jungkook didn't move; He stood there, buried in you, his arm muscles trembling from the effort of holding his weight so as not to crush you as he waited for your body to accept the anatomy of a warrior.
"Breathe, my life... Look at me and breathe," he whispered. His voice was a hoarse thread of pure agony and devotion.
You felt the piercing sting of your lost innocence, but above all, you felt that scorching fullness. Jungkook was too big, a presence that filled you completely, making you feel small and fragile under his body. Every time you tried to relax, the throbbing of his own cock inside you, releasing the first few drops of pre-cum, reminded you how real and carnal this all was.
He lowered his head and began to kiss your tears, sweeping the salt from your cheeks with a tenderness that contrasted with the brute strength of his hips wedged between your thighs. His lips sought yours in a slow, deep kiss, giving you time to process the burning feeling of being one flesh with him.
"Tell me when you're ready," he murmured against your lips, brushing them. I won't move until the pain turns into something else. I don't want you to remember me in pain, Y/N. Never again.
What seemed like hours passed, although they were only minutes of sacred silence where only the crackling of the embers and their rhythmic breaths could be heard. Gradually, the burning began to transform into a dull heat, an addictive electric pulsation that was born right where their bodies came together. Your body, traitor and in love, began to give way, lubricating itself naturally, wrapping around it and finally recognizing the owner of its sighs.
You nodded slightly against his shoulder, letting out a trembling sigh that hit his neck. Jungkook closed his eyes, letting out a low growl, a purely animal sound, and began to move.
It was an almost imperceptible movement at first. A slow rock, a retreat of just a few inches that dragged your inner walls before sinking back down with extreme delicacy. You gasped, your mouth half-open, feeling your skin stretch to accommodate each thrust. It was a beautiful and terrifying sensation at the same time; You felt completely invaded, but in a way that made you feel whole for the first time in five years.
"Damn it... you're so tight... so perfect," Jungkook gasped. His jaw was so tense that you could see the veins in his neck tick under the candlelight.
He increased the pace, but only a little, maintaining that deliberate and deep cadence that allowed you to enjoy every millimeter of his entrance. The wet sound of friction began to mix with the rubbing of the sheets. Every time he slipped out, you felt an unbearable emptiness, and every time he went back in, a burst of heat ran down your spine. His hands came down from your shoulders to intertwine with yours on the pillow, squeezing them tightly, anchoring you to him in this mutual discovery.
"Does it still hurt?" He asked, pausing for a second to look at you. His eyes were injected with desire, fixed on your blushing face, but his worry was what dominated his expression.
"A little... But don't stop," you whispered, arching your back up unconsciously, looking for it to go deeper. "I want to feel you, Jungkook. I want you to erase all this time that we were away."
Those words were the trigger that ended his last trace of self-control. Jungkook let out a heavy sigh, a snort full of lust, and began to charge more firmly, with drier and deeper punches, although without losing the elegance of his movements. The four-poster bed creaked gently to the rhythm of his passion, a sound that mingled with your unbridled gasps and hoarse growls from him. With each movement, fullness became pleasure; a dark, dense, moist and deep pleasure that clouded your judgment completely.
You felt him hit points inside you that you had never explored, sending electric shocks straight into your belly. The pain was completely gone, replaced by a voracious need for me to never let go of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist unconsciously, drawing him in more, wanting to remove any atom of air between their bodies, forcing him to sink to bottom.
"You're mine... My wife, my queen..." he whispered against your lips, each word punctuated by a hard thrust that made you see stars and lose track of reality.
Jungkook raised one of his hands to caress your face, brushing the sweaty hair away from your forehead as he moved with an increasing and uncontrolled intensity. His sweaty body shone in the gloom, a vision of power and absolute dedication. He was giving you everything: his strength, his vulnerability, and the secret of his eternal love.
You reached the edge of the abyss almost without realizing it. Pleasure built up in your belly like a storm about to burst, making you emit wet, broken sounds. Jungkook noticed it instantly; He felt the first contractions of your canal hugging him tightly, he saw how your eyes rolled and how your body began to tremble under his. He picked up the pace, his movements becoming a little more erratic, more urgent, taking you by the hand toward that climax you both shared.
"Jungkook! You shouted his name, your voice broken with emotion, as the world crumbled into a thousand pieces of light and heat.
Your orgasm shook you with a force that left you breathless, your vaginal walls squeezing his member into violent spasms. Jungkook was not far behind. Feeling the emptiness of your liberation sucking it in, it let out a guttural roar that seemed to be born from its bowels, sank for the last time in a brutal way, as deep as it could, and poured into you with an intensity that made you vibrate. Waves of thick, burning semen filled your insides, mixing with your own moisture and the trace of your innocence. He stood there, trembling over you, burying his face in the hollow of your neck as his seed sealed the contract of their lives for good.
Silence returned to the room, but it was a different silence. It was no longer hostile, nor annoying. It was a silence full of peace and a satisfaction that can only be found after a war won.
Jungkook slumped down next to you carefully, but he didn't allow you to walk away. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping you in a protective embrace as you both caught your breath. The sheets were scrambled, stained with proof of their union, but at the time, none of that mattered.
"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, kissing the crown of your head. Now and for all the winters we have left.
You snuggled up against him, feeling his heartbeat against your ear. The prince and princess who hated each other had died that night in that bed, and in their place, two lovers were born who, at last, no longer had to pretend.
(...)
The sun began to filter timidly through the heavy velvet curtains, drawing lines of golden dust in the dense air of the room. It wasn't the sudden awakening you'd imagined for years of nightmares about this day; It was a slow awakening, enveloped in the warmth of a body that no longer felt like that of an enemy, but as your safe harbor.
You opened your eyes heavily, your body feeling strangely sore but light, as if you had taken off an armor you had been wearing for centuries. The first thing you saw was Jungkook's face, a few centimeters from yours. He was not asleep. He watched you with infinite calm, his dark hair tousled on the pillow and an expression of peace that you had never seen him wear in court.
"Good morning, my queen," he whispered, and his voice, hoarse with sleep, sent a delicious shiver down your spine.
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you recalled the details of the night: the confessions, the urgency of his hands, and the way he called you his over and over again. You shifted under the linen sheets, feeling the rubbing of his bare skin against yours, and you looked down at the bed. There, between the two of you, the stain of dried crimson on the immaculate white was the silent testimony of your surrender and of the sealed covenant.
"They're coming soon," you said in a whisper, feeling a knot of nervousness at the thought of the maidens and counselors waiting behind the door.
"Let them come," Jungkook replied with a calm smugness. He moved closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing you to his chest. "They already have what they wanted."
Three sharp and ceremonious knocks echoed through the wooden door. It was the warning of the protocol. The time for intimacy was over; The time of kings was beginning.
Jungkook sat up, giving you one last quick and possessive kiss on the lips before reaching for his silk robe. You did the same, covering yourself in a thin robe, trying to keep your composure as he walked to the door and turned the key that last night looked like the lock of a cell and today felt like the key to a shelter.
The doors opened wide. The ladies-in-waiting entered with their heads bowed, carrying basins of warm water and perfumed oils, followed by the eldest housekeeper, whose only mission was to pick up the central sheet. You saw the woman approach the bed with professional coldness, removing the stained linen with a bow directed at both of them.
You looked at Jungkook. He was standing by the window, the daylight highlighting his aristocratic profile. For a second, his iron mask was back in place: the tense jaw, the icy gaze, the crown prince no one dared to challenge. But before the housekeeper left the room to show the "proof" to the King and the council, Jungkook looked for you with his eyes.
In that brief moment, he gave you an almost imperceptible smile, a spark of complicity that said: "This is our secret. The rest is just theater."
Hours later, you were walking alongside him through the great throne room. The weight of your new gold and sapphire crown was real, and the cheers of the court echoed through the stone vaults. Everyone celebrated peace, the union of two kingdoms and political victory. But you, while holding your head high and the serene expression of a perfect princess, felt Jungkook's hand seek yours under the wide folds of his royal cloaks.
His fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing them with a firmness that reminded you of the heat of the night before. You were no longer the girl who climbed the cherry trees, nor was he the boy who scolded you for being reckless. They were the sovereigns of an empire, yes, but above all, they were two people who had survived hatred to find themselves in the truth.
"Are you ready, Y/N?" He asked you in a low voice, still looking straight ahead at the thrones that awaited them.
"With you, always," you replied, squeezing his hand with the same intensity.
They walked together to their seats, echoing their footsteps ushering in an era. You knew there would be more wars, more intrigues, and more pressures, but you were no longer afraid. For that night, amid the scent of sandalwood and the ashes of the fireplace, you had learned that there was no contract stronger than that which is signed with the soul, nor a crown more valuable than the love of him whom you once called the enemy.
(...)
Five years had passed since that night when the lock of the royal room dictated the beginning of your new life. Five years since the bloodstains and the truths shouted between sighs sealed a pact that no minister would have been able to draft.
You walked along the marble balcony of the east wing, the same one that overlooked the gardens where, in another life, Jungkook chased you through the rose bushes. The afternoon air was crisp, but you no longer felt that constant chill in your bones that used to accompany you when you were alone. The weight of your crown no longer caused migraines; now it was simply a part of you, as natural as the surname Jeon you proudly carried.
"I knew I'd find you here," Jungkook's voice, now deeper and charged with the authority of a King who has won a thousand political battles, echoed behind you.
You turned around with a soft smile, watching as he walked towards you. He no longer wore the rigid dress uniform; He wore a dark silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar and an expression of utter relaxation that he only showed when the doors of the great hall closed.
You watched him approach, noticing how time had only served to polish his beauty. He had some new frown lines around his eyes, the product of sleepless nights studying maps and tracts, but when his eyes met yours, you kept seeing the boy who gave you a wooden soldier.
"The southern emissaries are gone," he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you to his chest with that possessive familiarity that had never diminished. "They say they've never seen a kingdom so prosperous, or a couple so prosperous... "synchronized". "
"If they only knew we spent half our time arguing over grain taxes," you chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder.
"Arguing with you is my favorite activity, Y/N," he murmured, kissing your temple. It keeps me on my toes. "It reminds me that my Queen is still the most stubborn and brilliant woman in the entire alliance."
You looked down at the lower garden, where a small three-year-old boy was running after a hunting cub, closely followed by two guards trying to hide their smiles. The little heir of the Jeons had his father's dark, messy hair and your same spark of rebellion in his eyes.
"Look at Minjun," you said, feeling a sweet warmth in your chest. "He's trying to climb the cherry tree."
Jungkook let out a low laugh, a vibration you felt against your own back.
"Like mother, like son. I remember a certain princess who almost broke her leg doing exactly the same thing. I had to rescue her and endure her insults all the way back."
"You rescued me because you wanted to be the hero, Jungkook," you reminded him, turning in his arms to hang from his neck. "Admit it."
"I admit that I have always been at your feet, even if I tried very hard to look like an arrogant prince," he confessed, looking at you with a devotion that had not died down a single day in these five years. "Sometimes I stop to think about that first night... in how close we were to letting ourselves be consumed by pride."
You felt a chill as you remembered the tension back then, the way feigned hatred almost robbed them of happiness. Jungkook lowered his hand to your belly, still flat under the silk of your dress, but where you both knew that a new life was starting to grow again. His touch was soft, protective, loaded with a promise of the future.
"We fulfilled the contract, Y/N," he whispered, lowering his voice until it became a secret only to your ears. "We gave them peace, we gave them the heirs, we gave them the stability they wanted. But what they can never take away from us is that this... This was not because of them."
"It was for us," you added, searching for his lips.
The kiss was slow, loaded with the history they had built together. It was no longer the desperate kiss of two strangers forced together; It was the kiss of two battle buddies who had turned a forced marriage into an empire of love.
As the sun set behind the mountains of your former home, illuminating the horizon with orange and violet hues, you understood that "happily ever after" was not a gift of fate, but something you had both fought and won, millimeter by millimeter, in the privacy of your bedroom and in the coldness of your throne.
Jungkook pressed you tighter against him, looking towards his kingdom, but with his heart set only on the woman in his arms.
"I love you, my Queen," he said, and you knew he would say it every night until the crowns were dust again.
"And I to you, my King," you replied, knowing that, at last, the story of the princess and prince who hated each other was over, giving way to the legend of the kings who loved each other against all odds.
END
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A/N: So, this is officially my very first OS and I’m not gonna lie, I'm absolute wreck of nerves right now lmao. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Any thoughts or feedback are more than welcome! ❤️
when the stoic and devastatingly handsome sir jeon jungkook is appointed as your personal knight, sworn to guard your royal highness with a will forged from steel, you quickly discover that his greatest strength may also be his most infuriating trait, he is utterly immune to you. no matter how tightly you lace your corset, he remains the perfect knight, eyes respectfully averted, jaw set like stone. but while sir jungkook may be a man of steel, you are a princess accustomed to getting what you want, and with every sinful intention of discovering whether even the realm’s most loyal knight could be brought to his knees for you.
⎯⎯ pairing: knight jungkook x princess y/n
warnings: erotica, forbidden medieval fantasy au, porn with plot, age gap, yearning, size difference, oral fixation (f.), unprotected sex, the princess is very horny, cold,dom!knight, bigdick!knight, breeding, pregnancy trope, war brutality, motherhood, subtle angst
word count: 20.5k
The great hall of the royal palace echoed with the murmurs of the assembled court. The King sat upon his throne, his stern gaze sweeping over the line of elite knights who had come to compete for the highest honor in the realm, becoming the personal protector of his only daughter, the princess, you.
The position was coveted for many reasons, but none more obvious than the princess herself.
Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.
With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.
The prospect amused you more than it excited you.
“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”
Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.
For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.
You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.
He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.
A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.
Then he stepped forward.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.
The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.
Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.
The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.
As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.
Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.
A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.
The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.
You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.
Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.
The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”
“She does not.”
You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.
Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.
Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.
“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”
For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.
Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.
As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.
“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”
His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”
For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.
The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.
After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.
The knights were disappointed.
You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.
The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.
Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.
Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.
Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.
At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.
Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.
Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.
Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.
Your father rose slowly from his seat.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”
A murmur rippled through the court.
You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.
“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”
His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”
—
Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.
It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.
No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.
What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.
The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.
Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.
“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”
You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.
“As if,” you replied mockingly, bored. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”
Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”
Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.
That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.
The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.
You knew he would follow.
The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.
“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”
You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.
A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.
“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”
Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”
You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.
“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”
You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.
Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.
Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.
“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”
“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”
You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.
You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.
A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.
You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.
“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.
It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.
You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.
Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”
You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.
But the gods had other plans.
Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.
“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.
Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.
The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.
You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.
And you forgot how to breathe.
Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.
Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.
Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.
“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.
Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.
Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.
He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.
You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.
You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.
Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.
Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.
“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”
The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.
“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”
You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.
“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”
He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.
You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.
“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”
Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.
“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”
You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.
A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.
“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”
You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.
“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.
“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”
His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.
“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.
“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”
Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.
“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”
A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”
The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.
Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.
“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”
You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.
“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”
“Your Highness, I—”
“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”
You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.
Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.
You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.
“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.
Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.
The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.
“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”
“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”
His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.
He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.
As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.
The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.
“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”
The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.
“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”
The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.
You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.
“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.
The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.
The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.
Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.
He had never tasted anything so addictive.
You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.
Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.
“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”
You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.
“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”
The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.
The pleasure hit you like a storm.
Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.
You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.
Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.
When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.
You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.
—
“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”
The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.
They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.
In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.
He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.
He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.
You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.
You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.
The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.
You began creating excuses just to be close to him.
You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.
Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.
One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.
Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.
“A gift?” you asked.
“If Your Highness would accept it.”
The answer surprised a smile from you.
He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.
When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.
You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”
His expression didn’t change.
“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”
Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.
The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.
In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.
Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.
They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.
The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.
The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.
—
The Coronation.
The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.
Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.
You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.
He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.
Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.
Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.
That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.
The moment the door closed, he was on you.
The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.
“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.
You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.
“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”
Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.
“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”
“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”
His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.
You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.
Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.
“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”
You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.
Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.
“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”
His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.
He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.
Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.
“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”
He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.
Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.
But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.
“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”
You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.
Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.
“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”
He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.
You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.
“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”
Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.
The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.
Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.
You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.
The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.
You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.
Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.
He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.
“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.
He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.
“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”
He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.
You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.
“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”
The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.
Your breath caught.
He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.
You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.
“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”
The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.
Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.
“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.
You did, heart hammering.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.
You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”
Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”
You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”
The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.
“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.
He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”
But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”
With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.
Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.
“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”
When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.
“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”
That was all it took.
Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.
He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.
“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”
He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.
You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.
First, he worshipped.
The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.
“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”
Then the worship turned into ruin.
He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.
You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.
“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”
By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.
He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.
All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.
When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.
Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.
“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”
You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.
The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.
The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.
It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.
You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.
Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.
“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”
Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”
You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.
Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”
You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.
“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.
“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.
“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”
You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.
“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”
For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.
Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”
Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”
“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”
You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.
Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.
You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.
“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”
Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”
Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.
“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”
You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.
If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.
The thought disturbed you deeply.
You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.
—
The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.
A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.
Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.
“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”
Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”
Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”
Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.
That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.
The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.
You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.
“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”
“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”
But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.
“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”
You stared at him, heart shattering.
“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”
Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.
“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”
Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.
“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”
Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.
Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.
But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.
“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”
He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.
Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.
“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”
You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.
You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.
“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.
But it wasn’t enough.
You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.
You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.
The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.
“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.
“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”
You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.
“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.
He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.
“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”
You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.
Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.
Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.
“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”
Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”
The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.
You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.
You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.
This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.
By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.
Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.
“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.
“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”
But it wasn’t.
Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.
The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.
Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.
“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”
Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.
Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”
Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.
Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”
You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.
“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”
Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.
Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”
“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”
You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.
“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”
Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”
You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.
Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”
—
The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.
Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.
Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.
The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.
You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.
In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”
You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.
Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.
The worry became unbearable.
One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.
When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.
“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”
She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.
You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.
“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”
Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”
She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.
“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”
You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.
After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.
“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.
“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”
You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.
Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”
The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.
The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.
One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”
The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”
You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”
He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.
And then the sickness took hold.
Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.
Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.
One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.
You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.
Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.
“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”
“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.
“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”
His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.
You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”
Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.
His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.
“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”
You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”
Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”
He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.
“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.
“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”
When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.
The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.
You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.
Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?
The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.
One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.
Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.
They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.
Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”
They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.
Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.
Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”
You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.
Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”
You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.
“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”
The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.
“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”
You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.
The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.
“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”
Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.
“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”
Silence crashed over the room.
The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.
“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”
“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”
The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”
You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”
“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”
Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”
The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.
The next weeks were a nightmare.
Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.
You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.
One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”
The world shattered.
You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.
You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.
Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.
Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.
The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.
You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.
The labor came on a stormy night.
The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.
He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.
Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.
Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.
She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.
“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”
You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.
Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”
Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.
When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.
He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.
“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”
It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.
In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.
You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.
“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”
Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”
You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.
The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.
Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.
You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.
One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.
You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.
“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”
The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”
You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.
When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.
Your arms were empty.
Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.
The baby was gone.
“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”
You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?
Then you saw him.
A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.
Your knees buckled.
It was Sir Jungkook.
He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.
You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.
“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”
Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.
“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”
Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.
“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”
You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.
“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”
Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.
“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”
The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.
Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.
You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.
The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.
“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”
You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.
“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”
The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.
Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.
“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”
Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.
You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.
You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.
Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.
Only then did you notice movement near the door.
Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.
Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”
He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”
You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.
“Come here,” you whispered.
He obeyed without hesitation.
You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.
New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.
Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.
You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.
“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”
He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.
“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”
You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”
Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.
“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”
You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.
A broken sob tore from his throat.
Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.
“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”
You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.
“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”
For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.
—
The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.
A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.
Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.
“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”
But you already knew.
A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.
Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.
It was the King.
Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.
“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”
You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.
“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”
The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.
“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”
“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”
The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.
The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”
You nodded once, relief flooding through you.
The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.
He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.
The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.
“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”
When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.
Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.
“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”
Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.
“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”
You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.
The knight continued, low and calm.
“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”
You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.
“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”
“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”
You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.
Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.
“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”
Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.
“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”
For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.
Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.
“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”
The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.
—
Three Months Later,
The palace had transformed around you.
After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.
You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.
The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.
Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.
It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.
“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.
Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”
You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.
The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.
He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.
Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.
At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.
He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.
Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.
“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”
She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”
Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”
Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.
“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”
The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.
Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.
He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.
She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.
Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.
“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.
“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”
Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.
The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.
“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”
Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.
You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.
Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.
Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.
You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.
Sir Jungkook followed without a word. He stopped behind you, his large hands resting lightly on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses along your bare arms, from shoulder to wrist, as you continued brushing your hair.
You giggled softly, cheeks flushing with that familiar shyness even after all this time.
“Jungkook…” you murmured, breathy. “You ought to distract me.”
“Good,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I have missed you all day. I need my darling.”
He dropped to his knees behind you with a quiet clink of armor, bowing his head in his familiar, devoted way. You turned to face him, running your fingers through his raven hair, then tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scars that remained on his face.
You saddened for a moment, remembering the brutality he had endured.
But he looked up at you with such pure worship that it took your breath away. To him, you were more than a princess. you were his salvation, the very source of life that had healed him.
You pulled him closer, and he rose, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you to the grand bed.
The knight laid you down gently, then began to worship you with slow, reverent hands. He unlaced your nightgown with painstaking care, peeling the silk away until you were bare before him. His mouth found your breasts immediately, sucking softly on one sensitive nipple, then the other, drinking the sweet milk that flowed for him with deep, grateful groans.
You moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair as he fed from you, his tongue swirling, lips sealed tight around your peak. He drank like a man who had been starving for you, savoring every drop as if it were the very essence of life itself.
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply against your breast, the sound vibrating through your chest as he drank almost desperately. His large hand cradled the soft weight of your breast, squeezing gently to draw more from you while his other hand stroked your side with reverent tenderness.
“So sweet,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and worshipful. “You give me life, my petal. You heal what war tried to break.”
You whimpered, arching into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intimate, sacred act, fresh heat blooming between your thighs.
When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes.
“You are my salvation,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts before moving lower. “The mother of my child. The light that brought me home.”
When he finally moved lower, he spread your thighs with firm hands and settled between them. He looked up at you once, eyes dark with devotion, before lowering his mouth to your core.
He worshipped your flower, seeking nectar with slow, deep licks that made your back arch, followed by gentle suction on your swollen clit. His tongue delved inside you, tasting every inch, groaning at your sweetness as if it were the most sacred thing he had ever known.
You whimpered and moaned, hips rolling against his handsome face as pleasure built in waves. He was relentless yet tender, bringing you to the edge again and again before letting you tip over.
When you finally begged for him, voice trembling with need, Sir Jungkook rose above you like a knight before his altar.
He did not rush. Instead, he sat back on his heels, dark eyes drinking in every inch of your bare, flushed body with such raw hunger that it made your skin burn. You felt vulnerable and impossibly desired under that gaze. A shy, breathless giggle escaped your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.
Sir Jungkook reached out with one large, calloused hand and traced a single finger slowly down your body, from the delicate line of your throat, between your heaving breasts, over the soft curve of your belly, and down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch ever so feather light, yet it left fire in its wake.
“You are a goddess made flesh,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. “And I am but a mortal who has been granted the honor of kneeling at your feet.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead to your thigh in a gesture of pure worship, eyes closed, breath warm against your skin as if he were praying to the only deity he had ever believed in.
Then he moved over you, settling between your spread thighs. His thick cock pressed against your entrance, hot and heavy. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed inside, inch by thick, stretching inch, filling you so completely that your mouth fell open in a silent cry.
You dug your nails into his back as he began to move, first slow and loving, then harder, deeper, claiming you with every thrust.
“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward. “I love you more than life itself.”
When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low, broken groan, filling you with pulse after pulse of his release.
In the quiet that followed, with the knight’s arms still wrapped around you and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it was strangely easy to remember the day he had first knelt before the throne.
The impenetrable knight clad in steel, sworn to protect a princess draped in silk. and protect you he would, as though it had been carved into the marrow of every breath he would draw, for eternity.
editing thid in a few hours. thankyou so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated mwah love you all 🫶💋
You and Jungkook are a pair made in hell heaven — you're both stupidly obsessed, crazy and extremely desperate for one another. Being broken up for five months does not stop the both of you from being in each other's lives — whether it's spending quality time, sabotaging each other's dates or even making love...
genre – crazy exes au, SMUT, fluff, rom-com¿
pairing – ex boyfriend jungkook x female reader.
warnings – gulp, I'm walking on thin ice so I'm going to mention a few. y/n and jk are crazy (in a kinda cute way), they're EXTREMELY obsessed with each other, they're both very possessive and jealous (jk is more), oral (both receiving), fingering, titty worship, multiple os, a lot of cracking. (more will be mentioned).
note – just posting my wips to motivate myself to work on them faster lol. lmk if you wanna be tagged in this one, pookies🩷
Summary - For years, they existed in the space between friendship and love, too close to be platonic, yet never enough to be real. He treated her like she was his in private, only to pull away the moment things became too serious.
The night she finally chose to walk away from the man who once consumed her entire world, she carried something else with her too.
Two years later, a little girl, or fate perhaps—bring them back to each other.
Genre : second chance romance, unrequited love (at first), slow burn, accidental pregnancy, Friends → strangers → lovers, angst, fluff
Themes : emotionally unavailable! Jungkook , unlabeled relationship, friends with benefits(kind of), fear of commitment, one-sided devotion, accidental pregnancy, absent father (he doesn’t know), girl dad! Jungkook, second chances, yearning, found family, angst with happy ending
⤷ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
The Life She Built
Y/N settled into her new life quickly. She worked as a teacher at the kindergarten that had opened a few months ago, just down the road from her parents’ house.
Her parents didn't think the job was necessary, but she insisted. She told them it was because one day she'd have to take care of a child of her own. And though she hated to admit it, she took it partly because she didn't want to think about him, she needed to keep her mind busy, her hands full, her heart distracted.
But somehow, after a few weeks of keeping herself occupied whenever she could, she found herself thinking about him anyway. About Jungkook. Not in the quiet moments, but in the crowded ones. Surrounded by people she enjoyed, buried in work, laughing at something a kid said, he'd slip in between the cracks, sharper and more often than in silence.
Jungkook would love this kid.
If Jungkook were here, he'd have laughed his ass off.
Jungkook would call this his new favourite dish.
The nights were worse. Alone in bed, Y/N would gently rub her belly and whisper to her child about little things, big things, everything. Her childhood. Her day. How she almost threw up at the word fart, just the word itself. Pregnancy was terrifying, and spending every day around children didn't help. When the kids first noticed she was pregnant, one little girl stood up proudly, reciting with absolute "Mama told me babies are made out of love." Y/N smiled at the time. She cried when she got home, souldn't stop, she cried until she fell asleep.
Once, during lunch, the sound of children chewing sent her running to the bathroom.
She whispered to her baby about Jungkook too. "Jungkook is your dad, but nobody has to know. We don't want an asshole like him in our lives." And then, quieter "Do you think he would've loved me differently if he knew about you? Do you think there was ever a moment, even a small one, when he actually loved me?"
_____
Jiho and Y/N talked every day. Jiho came over every weekend.
"How is everyone else doing?" Y/N asked one evening, making an americano for herself and Jiho. Jiho had been a lifeline. She took care of Y/N, looked after her, even bought her an espresso machine just so she didn't have to survive on instant coffee.
"They're okay. Same as always. We miss you so much. Mingyu suggested a surprise visit and I had to come up with so many lame excuses I've lost count." Jiho's voice carried a weight she couldn't hide. "I don't think we can keep this quiet much longer."
She felt guilty, keeping something this big from their friends, lying by omission every single day. But it was for Y/N. There were close calls, like that one time she'd mentioned Y/N's cravings and someone asked what cravings, and she'd covered it up with a quick "period cravings." The lie sat sour in her stomach every time.
Y/N felt it too. Eunwoo and Mingyu checked on her constantly, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the boys found out. She could only hope they'd understand. "I know," Y/N said, her voice quiet, threadbare. "I feel awful too. But you know I have to do this."
Jiho nodded. She knew Y/N's decision was the only one that made sense right now. Still, every time she saw Jungkook, she had to fight the urge to kick him square in the balls. And sometimes, when the weight of it all pressed down on her chest , she wanted to cry. Because her best friend was carrying his child and they were hiding it from him.
________
Jungkook had asked Jiho about Y/N once. Just once. She'd given him nothing, a shrug, a vague she's fine and he hadn't had the courage to ask again. But he felt the emptiness more than he'd expected to. He missed her. Her presence. Her jokes that weren't even funny. Her laugh. Her scent. He started dating again, hoping someone new could fill the space she'd left. It didn't last.
One night, in the middle of it all, while his girlfriend was on top of him, breath heavy, moving, he moaned a name that wasn't hers.
Y/N.
Her hips stopped. His eyes shot open. She slapped him so hard his jaw throbbed until the next morning. Without a word, she got up, pulled her clothes on, and walked out. The door slammed so hard the windows rattled. Jungkook fell back onto the bed, both hands covering his face. "I need therapy," he whispered to the ceiling.
That was the last time he tried. No more girlfriends. No more hookups. No more pretending someone else could be her.
________
It was late — the kind of late where the city dims and the only sounds are the hum of streetlamps and the distant bark of a dog. Jiho had been home, already in her sleep clothes, when her phone buzzed with Mingyu's name on the screen. He needed help packing the delivery orders. She sighed, changed, and went. The shop was warm when she stepped inside, the overhead lights casting a tired yellow glow over scattered piles of folded clothes. Boxes sat half open on the floor, a roll of tape had rolled under the table. It was normal Messy. Chaotic. The kind of chaos she'd grown used to being around.
Jiho grabbed the list and began checking items one by one, crossing off names with a pen she found tucked behind her ear. Jungkook worked beside her, folding, matching, stacking in silence. Mingyu and Jaehyun had been out delivering since evening, their van cutting through streets Jiho knew by heart. Eunwoo sat in the corner, phone pressed to his ear, handling calls and messages in a low, tired voice. The air was thick with routine. And then Jungkook spoke, "Are you visiting Y/N soon?"
Jiho's hand froze mid check. The pen hovered over the paper. It caught her off guard, not because the question was strange, but because it was him asking it. Jungkook hadn't said Y/N's name since she left. Not once. He carried her absence like a bruise he never touched, never acknowledged, never let anyone see. And now, standing among folded shirts and half taped boxes, he'd finally broken the silence. Jiho forced her voice steady. "Mmhm. I'm actually visiting her tomorrow."
Jungkook nodded. A small stiff motion. His hands kept folding a pair of jeans, then a sweater, but his fingers moved slower now, like his mind was elsewhere, swimming through waters he'd been avoiding.
"Tell her I said Hi."
The words came out quiet. Casual. Almost throwaway but beneath them, buried in the space between his syllables, there was a whole universe of things he didn't say.
He wanted to tell Jiho to tell Y/N that he was sorry. That he woke up some mornings reaching for a side of the bed that was cold. That her laugh played on a loop in his head at night when he couldn't sleep. That he saw her face in crowds, in the reflection of shop windows, in the pause before he fell asleep. That he missed her, not the idea of her, but her. The weight of her. The warmth. The way she'd scrunch her nose when she laughed at her own bad jokes.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her. That he'd always loved her. That the reason he pushed her away, let her go, didn't fight for her was because he was terrified. Not of her, but of what she made him feel. Of how deeply she'd carved herself into him. Of the kind of love that asks you to be vulnerable, to be seen, to trust that someone won't leave even when they know every broken piece of you. He wanted to say all of it.
But he didn't.
Because deep down, even if he couldnt fully accept it, even if it sat like a stone in his chest every single day he knew. Y/N was better off without him. She was happier. Or at least, she was learning to be. And he had no right to disturb that peace, no matter how much his own world felt like it was crumbling without her.
So he just folded another shirt and said nothing more.
_________
If you asked Jungkook what love was, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Not in words. Not in definitions or poetry or songs. He'd fumble, shake his head, change the subject.
But he knew it through Y/N.
He knew it in the way she kissed him, slow and deliberate, he knew it when she chose him over and over again. He knew from the way she pulled him close while their bodies are pressed together, swallowing each other’s words and moans, their souls intertwined.
_______
Y/N's pregnancy went better than anyone had expected. Her body adjusted in ways she hadn't dared to hope for, the morning sickness faded after the first trimester, the exhaustion settled into something manageable, and the wild swings of emotion became quieter, like waves that had learned to recede instead of crash. Her life, strangely, began to piece itself together.
She woke up in the mornings without that familiar weight pressing down on her chest. She went to work, came home, cooked meals she actually ate, slept through the night more often than not. There was a rhythm to it. A soft, gentle hum that hadn't existed when he was still in her life.
Sometimes, when Jungkook wandered into her mind uninvited, in the middle of grading a child's drawing or while stirring soup on the stove, she would curse him. Call him a stain on her timeline, a curse she had to break. Because look at her now. Look at how everything had fallen into place the moment she walked away. Her life felt safer. Calmer. Like she could finally breathe without splinters in her lungs.
See? she'd tell herself. It was him. He was the problem.
But she never believed it. Not really.
Because beneath the bitterness, beneath the anger she clung to like armor, Y/N had never stopped loving Jungkook. She didn't know when it would end. Didn't know if it would end. It was stubborn, rooted deep in places she couldn't reach to pull it out.
And how could she forget him, when she carried a part of him with her everywhere she went? When she felt his heartbeat under her own ribs? When she talked to her belly at night and heard echoes of his voice in hers?
She didn't know how to stop loving someone who had become a part of her blood.
Maybe she never would.
________
Everything went well. Better than well, like the universe had decided to give her this one thing without a fight.
Her water didn't break on the way to the hospital. There were no complications, no sudden panic, no moment where the world tilted off its axis. The pregnancy hadn't been as bad as she'd feared, she'd handled it, somehow, handled it well. And when the time came, her body knew what to do. Ten hours. That was all it took. Ten hours of labor, with Jiho's hand in hers the entire time, never letting go.
When Y/N first heard her baby cry, everything around her went mute. The machines, the voices, the distant bustle of the hospital, all of it disappeared, swallowed by a single sound. That cry. Raw and new and so impossibly alive. Tears spilled from her eyes before she could stop them, streaming silently down her temples as she lay there, breathless.The nurse lifted the baby, wiped her clean, and placed her on Y/N's chest with a warm smile.
"It's a girl."
The world stopped.
Y/N looked down at the tiny body resting against her, skin to skin, warm and damp and trembling with each small breath. She was so small, so impossibly small. Her fingers curled into fists no bigger than the tip of Y/N's thumb. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that felt like the most important sound in the universe.
My babygirl.
She didn't realize she'd whispered it until she heard her own voice, soft, cracked, full of something she couldn't name.
The nurse draped a cloth over the baby's back, drying her gently while she lay on Y/N's chest, then covered them both with a warm blanket. The baby nuzzled instinctively, searching for warmth she already knew, and within minutes, she was asleep. Peaceful. Curled up like she'd never left the safety of Y/N's belly.
The doctor stepped out to update her parents that the mother and baby were healthy. No complications, a perfect delivery.
But Y/N barely heard any of it. She couldn't take her eyes off the baby. "She's so tiny," she whispered, over and over, like a prayer she couldn't stop saying. She studied every inch of her. Her skin, still flushed red, softening into pink. Her tiny hands, faintly blue at the fingertips. The way she slept with her face turned slightly toward Y/N's heartbeat, as if she still recognized it. As if she knew she was home. Y/N lay there, her arms wrapped around her daughter, and let the silence settle around them like a second blanket.
She didn't think about Jungkook. Not yet. For now, there was only this, her babygirl, warm and safe sleeping on her chest like she'd always belonged there.
Jiho started staying over more often after the birth, showing up with groceries, taking over night feeds so Y/N could sleep, holding Jiyeon while Y/N showered. Y/N's mother took leave from work until she was fully recovered, and her father made sure they never wanted for anything. He showed up with bags of food, medicine, vitamins and a few weeks after they got home from the hospital, he started bringing toys too. A plush bunny. A rattle shaped like a star. A tiny dress that Y/N cried over before Jiyeon even grew into it.
There wasn't a single moment when Y/N felt like she needed Jungkook by her side. Not one. She was happy. Safe and loved. Surrounded by people who showed up without being asked, who held her when she cried, who celebrated every small milestone like it was their own.
Her mother had suggested the name. Jiyeon. She'll grow up to be a beautiful woman, she'd said, full of wisdom and grace. Just like her mother.
Y/N had smiled, cheeks wet, and agreed. She felt it all, the happiness, the excitement, the overwhelming swell of emotion every time she thought about raising a daughter.
A mini her
But she was oh so wrong.
Time passed quickly, the way it always does when you're too busy living to notice. Jiyeon grew up faster than Y/N had ever prepared herself for.
The first time she stood up on her own, Y/N was in the kitchen making a cup of tea. She turned around and there she was, tiny hands gripping the edge of the coffee table, legs wobbling, face scrunched in concentration. And then she let go. One second. Two. Standing on her own two feet like she'd been doing it her whole life. Y/N burst into tears. Right there, mug in hand, crying like a child herself. Because it felt like just yesterday she'd held her for the first time, that warm, tiny weight against her chest, still pink, still learning how to breathe. And now she was standing. Leaving the newborn days behind whether Y/N was ready or not. It all felt like a dream. A beautiful, blurry, heartbreaking dream.
And the fact that Jiyeon looked exactly like Jungkook didn't help.
It was uncanny, really. The same eyes, dark, deep, and huge. The kind that crinkled at the corners when she laughed. The same nose, the same lips, the same smile that could light up an entire room and break your heart in the same breath. She was his replica. A tiny, walking, breathing copy of the man Y/N had spent years trying to forget.
Y/N sometimes hated it. Hated that her daughter took so little from her. She'd search Jiyeon's face for something that was undeniably hers, and all she could find was her hair. The same shade, the same texture. Everything else, the curve of her jaw, the shape of her ears, the way she tilted her head when she was curious, all Jungkook.
As Jiyeon grew, her personality followed the same path. She was stubborn in a way that felt familiar. Loud when she wanted attention, quiet when she was observing. She loved certain foods and hated others with a passion that made no sense for a child her age. She tapped her fingers on tables when she was bored. She bit her lip when she was thinking. She laughed with her whole body, throwing her head back like the world was the funniest place to be with her bunny teeth showing.
All of it. Every single habit. Every like, every dislike, every little quirk.
Him.
"At least her first word wasn't 'Dada,'" Y/N would mutter to herself on the hard days, when Jiyeon looked at her with those eyes and she felt her chest crack open. She said it like a prayer, like a small victory she could hold onto. A tiny comfort. She said 'Mama' first. That's mine. That one thing is mine.
And yet, Y/N looked at her daughter, sleeping peacefully, her face a perfect copy of a man she once loved, maybe still loved and she felt it. That fullness in her chest. That warmth that spread through her like sunlight.
Everything in her life was complete. Everything she had dreamed of, everything she had ever wished for, was right here in front of her.
Even if it came wrapped in a face that reminded her, every single day, of what she'd left behind.
_________
Two years passed within a blink.
Just like that. Two whole years, gone like smoke through open fingers.
Within those two years, Y/N learned more than she had in the decade before. She learned how to survive on three hours of sleep and still function. She learned that love doesn't always look like what the movies show, sometimes it looks like vomit on your favorite shirt at 2 a.m., like rocking a screaming baby for hours until your arms go numb, like crying in the bathroom because you're so tired you can't remember the last time you felt like yourself.
She learned that you can leave someone you thought you couldn't live without. That the world doesn't stop turning. That your heart keeps beating, even when you're sure it's broken beyond repair and she learned that sometimes, when you lose one kind of love, the universe blesses you with another.
Two years passed so quickly, with so much happening, that Y/N sometimes couldn't tell the difference between her dreams and actual moments that happened. Was that a real memory, Jiyeon's first laugh, bubbling up from her tiny chest like honey or had she imagined it so many times that it felt real? She didn't know anymore. The days blurred together, soft and warm and exhausting, and she let them.
She never spoke of Jungkook anymore. Not to Jiho, not to her mother, not to anyone. His name sat in her throat like a stone she'd learned to swallow. But that didn't mean she thought about him less.
If anything, she thought about him more.
He was there in every little moment from the moment she held Jiyeon in her arms alone for the first time. In every big one. The day Jiyeon laughed for the first time. The day Jiyeon took her first steps, wobbling, determined, arms outstretched, Y/N watched and thought of him. The day she said her first word. Mama. Y/N cried and laughed and held her close, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard his voice. When Jiyeon started feeding herself, smearing food across her face like war paint, Y/N laughed until her stomach hurt. And then she thought of him.
He was everywhere. In the curve of Jiyeon's smile, in the stubborn set of her jaw, in the way she hummed when she was focused on a toy. He was in the air she breathed, in the silence before sleep, in the spaces between heartbeats.
Y/N had stopped speaking his name. But she had never stopped carrying him with her. She had just learned how to live with the weight.
_______
Jungkook knew the feeling of losing a loved one well. He had learned it young, learned it deeply, learned it in ways that carved themselves into his bones and never quite healed.
And he knew, better than most, that death wasn't the only thing that could come between people.
The first time he felt it, he was just a boy.
His parents sold his dog, his best friend, his shadow, the only living thing that greeted him with pure, uninhibited joy at the end of every school day. He came home one afternoon and the house was quieter. No barking. No scratching at the door. Too much trouble, they said. Distracting you from your studies. He didn't cry in front of them. He waited until he was in his room, face buried in his pillow, and let the tears soak through until there was nothing left. He never asked for another dog. He never asked for anything again.
The second time was when they moved to Seoul, leaving his grandmother behind in Busan.
She had been his everything. She was the one who cleaned the scratches on his knees when he fell off his bike, humming an old tune as she dabbed alcohol on the wound. She was the one who tucked him in at night, smoothing the blanket over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead like he was the most precious thing in the world. She was the one who held him when he cried, who never told him to stop, who let him fall apart in her arms and put him back together with nothing but her presence.
She was the only person who ever made him feel like his existence mattered.
And then they took her away from him. Not through death, through distance. Through a move he had no say in. Through weekend phone calls that grew shorter and fewer until they stopped altogether. He visited her sometimes, but it was never the same. The warmth was still there, but the miles between them had stretched it thin, like elastic that had lost its snap.
The third time happened when he was in high school.
By then, Jungkook had already learned to keep most of himself hidden. He didn't ask for things anymore. Didn't expect much from the people around him. He had learned, early on, that wanting things only led to disappointment, so he stopped wanting. Or at least, he stopped showing it.
But music and art—those found him anyway. It started small. A melody he couldn't get out of his head, scribbled on the margin of a textbook. A drawing of the view from his window, done in ballpoint pen because he didn't have proper pencils. Slowly, it became the only thing that made sense. When the world felt too loud, too heavy, too suffocating, he picked up his guitar. He let his fingers move across the strings until the noise in his head quieted down. He drew until his hand cramped, filling page after page with shapes and shadows that didn't need words.
It was his escape. His way of breathing. His way of saying everything he couldn't say out loud. His father never understood it. To his father, music was a distraction. Art was a waste of time. Everything that didn't lead to a stable job, a stable future, a stable life, it was useless. And Jungkook, who had never been good at explaining himself, who had never been given the space to try let the distance grow between them like cracks in dry soil.
Until one night. The night that broke whatever was left. He couldn't remember what started the fight. Maybe it was about his grades. Maybe it was about the hours he spent locked in his room. Maybe it was about nothing at all, just two people who had never learned how to talk to each other, finally reaching the end of a very short rope.
But he remembered the end. He remembered his father's hand wrapping around the neck of his guitar. The one he had saved up months of allowance to buy. The one he had stayed up late practicing on, fingers raw and blistered, because it was the only thing that made him feel alive. He remembered the way his father's arm swung up, the guitar suspended in the air for a split second and then the sickening crack as it came down against the floor. The wood splintered. The strings snapped, curling in on themselves like wounded things, pieces of the body scattered across the floor, and Jungkook just stood there, staring at the wreckage of the only thing that had ever felt like his.
He didn't scream. Didn't cry. Didn't say a word. He simply turned around and walked out.
Jungkook didn't remember driving to her place that night. He remembered walking out of his house, the front door slamming behind him, the cold air hitting his face, the splintered remains of his guitar still scattered across the living room floor. He remembered getting into his car, his hands were shaking, his chest felt like it was caving in. He didn't know where he was going until he was already there.
Her house.
The only place his heart had ever learned to point itself toward.
He knocked. Then he knocked again. And when she opened the door, sleepy, confused, hair messy. He didn’t say a word and stepped forward immediately. His face buried into her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist, tight, desperate, like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. Y/N didn't question him. Didn't push him away. She just held him tighter, her arms circling his back, one hand running up and down his spine in long, soothing strokes.
She didn't ask what happened. She didn't need to. She just held him, let him shake, let him breathe, let him fall apart in the safety of her arms. Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Time felt meaningless. Then her voice came, soft and warm, spoken into his hair like a secret. "Jungkook, let's go to my room, okay? My aunt's home tonight."
He pulled away slowly. His eyes were red, glassy, still holding back a flood he hadn't let himself release yet. He looked at her and nodded. "Okay."
She took his hand and led him inside.
That night, Jungkook cried in front of someone for the first time since he was fourteen years old. Since his grandmother's funeral, where he had sat in the corner of a crowded room, silent and hollow, tears streaming down his face while no one noticed.
Y/N had slipped past his walls before he even realized they were down.
He cried the whole night. Great, heaving sobs that tore through his chest like something had been clawing to get out for years. He cried for his dog, for his grandmother, for the guitar his father destroyed. For every moment he had been made to feel like he wasn't enough. For every time he had swallowed his pain and smiled through it. And through all of it, Y/N held him. She didn't tell him to stop. Didn't tell him it was okay when it clearly wasn't. She just wrapped herself around him and whispered, soft, gentle and grounding into his ear. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe.
For the first time in a very long time, Jungkook felt loved. Genuinely, completely, unconditionally loved.
And then he lost her too.
But this time, he had no one to blame except himself.
_________
Two years. Twenty four months. Seven hundred and thirty days.
Jungkook hadn't been the same since.
He lost interest in everything that used to fill his time. Women came and went, but he didn't notice them anymore, he didn't care to notice them. They blurred into the background of a life that had lost its color. His motivation dried up like a river in drought. He went through the motions, worked, ate, slept, repeated but there was no spark behind it. Just the hollow echo of a person going through the mechanics of living without actually being alive.
Outside, he looked perfectly still. Like the same old Jungkook. Same face. Same walk. But his friends noticed.
He didn't speak much anymore. The easy chatter that used to spill out of him was gone, replaced by long silences and one word answers. His smug personality, that playful, cocky grin that used to annoy and charm everyone in equal measure had completely disappeared. He didn't attend parties. Didn't go out unless he had to. Jaehyun watched him sometimes from across the room. And though a small part of him felt a pang of pity for the state Jungkook was in, there was another part, a deeper, quieter part that felt something else. Something close to satisfaction. the part that whispered. Let him feel a fraction of what he put her through.
Mingyu tried his best to keep Jungkook composed. He'd clap him on the shoulder, drag him out for coffee, force conversations that went nowhere. He didn't know the full story, none of them did, not really, but he knew enough. He knew Jungkook had broken something precious. And he knew some things couldn't be fixed by coffee and good intentions.
And then there was Eunwoo. Jungkook's unofficial therapist. The one person who didn't tiptoe around him, didn't sugarcoat, didn't cover up the truth to spare his feelings. Eunwoo said things exactly as they were, exactly as he saw them. No filters. No pity. Just blunt, honest words that cut through the fog.
"You're wasting away. Is this what she'd want?"
"You let her go. That was your choice. Now live with it."
Harsh. But true. And Jungkook needed that, needed someone to tell him the things he was too afraid to admit to himself.
Jiho felt something different around Jungkook now. Strange. Awkward. And underneath it all, a creeping sense of guilt that she couldn't shake no matter how hard she tried. She would catch herself staring at him sometimes, lost in deep thought. She'd watch his hands as he worked, the curve of his jaw when he was focused, the way his eyes dimmed when he thought no one was looking. And she'd wonder. What would he do if he found out?
What would he do if he knew he had a two year old daughter? A little girl with his eyes, his nose, his smile, a perfect replica of him running around, laughing, growing up without ever knowing his name.
Would he crumble? Would he run, like he always did when things got too real? Would he step up, finally become the man Y/N deserved, the father that little girl deserved? Or would the weight of it all crush whatever was left of him?
She didn't know. And that uncertainty sat in her chest like a stone, heavy and cold.
What if things had been different? she'd think, staring at him across the room. What if he had known from the start? Would he have changed? Would he have been better? Or would he have just hurt her all over again?
Jiho never found the answers. She wasn't sure she wanted to.
__________
Mingyu wasn't expecting anything interesting that day.
It was supposed to be simple. A quick trip to Suwon to meet up with a work friend, discuss a potential collaboration, maybe grab lunch, then head back.
But his car was in the shop. Again.
Because fucking Jeon Jungkook had crashed it.
Mingyu had been stupid enough to let him borrow it a few weeks back. Jungkook said he needed to clear his head, said he'd be careful, said he just needed to drive for a while. And Mingyu, trusting, hopeful, always giving people the benefit of the doubt had handed over the keys.
Big mistake.
Jungkook had shown up at the shop at 2 a.m., drunk out of his mind, the front bumper hanging off, the passenger side door dented beyond repair. He'd swerved off the road and into a guardrail. Lucky he didn't kill himself. Lucky he didn't kill someone else. Mingyu had to take a deep breath before he said anything that night, had to remind himself that Jungkook was hurting, that he wasn't himself, that pushing him away would only make things worse.
But damn it.
He blamed himself a little. He should have known better. Should have seen it coming. Jungkook had been spiraling for two years, and Mingyu had handed him a car and a full tank of gas like it was a solution. Stupid, he thought. So stupid.
So now he had to take the train.
Mingyu came across the place by chance.
He was walking through a quiet street in Suwon, phone in hand, checking the time until his train, when a warm glow caught his eye. Yellow light spilled through wide windows, soft and inviting. He slowed down, then stopped altogether.
Shelves of books lined the walls inside. Cozy armchairs. A counter with a coffee machine. And a small wooden sign hanging above the door that read:
The Brewed Book Café
Mingyu smiled to himself. Cute name. He figured he had time for a coffee before heading back, so he pushed the door open. A small bell chimed overhead, and the smell hit him immediately, fresh coffee and old paper. Well, he thought, it's a book café after all.
The space wasn't big, but it wasn't cramped either. A few tables and chairs were scattered thoughtfully around. Bookshelves lined every wall, packed with novels, poetry collections, and old hardcovers that looked like they'd been loved for years. It felt warm. Intentional. Like someone had poured their heart into every corner.
And then his eyes landed on her.
Y/N.
She was standing on a small wooden ladder, reaching up to arrange books on a high shelf. Her hair was longer now, tied loosely at the nape of her neck, a few strands falling free. She wore a simple cream sweater, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing her forearms as she carefully slid a book into place. She looked calm. Different. In all the right ways.
For a moment, Mingyu just stood there, frozen, like he was seeing a ghost.
"Y/N?"
She turned.
Her eyes widened. "Mingyu?"
They stared at each other, suspended in that strange space between shock and recognition. Two years. Two whole years, and here they were, standing in a tiny book café in Suwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Then Y/N laughed, light, surprised and climbed down from the ladder. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Mingyu said, still trying to process. He looked around the café, at the books, the warm lighting, the little details that felt so her. "This is yours?"
She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I opened it a month ago."
Mingyu let out a low whistle. "Damn. I'm impressed." A genuine smile spread across his face. "It's so good seeing you."
Y/N smiled back, a little shy. "It's great seeing you too. My parents helped me a lot."
"They're such angels. You staying with them, or…?"
"Not anymore. I live right upstairs." She gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. "It's easier for me. Closer to the café, less commuting."
Mingyu nodded. For a moment, it felt almost like old times. Like none of the pain had ever happened.
And then something small bumped into Y/N's leg.
Mingyu looked down.
A tiny girl, maybe two, maybe three, stood there, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs. She clutched Y/N's sweater with both hands and hid behind her, peeking out with wide, curious eyes. Mingyu said nothing. He just stared.
Y/N bent down immediately and scooped her up. "What is it, baby?" she asked softly. The little girl pointed toward the counter. “sweet."
Her voice was soft, barely understandable, that sweet, slurred baby talk that made everything sound a hundred times more precious.
Y/N smiled and carried her to the counter, reaching into a small jar and pulling out a cookie. "Only one," she said gently. The little girl took it with both hands and giggled, shoving it into her mouth with uncoordinated glee.
Mingyu's brain had stopped working. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Finally, he managed to ask, "…Yours?"
Y/N nodded casually, like it was the most normal question in the world. "Yeah."
Mingyu's mouth opened slightly. A thousand questions swirled in his head. Whose? When? How? He bit his lip, forcing himself not to say anything stupid. "What's her name?" he asked after a long pause.
Y/N looked down at the little girl in her arms, her expression softening. She kissed the top of her head. "Jiyeon."
Mingyu whispered the name under his breath. "Jiyeon." He looked at the child, at her dark hair, her big eyes, her tiny nose. Something in his chest tightened. "That's a beautiful name."
He reached out gently and patted the top of her head. Jiyeon stared at him with wide, curious eyes, clutching her cookie like a treasure. Mingyu studied her face carefully, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the way her little brow furrowed when she was trying to figure him out.
He suddenly felt like he couldnt breathe. "Well… uh…I..um…" His voice came out awkward, stilted. "I'll see you around."
Y/N nodded, a small smile on her face. "Yeah. Come by again."
Mingyu turned and walked out of the café. The bell chimed behind him. The door clicked shut. And the moment he was outside, he started running. Straight toward the train platform. His heart was pounding, his mind racing, a single thought repeating over and over like a broken record.
________
Jiho was sitting lazily, leaning back in her chair, phone in hand, scrolling through Instagram without really paying attention. It had been a slow day at the shop, the kind of slow that made time feel sticky and endless. Jaehyun was behind the counter, wiping down already clean glass shelves just to have something to do.
Until the door slammed open.
Jiho jolted so hard she nearly dropped her phone. The bell above the door rattled violently, swinging on its hinge like it had been attacked. And there, in the doorway, stood Mingyu, chest heaving, face pale, eyes wide like he had seen something he couldn't quite believe. “You— I need to talk to you.” He say breathless pointing at Jiho. “Okay…” Jiho trailed off exchanging goances with Jaehyun who was sitting behind the counter.
Mingyu walked inside the storage room, Jiho following close behind. The moment the door clicked shut, he spun around to face her, his voice already spilling out in a small, panicky rush. "I went to Suwon."
Jiho raised an eyebrow. "I know."
"I walked into a café to grab coffee."
"Okay?"
"I saw Y/N." He paused, swallowing hard. "She had a little girl. Her name is Jiyeon. The baby looked at me." Each word came out like it was haunting him, dragging itself out of his chest with visible effort. Jiho sighed, a heavy, knowing sound. She had always known this day was coming. She had just hoped it would be later. Or never.
"Mingyu—"
"No, I'm not done." He held up a hand, his breathing uneven. "The baby looked at me. I looked back at her. And I saw her—no." He shook his head, correcting himself. "I saw him. I saw Jungkook in her. She looks exactly like fucking Jeon Jungkook. What the fuck!"
He grabbed at his hair, pacing in a tight circle, taking huge, ragged breaths like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "I came running home. I didn't even buy my damn coffee." He let out a hysterical laugh. "My coffee, Jiho. I left without my coffee."
Jiho gave him a moment. Let him pace. Let him breathe. Let the information settle into his bones, even if it made him rattle. Then Mingyu suddenly let out a gasp, freezing mid step. He whipped around and pointed an accusing finger at her. "Damn it. You knew everything." His voice dropped, but the weight of it doubled. "You told me nothing. You said nothing."
He looked haunted now. Shocked. Betrayed. All of it flickering across his face like a storm passing through. Jiho met his gaze steadily, keeping her voice calm and soothing. "Mingyu, let me explain everything. But first, you need to calm down." She took a small step closer. "Take a breath. Let's go out, and we'll talk about it, okay? I promise I'll tell you everything."
Mingyu stared at her for a long moment, chest still heaving. Then slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. "...Okay."
Jiho, Mingyu, and Jaehyun sat in the middle if the shop. Jiho's voice was steady as she finally told them everything.
The two guys listened without speaking a word. Jaehyun leaned forward, elbows on his knees, jaw tight. Mingyu stared at the floor, running his hands over his thighs like he needed something to ground him.
When Jiho finished, she let out a slow breath. "Any questions?"
Mingyu's hand shot up almost immediately. "So— you knew she was pregnant before she left?" Jiho blinked. She had literally said that three times already. "Mingyu, I just—" But before she could finish, a voice cut through the air from the front of the shop, sharp and curious.
"Who's pregnant?"
All three heads snapped toward the entrance. Standing at the door, keys still in hand, was Eunwoo. And right beside him, hands buried in his jacket pockets, expression unreadable, stood Jungkook.
Jiho's heart dropped into her stomach.
"My friend—" Jiho started.
"Y/N," Mingyu finished at the same time.
Jaehyun's head whipped toward Mingyu so fast his neck cracked. He stared at him in pure, undisguised disbelief, but Mingyu completely oblivious, kept talking. "But she already had the baby, so she's not pregnant right now. But she was."
A sharp kick landed on his shin under the table. Mingyu yelped, clutching his leg, wincing in pain as he rubbed his foot. Jiho's death glare bore into the side of his head, but the damage was already done.
Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog. Nobody spoke. Jiho, Eunwoo, and Jaehyun exchanged frantic glances, telepathically begging each other to say something, anything to fill the void, to redirect, to undo what had just been said.
Jungkook beat them to it.
"Good for her."
His voice was low. Casual. Almost unconcerned. Like someone commenting on the weather, or a sports score they barely cared about. But every single person in that room knew it was far from that. The words hung in the air, deceptively light, carrying a weight none of them dared to touch. Jungkook didn't move. Didn't react. Just stood there, hands still in his pockets, face carefully blank. And for a long, painful moment, no one said a word.
After the shop closed, Jungkook drove Eunwoo home.
It was a quiet drive. The kind of quiet that felt heavy, pressing down on both of them from the inside of the car. Streetlights flickered past in golden streaks, illuminating Jungkook's face in brief, fragmented flashes. His expression was unreadable, but his knuckles were white against the steering wheel.
Eunwoo watched him for a long moment before finally breaking the silence. "Kook. You okay?"
Jungkook's answer came too fast, too flat. "Why wouldn't I be?"
But his grip on the steering wheel tightened. His eyes were fixed on the road, but he wasn't really seeing it. His mind was somewhere else entirely spinning, spiraling, stuck on a name he hadn't heard in two years.
Eunwoo let out a short, annoyed breath. "Man, stop pretending for once." He turned in his seat, fixing Jungkook with a stare. "You know you can be real with me. For fuck's sake, you cried on my shoulder last week because you smelled her perfume on some random woman at the convenience store."
Jungkook's jaw tightened. "Stop bringing that up. Also, I was drunk."
"Right." Eunwoo snorted, a dry, humorless laugh. "Drunk. Sure."
Silence filled the car again. The hum of the engine. The soft thrum of tires against asphalt. Eunwoo thought that was the end of it, that Jungkook would retreat back into his shell and they'd finish the drive in silence.
But then Jungkook spoke again. His voice came out quieter this time, almost fragile. "Do you think she's married?" Eunwoo blinked.
"Or maybe engaged at least," Jungkook continued, words tumbling out faster now. "I mean, she's gotta have a man to have a baby, right? Will we get invited to her wedding? Do you think she'll invite me? What would she—"
"Jungkook." Eunwoo reached over and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing firmly. "Speed down. One question at a time, please."
Jungkook let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging. "Okay… okay."
"We'll talk when we reach my house, alright?" Eunwoo's voice softened. "Don't think about that right now. Just focus on driving."
Jungkook didn't answer. But he nodded, slowly, forcing his shoulders to relax, forcing his eyes back on the road ahead. The car carried on into the night, quiet once more but this time, it felt less like silence and more like a held breath, waiting to be released.
Jungkook couldn't sleep.
He had been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, his mind running in endless, exhausting circles. He couldn't eat either, the thought of food made his stomach turn. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face. And then he saw the little girl. Y/N's daughter. Her baby.
A kid. Y/N has a kid.
He let out a laugh, short, hollow, utterly devoid of humor. It wasn't funny. Nothing about this was funny. But the sound escaped him anyway, like his body didn't know how else to process the information. It felt like a dagger right through the heart. Cold and sharp, leaving a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.
His hand moved on its own, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He unlocked it. Opened his contacts. And there it was, her name. Still saved. Still unchanged after all this time. He had never been able to delete it. His thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly.
He needed to hear it from her. Needed to hear her voice, needed confirmation that it was real, that he hadn't imagined Mingyu's panicked words. Or better, he needed to see it. Needed to see her. Needed to see the baby. Needed to know if she was happy, if she was okay, if she had found someone better than him.
But he couldn't do it.
His thumb wouldn't move. His throat closed up. His chest tightened until he could barely breathe.
"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, voice cracking.
His vision blurred. His breathing turned ragged, uneven, each inhale a battle. And then, before he knew what he was doing, he hurled his phone across the room. It hit the wall with a sharp crack and clattered to the floor, screen shattered. "FUCK!" The scream tore out of him, raw and broken.
He fell back onto his bed, both hands dragging down his face before tangling into his hair, pulling at the roots like the physical pain might distract him from whatever was tearing through his chest.
He didn't know what this feeling was.
Fear? Anger? Sadness? Guilt? Regret?
Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it. Maybe something that didn't even have a name, something that only existed because of her. Because of what he did. Because of what he lost.
All he knew was that it was crushing him. And for the first time in two years, he had no idea how to survive it.
Jiho had already informed Y/N that the boys needed extra help at the shop, so she wouldn't be able to visit or text as often. Y/N understood.
Y/N had known this day would come the moment she decided to stay in Suwon, close enough to be found but far enough to build a life of her own. She had always known that someone would eventually figure it out. Mingyu was sharp, and Jiho carried guilt like a second skin. It was only a matter of time before the pieces fell into place. She was prepared for it. She had prepared for it a thousand times over in her head, what she would say, how she would explain, how she would protect her daughter from the fallout.
But there was one thing she couldn't stop thinking about.
Will they tell Jungkook?
And if they did, what would he think?
Would he be angry? Indifferent? Would he feel relieved that she had moved on? Would he feel nothing at all? Would he want to see Jiyeon? Would he run, like he always did when things got too real?
Y/N didn't have the answers. And that uncertainty sat in her chest like a stone she couldn't swallow.
She looked down at the bed, where Jiyeon was fast asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Her lips were slightly parted, one chubby hand curled loosely around the edge of her blanket. She looked so peaceful. So innocent. So completely unaware of the storm that was brewing somewhere out there, threatening to find its way to her.
Y/N reached out and gently caressed her cheek, her fingers brushing over the soft, warm skin. A smile immediately formed on her lips. It didn't matter what Jungkook thought. It didn't matter what anyone thought. She had her daughter. She had this little life that depended on her, trusted her, loved her unconditionally. Jiyeon was her world now, her anchor, her reason, her everything.
No matter what happened next, as long as she had her baby beside her, she was happy.
And that was all that mattered.
Y/N leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Jiyeon's forehead, lingering for just a moment.
"Sleep well, my love," she whispered. "Mommy's got you."
Then she turned off the lamp, curled up beside her daughter, and let the quiet hum of the night wrap around them both.
_________
Jungkook locked himself in his house.
Three days. Three days of staring at the same walls, the same ceiling, the same cracks in the plaster that he had memorized months ago. He didn't answer his phone. Didn't open the curtains. Didn't eat anything that could be called a proper meal. He just existed, sprawled on his couch, cigarette burning between his fingers, watching smoke curl toward the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
Nobody called. Nobody knocked. It was like they all knew, knew that he needed to sit with it himself, to wrestle with it alone until he either made peace with it or let it destroy him. They knew better than to bother him.
On the third day, he heard loud pounding in his door. Jungkook didn't move. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, staring blankly at the door.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
Louder this time. More insistent. Then the door burst open. The lock gave way with a splintering crack, and a figure stormed inside like a force of nature.
Mingyu.
Jungkook said nothing. Didn't even spare him a glance. He stayed exactly where he was, half sprawled on the couch, smoke drifting lazily from his lips.
Mingyu crossed the room in three furious strides. He snatched the cigarette from Jungkook's fingers and stubbed it out in the ashtray with more force than necessary. Then he grabbed Jungkook by the arm, hauled him upright, and forced him to sit properly. Mingyu dropped onto the couch beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
"I hate seeing you like this."
Silence.
"You're going to find out one way or another, so I thought I better tell you everything now." Mingyu's voice wavered slightly. "So you'll feel better. Or maybe worse. I don't know anymore."
Jungkook finally turned his head, staring at his friend with confusion flickering behind his exhausted eyes. But no words left his mouth. He just waited.
Mingyu leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. He stared at the floor like it held the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. "Yes, it's true. Y/N was pregnant. Well, is pregnant. I mean, she was. She has a kid now." He let out a frustrated breath. "A girl. Her name is Jiyeon. And she's cute as fuck, but that's not the point." He looked up at Jungkook, his eyes searching. "The baby, Kook. The kid. Her eyes, they were exactly like yours. Her nose, her lips, her cheeks. Everything." He paused. "Well, except her hair."
He waited for a reaction. For a breakdown. For screaming, crying, throwing something, anything. But Jungkook just sat there, staring at him with an expression that Mingyu couldn't read. "Don't you get it?" Mingyu asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jungkook opened his mouth. His lips moved. But no sound came out. And for the first time in three days, something flickered behind his eyes. Dawning realization.
Mingyu let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N's kid, her baby, it's yours. She was pregnant with your baby. She knew she was pregnant, and that's why she moved to her parents' house in Suwon. That's why she left."
The words hung in the air like a grenade.
Jungkook let out a laugh. A scoff, really. Short. Bitter. Disbelieving. Mingyu stared at him, confusion bleeding into disbelief. "What?"
"I don't believe you."
Mingyu's mouth fell open. "What are you—"
"She would've told me." Jungkook's voice turned cold, his expression snapping into something sharp and serious. "If whatever you just said was true, she would've told me. I refuse to believe it. It's not true. Not possible." His hand came down hard on the coffee table, a loud SLAM that made Mingyu jump. Jungkook stood up abruptly, walked to his bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind him with a force that rattled the walls.
Mingyu sat alone in the living room, staring at the closed door, unsure if he should follow or leave.
Inside the bedroom, Jungkook pressed his back against the door and slid down to the floor.
His chest heaved. His hands trembled.
Deep down, he knew.
He knew she wouldn't have told him. He knew she had every reason to keep it from him. He knew he had given her no reason to trust him, no reason to believe he would stay.
And deep down, so deep it hurt to admit he wished it was true. He wished he could turn back time. He wished he had been better. He wished he had been the man she deserved instead of the man who drove her away.
Jungkook finally understood what had been clawing at his chest for the past three days.
Fear. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Regret.
___________
Across town, Y/N closed the café for the night.
She flipped the sign on the door, locked the deadbolt, and let out a long, tired breath. The warm glow of the café lights reflected off the wooden floors as she wiped down the counters one last time. Behind her, Jiyeon sat on the counter, swinging her little legs back and forth, humming a nonsensical tune only she understood.
"Mama."
Y/N turned, a soft smile already forming on her lips. "Yes, baby?"
"Story?"
Y/N's heart melted, as it did every single time. She dried her hands on a towel and walked over, scooping Jiyeon up into her arms. The little girl's small hands immediately found their way to Y/N's neck, hugging her tight.
"Of course. Let's go upstairs."
She carried her up to their small apartment above the café. It wasn't much, a cozy living area, a tiny kitchen, one bedroom that held both their hearts. But it was theirs.
Y/N tucked Jiyeon into bed, pulling the soft pink blanket up to her chin. She picked up the worn storybook from the nightstand, the one with the dog eared pages and the creased spine and began to read in a soft, gentle voice. By the time she reached the last page, Jiyeon's breathing had slowed. Her eyes fluttered closed, her tiny chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of sleep.
Y/N set the book aside and gently brushed her daughter's hair away from her forehead, fingers lingering on the soft strands and Y/N whispered into the silence, so softly it was almost a secret. "You'll never have to wonder if someone will ever choose you."
She pressed a kiss to Jiyeon's forehead.
Because Y/N knew exactly what that felt like. She had spent years wondering, hoping, waiting, aching for someone to choose her. To stay. To prove that she was worth holding onto.
And she had learned, the hard way, that some people just wouldn't.
But Jiyeon would never know that pain. Not if Y/N could help it. She would grow up knowing she was loved, wanted, chosen every single day.
_________
Jungkook didn't go the next day.
Or the day after that.
But he passed the street three times. Each time, he slowed down near the café. Each time, his grip on the steering wheel tightened. Each time, he told himself he would go in. And each time, he kept driving. He said he needed to hear it from her. Needed Y/N to look him in the eye and confirm it herself. Needed to see her face when she told him the truth, whatever that truth was.
But every time he got close, his throat closed up, his chest tightened, and his foot found the gas pedal instead of the brake.
Mingyu finally lost patience.
He found Jungkook leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed, staring blankly at the street ahead. Mingyu walked up to him and didn't bother with pleasantries. "You're acting like a coward." Jungkook didn't react. "You think ignoring it will make it disappear?" Mingyu pressed. "She's not going anywhere, Kook. She has a café. She has a life. She has your daughter. She's not a ghost you can just drive past."
Jungkook let out a long, heavy sigh. "You don't understand."
"Oh, I understand perfectly." Mingyu's voice softened, just a little. "You're scared she'll say yes. That it's true. That you have a kid you weren't there for."
He paused.
"And you're even more scared she'll say no."
Jungkook's jaw tightened. His hands, still buried in his pockets, curled into fists.
"That it's not yours. That she moved on. That you really meant nothing."
The words landed like a punch to the gut.
Jungkook swallowed hard because Mingyu was right. That was exactly it. He was terrified of both possibilities. Terrified of the truth, no matter which direction it leaned.
_________
Jungkook finally stepped inside one evening.
He told himself he was just walking past. Just taking an evening stroll to clear his head. His feet just happened to carry him here. It meant nothing.
The moment he pushed the door open, the smell of roasted coffee beans hit him, warm, rich, inviting. He looked around, taking in the space. The soft yellow lighting, the shelves lined with books, the cozy armchairs scattered around. It felt warm. Comfortable.
Like Y/N.
His eyes scanned the room almost involuntarily, searching for something he wasn't sure he was ready to find. And then they stopped.
In the corner of the café, on a small sofa slightly too big for her, sat a little girl. A book was spread open between her legs, her tiny fingers tracing the pages with intense concentration. Her hair fell softly around her face as she mumbled the words to herself, barely audible.
Jungkook didn't move closer. He didn't look away. And then the little girl looked up.
Their eyes met.
Jungkook's breath hitched. His heart started beating so fast, so loud in his ears, that for a moment he thought it had stopped altogether. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but stare into those eyes, eyes that looked exactly like his own.
He turned toward the door and stormed out.
The cool evening air hit his face as he burst outside, but he didn't stop. He kept walking, then jogging, then running until he was far enough from the café that he could breathe again. He finally stopped, doubling over, one hand pressed against his chest as he tried to steady his heartbeat and his ragged breathing. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He cursed over and over, sinking down to sit on the edge of the street. Passersby gave him strange looks as they walked past, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His mind was a storm. His heart was a wreck.
After a few minutes or maybe an hour, he couldn't tell, he managed to pick himself up and stumbled to the nearest bench. He sat there as the evening turned to night, the streetlights flickering on one by one. Time slipped away from him. Minutes felt like seconds. Hours felt like nothing.
Finally, he pulled out his phone and called Mingyu. Mingyu answered on the first ring.
"I saw her." Jungkook's voice tumbled out, raw and shaky. "She stared at me. She looked at me with her eyes — her eyes that looked — she looked—"
"Jungkook." Mingyu's voice was firm but gentle. "I know. We know. Relax, okay? Where are you? I'll come to you."
Jungkook barely managed an okay. He tried to tell Mingyu where he was, only to realize he didn't really know. He had been walking in a haze, not paying attention to street names or landmarks.
When Mingyu finally found him, Jungkook tried to speak, tried to say more, tried to thank him for coming but his words caught in his throat. His eyes burned. Tears threatened to fall, and he couldn't stop them.
“Let’s go home first,” Mingyu said softly.
Jungkook nodded silently and walked toward the car.
Seeing Jungkook lose himself was rare. Seeing him cry was even rarer. But seeing him completely break down, that was something that had never happened before. Jungkook kept telling himself this was his fault. The consequences of his own actions. The price he had to pay for the choices he made two years ago.
But the aching in his chest never lessened.
It was raw. Brutal. And so, so empty.
Taglist is closed! Im sorry:((
A/N : I just want to say that I am so happy that I have people who appreciate my work. When i posted my first fanfic I mentioned that my works are pre written, I would read the stories I write to my friend and she recommended me to turn them into fanfictions and post them, and yea here am I. I edit my stories to match the characters of my fanfiction and add more details according to the characters I use. I have been writing stories and poems ever since I was a kid and it has always been a dream to share them with other people. I would suddenly get ideas and inspirations when I am listening to songs, or go to a particular place or even when I’m just laying in my bed.I’m still learning and I know I make mistakes a lot and it’s not perfect, but I write my stories with love and passion and I hope you all can respect my work and not call it ai generated. My friend actually found it very funny when I told her someone asked me to delete my work because it’s ‘ai generated’ because i’ve always been that friend who encourages others to stop using ai lol.
If you actually read my work I always try my best to explain and let the readers feel every moment, and I always want them to be able to picture every scene. If you don’t like my work please block me or ignore my posts and not threaten me or tell me to delete it because I put my heart into every sentence and every word.
I appreciate everyone who read my work and I never imagine reaching this far, it’s like a dream come true for me. All your support, your likes, comments and requests got me giggling and kicking my feet in the air. I love you all🤍🫂
My favourite chapter ever. It was originally 7.8k words but i added a few more lines haha.
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.
you both came from broken homes, with your parents entangled in the world of drugs and abuse, his absent more times than present. you had each other though, and that was all either of you had ever really needed - that much had been true for years. it didn’t take long to fall in love with him, not when he treated you like blooming flowers in the first touch of spring; you were more than just his girl. you were his y/n.
no one blinked when he proposed, everyone half expecting it, and neither of you had wanted to wait to plan a lavish wedding when you were both the only constants in each other’s lives. and so, with cheap rings, a random dress you had found at the bottom of your wardrobe and his scuffed shoes - you had become husband and wife.
jungkook was the best partner you could have ever asked for. money was tight in the beginning as he threw himself into his job, making sure he had enough to spoil you rotten even if that meant coming home exhausted. it killed you to see him working so hard, but he never complained, not even once. it was done in the pursuit of his sweet wife, and therefore just.
he quickly began climbing the ranks, his intelligence unmatched, his speed and efficiency making him a force to be reckoned with. in a mere seven years, he had managed to go from the lowest ranking worker in the company right to head office, before formally being announced as ceo.
it was unheard of. people like him, people like you, they didn’t live like this. it felt like over night your entire life had changed, as the tiny, one bed apartment transformed into a penthouse suite in your city’s most reputable area, your beaten down car now more lavish than you could ever dream of. your clothes - silks, linens and luxurious patterns. you were a changed woman, all at the hands of your husband.
that was when the cracks had began to form.
the late nights began, jungkook holed up in his office for far longer than anyone else at the company, stacks of paper all around as he tried to crack numbers before the next day could bring its own workload. you didn’t mind at first, more so worried over anything else.
you packed late dinners, going up to his office and eating them with him just to keep him company, to ground him which he needed more than you could ever realise. he would sit you on his lap as he worked, all whilst you napped peacefully on his shoulder as though this was perfectly normal.
the first few months, it worked. after that, it could no longer hide the gaping hole that had begun to appear.
missed dinners. missed dates. jungkook showing up at two in the morning despite everyone else going home at five in the afternoon - this wasn’t normal. wasn’t healthy. the amount of arguments that were being caused due to his workaholic nature was alarming, especially considering neither of you had ever even raised your voices to one another prior to this.
your heart was getting heavier and heavier.
not because you doubted his love for you - that wasn’t even a question in your mind, that much was certain. if anything, jungkook loved you too much, entirely and wholly, with every single decision made in his life somehow tracing back to you in one way or another. whether it was purchasing things, buying them with the intent of impressing you, making you happy or smile. every opportunity, every signed contract, every bastard fucking meeting that he could feel so deeply in his bones was done with the intention of giving you a life so soft you would never experience hardship again.
that was where the problem lay.
jungkook didn’t know how to love in a way that could nurture your relationship through this, and so, he did the only thing he could. he sacrificed.
slowly, painfully, the realisation that somewhere between the neglect, the late nights and unanswered phone calls, your husband had stopped being your husband at all. he had become a mere ghost in your shared home.
the night you had made your decision was one that felt imprinted in your memory.
it was past midnight, the harsh light of your phone reminding you with each passing moment. the rain was harsh too, with it being the middle of autumn, causing you to curl deeper into the covers on your bed but it did nothing to chase the cold away. dinner had long gone cold downstairs, with your housekeeper giving you a long, sad look before leaving to her own home, patting you on the shoulder in comfort.
your heart hurt so fucking much.
your phone was untouched, with messages sent hours prior despite the lack of response.
‘where are you?’
‘are you coming home tonight?’
‘jungkook, you promised.’
‘i miss you.’
you felt pathetic. humiliation ran up and down your veins at the thought of having to beg for a morsel of attention from your husband, but what else were you supposed to do? what else could you do? loneliness had a tendency to do that to people.
the sound of the front door finally opening had your eyes looking up, no longer staring into space, thinking. overthinking.
jungkook finally stumbled in, hours and hours late, shoulders tense and black coat half wet due to the rain outside. his phone had died hours ago, and his brain was a jumble of numbers and stakeholders, still muttering under his breath over something one of his colleagues had said. he was exhaustion personified.
“baby.” he exhaled deeply upon the sight of you still up.
1:47am.
you stared at him, unable to focus on anything in particular as your reddened eyes somehow glinted in the moonlit essence of the room. his heart ached.
“you missed it again.” you whispered, barely audible.
another dinner sat cold. jungkook had noticed it on his way up, muttering a small fuck under his breath, but seeing you now? something had changed, something was different and the sight scared him to death.
“i know, i..”
“you said you’d be home for six.”
“i know baby, i’m so sorry, we had an emergency shareholders meeting and it was just..fuck.”
“it’s always an emergency.” you muttered bitterly.
the silence that followed felt suffocating to you both.
he carefully placed his things at the door before approaching you slowly, as though you were a wounded fawn struck by an arrow from his own back - it was his fault. he knew that, he could see it.
“i’m trying.” he whispered softly, as he crouched to meet your eyes.
that was the worst thing of all - of course he was trying. you knew he was, you could see it in every single thing he did but that was the part that made it so much more painful. it was unbearable.
tears burned harshly behind your eyes, lip openly trembling as you stared at the only man to have ever felt your affection, the love of your life. the same man that would set himself on fire just to keep you warm, who had done this all for you - even you knew that but, the pain. you weren’t sure when loving him had started to hurt this badly.
“i don’t need..i don’t want any of this, jungkook.” you corrected as your voice cracked, hands gesturing to the too large room. “don’t care about penthouses or cars, or money..”
“it’s not about that.”
“then what is it about?” you cried, months and months of neglect finally collapsing all at once. “because i’m losing you anyway.”
the devastation that appeared on his face would have floored you on any other occasion, but the horrible feeling that had taken over was consuming you from the inside out. you couldn’t rid yourself of your thoughts, the looming decision that had grown and grown and grown, so much so that it felt bigger than you in both mind and body. you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to.
“i feel so lonely.” you admitted honestly, a broken sob leaving your lips. “you’re all i have..all i’ve ever had and i feel lonely.”
the words physically wounded him as he felt his own tears begin to form, a horrible realisation fluttering through his body - this wasn’t fixable. he could see it now, the utter pain in your eyes, the way your body shook as you cried, and though he was crouched in front of you, arms wrapping around you; it wasn’t enough.
“i’ll fix this. i’ll fix this, fuck. y/n..” he shook, holding you so tightly, his heart beating out of his chest. “give me time. give me a chance. give me something, give me anything.”
you only cried harder at his words, collapsing entirely as the sobs racked through your body violently. you knew he meant it, knew he meant every single word, and you genuinely believed it too but you were tired.
so, so tired.
you knew that the love between you, no matter how deep, could not survive on patched up apologies and promises no longer.
the separation happened three weeks later.
perhaps that was too cruel of you - you should have given him more time, more chances, another opportunity to prove himself to you so he could actually begin repairing something that had already long collapsed before he had ever realised the damage. staying felt too painful, as though you were prodding delicate skin with a million sharpened blades. for once in your entire existence, you chose yourself.
you hated yourself for it.
you could no longer survive off of the memories of who your husband had once been, the once sweet teenage boy who slept on the streets with you just so you’d feel safe from the grasps of your parents. the man who had ran home to tell you about his promotion, who then sobbed in your arms at the mere prospect of getting to give you the life you deserved. oh, how each and every fibre of your being yearned for him, how it knew him by breath alone and yet it wasn’t enough. nothing could possibly hurt more.
packing your things nearly killed him. you remembered it vividly.
jungkook stood silently in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching numbly, as though his soul had left his entire body as you packed up remnants of a life once shared with him. cardboard boxes were filled with your books, your makeup, your silly trinkets you had acquired together - the sight of you crying as you packed your wedding album so delicately was enough to have him bite back his own sob, shaking his head at the reality of the situation.
he hadn’t stopped you. it was the worst part.
jungkook was intimidating to most; hardened by his life experiences and the struggle he had been raised in, his only priority for the past decade being you. you didn’t like to go into his work, knowing he was quite literally a different person there - efficient, yes, but also ruthless. and yet, he stood, watching you as though his eyes couldn’t comprehend the scene in front of him, tears wiped harshly from his face in fear that it would only upset you more.
even in moments like this, he put you first.
his hands sat caged on either side of him, as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. he wanted nothing more than to pick you up, cradle you, cherish you the way he so desperately wanted but in his love for you came your happiness. he was a man devoted to you, and he couldn’t cage you somewhere you no longer felt happy staying - he loved you too much to ever do that.
the divorce proceedings were somehow so much worse.
the media frenzy surrounding jeon jungkook, the elusive ceo who was known for his mysterious persona and dark eyes, was quite literally unbearable. the sudden separation exploded all over the tabloids and the internet, with headlines appearing faster than either of you could keep up with. the hate was too much, to which jungkook stepped in to silence everyone behind the scenes, throwing an insane amount of money at journalists to keep your name out of their filthy mouths. wife or not, you were one half of him and he’d be damned if you were spoken of in anyway that wasn’t praiseworthy.
you couldn’t even look at him during the hearings.
god, you tried. you wanted to, managing to sneak little glances where you caught him already staring at you, despair all over his face, but you couldn’t handle it, tears streaming out of your eyes almost immediately. he knew you loved him. he could see it, clear as day.
he looked sick, as though he hadn’t eaten for weeks, the mere sight of you enough to sustain him until the next meeting, where your feet lightly brushed against one another underneath the table in a subconscious way.
he barely spoke, only choosing to actually speak when he was asked a question, but other than that, he spent his time in the meetings staring at you longingly. he’d whisper a soft “don’t cry” whenever he’d see you tear up, your lip quivering each time you snuck a glance over, despite knowing it was breaking you.
he signed everything over to you immediately. his lawyers had practically choked, eyes wide as he silenced them almost harshly for even suggesting anything otherwise, your own eyebrows pulling together as you tried to reject. you didn’t want his money, you didn’t want what he had worked so hard for.
the penthouse, the cars, the accounts. every. fucking. thing.
“jungkook..” you had whispered through tears at the table, addressing him for the first time in so long. “i don’t want any of this, it’s yours. you’ve worked so hard.”
hearing you was enough to provide the energy he had been lacking, the very blood in his bloodstream pumping harder as he shook his head at you, offended.
“i got those things for you. it never belonged to me..was always yours.” he whispered back, causing you to look down with another choked sob.
it was the final hearing that truly cemented the empty hole inside of you.
your hands shook violently, so much so that you were unable to pick up your pen and sign away your marriage, the one thing you needed to do to finally let him go. everyone in the room frowned as they watched you, face flooded with tears as your digits simply refused, as though your body rejected the notion as being entirely unnatural. they all felt pity for you, for both of you - you both were clearly in love, and they couldn’t understand the gravity of the situation between you.
jungkook had stood from his side of the table, walking over to you until his hand had softly encapsulated your own, your quiet sobs only growing harsher at the feel of the one person you had been craving for so long. he held it, guiding you to your own, helping you write your name on the dotted line despite every part of his body aching.
ex-husband.
the thought should have killed you.
once it was signed, he held onto your hand, too scared to let go as the documents were taken, your lawyers and his slowly leaving the room, leaving you be. you should have let go, should have pushed him away as he no longer had any tie to you - you weren’t married, you weren’t together. alas, the thought felt sacrilegious.
instead, he knelt, knees hitting the hardened floor below you as your red eyes met his properly. entirely.
“i’ll fix this.” he promised you, voice no longer shaking, as you could hear the depth of his promise to you. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby, but you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you better, i’ll be worthy. i promise you, y/n.” he whispered.
another sob climbed up your throat, mean and harsh, as your body collapsed against the chair you were sat in, your emotion taking a complete hold over you.
because even then, after everything, you knew his words to be true. you knew home would be waiting.
—
eight months had passed now, and soon came the first touch of summer. the bleak sky had become brighter, clouds hibernating and birds chirping as the world became warmer, accommodating for the transition into what most would describe as a joyous time. unfortunately for you, your body was still recovering from what could only be described as the most traumatic stage of your life thus far.
everything felt unnatural and wrong - you were trying to keep up despite it moving a million miles around you.
even after all this time, your stomach still dropped whenever you’d see anything that referred to him as your ex husband, as though your mind and heart needed a moment to catch up. how could jungkook ever simply become an ex anything to you?
he had existed in your life for so long that removing him felt akin to ripping a vital organ out of your body, all whilst expected to function entirely normally. how could you? you suppose you were failing, really, with the way you moved through life out of necessity instead of want.
the tabloids loved him now more than ever. it was the paradox of tragedy, you assumed, as you knew how badly the world yearned for a broken hearted lover.
the youngest ceo in the country’s history, a billionaire bachelor - the elusive businessman was on the top of every social hierarchy, whilst people spoke about you in hushed whispers. the only woman to have ever gotten away. who were you? why did you leave? why did he leave you with so much?
he had become so much colder after the divorce, and people picked up on it like rats with forgotten food.
the media had always labelled him as an intimidating man, but now, there was no way of denying it. there was something unsettling about the pictures that were being papped of him, your hungry eyes taking him in top to bottom, nibbling your lip - he looked so different. broad shoulders remained the same, but he seemed bigger, no doubt taking out his pain in the gym. it was the look in his eyes, however, that had your stomach in knots.
he looked dead whilst alive.
jeon jungkook was heartbroken, and the world knew it clear as day.
he had dealt with it the only way he knew how - by burying himself six feet deep into his work, knowing he had nothing to come home to, often times sleeping in his office just so he could ignore the silence of his house.
meanwhile, you had spent the last eight months trying to learn how to exist without him.
the humiliation at first was all you were reminded of, as you realised how deeply you had intertwined into him and vice versa. the silence in your once shared penthouse was so unbearable that you had moved into a tiny two bedroom apartment, using the spare as a storage unit for all of your books. on your nightstand still sat a picture of you both, as you secretly cried over it most nights. you couldn’t even sleep unless you wore one of his hoodies, despite his scent having washed off months ago - it was the comfort of knowing you still had a part of your marriage with you.
you missed him in every small, stupid, awful way imaginable.
the feeling of his hand, heavy and strong, on your thigh as he drove you around. the way he would cage you into any surface he could find just to smother you in kisses, or even the way he would whisper into your ear stupid jokes that had you giggling too loudly for the world to hear.
you missed your husband. you missed jungkook.
everyday you battled with the regret of your choice, especially once you’d see the way his under-eyes had sunken with the lack of sleep and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. you couldn’t live that way again, not with the neglect - not with your past trauma from your parents.
jungkook knew the gravity of his actions, knew you needed to heal and reason with them before he could come back to you but fuck, it hurt so bad to wait.
sometimes, during your weaker moments, you found yourself searching him into your phone in the dead of night, breathing out an audible sigh of relief at the confirmation he was still openly single. it was pathetic, that much you knew, but it was selfish beyond anything else. so cruel to want the man you left to be alone, simply because he still belonged to you.
you had attempted to rebuild your life slowly, carefully piecing together fragments of yourself that existed before all of this had happened. your days were quieter now, so much lonelier but it was enough to keep your mind from spiralling every second of every waking day.
some habits, however, refused to die.
his contact remained as the only favourited number in your phone, as you spent all of your time rereading old messages, despite it ending in tears. if only you knew he too did the same, with his photo album on his phone his most used app as he stared at you nightly, often falling asleep with your picture shining brightly on his screen.
you still loved him. he loved you even more.
that could never change.
-
the first flowers came on a random tuesday.
you had just experienced one of the worst days you’d had in a while, with a final meeting with one of your clients going to shit after you realised hours of work and designs had somehow corrupted, and then deleted. by the time you had returned home, you were sure the world had seen your teary state, your body heavier than usual.
as you searched your bag for your keys, your eyes peered up, noticing them.
your breath caught.
sitting neatly outside your apartment door. a bouquet, large but elegant - white gardenias. the flowers you had held at not only your wedding, but the ones jungkook would buy you for your anniversary each year.
your flowers.
your chest ached so violently you found yourself gasping for air as your legs gave out below you. you slid down the wall, fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you looked for a note, only to realise there wasn’t one. you didn’t need to see who they were from, only one person knew you well enough and your heart felt like it had been split into two as you took them in.
it wasn’t your anniversary, wasn’t any special kind of occasion, and yet here they were. bright, promising, sweet.
your vision blurred with heavy tears as the painful feeling in your body grew, throat tightening with emotion before reaching out and taking a hold of them, breathing the flowers in openly.
the scent alone was enough to destroy you.
he was everywhere, all of the time - even now. especially now.
the flowers had become a norm, a pattern that was only recognisable to you, and completely deniable to any other person looking in. you were smarter than you looked and you knew what was happening, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out.
your favourite restaurant somehow managing to accommodate you always despite the line or packed out reservations list, or the paparazzi that often bullied you for your attention outside of your home mysteriously disappearing. even your car, that you had dented slightly, appeared in perfect condition as you walked down to go to work one morning, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
your chest bloomed with realisation.
jungkook.
he never appeared himself, no. never. it was unsettling really, the reminder that he was powerful and could have things done with a flick of his wrist - he was sure to never make you privy to it, so you’d always feel like he was the same boy you had met all those years ago. now? he had every intention of showing you the empire he had built for you and you alone. he lingered around you and your life like a floating ghost, invisible but permanent. you truly couldn’t get rid of him even if you tried.
three weeks later is when you felt yourself reaching breaking point.
for the first time in months, you were finally leaving the house to actually do something for fun. your best friend, yejin, who’s husband yoongi was ironically jungkook’s best friend, had forced you to come out for a drink. nothing intense, merely a nice bar where the drinks were smooth and the company was good, with slow jazz playing in the back.
exhaustion was heavy in your bones but you listened, doing your best to make yourself look nice despite how dead you felt inside. a little skirt that felt too short and a top that perhaps plunged too low - yejin had deemed you utterly perfect.
sat at the bar, you sipped your drink, wincing lightly as she yapped away about something her coworker had said. you appreciated how she refused to bring jungkook up, knowing that she couldn’t breach the topic unless you were the one to bring it up yourself. you hated how badly you wanted to, how desperate you were to find out how he was doing.
she filled the air constantly, like she was terrified of what would happen if your mind caught up to the reality of the situation, instead filling it with nonsense to occupy your demanding thoughts.
you let her.
you even found yourself laughing, the feeling and sound so startling that it reduced you to silence for a full minute afterwards as you welcomed the feeling of actual joy for the first time in so long.
you almost didn’t notice the shift in your phone, the slight light radiating from beneath as you had turned it onto its screen earlier in the evening. she, however, paused mid sentence, eyes dropping down to let you know someone was ringing.
nothing could have prepared you for the sight of his name on the screen.
the name, ‘kookie’ with a large, red heart adorned your phone as humiliation rummaged through you at the realisation you had never even bothered to change his name, the concept too painful to come to terms with. however, yejin all but gasped as she turned to you, eyes widened with an almost excitement.
“answer it.” she encouraged, hand on your back. “i’ll watch your drink.”
you weren’t sure what to say, as you nodded, staring down at the screen before shakily sliding off of your seat and heading towards the back entrance, where a smokers area sat empty. your hands shook as you cupped the phone to your chest, taking a seat before looking down at it once more.
he was calling you.
jungkook was fucking calling you.
before you could overthink, you swiped, answering it.
the phone felt hot against your ear, a reminder of what was currently happening as your heart began beating harder than it had in months, your hands shaking. for a second, neither of you spoke.
you could hear faint movement on his end, a shuffling of some sorts before he completely stilled, as though he had pushed everything he was doing to a side at the realisation you had actually answered.
“hi.”
god. your eyes squeezed shut tight almost immediately.
there he was - your jungkook. not the ceo extraordinaire that was plastered on every publication you could find, with dead eyes and a sharp expression. no, this was him. jungkook. your jungkook.
the sound alone nearly brought you to tears. you felt so pathetic.
“hi.” you whispered back, voice cracking.
silence settled again, but not awkwardly. you didn’t think an awkward silence was capable of existing between you, not when your bodies were so intertwined and so aware of one another. the distance between you was unnatural, neither of your minds able to comprehend an eight month hiatus enough to understand that this phone call alone shouldn’t have been happening.
he exhaled slowly, and your shoulders gently relaxed, your eyes closing momentarily as you imagined him. no doubt still at work, in a suit unbuttoned at the shirt, his tie long forgotten. his tattooed hand running through his hair, ruffling it the way you always would.
“you answered.” he broke you out of your thoughts.
your chest tightened painfully at the sheer disbelief in his tone.
“you called.”
a faint huff of amusement left him then, causing you to blink back any emotion that was building in your eyes. it eased you.
“yeah.” he breathed out.
another pause.
you felt so suddenly aware of yourself - your hand reached out to smooth down your hair, adjust your top and skirt, despite knowing he couldn’t see you. it was subconscious, as though the thought of him alone was enough to undo you, but his voice? hearing it after so long, directed at you, for you. yours. it was enough to have you soothed for months.
before you could spiral in your thoughts, he spoke again.
“where are you?”
“out with yejin.”
“mm.” you shivered at his hum. you had no idea he was so undone at the sound of you too. “a bar?”
“yeah.”
“you drinking?”
you rolled your eyes, tongue poking your cheek at his curiosity. some things truly had never changed.
“why?” you asked, and you could almost hear his grin on the other end. “can’t i ask?”
his tone, smooth. familiar. fuck, it did things to you, and you could feel your thighs pressing together just listening to him. secretly, your favourite part of jungkook was how possessive he had always been, and even in moments like this where he hid it under a layer of calmness, you could recognise it instantly.
it reminded you of when he’d ask you whether you had eaten, just before pulling you into his lap, lips attacking the side of your neck hungrily or when he’d tell you to take your medicine, with a slow ‘baby’ and kisses planted to your forehead and cheeks.
“one drink.” you revealed, with a nibble to your lip.
you had no idea that he too was a fucking mess.
jungkook was indeed in his office, with his legs spread, suit jacket and tie somewhere, his shirt unbuttoned a little as he too drank. a cup of whiskey in his hand, his hair a mess as he scoured over your instagram for the millionth time just that day. neither of you were ones to post much, especially considering your accounts were private with only a few people, but he stalked you daily in hopes of a glimpse of you. could you blame him? he was utterly, devotedly in love with you.
a measly divorce couldn’t stop that.
seeing yejin’s story, with your low cut top, and your big eyes showing a sign of life for the first time in months made his heart bloom. it had his cock straining, again, just looking at you, eyes hungrily looking over every inch of you and your soft smile. god, how he had missed it.
he had given you your time. respected your wishes, allowed you eight months of this but enough was enough. the flowers were just the beginning, marking his space back in your life through a promise he had every intention of upholding. he had told you directly he was going to fix this, and you, his sweet, sweet girl had believed him.
he would never let you down again.
“you having fun?”
“why do you wanna know every single detail?” you asked, tone a little harsher than intended but you couldn’t help yourself. this was an ambush on your senses.
he huffed once more, the amusement enough to disarm you.
“because i miss you.”
the words left him so easily that the breath in your lungs completely dissipated, leaving you a statued mess. no hesitation, no shame - pure, devastating honesty.
“you can’t say that, jungkook.” you weakly combatted, the intake of breath on his side of the phone at the sound of his name leaving your mouth enough of an answer for you.
“why not? i can’t miss my wife?” he scoffed lightly at you.
you blubbered for a moment. “i-i am not..i’m not your wife!”
“okay.” he hummed once more.
there was a quiet clink on his end, no doubt picking his drink up and taking a big gulp after abandoning it the second you answered. neither of you spoke for a few more moments, silence now becoming a running theme between you on the call, and yet it was still void of the awkwardness you’d find anywhere else. it was awful how familiar it felt. how comfortable and safe.
your fingers played with the hem of your skirt nervously, unsure if you had been too brash - he was hurting too after all.
“is that top new?”
your breath caught.
“..what?”
jungkook stayed quiet for an extra beat. “your top. haven’t seen that one before.”
heat flooded your cheeks, chest and neck before you could even respond, your lips bitten down as you inhaled shakily.
“how do you know that?” you were ignoring the way your pulse was hammering against your body, trying to feign an air of nonchalance.
at that, he couldn’t help the small grin. “saw you on yejin’s story.” he murmured, quieter now. “look so good. love when you wear pink, baby.”
it wasn’t even the words he had chosen, but more so the way he was saying them. so calm, so certain, so casual as if he wasn’t calling his ex wife baby over a bit of cleavage that was never really meant for his eyes - your blush spreading all over you now.
“jungkook..” you breathed out, shakily.
“what?” he asked innocently, and you could really hear the smile in his voice now. “am i wrong?”
you looked down at your top, nibbling away at your lip to hide the small smile that was beginning to form on your own face, something that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. your fingers brushed against your stomach, feeling the fabric before tucking a strand behind your hair.
“it’s new.” you admitted softly, heels shuffling slightly on the ground.
the sound he made in response was enough to ruin you. not a laugh, not quite a sigh - something pleased.
he hummed. “so pretty.”
your eyes squeezed shut, and jungkook could feel it. could see it as though you were right in front of him. you were never one to handle a compliment, always going pink and shyly looking away and god, he loved it so much. loved complimenting you in hopes that you would react just like that, just to see you get all flustered.
the feeling in your stomach..it felt so strange. the same one that had haunted you for the past eight months, an unbearable warmth that filled you from your toes to your head, something you craved so desperately from him and him alone. to be noticed, looked at, admired by jungkook was one thing but to be loved by him? it was joy in itself.
you could feel it.
no one had ever loved you quite like he had done, as though every single thing you were capable of was worthy of applause. it terrified you.
“you can’t do this.” your voice came out so much smaller than either of you had expected, changing the entire feel of the call instantly.
as a result, his own tone softened, as though he was dealing with something porcelain.
“do what, baby?”
your heart physically ached.
“talk to me..like nothing happened.”
you felt sick to your stomach, hands gripping your phone and stomach as your eyes shut tight. you wished you hadn’t of said anything, not with the way the silence kissed the air in a way that felt anything but familiar - it hurt. painful in every single way.
for the first time since answering the phone, you could see jungkook properly. could hear him breathing sharply as though your words were both a reminder and an understanding that no matter what, things could never go back to what they once were.
the slight twitch in his cheek, the way his fingers would naturally tighten whenever he was overwhelmed with emotion like he didn’t know where to put it, where to place it in his overworking mind. he had always loved so deeply, your jungkook; just didn’t know where to put it, or how to show it.
when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. stripped bare for you, so you could feel him.
“i know what i did.” he admitted softly. “i know i fucked up, and that i failed you as a husband.”
your throat tightened.
outside, rainwater still lingered from earlier, a sickly humidity wrapped into every air particle around you. the scent of lingering cigarette smoke was heavy enough to ground you in that moment as you listened to jungkook speak words neither of you could truly handle hearing, despite how necessary they were. it just hurt so, so badly.
inside the bar, you could hear muffled laughter, people egging one another on for drinks as jazz boomed, your heart easing as you could hear yejin’s voice amongst the crowd, no doubt the life of the party there too.
“then why are you acting like this?” you pathetically asked, lip jutting out in a teary pout. he could almost hear it on you. “you’re talking to me like we’re still together.”
“you’re still mine, y/n.”
your breath hitched violently.
“jungkook-“
“no,” he remained calm, a stark difference between you and him. “you asked me a question, baby, so let me answer it properly.”
the nickname rolled off of his lips so naturally, instinctively, and you hated how easily your body curled closer, almost desperate to hear it whilst he stood in front of you. you had always been putty in his hands, so easily undone with a few pretty words but you’d held back for the past few months for the sake of your boundaries. hearing him so open, so honest - it was fucking you up all over again.
“i know we’re divorced,” he continued before you could interrupt him again. “i know..you’re not my wife anymore, and i know this is my fault. you left because of me and i’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”
his voice cracked by the end of his statement.
“but i won’t sit here and pretend like the last eight months have suddenly erased the past fifteen years of loving you.”
the words shattered you. your delicate, pathetic heart broke once more at his words at the confirmation of what you needed to hear so, so badly.
years of abandonment issues stemming from your parents and friends who had only ever toyed with you meant you had put your all into jungkook, who had only ever put every inch of himself back in - you were a partnership, a welcome duo that made sense to the both of you. watching him pull back, forget you, neglect and abandon your relationship no matter the reason was enough to trigger you in ways that no one could reason with.
it was an intimate form of violence that though was never intended, hurt more than anything he could have ever done to you.
he knew that. he was openly telling you he recognised his faults, his wrong doings - you knew that too. god, you knew him better than anyone alive, and you knew that by leaving him it was the only way for him to understand and see.
“you’re making this so much harder, jungkook.” you whispered out through a flood of tears, your mascara and eyeliner smudging immediately under the slaughter of liquid.
“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry baby but i need you to hear me, okay? just..i need you to know i’m going to fix this. properly.” he breathed out, desperate now. “i’ve been doing things right this time..gave you space, let you breathe, been working on myself and going to therapy. don’t sleep at the office anymore, did at the start cause i didn’t like coming home but i’m better now.”
therapy?
you knew he held so much trauma with his own parents, his own upbringing, too scared to ever even speak about it if it wasn’t with you but to hear he had actually taken the steps to go forwards with something that put him directly out of his comfort zone was insanity to you. especially when his one and only concern had only ever been your own comfort, even at his expense.
his honesty made you burst out into quiet sobs - a noise he swore was harsh enough to kill him. he breathed out, cooing at you lightly as he shook his head despite you unable to see him, so pained.
jungkook recognised your pain immediately.
“yeah,” he muttered. “turns out working yourself to death because you’re afraid of losing everything after you’ve had a shitty upbringing actually isn’t normal behaviour. who knew?”
despite your heartbroken state, you let out a sincere watery laugh.
the sound hit him like a drug.
he went completely silent after hearing it, replaying it in the forefront of his mind. a greedy, gluttonous side of him climbing out of his very throat as he held it close to his soul, cherishing it - he was a starved man finally being fed.
“there she is.” he breathed. “fuck..missed hearing your laugh.”
you hated how easily you were able to slip back into him.
“jungkook..”
“i mean it,” his tone deepened slightly - more certain, more intentional. “i’m not calling you tonight to confuse you, y/n. i’m not calling because i’m lonely..”
your fingers tightened around the phone once more. “then, why?”
“because i’m getting you back.”
there was no hesitation in his voice, no wariness nor anything other than sheer determination. he sounded firm and a part of that thrilled you, whilst the other half sat scared of what this meant - you couldn’t survive this again, losing him. what if you had changed? what if you weren’t who he thought you were anymore?
“hey, stop it.” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “it’s just me, y/n. it’s just me and you, okay?”
“but what if we can’t do it?” you asked through a teary sob, scuffing your heels on the hard ground. “what if i’m different and what if it’s too hard? i can’t..i won’t survive it..”
silence once more.
“then, we do it slowly.” he whispered, assured, soothing you. no hesitation whatsoever. “i’m not asking you to trust me overnight, baby. i know i fucked that up already.”
your lip trembled, tears streaming so fast you could hardly keep up.
“but i’m here now.”
the words settled so deeply inside of you that it almost hurt. that was all you had wanted all along, was it not? a present husband, the same man that loved you without the frills of money and presents - you wanted jungkook. your jungkook.
you swallowed thickly, knowing it had taken so much of him to even say this to you, so confident as he knew you needed a rock at this moment despite also being emotionally devastated.
two whole minutes of silence stretched between you as you caught your breath, your tears still streaming but your sobs subsiding, allowing for sweet hiccups that he thought were the cutest thing he had ever heard. his mind swam, aching, knowing how needy you were after a cry. he wanted to bundle you up and hold you, kiss you until there were no more thoughts left in that pretty little head of yours, right until you were finally asleep and safe in his arms.
“are you still at work?” you asked softly, breaking the silence and pulling him out of his thoughts.
a small pause.
then, almost amused - “technically..”
“jungkook! it’s late..”
he laughed quietly under his breath, the sound warm enough to blanket you in it.
“finished hours ago, i’ve just been sat here.”
“doing what?”
another pause. slightly charged.
“looking at you.” he murmured.
heat rushed to your face immediately, wiping your under eyes. “what?”
“been stalking your instagram. yejin posted you like half an hour ago too, so..” his voice dropped lower, smoother. more intimate. “haven’t really thought about doing anything since.”
your thighs pushed together involuntarily at the confession, cheeks hinted even darker.
god.
“jungkook.” you chastised with a little sniffle.
“pink was a bad choice, baby.” he grunted slightly. “you know that colour drives me fucking insane on you.”
your eyes squeezed shut. there he was.
not the cold, mysterious ceo that had the world intrigued, nor the tall, hefty man that had most people cowering away as he walked past. no, this was your husband - flirty, affectionate and completely and utterly obsessed with you.
“you’re so ridiculous.” you shook your head through a hiccup, biting back the pathetic small smile that was about to form.
“yeah?” he hummed through a small laugh. “still answered the phone.”
the smile in his voice only had yours growing larger, a small laugh muffled by the back of your hand.
you could hear him moving around now, keys jingling lightly before the sound of a car door opening had your ears peaking up.
“wait,” your eyebrows raised. “are you leaving?”
“mhm.”
“where are you going?”
jungkook grinned. it was your turn to be curious.
“home.”
your smile dropped slightly. home.. that used to be a word that was synonymous with you. your chest ached all over again.
“couldn’t go back there without hearing your voice first.” he admitted quietly.
silence swallowed you whole. the vulnerability in his voice felt far more dangerous than any of the tears you had shed tonight, your fingers continuing to shake around the phone at the mere sound of it. before you could think of a response, he spoke again.
“there’s a gala next friday.”
your stomach tightened as you leaned your head against the wall, already understanding the direction of the conversation.
“jungkook..”
“come with me.”
no hesitation. no uncertainty.
firm, assured, confident. like there had never even been another concept, or thought in his brain - you were the first and only option.
“i don’t think that’s a good idea..”
“probably not.”
the honesty startled a laugh out of you - a real one. on the other side of the phone, jungkook sat in his car, eyes closed, breathing deeply at the sweet sound like he was memorising it. treasuring it so he could replay it over and over and over later when he laid in your once shared bed alone.
“fuck,” he breathed. “you have no idea how much i’ve missed that.”
your eyes burned once more.
“baby,” his tone gentled again, using the pet name you loved so much. “just one night. me and you.”
you wanted to scream, wanted to pull at your hair and jump all at the same time. of course you wanted to say yes, what more could you need? your ex husband so openly telling you he wanted to pursue you with every inch of his body, until he was nothing but yours to mould and shape.
“i’ll think about it.” you replied instead, nibbling away at your lip.
the grin in his voice was immediate.
“that’s my girl.”
—
you couldn’t breathe.
both physically and emotionally, you found difficulty in inhaling air as you looked at yourself in the mirror, yejin somewhere in the room finding accessories for you to wear all whilst you blinked rapidly.
the dress, although beautiful, felt too tight.
your hands shook on either side of you as she approached you, holding up a delicate diamond necklace you recognised as an anniversary gift jungkook had gotten you but never quite found the chance to wear. your eyes were unfocused as she clasped it onto your neck, watching the way it fell so softly against soft skin, as though it had been curated for you and you alone.
“you need to breathe, y/n.” she suddenly murmured behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder as you both stared at you in the mirror.
pale pink satin - not bright in anyway, but a sweet kiss of your favourite colour adorned your body in floor length, tight fitting dress. you were the embodiment of elegance as the fabric draped over your curves, all whilst cinching perfectly at your waist, allowing for a pretty silhouette. not only did you look the part for a charity gala, you had exceeded any expectation anyone would ever have for you thanks to your best friend’s styling.
“dress is tight.” you simply whispered back, hardly recognising yourself.
your makeup matched your dress. glowy and pink with soft blush dusted onto your cheeks, glossy lips puckered and sweet. your hair fell in waves and for the first time in a very long time, you felt utterly beautiful.
the problem, however, was in the circumstance itself.
you were about to see jungkook for the first time since you had officially walked away from your marriage and the thought had kept you up all week. you weren’t sure what you were thinking actually saying yes to his invitation, calling him to tell you would come only for him to audibly huff out of joy. he was like a child in a candy shop but you couldn’t help but wonder if he harboured the same anxiety.
it was heavy in your stomach as you stared at yourself. pink was your favourite colour, and he loved it on you. did you look pretty enough? all eyes would be on you both tonight, given the nature of your relationship and the almost celebrity like status that had been awarded to the two of you.
all in all, it was his face that had you nibbling your bottom lip in thought. there wasn’t a night where you left his name unsearched in your internet browser, desperate to see what he looked like in that current moment but seeing him in purpose was a whole different playing field.
you loved him in suits - a fitting joy that was awarded to you constantly given his occupation. the way his shoulders would fill out the material so nicely, the way his shirt would stretch over his chest and the way darker colours only brought out the darkness in his eyes - it was your personal kryptonite. you weren’t sure how you were supposed to think, behave even, once you caught got sight of him.
“hey, y/n, look at me.” yejin pulled you out of your thoughts, soft hands pulling at your jaw. “it’s just jungkook. you know him better than anyone, okay? you’re all good.”
you nodded, though you continued to blink at her rapidly. “s’just been so long and..i don’t know..i’m scared. is that weird?”
she offered a sad smile. “it’s been eight months of healing, babe. that love doesn’t just go away and from what you told me, this is a step in the right direction. just gotta let him in.”
before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell blared through the apartment, making you look up to where the door sat on the other side. if you thought your heart had been beating fast before, you were sure you were on the edge of passing out now as yejin mumbled a quick ‘that’ll be him’ beside you.
oh god. oh god. oh god.
the dress felt too tight around your ribs.
your hands smoothed down the satin again despite having done it what felt like a million times already, fingers tips trembling over expensive fabric as your breathing came out shallow. you hated this - hated the fear of it all when it was jungkook on the other side of the door. your jungkook.
eight months. eight whole months and your body still knew him better than your mind was ready to let on.
“y/n.” yejin practically cooed at you, assuring you with a hand on your back. “breathe.”
you nodded quickly, though it went in one ear and out the other.
the intercom buzzed again, impatient time.
ironically, it was this that had your shoulders slumping softly, your shortness of breath slowly soothing as you realised the familiarity of the situation. of course jungkook would buzz twice - it was a telltale sign of his own anxiety, something you could recognise from a mile away. knocking twice, calling your name twice, checking the front door before bed twice.
it was just jungkook.
“okay.” you whispered to yourself.
you turned, more determined now you knew he was in the same state as you, as your heels clicked on the floor of your much smaller apartment, the noise loud enough for him to hear from the outside. each step felt heavier the closer you got, but there sat an anticipation in you that had you almost desperate to see him.
your hand finally wrapped around the handle before you opened the door.
and there he was.
god.
for a moment, your brain completely malfunctioned.
jungkook stood in your hallway beneath the almost dingy apartment lighting, one hand wrapped around a large bouquet of flowers you recognised to be the ones he had been gifting you with continuously for the past few weeks, and every anniversary. white gardenias.
your eyes fell onto them immediately with a strangled gasp, all whilst taking him in, your heart beating out of your chest as you felt almost faint at the sight of him.
a black suit.
the material stretched perfectly across his too broad shoulders and narrow waist, expensive to the eye as you could tell it had been tailored to fit him exactly. the contrast between the white shirt underneath was utterly delicious, and memories of pulling open buttons under heated exchanges flooded your eyes.
his hair was styled almost messily which you immediately recognised as his hands having ran through them, no doubt due to his anxiety - you wanted to pull at his locks, wanted to feel them against your fingers.
it was his face, however, that hurt to look at.
he looked healthier than most of the pictures you had seen over the span of the past few months, with warm in his cheeks, a slight dazed look in his eyes. still tired, with purple underneath his eyes indicating his lack of sleep, still carrying traces of heartbreak you knew you had placed there.
god.
jungkook looked every bit of the man you were in love with.
and here he stood, staring at you like he had just seen heaven open up right in front of him.
neither of you could look away from one another, as his eyes dragged over you slowly, inch by inch. your hair, your neckline that dipped lower than he was used to seeing, your manicure, your beautiful face. jungkook couldn’t fathom that you had once belonged to him, the pain of the past eight months surfacing as it gripped him by the throat like a vice - he had lost you?
you watched his throat bob.
his eyes met yours, the first time in what felt like a lifetime, and neither of you really knew what to do. how was it that the man you had known most of your life, the one constant, felt like a stranger in that moment? it was like you were discovering him again, an opportunity to relearn him presented to you and you took it with both hands.
he let out a shaking breath, one that had your cheeks flushing as he extended his arm, presenting the large bouquet for you.
“you look beautiful.” he whispered, voice struggling almost as you continued to watch his adam’s apple almost entranced.
with a shy thank you, you held them close to your chest, breathing in the familiar scent that brought you so much comfort.
your chest had eased now you were finally looking at him, now that he was actually in your space - the worst was over. you almost felt ridiculous for being worried about seeing him when it was just jungkook. eight months couldn’t erase that familiarity.
the hallway suddenly felt too small. too warm, too intimate; you felt like you were being caved in by his mere presence and for a moment you wondered if you needed breath at all.
you simply stood there, clutching the flowers delicately to your chest as though they meant something so much more than what anyone else could assume all whilst jungkook looked at you like you were the first beautiful thing he had seen in months.
his eyes couldn’t leave your face.
it should have made you uncomfortable, the intensity of his stare, but your body reacted the way it had always done when you were near him. you were inching closer without even realising it, him doing the same until you were looking up, head angled and his downwards, head bent to admire you properly.
“hi.” you whispered again.
the size difference between you had never been more apparent until then, what with all of his strenuous visits to the gym these past few months. he had always towered over you, but it was different now - his already wide chest and broad shoulders engulfed you, his biceps on either side of him enough to have you wanting him in a way that certainly was not becoming of an ex wife.
it’s like he could read your thoughts, with the way he inched closer to you, until your bodies were openly brushing against each other faintly. material on material, fabric kissing fabric. you wished you could feel him on your skin.
the sound of your voice had lulled him gently as he dipped his head down lower so you could properly see him, despite your head back to look at him.
“hi, baby.”
your stomach flipped violently.
there it was again. baby. fuck.
as though the divorce papers were fickle, representing a momentary lapse of judgement instead of a ruling decision. like he still woke up beside you every morning and ruined your cheeks with kisses before falling in between your thighs.
the dazed look on your face didn’t go unnoticed.
before you could even respond, yejin appeared behind you with the biggest smile she could possibly muster.
“oh my god,” she squeaked dramatically. “you both look insane!”
jungkook blinked, momentarily pulled from the emotional spiral you were both taking part in as he straightened slightly, despite still being awfully close to you. your cheeks heated at the sound of her voice, jumping a little in shock, causing you to brush against him faintly.
“hi, yejin.”
“don’t hi yejin me.” she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “if she cries tonight, i’ll kill you.”
“yejin!” you flushed red.
jungkook, however, allowed for a soft smile, nodding once. “fair.”
the sheer sincerity of it made the room go quiet, your eyes meeting his once more. you knew though it was a passing comment, he truly meant it - he’d let her kill him if it meant you’d hurt less.
your chest tightened all over again.
yejin seemed to realise it too, her teasing expression softening at the both of you. idiots in love, both too cautious to know what the correct next step was - thank god she loved to meddle.
“okay! you’re both gonna be late so hurry up.” she hummed, turning you and looking over you for any last minute touch ups. “i’ll take these. i’ll show myself out.”
with a cheeky wink, she all but pushed you backwards towards jungkook where your back gently brushed against his front. she had taken the flowers, shoved your clutch in your hand and shut the door in your face, all after giving you a big grin.
he didn’t move from behind you, despite you turning to properly face him. the two of you stared at one another openly, eyebrows pulling together - you could see it happening in real time, the way his body curled at the mere feel of you. to be so close to you, touching you; it was out of a far away dream.
you felt it too - god, you could feel it in your veins. the horrifying wave of unashamed want that filtered through you so naturally, your body knew him. your body recognised your husband.
your man.
his restraint was palpable. you could see it in the way his fingers flexed on either side of him, almost twitching as muscle memory surfaced from deep inside of him. for years touching you had been second nature, with a hand on your waist, fingers lifting your chin, arms around your figure to hold you up for a kiss.
now he looked almost tortured as he realised he no longer knew what he was allowed to do.
the realisation alone softened you.
“we should go.” you whispered up at him gently, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
jungkook stared at you, offering a small nod almost obediently despite the stark hunger in his eyes.
“yeah.” he cleared his throat. “yeah, okay.”
he stepped back and first; the distance was felt immediately.
you suddenly missed the warmth that radiated off of him, fingers faintly tugging on his suit jacket so gently you weren’t even aware you were doing it. what the fuck was wrong with you? one touch and you were already spiralling into him again like the last eight months had never happened.
jungkook noticed. of course he did.
his chest visibly expanded from beneath the expensive material, eyes darkening so suddenly you felt heat up and down your spine. the way he looked at you had emotion swirling in your stomach, so hungry. so devoted.
you slowly released him, blinking rapidly as though you’d only just realised what you’d done.
“sorry.” you whispered instinctively.
jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed together in offence.
“don’t apologise for touching me.” his voice came out firmer than expected, low. far too intimate given the apartment hallway you were in.
the silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on, neither of you making an effort to move despite knowing you were bordering on being late. the tension was so unbearable now that you were both alone, freely staring at one another after so much time apart - no yejin to soften the edges. just fifteen years worth of tension, want and need all accumulated between you.
his eyes flickered downwards as he watched you sway slightly.
“your heels are insane.” he muttered softly.
you blinked. “hm?”
“you’re already wobbling.”
offended, your mouth gaped. “i am not wobbling!”
jungkook let out a small huff of amusement, loving how easy it was to rile you up. the sound completely disarmed you, seeing a glimpse of the same jungkook you had been with all of your life.
“you almost fell walking out of the door.” he teased, with a tilt to his head downwards at you.
“i did not!” you shook your head with a small swat to his chest. he only let out another laugh. “you literally grabbed onto me.”
“that..doesn’t count, okay?”
“mm.” amusement stretched over his face, as he led you to the staircase, cautious to be slow as he watched you continue to slightly wobble due to the uneven surface of the hallway. “sure.”
before you could even think of a rebuttal, you watched jungkook look down the multiple staircases with a slight frown before turning to you. he suddenly bent at the knees, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for no longer than two seconds before one arm slid below your knees and the other around your back.
your gasp echoed.
“jungkook!”
he lifted you bridal style effortlessly, as though you weighed truly nothing to him.
your hands immediately flung to the back of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders in shock as your body felt more of him than it had done in what felt like eons. jungkook’s hands were so much bigger than yours, and you could feel him everywhere all at once, enough to have you dizzy with a sense of want.
“what are you doing?!” you whispered harshly, eyes blown wide as he sorted you on one single arm, checking his phone for the time with the other. it was beyond easy.
jungkook merely looked down at you calmly, entirely unbothered despite the way you could feel his pulse hammering below your fingertips.
“preventative measures. can’t have you slipping down the stairs.”
you stared at him in disbelief. “you can’t just pick me up!”
he scoffed a little, as though your words were going in one ear and out the other. your comfort came first, that much was ingrained in him and even you couldn’t stop him when it came to that.
he walked down the stairs as though it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand spread wide against your back, claiming whilst the other was hooked under your thighs, making sure you were as comfortable as possible against him. your dress was draped so beautifully over his arm that anyone who would have caught you in that moment would have remarked, ironically, how bridal you looked.
you couldn’t believe how safe he felt.
jungkook noticed the second you relaxed into him. properly.
“missed carrying you.” he admitted quietly as he descended another step.
your entire body burned. “jungkook.” you breathed weakly, though there was no real warning behind your tone.
“what?” he hummed innocently. “s’true.”
you remembered almost fondly - it was the one thing you probably missed more than anything else. he would carry you everywhere - from the bed to your bath, to the couch after you’d woken up, through grocery stores just to hear you squeak in embarrassment. one time he had held you for an hour straight, walking you home after a date just because your feet hurt.
and now, here you were again, tucked into his chest as though it was home. you supposed it was.
your heart ached so violently at the memory that looking up at him through your lashes had your brain whizzing too fast for you to keep up with.
“you’ve gotten so much bigger.” you whispered almost shyly before you could stop yourself, already tucked into him too comfortably.
big mistake.
his heart truly nearly fucking stopped. his head snapped down at you almost instantly, eyes darkening so visibly it had you avoiding any contact, instead focusing your gaze on his clothed pecs.
“yeah?” he asked slowly.
your cheeks were flushed dark, realising how that may have sounded.
“just..got broader.” you clarified through another whisper, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment.
“been working out a lot more.” he murmured down at you, ducking his head a little so that he could meet your eyes, a small smile forming.
you nibbled your lip with a little nod, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.
jungkook knew you loved the size difference between you, but it truly didn’t compare to how fucked it made his mind go. it was the first thing he had noticed when you opened the door again - how despite your heels, you were still so much shorter. it drove him insane, especially now that he was bigger. feeling you curled into his chest like this, all safe and protected, it made him feel wanted. to have you notice it, address it even so shyly; fuck. it ruined him.
by the time he had reached the bottom floor, your cheeks were still heated, dreading the fact he would have to let you go when all you wanted was to curl into him even deeper. to think ten minutes ago you had so much anxiety when now, he was actively conversing with you all whilst carrying you, it felt euphoric.
the driver stood outside of the car, the same man who drove you both to events when you were still together. your eyes widened a little as you watched him open the back door for you both, all whilst you were still leisurely held in his arms.
your embarrassment returned instantly.
“put me down!” you hissed quietly.
jungkook looked at you, unaffected. “why?”
“because your driver is literally staring at us, jungkook!”
the poor man looked away with a growing smile. he had missed seeing his boss so carefree, knowing that he was only like this when the situation pertained to you.
he smirked faintly. “he’s driven us around for years, baby. pretty sure he’s seen us do a lot worse.”
your mouth fell open, swatting his chest. “jungkook!”
that finally earned you a proper smile, brief but enough to knock the very air out of your lungs, your too large eyes drinking it in almost desperately. he was so handsome it hurt, and it wasn’t until now you realised how much you had missed his smile.
carefully, he gently lowered you to the ground, making sure you were comfortable on your feet.
his hands lingered. neither of you moved.
your faces were suddenly so close once more as your hands had slid down from his neck, but remained in contact, fingers digging into his chest faintly to feel him. the city noise faded around you and into the background as he looked down at you with an emotion that could only be classed as longing.
“you good?” he asked softly.
you nodded too quickly. “mhm.”
liar.
his eyes dropped to your lips once more, eyeing the gloss almost hungrily - would it taste like the strawberry you always applied? sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he’d remember the flavour.
then, like he had to physically pull himself back, he stepped closer to the car and gestured to it slowly.
“after you.”
you slid into the backseat first, smoothening your dress as it rode up your body, all whilst your pulse hammered harshly.
the interior of the car was sleek, donned in a luxurious black leather whilst it remained dimly lit in the back, with enough enough space to stretch out your legs. the scent of jungkook’s cologne was addicting, and you immediately recognised it to be the one you had bought him on your last anniversary together, your heart fluttering at the thought.
once he climbed in beside you, you realised how intimate the space actually was.
jungkook sat close enough for his thigh to brush against yours, broad shoulders taking up far too much room whilst the driver shut the door quietly behind him.
neither of you acknowledged the contact. it somehow made it worse.
it wasn’t until the divider between the front and the back began slowly sliding upwards, offering a layer of privacy that your breath caught audibly.
jungkook noticed - of course he fucking noticed. he couldn’t stop staring at you, especially now that he had you trapped here, pushed against him like you belonged with a drive ahead of you. god, the things he wanted to do to you in this dress were sinful at best, but he had to practise restraint, no matter how much it took out of him.
he leaned back, one arm sliding over to the top of your seat, where although he wasn’t touching you, you slyly leaned in just to have more of his warmth. it felt so familiar, so nauseatingly natural that anything other would have felt wrong.
he watched as your thighs pressed together.
fuck.
“you nervous?” he asked in his low voice, jaw ticking.
your eyes slowly shifted, finally meeting his gaze. through a shaky laugh, one without humour, you nodded. “obviously.”
he softened at that, sharpness melting away to reveal the tenderness below.
“it’s just me, y/n.”
you felt so hyperaware of everything. the rain that tapped softly against the tinted windows, and the gentle purr of the car engine beneath you. the feel of jungkook’s thigh soothed you, whilst his heavy gaze unnerved you - a cocktail mix that felt so entirely him.
you could feel his eyes on you before you even looked up. once you did, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare - not polite. certainly not subtle. his gaze moved over you, up and down, like he couldn’t help himself, like he he’d been trying to hold back the second you opened up the door to your apartment.
“fuck.” he muttered under his breath.
your cheeks flushed pink, whispering his name.
you watched his eyes flush down your body, eyes stuck on your cleavage and the way the material clung to your hips. “look at you.”
you instinctively looked down, shy at the attention but you couldn’t help but crave it. you knew exactly how obsessive jungkook was when it came to you, knew how deeply infatuated he was with every inch of you but seeing it so closely after so long almost felt soothing. it was a reminder that though everything had changed, somethings stayed the same.
his hand moved before you could think too hard about it, cupping under your chin and tilting your face upwards.
“don’t hide from me.”
your stomach tightened, eyelids hooded.
this thumb brushed against your jaw once, so soft, so unbelieving that you were in his arms despite the fact you technically weren’t his anymore. not that he believed that.
“i can’t stop looking at you.” he admitted, tone rougher now. “been trying since you opened the door, but it’s impossible.”
your thighs pressed together immediately, his gaze dropping to the small action. the reaction was subtle, but there - he noticed everything when it came to you.
you suddenly felt so warm.
“you’re staring so hard.” you murmured nervously, fingers twisting together in your lap.
“because you’re driving me fucking crazy.”
the words came out so plainly your eyes widened.
jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, head tipping backwards against his seat all whilst you watched with heavy breath. the far gone part of your mind wanted to track his neck, trace his adam’s apple with your fingers all so he could continue looking at you the way he had been.
he looked devastating like this - broad thighs spread in the backseat with your body pressed against him, his arm slung heavy on the head of your seat. the both of you were a mess for one another, sick in the head with infatuation.
you weren’t stupid. you knew your effect on him, perhaps not to the full extent, but enough to know that nearly a year’s distance between you was enough to drive a man like him insane. his hand dragged over his face with a quiet groan before adjusting himself slightly over his suit trousers.
your eyes flickered downwards before you could stop yourself.
jungkook smiled at the sound of your quiet giggle as you put a hand over your mouth to muffle it, looking up to meet his gaze after noticing he was half hard. all you had done was exist.
“yeah,” he murmured, the sound of your laugh blooming in his chest. “that’s your fault.”
you slapped his thigh gently, although you couldn’t hold back on the continuous giggles that were now leaving you as you felt lighter than you had in what felt like years. he too matched you, the intensity lightening up massively as he let out a quiet laugh despite himself.
“what’d you expect, hm?” he asked, voice soft. “i haven’t seen you in eight months, and now you’re sat next to me looking like this. wearing pink.”
his hand slowly slid over, brushing against your own, fingertips grazing your skin before he intertwined them, gently.
you let him.
the second you curled your hand into his yourself, his expression changed. up until now, it was him losing control, reigning himself in, biting himself down to make sure you were as comfortable as possible but fuck. you were the one touching him now, making sure he could see you intertwine your hands properly, squeezing his hand.
it felt like a confirmation that this was the beginning of a new chapter.
he wanted to scream, to yell on the top of his lungs at the thought of you openly showing him your willingness. his sweet, angel girl; he loved you more than words could describe and he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing you.
“missed this,” he admitted quietly, eyes on your much smaller hand holding his so intimately. “missed you touching me.”
your eyes burned suddenly.
jungkook noticed immediately with a frown, expression softening at the edges.
“hey, baby.” his thumb brushed yours. “don’t cry.”
“m’not crying.” you whispered, though your voice wobbled embarrassingly.
he held you close to him as you both remained quiet for the rest of the journey, though the silence felt welcomed after such a rush and mix of emotions. you had gone from anxiety, to confusion, to excitement, to warmth, to a painful reminder of what once was - it was enough to drive you insane. being around him hurt, but being near him was healing.
rain continued to pitter patter outside as your hands remained intertwined, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he sat there trying to fathom how this was real. you were letting him in, and he could see it, could see how much it was taking out of you and he’d be damned if he fucked it up again. to get a second chance was insanity alone, but to have it with you?
the car began slowing down.
through the tinted windows, you could see a flash of white, people trying to get a glimpse of the elusive ceo they were so obsessed with. you gulped as you watched other powerful business people walk in with their dates, models and celebrities lining up to have their picture taken.
you leaned into him almost immediately.
jungkook held onto you tightly, arm sliding over your waist and gently squeezing. “i’m here. stay by me.”
you nodded quickly, dazed. “okay.”
his eyes lingered on your face for a second too long before he muttered under his breath, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “you look so fucking pretty.”
your heart nearly stopped, meeting his gaze as your shoulders slumped, feeling calm through his sweet words.
the car door opened.
chaos.
jungkook stepped out first and the reaction was everything you had expected and somehow so much more. your eyes blinked as you watched the cameras explode violently, reporters shouting his name from all directions as they desperately tried to get a clear shot of him, knowing he could easily make front page news without having to try.
your heart stopped for a moment.
his back faced everyone else as he turned to you, taking a hold of your hands once more and gently helping you out of the car, smoothening your dress.
the second they saw you? everything multiplied by ten.
genuine screaming was heard from somewhere behind the barricades as you slowly stepped out, your own hand finding jungkook’s for a sense of comfort which he readily gave you, pulling you in a little closer than necessary. the noise was erupting, your vision blinded momentarily by the insane flashes, reports actually tripping over one another to take pictures of you in particular.
this wasn’t normal.
jeon jungkook never brought women anywhere. never entertained rumours, never dated publicly, never stood beside any other woman that hadn’t been you. even then, you had been painfully private, making sure to attend closed events with rare appearances, often opting to support in the shadows as opposed to centre stage as he was forced to.
but now? this was the loudest statement you could have possibly made and it slowly dawned on you both the nature of the decision.
you were telling the world you were ready to start again.
his entire demeanour had changed out here.
you were overwhelmed to say the least, but it was his arms around you that kept you grounded as you clung to him, your smaller frame tucked so delicately within his own that some found themselves putting their cameras down just so they could observe you both.
you were the epitome of love and neither of you even knew it.
ceo jungkook - all cold eyes, sharp jaw, that terrifying calmness. yet every few seconds he ducked his head down, whispering something in your ear that would have you smiling almost shyly back up at him, easing your mind away from the hundreds of people who wanted nothing more than to get a picture of you.
“jungkook over here!”
“is that your ex-wife?”
“are you two back together?!”
“y/n!”
you flinched slightly as the voices got louder the closer you walked down the carpet towards the venue, but it seemed jungkook’s presence only felt bigger.
“don’t look at them.” he whispered down into your ear, words tucked for you and you alone. “look at me.”
stupidly enough, you obeyed almost instantly. his eyes softened at the way you listened so sweetly.
“good girl.” he muttered absentmindedly before guiding you to the entrance and away from the prying eyes outside.
the words hit you far harder than they should have. good girl.
oh you were so fucked.
—
the venue was utterly breathtaking.
golden lighting spilled across towering ceilings whilst soft music played from a live orchestra at one side of the ballroom, so elegant you’re indeed whether you were even appropriately dressed. people stared at you openly, all whilst you and your flushed cheeks looked away, purposefully keeping your gaze vague and avoiding eye contact with most. glasses clinked together as powerful figures mingled amongst themselves, professional cameras still set up inside.
and yet, none of it compared to the way people reacted to jungkook.
conversations paused when he walked by, people straightening up. executives who had once terrified you now looked nervous approaching him and it reminded you exactly who he was outside of your relationship.
jeon jungkook was a terrifyingly cold, business man. he was untouchable and unfeeling, everything that made a powerful man powerful and then there was you. his one weakness.
his hand remained firm against the small of your back possessively, claiming you as his own in front of anyone who could see. you loved when he was like this, all brooding and dark as though anyone even had a chance to steal him from you - silly man. even now, with months of distance between you and a divorce, you were all his.
“breathe, baby.” he reminded with a quiet hum in your ear.
“i am breathing.” your cheeks warmed.
“barely.”
you shot him a look, though it was void of any real annoyance as he guided you further into the room. you couldn’t help but admire him openly, all whilst he scanned the room, not realising how deep you were falling into your own thoughts. he really had gotten so much bigger, with his chest so wide you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like under your hands. his shoulders too.
you had spent the entire drive trying not to stare at him. you had failed. miserably.
“drink?”
he pulled you out of your thoughts with a little gasp, realising you had been openly checking him out much to his pleasure. you found yourself nodding, nibbling away at your lip. “yes please.”
the words came out too fast, awarding you with a small laugh as he turned towards the bar.
your eyes followed him automatically.
that was another problem entirely. you see, no matter where jungkook stood, attention naturally followed. men greeted him immediately, keen to get into his good books whilst women openly stared, hoping to garner his fancy and yet he was completely and entirely uninterested. his gaze flickered back to you every few moments, as though he still couldn’t believe you were right there, just for him. just because he had asked you to come.
your chest squeezed painfully at the thought.
he returned only a few moments later with two champagne glasses, handing you yours to which you took with a nervous smile.
“thank you.”
your fingers brushed his purposefully. small, barely noticeable.
oh, but how jungkook had noticed. he noticed everything when it came to you and judging from the way his throat bobbed, taking a large sip of his drink, you knew that your poor ex husband was certainly not able to handle your charm.
the champagne helped much quicker than you were expecting it to.
after the first glass, the tension in your shoulders completely eased but it was the second that had you transforming. your overthinking thoughts ceased to exist, as the warmth in your blood brought out a shade of pink in your face that jungkook couldn’t look away from. standing close to him suddenly felt less terrifying and so much more thrilling.
a dangerous combination - especially when jungkook was looking at you with so much hunger.
a buzz had settled deep into your bloodstream, your brain slightly away with the fairies as you continued to sip, looking up at him. your other hand darted out, fingers trailing over his stomach openly, over to where the buttons of his suit sat. what was an absentminded action to you, tipsy, was enough to have jungkook almost shaking.
you were braver when you had alcohol in you, that much had been true your entire relationship, but even this felt quite insane. he watched as your fingers trailed up and down, sliding up to where his chest was only to drop lower and lower. it wasn’t until your fingertips were brushing the top of his suit trousers that he grabbed your hand.
you pouted at him, head tilted. “why?”
your whine had his shoulders rolling.
“because,” he said slowly, voice rough beneath the sound of the orchestra. “you’re getting handsy.”
your lips patted in faux innocence. “am not.”
jungkook stared at you half in disbelief and other half amusement, still holding your hand that he now pressed to his chest firmly. your fingers had nearly slipped below his waistband, a thought that had him nearly taking you home then and there but he knew it was because the alcohol was making you brave - his tipsy girl. his palm engulfed yours, feeling your fingers wriggle underneath to continue your plans with a slight whine but he was both firm and possessive, not letting you go.
you pressed your thighs together again.
this was the champagne.
he knew it, knew it to be a dangerous mix - the alcohol and your naturally clingy personality once you got comfortable, all combined with the eight months apart meant you were now simply doing whatever your heart wanted with little care to your mind.
your cheeks warmed as you watched him stare down at you, gaze heavier than anything all evening. it seemed the longer you were both in each other’s presence, despite how long you’d spent apart, the more bold you were getting - but could you be blamed? he might have been your ex husband but he still belonged to you, and you knew you were still entirely his, a fucked up fact that meant you were both drawn to each other in ways that meant you could never move on.
multiple months of healing all gone to shit in a single night, with a few drinks. who were you both kidding - moving on wasn’t an option. even you could see that now.
your fingers flexed under his hold, people secretly watching you both interact with bated breath. they couldn’t believe this was the same jungkook they were afraid of, made to mush at the hands of the pretty woman in front of him. he was but a man afterall.
rather than pulling away, your fingers simply curled around the fabric of his suit jacket, fingers touching his shirt purposefully to elicit another reaction out of him. he had reduced you to putty in the drive over and perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, but you wanted him to feel the same.
jungkook was quiet. too quiet.
jaw slightly slack as he took you in, you touching him like his body belonged to you and you alone. he relished in the fact you knew it just as well as he did.
he had missed this so much. just the feel of you, no matter how innocent you pretended to be, skin on skin. it felt like a promise.
and now, you were standing here, head tilted to stare up at him properly whilst looking through pretty lashes that batted at him subconsciously.
it was driving him insane.
“you’re staring again.” you hummed at him. his eyebrows narrowed. “because you keep touching me.”
you tried to bite down the smile that began to form on your lips as your fingers continued to flex, soon finding his heartbeat to confirm your suspicious. oh, he was a mess underneath your hand.
“you don’t seem to mind.”
his jaw flexed. you heard him curse under his breath, calling you a fucking minx which only had you giggling just as quietly. it was a powerful thing to have a man as influential as jungkook so weak in the knees for you, and you couldn’t deny the affect it was having on your mind. he snaked a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him in a way that was absolutely not becoming of the environment you were in.
“keep this shit up and i’ll take you home.” he promised quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear.
unfortunately for him, you had no intention of stopping. especially when you had just begun.
“promise?” you whispered back, eyes wide with a faux innocence you knew he wanted to ruin.
his jaw clenched again, blood half boiling at how cheeky you were being and cock hardening by how badly he wanted to ruin you. had this been any other circumstance, you’d already be in the bathroom with your dress to your chest, being pounded into by the only man who knew exactly how to ruin you until you were well bred.
but alas - this night was about proving himself to you, and no matter how hard you made him, he knew he had to do this right.
and so, instead, he pinched you at your waist slightly, pulling an airless squeak out of you before he brushed his lips against your ear.
“behave.”
the word should have been warning enough, but instead, warmth fluttered through you, rushing through your stomach so violently you pressed against him further. jungkook nearly hissed, watching how reactive you were for him, with your hooded eyes and slack jaw.
fuck.
his hands were all over you, with little care to who was watching and you knew tomorrow you’d be mortified when you remembered how brazen you had both been, but it was hard not to feel addicted when you were both feeling the same way. you giggled lightly, hiding your face in his chest momentarily before meeting his gaze.
“you’re very confident for someone i divorced.” you playfully hummed.
at that, he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. “didn’t stop you from getting your pretty hands all over me.”
the alcohol was well into your system as you found yourself giggling once more, fully hiding yourself in his chest to which he wrapped his arms around you properly, the two of you whispering and laughing together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook’s colleagues, rivals and admirers all watched you both in genuine curiosity at the way you were so well suited. two people, quietly infatuated with one another - it was toothache inducing.
the conversation between you both remained playful, with his thumb tracing your bottom lip at one point muttering something about how badly he wanted to know how your lip gloss tasted. an hour in and you were both practically trying to one up each other with how far you could take it, leaving you both laughing whilst trying to stay quiet.
this is what you had missed. joy. comfort. being around him in a way that didn’t feel like you were fighting to prove something. it had been so long since you’d felt this carefree that you realised pretty quickly that you couldn’t let him ago again. it was a horrible thought at first, realising that the past few months may have been for naught but perhaps absence did make the heart fonder.
soon enough, you had been there close enough two hours and jungkook had done the rounds once you settled in, less tipsy but still buzzed. you met his new business partners, clients you hadn’t seen in a while, a mixture of familiar faces and people you had only ever heard about. neither of you commented on the fact he introduced you intimately, with a heavy arm around your waist.
it genuinely felt like no time had past with the way you both felt so comfortable, the dynamics between you natural considering he had been the one constant in your life for the past fifteen years. you sipped on your glass of water as you listened to his conversation half mindedly, watching him discuss a new company contract with one of his shareholders.
it wasn’t until you heard a voice echo throughout the ballroom announcing the beginning of the charity auction that the conversation came to an end. jungkook immediately took a hold of your hand, planting a cheeky kiss to your knuckles with a slight smirk, before leading you towards the front of the room where the different things on auction sat to be admired over.
“c’mon.”
you followed him easily, hands intertwined whilst you walked side by side, champagne now a dull buzz in your body. people moved around you respectfully, all whilst their eyes lingered on you much longer than needed. could you blame them? you were the infamous woman that had managed to lock down the one man that seemed disinterested in everything, so much so that you had him laughing and flushing pink every time you so much as looked at him. the divorced couple that looked anything but divorced.
oh, they were staring indeed, with hushed whispers and even quieter questions.
your attention drifted lazily over the displayed pieces, politely but nothing quite caught your interest, your eyebrows pulling up at some of the art pieces named. it wasn’t until you reached the very end that you found yourself stopped in your tracks.
jungkook noticed, he too coming to a stop to glance over at you only for his gaze to follow yours. he immediately understood.
beneath warm lighting sat a painting, inconspicuous to most considering it was much smaller than the grand pieces to the left, but it had your eyelashes fluttering
white gardenias.
your breath left you quietly.
it wasn’t just flowers - it was an oil painting, textured with strokes of green, ivory and creams whilst petals cascaded over one another so delicately your heart ached. the background dat moodier, darker compared to the softness of the flower leaving you in a state of utter awe for a few moments, all whilst holding the hand of your ex-husband who watched you with bated breath.
it was beautiful.
you stepped closer unconsciously, hardly aware of yourself.
jungkook didn’t think he’d ever seen you look at something with this much wonder, in all of the years he had known you. it did something to him, to watch you genuinely in awe at something he could so easily give you - it made him realise he needed provide it for you just to see that look again and again and again and again and again.
he felt this throat tighten, a harsh lump forming the longer he watched you admire it. the way your glossy lips parted, eyes widened and fingers tracing the air in front of it - donned in the same diamond necklace he had gotten you years prior. the same necklace he’d bought you after you murmured something about diamonds resembling stars late one night as you curled into him in your shared bed.
and here you were, wearing it, all whilst your hand curled inside his as though you had never been more at peace. that did something to him. something he couldn’t quite describe.
your fingers moved to brush over the small description plaque underneath, reading the inspiration for the piece with a small, choked huff - devotion. enduring, eternal love through trial and tribulation through each season of life.
your own throat tightened then. of course.
“gardenias are difficult flowers..they die so easily if you don’t take care of them.” you found yourself whispering; straightening your back and avoiding his gaze to bite back any tears that wanted to appear.
his chest tightened violently.
all he could think about was the little apartment you had both shared when you were younger, when he barely had any money to get you by each month. the one with the poor lighting and the janky sink - you used to sit by the window each morning whilst he got ready for work, whispering sweet things down at them because you believed it would help them grow.
he remembered every single detail.
“you kept yours alive for months.” he whispered back, the hand that was clasped in yours now intertwining your fingers, as though he could project his memories back to you.
you blinked back at him, eyes glassy, surprised slightly. you hadn’t expected him to remember something so small and insignificant.
how could jungkook could ever forget a single thing about you?
a small smile pulled at your lips. “i used to get upset whenever they’d lose petals.”
“you cried once.” he corrected.
you rolled your eyes. “shut up!”
he only shrugged, lips twitching. “had to console you all night.”
“i thought i killed it!”
his quiet laugh nearly knocked the air from your lungs, all whilst he pulled you back into him, breathing in the scent from your hair before taking you to your shared table, where the auction was about to begin. your fingers remained curled around his own, all whilst he helped you sit down, fixing your dress for you.
he physically couldn’t pull away from you, couldn’t stop touching you even as you began conversing to the woman beside you, who jungkook recognised as one of his shareholders. his thigh was pressed against yours, all whilst his hand sat heavy in your lap, both of your hands playing with his fingers absentmindedly.
the different items came on stage as you watched people bid, raising their panels whilst some shouted out their numbers for more exclusive pieces. you couldn’t help your giggles, leaning over to whisper in jungkook’s ear whenever you’d see more excited people, all for him to lean into you with an equal smile. the two of you were being silly, and it felt fun for once.
by the time the gardenia painting finally appeared, your posture straightened as you tapped on his hand with a wiggle of your eyebrows. jungkook watched you with a lazy grin, eyes flicking over your face.
cute.
the bidding started much lower than you expected, causing you to frown. “that’s it?”
he nearly laughed, seeing your passion for your flowers. “art’s subjective, baby.”
“yeah, well everyone is wrong..so.”
fuck. he loved you so much.
you watched as someone raised their paddle, and then another, and another. a bidding war began as your head bounced between people, watching in utter curiosity though a part of you wondered what it would be like to bid yourself. ironically for you, you were completely unaware of the man beside you staring at your profile like he wanted to devote the rest of his life to you.
“two million.”
your eyebrows raised.
“two and a half!” someone else shouted, causing you to play with his fingers a little faster almost out of excitement.
“hope someone who actually appreciates it gets it.” you leaned over to whisper into his ear, lips brushing against his cheek in the process.
his jaw ticked.
game on.
just as someone shouted out, claiming three million, jungkook ran a hand through his hair before raising his panel, dark eyes trained on the auctioneer.
“five million.”
your head snapped sideways so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, all whilst jungkook sat completely calm, hand raised lazily as though this was easy. like he hadn’t just dropped five million as though it was nothing.
“jungkook!” you whispered, eyes wide. he merely hummed back at you, hand still intertwined with yours. “hm?”
“what are you doing?!”
“getting you your painting.”
you stared at him in disbelief.
across the room, multiple people were openly whispering now, glancing between you because everyone could recognise what was exactly happening. this wasn’t ego - this was love.
obsessive, and terrifying love.
another bidder raised their paddle almost nervously, calling out a measly “five and a half” after a moment of hesitation.
“seven million.”
an audible murmur fluttered through the room just as you grabbed onto his arm with a large gasp, eyes widening as though he was batshit insane. “jungkook, stop!”
he finally looked at you, small smile playing on his lips at the sight of you so shocked. it was so cute the way you were practically toppling over your seat, a reminder that despite being with him, you had never really dabbled in his wealth whatsoever despite it all belonging to you.
a large shout of ‘sold’ was heard by all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. his eyes admired you, from your lips to your eyes, your shaking hands that were both clinging to his thigh, your cleavage that had dipped even further than earlier. fuck. you were the epitome of everything he had ever wanted.
“you wanted it.” he whispered to you, as though that was all he needed, as though it was enough of a reason to spend seven million in one night with a flick of his wrist.
your eyes near enough watered at his words, knowing that nothing had ever described jungkook better.
—
things between you and jungkook had settled into something dangerous.
not enough to call yourselves fixed, or enough to place a label onto whatever fragile thing had formed between you, but enough that your days seemed lighter. having him back in your life meant you were happy again, and actually excited - finally feeling whole in ways that no one else quite understood.
he called more often now.
what started off as phone calls sometimes briefly between meetings, something about using your voice to destress before important gatherings. they quickly turned to late night facetimes where both of you laid in bed, half naked, chatting until either of you would fall asleep. some nights they turned into something darker, dirtier, with a slip of your night dress to show him more all whilst he’d grunt and hiss at the sight, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to you.
it was beginning to feel domestic, familiar even. so terrifyingly easy.
you realised pretty quickly that somewhere along the way, between late night conversations and soft laughs exchanged, you had began falling deeply in love again.
hard.
he had been away on business ever since the gala a few weeks ago, with him currently stationed in hong kong over some important stakeholder meetings. you knew he was incredibly stressed over it, given the frequency of his calls - always at odd times during the day and night, sometimes with the intention of just looking at your face as though it was the only motivator he needed.
the time difference was more irritating than you had expected, and yet he still managed to find a way to accommodate to your schedule as opposed to his.
your favourite so far had been a simple picture of the skyline view from his hotel, taken at three am with a caption of ‘wish you were here.’
you hated how much those four words affected you.
pathetic, really. how even now, you’d kick your feet in excitement over any message sent from your ex husband.
it had become routine now, to expect messages from him with each waking moment, calls when the workload was heavier. perhaps that was exactly why the silence that afternoon felt so particularly loud.
you were curled into your couch, opting to work from home as you were in his jumper and a pair of flimsy shorts. you hummed quietly as you balanced your laptop on your thighs, all whilst a random entertainment news channel played in the back to offer some noise in your otherwise quiet apartment.
your ears perked up once you heard jungkook’s name somewhere in the background.
your attention barely lifted at first, no doubt another gossip sesh on how attractive he was which often made you giggle, but this felt different.
“ceo jeon jungkook spotted in hong kong alongside mystery woman-“
your stomach dropped.
the laptop slipped from your thighs and onto the couch cushion, all whilst your head snapped towards the television, reaching for the remote to turn it up. the image splashed across the screen, all whilst you sat there, smaller than anything, watching.
jungkook.
beside him, an undeniably beautiful woman.
she was tall, elegant, dressed sharply in a suit practically created for her whilst cameras flashed at them harshly, exiting a building together. the headline underneath made your chest cave in further.
‘global heartthrob ceo finally moving on after the divorce?’
you stared. and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared until your knees had slowly slid to the ground, your back touching the couch whilst the entertainment show droned on and on about the details of your relationship with jungkook, about how smitten you had both seen at the gala, how they were the first to break this exclusive news.
your brain knew better. you knew jungkook like the back of your hand and logically, you fucking knew better. jungkook was so many things, but he had always placed you and your emotions first, your priorities, your necessities, your life - your wants and needs transcended everything else. you had never asked for it to be this way, it was just the way he was.
even during your separation, he had never looked at a woman twice. you knew that.
but logic had never been able to defeat insecurity.
all you could think, all you could see, based off of a single image was how she fit beside him. how effortless it looked, how beautiful she was, how successful. so poised and polished - she was everything a woman who stood beside jungkook ought to have been and it was killing you in real time.
the worst thing of all was the realisation that he didn’t belong to you.
all of this emotion, this horrible feeling inside your chest and soul - you were the one to divorce him. you had been the one that demanded it end back then, no matter how much he had begged you to see reason, believing that it was the correct step forward for the both of you. he had every right to move onto someone else, had every right to actually step forward towards something new.
and yet the thought of him belonging to someone else felt the closest to grief you had ever felt in your life.
your phone rang violently loud beside you, droning out the words of the presenter and making you jump slightly.
jungkook.
your eyes burned instantly.
the phone continued to ring and ring across the sofa cushion as you stared at his contact picture, a photo taken on your anniversary a few years ago that you could never bring yourself to change. your chest rose unevenly as another harsh wave of emotion hit you.
you couldn’t do this.
not after you had spent the past few months trying not to think about him, only for him to come back into your life.
the call rang out.
then another came. and another. and another.
your phone was blowing up with a mixture of calls and messages, each vibration making your heart ache so much worse as the topic changed on the tv, talking about some other celebrity gossip all whilst you felt your entire life collapse before your very eyes.
with shaking hands and teary orbs, you turned your phone off.
you burst into tears.
the rest of the day was spent being utterly miserable. you had never felt so pathetic in all of your life, with pain running up and down your veins in a way that genuinely left you almost debilitated. the last time you were this heartbroken, you were a fresh divorcee.
the curtains remained shut despite the afternoon sun outside, your apartment dim besides the soft flicker of the television that continued playing mindlessly in the background. at some point, you had dragged yourself towards your bed with tears still streaming down your face, his oversized jumper now heavy on your frame.
you hated this version of yourself.
hated how deeply this had affected you despite knowing better. you knew him better than this, had enough trust in him and yet you couldn’t barter with what was directly in front of you - months after rebuilding a sense of confidence all for it to shatter over one measly, gossip channel.
you closed your eyes, images of the beautiful woman stood beside him flooding your mind causing you to open them up again with a quiet whimper. so composed and effortless. untouched by the devastation eating you alive.
by morning, your chest was in genuine pain.
you looked awful too.
your eyes were swollen, red with the continuous tears all night whilst your skin felt sunken and dull, the early morning sun hitting your skin from glimpses through your blinds. you forced yourself out of your bed and into your shower, trying to rid the plaguing thoughts out of your body. you failed, spending the majority of it quietly crying.
by the time you were in the living room again, your nose was just as pink as your eyes, hands shaky and body adorned in an old t-shirt you had secretly stolen from his wardrobe back when you were packing to leave. you curled weakly into the couch, blanket curled onto your legs as you begged your body to rid the horrible stomach ache that had now found home inside you.
your phone remained switched off, somewhere under the blanket, still left there from yesterday. you reached for the remote.
you just wanted mindless noise.
instead, the television flickered to life and you found your breath catching harshly for the umpteenth time within 24 hours.
breaking news banners on every channel you came across.
jeon jungkook.
a whimper pulled up out of your throat at the sight of his images everywhere, your fingers tightening around the blanket before you turned the volume up.
“the ceo has officially filed legal proceedings against multiple media outlets this morning following yesterday’s false dating allegations-“
your heartbeat began thundering. you sat up immediately.
another clip appeared instantly, reporters practically tripping over one another in front of jungkook’s main company building, cameras flashing in hopes of getting a picture of anyone who could answer for anything.
“the statement released by jeon jungkook’s legal team less than half an hour ago reads as follows-“
the screen shifted, and suddenly, there it was. cold white text against a black background that had your breathing stopping completely.
“the allegations regarding ceo jeon jungkook are entirely false. the individual photographed was present for a scheduled business meeting attended by multiple executives and investors. legal action will be taken against all parties responsible for the deliberate spread of false information and invasion of privacy.”
your throat tightened harshly.
your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the presenter stop, looking at the camera momentarily, before her voice completely softened.
“as for the final portion of the statement, many online are expressing surprise regarding the unusually personal nature of his response as he personally commented-“
more text appeared.
you scanned it once. twice.
over and over and over until a harsh sob was ripped from your lips.
“i have never entertained nor pursued any romantic involvement with anyone.
there has only ever been one woman.”
a broken sound tore from your throat as your hand flew to your mouth, fresh tears spilling from eyes so fast that you couldn’t see the tv. your heart felt like it had been picked up from the ground, cradled and cherished after being pierced over and over all night, attacked without any reprise.
you couldn’t believe what you were reading.
jungkook, your jungkook? so private and reserved, not willing to give one inch of himself to anyone other than you and yet here he was, making himself as clear as possible. he was telling everyone with ears that you were his but more importantly, he belonged to you and you alone.
he despised media attention, it truly was the one thing he hated more than anything and the both of you would often laugh at rumours and random things stated in the tabloids because they were all bullshit.
and yet he has made a statement publicly.
for you.
your chest cracked at the thought as you covered your face with both hands, sobbing harder and harder.
before you could wallow further, a loud banging erupted from the front door.
the sound tore so violently through the apartment, you jumped - startled on the couch whilst your heart leapt to your throat. the slight fear had your tears stopping immediately, allowing for enough of a shock to regulate your mind for a few moments.
another knock came before you could even process it. louder, and louder, and louder.
“baby!”
your breath hitched painfully.
jungkook?
his voice sounded wrecked. not the calm, controlled man the world knew, nor the eerie ceo who often stood emotionless in front of the cameras whilst deals worth billions sat heavy on his shoulders. this was your jungkook - the one who loved you much too hard, half unravelled whenever the conversation pertained to you.
“open the door.” he shouted again, along another collective banging. his voice cracked slightly. “please..”
you stared into space for just a moment, your mind unable to comprehend what was happening before your legs carried you to the door, through the hallway. you slipped on your blanket slightly, already shaking body weaker than usual given the past twenty four hours, all whilst hot, heavy tears burned in your eyes once more.
another knock.
“baby, c’mon..”
the second your shaking hands unlocked the door, it swung open hard enough to hit the wall behind it, as though jungkook couldn’t believe you had actually heard him.
he looked utterly destroyed.
he stood, still in a suit that now sat disheveled on his frame, black tie loosened around his throat, white shirt wrinkled as though he had been in it for hours. his usually pushed back hair was messy, pulled at and tugged through large hands any time he had realised the depths of emotion you were no doubt feeling looking at the news - if the shoe was on the other foot, and jungkook had seen news of you and another man; he would’ve happily burnt the world to a crisp.
the second he saw you, his entire face fell apart, anger long dissipating.
“fuck.” he whispered, heaving out a breath.
his oversized shirt sat on your body, engulfing your smaller frame, swallowing you whole in a way that had his breath taken away. it was your eyes that broke him, however, as they looked so swollen, no doubt from crying so hard, your cheeks still damp and lips still quivering enough that he watched you bite down on them.
you watched his throat bob harshly, watched his eyes flicker over yourself frantically like he was trying to assess how badly you had been hurting without him here to comfort you. the thought terrified him.
that was all it took for a sob to rip out of your chest so painfully your knees almost buckled. your hands flew up to your face.
immediately, his arms shot out, cradling you almost harshly to him with one large arm completely covering you whilst his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you close to him as though this was the only remedy for a situation like this. his sweet girl. his sweet, sweet girl.
“i called you for nineteen fucking hours.” he said, eyes darting down at you desperately.
you couldn’t stop crying. “i know.”
“your phone was off.” his voice broke slightly, as though the situation had hurt him beyond words. “that scared me, y/n.” he admitted, chest heaving a little.
your crying only worsened immediately because of course it scared him - jeon jungkook, a man who’s entire identity was you and you alone. the prospect of losing you for the second time would surely be enough to kill him, and yet answering his calls felt like the last thing you could bring yourself to do.
“i tried not to think like that,” you choked out through hiccups. “i know you wouldn’t, logically i know but just kept seeing the pictures of you beside her and..”
your chest was heaving.
“stop talking about her.”
the words came out sharp, almost harsh.
his hand slipped to cup your face, holding your jaw in place whilst his arm slipped down, cupping your body to him so you could rest, his own strength supporting you up. his eyes were wild.
“don’t,” he repeated quieter, chest rising and falling. “don’t..stand here and..fuck, don’t compare yourself to someone else for even a second over some shitty tabloid.”
you couldn’t stop crying. it was as though that was all you could do.
“jungkook..”
“no.” he cut in immediately, voice cracking at the edges. “you don’t get it.”
he stood before you, a cocktail mix of utter despair and devotion, all whilst anger and fear simmered on the surface, every emotion open on his face to the point he almost felt unrecognisable. you knew he loved you, could see it painted on his features for the world to see but you weren’t sure when his feelings for you had become his very destruction. it scared you.
his hand shook around your face.
“you think i flew half a day because of a fucking dating rumour?” his eyes glazed over. “i don’t give a fuck about the tabloids, baby, you know that. i was scared because i know what this would do to you. i know your brain.”
your breath hitched.
“i know you.” he repeated, hands continuing to shake against you. “know how your mind gets. i know you’d sit here and cry over this shit when you know i would never touch another woman.”
another harsh sob clawed up your throat, and jungkook heaved at the sight as though it was the worst sound he had ever heard.
“look at me.” he pleaded suddenly.
his hands dropping from your body as he suddenly dropped to his knees - a man of his stature rendered completely broken by the woman he loved. the amount of people who looked up to him, feared him; the amount of people he dictated on a daily basis and yet here he was, on his knees for you. only you.
“there has never been anyone else.” his voice cracked completely. “not before you, not after you. not after this, no matter what happens, you hear me? it’s you, and it’s always going to be just you.”
your own knees were begging to give out, as you leaned against him, only for him to rest his face against your stomach, breathing you in like a man desperate for your understanding. he wanted you to see, needed you to comprehend the situation at hand. there was no him without you, the concept didn’t exist.
“you’re the only woman i’ve ever loved and there is nothing after you, y/n, because you’re my wife. divorce or not, i don’t give a fuck, i belong to you forever whether you want me or not and i won’t..i can’t have you thinking otherwise.”
your entire body gave in at the admission as you collapsed into him with another heart breaking sob, jungkook holding you like a man terrified he had said too much and truly not enough. for the first time since the divorce, neither of you tried to pretend this wasn’t exactly what it was.
—
the rest of the evening softened after that.
somewhere between the tears and the endless kisses planted to your cheeks, nose, head, hands and stomach came an ease to the panic that had long settled into your bones for the past few months. he refused to let you go, grunting almost childishly whenever you’d move out of his arms to do anything until you found yourself snuggled back into his arms, as though the thought of distance after such a clear cut declaration of love physically pained him.
he looked exhausted now that the adrenaline of the situation had worn off, his under eyes sunken from the exhaustion that had now settled deep into his body. to think he had flown all the way across the world simply because of the thought of you crying all alone over a situation that was so completely false upset him - it made you want to sob all over again.
how could you have ever let him go? how could you proceed forward without him, without him so deeply intertwined in your life once more?
eventually you found an old pair of black shorts mixed in with your clothes from when you had packed your things all those months ago. jungkook had stared at them for a few moments after his shower, towel low on his hips as water droplets slipped down his chest. it had his heart pounding faster than anything yet.
“you kept these?” he murmured down at you, watching the way your eyes flickered up from his physique, small gasp leaving your lips at being caught. “oh! um..must’ve slipped them in by accident.”
he didn’t comment on the fact you were wearing his t-shirt either, despite it hardening his cock.
still, he pulled them on as you settled into bed, your hair still scented from your earlier shower too. you, in his too big top, whilst he grabbed you immediately, shirtless and hands still desperate to hold you in a way he had held back on for so long.
you hummed as your body pressed against his, his figure snaking around your body as a heavy arm curled under your ass as a means to prop you up higher in his arms, causing you to giggle into his neck. your arms wrapped around him too, humming a little under your breath as he breathed in your scent openly.
you both laid there in silence for a long while, breathing. healing.
the room was dark now, with the city lights from afar shining through the slips of your blinds, illuminating slivers of his bare chest beside where your hands sat. you could feel his heartbeat, the way it calmed your already heightened senses as though your body recognised it was finally home.
“missed this.” you whispered into his ear, only snuggling closer to him.
jungkook’s grip, once on your waist, slid down to your ass once more. this time, his palm sat on your ass cheek, fingers digging into your skin whilst breathing you in.
“don’t say shit like that to me when i’m hard.” he grunted, a small smile forming across your lips. you hadn’t even done anything, not that you needed to to get jungkook bothered.
when you pulled him from your neck, his eyes were already glazed over, both of you taking a second to simply stare at one another in the exact way you had wanted for so long. his mouth parted, as his hooded eyes took you in, holding you closer, tighter.
within seconds, his lips touched yours.
slowly, at first, as though he was trying to relearn you after years of you being his. he savoured every moment of your lips against his, especially once you started to kiss him back, both of you uncertain in the beginning but once your hands began to find home in his hair, it was then that jungkook’s touch began to grow in confidence.
he kissed like a man starved, one hand buried in your hair too whilst the other continued to grip your ass possessively, as though physically feeling you was enough to have his mind go into overdrive. every small sound you made went straight to his cock as he swallowed your little sighs and whimpers, only pushing him to kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.
he was growing desperate, pushing you down against the bed, half hovering over you as he rested on one arm, hand cupping at your thighs, your stomach, your knee. anything he could get his hands on all whilst his tongue explored your mouth as though he had every right.
perhaps he did because despite everything, the divorce and distance, the heartbreak - he still reacted to you like you were the only thing capable of fucking him up.
his lips eventually drifted from your mouth, pressing against your chin, your jaw and finally your neck. oh, this sweet, pretty little neck, he had dreams of marking it up and down every other night and the fact he had you in his arms now, in a bed far too small for the things he so desperately wanted to do to you was everything and more.
jungkook moved, properly hovering over you now just as you moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, pushing your top down your thighs and revealing your lace panties you had conveniently put on. just in case, of course.
he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths as you watched it break apart the further he pulled his head back. just staring at you hurt, with the way your cheeks had flushed and your hair was spread all across the pillow, and your thighs. fuck. the sight of what was between them had him openly groaning down at you.
“need you to tell me to stop baby, or i won’t be able to hold back.” he hissed down at you, feeling your legs tighten around him before he could finish his sentence.
your hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, eyes never leaving his as you tugged on it just slightly. jungkook, who’s two hands were on either side of your head, blinked down at you half in awe and other agony, the prospect of you teasing him in a moment like this his literal worst nightmare. you always knew how to make him impatient, said it was the best version of him.
he watched with bated breath as you grabbed one of his arms until his hand was in your own, slowly pushing it under your top to rest on your stomach. it felt heavy on your frame, large palm heating your already hot skin before you pulled him down, other arm wrapping around his neck.
“wanna feel you here, kookie.” you whispered into his ear.
jungkook nearly took you then and there.
his jaw flexed, a heavy leaving his lips as he chased your lips, planting another kiss. “yeah? want kookie deep inside?”
“mhm.” you hummed against him, placing your hand over his on your stomach.
“but haven’t taken me for so long, baby. might be too much.”
you closed your eyes at that - the way he cooed down at you despite telling you how easily he could ruin you, break you. it all felt like too much and yet the empty ache inside of you reminded you it wasn’t enough, causing you to merely nod.
“i don’t care. want it.”
the pout on your lips. fuck. jungkook thanked the gods he was a better man, more patient, especially knowing you were doing this on purpose.
“always used to struggle to take me, hm? fucked you open every night and you’d still cry.”
jungkook reached forward, lips on your neck once more but this time, his hips began chasing yours, grinding down almost harshly, causing you to feel every inch, every vein against the flimsy material you called panties. it was heavenly
your hands grabbed him by his biceps, smaller hands unable to wrap around the circumference of his skin. how could you forget your nights of passion? he would spend hours between your legs, so mean, orgasm after orgasm and he still wouldn’t feel satisfied, an insatiable man to his core. even on nights you’d argue, it would somehow end in you fucking which meant the last eight months had been utter hell.
your poor fingers couldn’t reach far enough and nothing brought you to an orgasm unless you thought of him, imagining it was own digits instead of your own.
silly you - if only you realised how similar you and jungkook were. he couldn’t get off unless he was on your instagram, staring at your pretty eyes and lips as he tugged on his cock with all of his energy, round after round after round only to be constantly dissatisfied. having you below him, so ready to be his again? it fucked with his head.
“you'll make it fit.” you whispered.
within mere moments, neither of you could wait. his shorts, alongside the large tshirt that originally belonged to him were on the floor, leaving you in your lacy panties alone. his boxers strained against his hardened length which oozed precum at the mere sight of you, hips bucking a little as you watched him groan out loud at the wet patch forming against the flimsy material.
“my pretty pussy.” he whispered, just as he parted your legs. his fingers pushed your panties to the side, almost hissing from how damp they were, knowing you must have been needy for a while. “missed her. you’ve been holding out on me, baby.”
your eyelashes fluttered up at him at the first touch of his fingers running up and down your slit. you let out an airy moan, barely audible, your body immediately easing back into the covers now that you could finally feel him on you.
he suckled on your neck whilst he circled your clit, knowing your body better than anyone. you were both so in tune with each other’s wants and needs that an eight month break between you both meant nothing when he bit against the sweet spot on your neck all whilst applying more pressure.
you squeaked, nails digging into his biceps at the harshness of his fingers.
“fuck, you’re so needy.” he grunted, pulling away from your neck after leaving a hefty purple bruise. “not been touching your pussy the way it needs.”
“doesn’t feel..” you moaned louder. “doesn’t feel good if you don’t do it.”
his eyes almost rolled back at that. “yeah? need kookie to be the one to touch you?”
“mhm.”
at that, he pulled his hand away only resulting in a loud whine from you. so cruel, to have been given a taste, only to have it pulled away from you.
your positions, however, suddenly changed as jungkook realised the space on the bed was much smaller compared to the bed you had once shared. he rested his back on your wooden bed frame before grabbing you properly, resting you in his lap against his too hard cock, spreading your legs wide.
your back was against his chest, all whilst he caged you in, his fingers returning to your cunt immediately.
this new position had you so much more exposed, as he pushed your thighs apart, index finger circling your hole before slowly pushing inside. your eyebrows furrowed, watching him with a shake to your breath as he took his time, knowing a single one of his was the equivalent of two or three of your own - a though that had him wanting to fuck into you already.
the loud moan that left your lips once he fully inserted it was enough to have him kissing at your temple, cooing.
“like that?”
“feels big.” you whispered back with a shake, feeling him pump in and out.
at that, jungkook thought he was ready to fucking cum. even your pussy was as sweet as you were - too big? one finger and you were already fucked out, but he knew he had to stretch you to accommodate him, a thought that brought a nasty little smirk on his face.
“gotta fuck you open, baby. always so tight.” he continued to coo at you, all as you looked up at him, his finger being joined with another.
soon enough, he was roughly fingering you, all whilst you both maintained eye contact, often breaking it just to share a kiss as though neither of you could get closer to the other. the feeling of him inside you, just like you had become used to for so many years after months apart was the definition of pleasure, your eyes hooded with each pump.
“feels s’good.” you slurred slightly, chest heaving.
he watched your breasts, your bed squeaking with each passing movement and he fucking loved it. loved having your eyes on him, loved having your tits bounced everytime he’d fuck you open a little harder, your sweet moans filling the space.
you could feel how hard he was, but everytime you tried to turn to pleasure him too, he’d merely hold you tighter, as though your orgasm was the only objective on his mind. he wanted to eat you out, fuck - the thought had him all but growling at you but he knew he’d never last, promising himself he’d save that for later tonight.
“wish you knew how many times i’ve dreamt about this.” he grunted down at you, as he watched your thighs try to close from the onslaught of pleasure, only for him to widen them immediately. “i’m constantly fisting my cock thinking about you. at work, at home, in the fucking car.”
“what do you think about?” you pressed desperately, needing to hear it.
jungkook bared his teeth at you slightly, all whilst his pace quickened. “think about breeding you, pumping you full of cum till you’re begging me to stop. every morning, every night until you’re pregnant with our baby. you’d like that, hm?”
you could have sobbed. like was an understatement, your legs widening with each passing word as you nodded almost desperately at him, looking up and above where his head tilted down to watch you.
your eyes then fluttered shut at the image of him touching himself, almost shuddering out of relief at the thought of him so infatuated that he had to cum just to get you off of his mind. especially at work - the whole reason of your divorce being his dedication to his occupation and now knowing you had your affect on him there too? it was euphoric.
“think about you all the time.” you whimpered back at him, pout so cute he wanted to scream. “tried..fuck..tried to touch myself after the gala..but wasn’t enough.”
he watched as you shook your head up at him, one of your hands on his wrist as the same hand pumped faster inside of you at the admission. he cursed under his breath, letting out a deep exhale.
“should’ve told me. fuck, y/n. would’ve ruined you then, baby, you know that right?” he nuzzled into your cheek. “would’ve let you use me as much as you want.”
it was your turn to whimper under your breath, as your eyes shut tight at the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to creep up. it was shocking, how slowly it managed to creep on you, and yet you could feel every inch of its intensity, the first in a long time where you know you’d feel satisfied.
jungkook could feel you clenching, your too tight hole sucking him in desperately as a bid to have him go meaner on you, to which he was more than happy to oblige with. he grabbed your chin with his other hand, forcing your head back so you’d open your eyes again. he wanted to watch.
“eyes on me, pretty girl.”
you weren’t sure if it was the sweet way he cooed at you, or the brutal pace he was now forcing you to take but your orgasm hit you like a freight train. you let out a loud squeak as electricity fluttered through from your head to your toes, your hips rising whilst he continued to finger you through your high, hissing at how sexy you looked maintaining eye contact.
his pace didn’t lessen, devoted to longing out every hit of pleasure for as long as possible, your legs shaking as you pawed at his wrist, but he refused to stop. your body began falling into overstimulation, whining loudly as your weakened hands grabbed onto his, feeling him finally slow whilst he remained two fingers deep, pushed inside of you all the way to his knuckles.
he curled them one last time, causing a shaky breath to leave you before slowly removing them inch by inch.
the emptiness inside of you was horrible, a reminder of what else you wanted and how badly. your big eyes met his, only to watch him take his fingers press them against your pouted lips until they parted, your tongue wrapping around. you tasted yourself, a sweet sigh leaving his lips at the sight of you sucking so eagerly, his cock jolting harshly in his boxers.
“still don’t think you can take me right now.” he whispered down at you, other hand moved so it was openly cupping your pussy as a whole, palm brushing against your hypersensitive clit.
you jolted which each passing touch, breathing shaky before you took his fingers out of your mouth, saliva coating them where your slick once was.
“don’t care, kookie. i want it anyway.” you grumbled slightly, and he swore he had never loved you more.
it was your turn to move as you pulled away from his grasp, giggling a little to yourself at the look on his face once you put space between you, only to turn around, so you were laying on your stomach. he remained in his position, legs on either side of you allowing you to press your hand against his massive bulge.
oh, how you’d missed his cock.
you were as impatient as ever as you pulled his boxers down enough so that his fat cock could finally spring free, watching the way it tilted upwards at first, but its weight forced it down lower and lower until it was resting almost gently on your face.
he wanted to take a picture. wanted to make it his screen saver, your contact picture in his phone - he wanted it in his fucking wallet. his girl, eyes all hooded after being bratty for his cock? you were a minx and you didn’t even know it.
“don’t have a condom.” he found himself whispering at you, just as you began to pump him.
you tilted your head at him, hand unable to wrap around his length as you slowly teased his slit, fingers brushing against it just to him shudder. you watched his face, watched his very composure crumble before your very eyes all whilst he muttered something about a condom? your mind was barely working, still sensitive from the way he had made you cum and the horniness still in your stomach.
“why would i want you to wear a condom?” you whispered up at him, as though it was a little secret between you.
you watched his eyes darken in real time, narrowing down at you as both of his large hands grabbed the back of your head. you giggled, resting your cheek on his thigh whilst you continued to pump his cock, focusing on the tip just the way he liked it. the heaviness in your hand was what you missed the most, causing you to leave a little kiss to it on the mushroom tip, your fluttering eyes only driving him more and more insane.
he wouldn’t last like this. not with you staring up at him like that.
and so, he pulled your hair. you whimpered, pussy clenching as he pulled you up by your locks, your large eyes completely taken over by how rough he was being with you, no doubt being fuelled by the heightened emotions of the past two days. this was your favourite jungkook, secretly of course.
within seconds, you were on your back once more, all whilst he grabbed your hips and yanked you close to him. he dropped down to give you a kiss on your lips, savouring the taste and feel of you before beginning to rub his cock up and down your tight hole.
“my girl.” he whispered against your mouth. “no going back after this.”
your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of him teasing you, pushing the tip against your hole only to pull back the second it began inserting, rubbing it up and down and over your clit once more. he was a tease through and through, but you were too needy to see reason.
“don’t wanna go back, want it all.” you simply whimpered back.
your words were enough to finally have him pushing inside of you.
first, the tip. your face contorted to the familiar feel of his cock slowly inserting inside of you, your breath catching slightly at the sheer size of him - you struggled to take him even when your sex life was incredibly active, so you knew now that you hadn’t been touched for eight months, this was going to be hard.
you watched his face harden, all whilst your eyes slipped downwards to see him pushing further in, inch by inch, until your fingernails were puncturing the skin of his outer arms. he watched your face instead, willing himself not to cum at the way your jaw grew slack, big eyes only widening further at the too large cock settling in inside of you.
it was too much, too big, too at once. you couldn’t think, could barely see and yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from watching him bottom out even if you wanted to, a slight bulge evident where he sat deep inside of you. his large hand took a hold of yours and kissed it before pressing it against the bulge, only to rest his own right on top. applying pressure, he hissed at the way you let out a loud whimper, your cute thighs trembling around him.
“feel that?” he whispered down at you, nuzzling your nose to force you to look at him. “thats where i fucking belong. this pussy stretches so good for me every time.”
your lip was already trembling, a sight that had his cock throbbing deep inside of you as you clenched down on him hard. his cry baby - he loved seeing you teary during sex.
you were still adjusting as he began to move, causing you to squeal, but jungkook couldn’t wait anymore, not when he’d been dealt with blue balls for close to a year. you were the only option, pledging to live a life of fucking celibacy if you’d have chosen to never let him inbetween your legs again though the thought killed him inside. live a life without a taste of your sweet pussy? he’d sooner die.
“jungkook!” you slapped the tops of his biceps, as he continued his thrusting inside of you, nipping at your jaw, feeling his smirk against your skin.
the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was intense, something you had been craving for so long now and yet now it was happening, you wanted more, and more and more and more and more. he loved this shy game you’d always play, always pretending like you couldn’t take it despite the fact your legs were widening further and you were moaning like a bitch in heat - it turned him on beyond words to know underneath the sweet persona, you were the filthiest slut he had ever known.
his pace was deep, mean but slow and it wasn’t enough, purposefully done to tease you for as long as he could, to ensure you’d stay needy. it was clearly working with the way your moans, whines and gasps filled the air only to be followed with a long drawl of his name, face scrunched up so cute he wanted to fucking scream.
“c’mon, baby, you’re so good to me.” he cooed, continuing his slow thrusts. “just gotta ask if you want something.”
your eyes scrunched shut, whimpering at his words knowing he wanted you in ways that you had reminisced on for months, the feeling of him kissing the gummy part of your cunt something you had missed so much.
“want it properly, kookie.” you begged him, though you couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes flickering down to his neck as he continued his pace. “yeah? tell kookie how you want it.”
your fingers clung to his shoulders as he came down, arms now pressed on either side of your head as he nuzzled your nose with his own, actions too sweet given the sinful position he had you in.
your breathing was ragged, the feel of him inside you too much for your poor little mind to handle without breaking and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. you craved something harsher, meaner, more jungkook. neither of you had ever been ones for soft sex, always preferring it as needy as possible which only heightened considering the fact you were both so utterly obsessive when it came to the other.
you whined loudly as his actions came to a stop completely, now grinding against you whilst still being inside.
“just want you to fuck me properly.” you whimpered, lip quivering so much faster, hips lifting to meet his as a means to relieve yourself.
god. you were killing him.
“good girl.”
jungkook planted a single kiss to your lips, oddly sweet before pulling back, planting two more to your forehead and nose. you were ready to whine once more until you felt his hips pull back, only to thrust into you harshly.
you squealed as jungkook began his pace exactly how you craved it, exactly how you used to picture with your own fingers in your cunt, desperately trying and failing to replicate the feel. hard. fast. mean. rough.
your neighbours would no doubt complain tomorrow with the way your bed frame began pounding into the wall, his head pressed against yours as his thrusts began kissing your cervix. your legs shook around him, much to his enjoyment, all whilst he forced you to maintain eye contact, wanting so badly to see the affect he was having on you after he had been deprived of you for so long.
“fuck..there she is. that’s my girl.” he hissed down at you, not holding back, the sound of skin slapping against skin heavy in the room. “you don’t know how badly i missed you.”
“m-missed..ugh! missed you..too..” you managed to string together, salted tears now escaping your eyes as they streamed on either side of the pillow.
“pretty girl like you needs to be fucked mean. no good to be nice to you, huh?” he growled down at you, only causing your lip to quiver that much faster as you nodded. “can’t think unless it’s me bullying your pussy into an orgasm.”
your nods were paired with soft sobs as he pounded, ruining your soppy core just like you had wanted. you had dreamt of this, dreamt of him, genuinely believing you’d never reach this state of pleasure ever again in your life and yet here he was, coaxing it out of you to remind you that he’d never leave you again.
his thrusts were sloppier than usual, no doubt due to the extensive length between your last fuck but it only had you moaning and crying louder. the thought of the usually composed jeon jungkook a whining mess for you and you alone had you clamping down hard on his cock.
“can’t believe i let you leave me.” he grunted hard at the feel of you getting so tight, gritting his teeth as he pounded you further. “never again. you fucking hear me, y/n? you’re my wife forever.”
“promise?” you sobbed back, arms now wrapping around his neck as you tried to bring him impossibly closer, as though you could in any capacity.
he nipped at your bottom lip, moaning into your mouth at the way you all but begged him to make it a reality.
“gonna take you to the courthouse tomorrow, get you a nice dress and we do..fuck..we do this again, understand?” he closed his eyes the more you whined and whined. “gonna let me put that ring back on your fucking finger, baby?”
you nodded wildly, just as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach again, whining loudly up at him in a way he recognised immediately. fuck, he had missed this so much - his angel girl, all needy, begging for it even though she could barely take it. he could feel his own coming on fast, causing him to pull his hand down and rub at your clit, hissing at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock harshly.
“c’mon baby. want you to cum on your husband’s cock, hm? gonna get you nice and round like you deserve.” his thrusts only got meaner. “move you back in. fuck this pussy every single day, just like you need.”
your high rushed through you at the exact point his did, your legs wrapping around his waist as a means to keep him inside. you could feel it all through your body, the way it seized up and bucked into him all whilst he continued his thrusts, fucking you through both of your orgasms.
your vision started growing dark, the intensity of it overwhelming as he rode out your highs whilst whispering soft i love you’s in your ear, cradling you to his chest, holding you closer than you’d ever felt him before.
everything after that completely blurred together.
you remembered jungkook taking care of you, tenderness laced into his very being as he held you like you were akin to a porcelain doll - sweet, so soft, so delicate. somewhere between the damp kisses pressed to your skin underneath the bubbling bath he had drawn for you both, to the continuous declarations of love muttered down at you; you realised that this was inevitable. he was inevitable.
there didn’t exist a reality where you both could live without one another - you knew that now.
even after the heartbreak, the divorce, the loneliness and the debilitating grief, you still found yourself exactly where you belonged. your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat soothing you into a dreamlike state which paled in comparison to the reality that was now yours. his love had you wrapped so tightly you knew you’d never live without it again.
you were finally home.
—
this beast of a fic is finally done yay!!! i hope you guys love ex husband jungkook just as much as i do!
tried to make him less yandere in this one and more pathetic yearner lol but i may have slipped here and there 💔
i’d love to hear your thoughts on this - love hearing you guys after a fic drops so i’m excited to see what you all think!!!!
if you wanna help support me pay my disgusting, awful, horrific london rent, my kofi is linked <3
wave— your weekly anonymous psychoanalysis on cute boys with broad shoulders and pretty girls in tiny skirts. make sure to not miss any updates from campus’ favorite emotionally invasive blog!
jeon jungkook is a notorious lady pleaser with a weak spot for pretty girls with big vocabularies. so when he unexpectedly meets you, a journalism major who happens to be the prettiest girl he has ever seen, he terribly, miserably folds.
PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x journalist!reader
GENRE: college au, fluff, smut, angst
WC: 12.5k (for part 1)
WARNINGS/DETAILS: fem!reader, ie major!jk, secret identity reader, jk thinks she’s soo pretty :( forced proximity?, reader’s kinda selfish sometimes, jk’s so horny the entire time, jk briefly kisses another girl, very cheesy college vibes, jealousy, alcohol consumption, smut wise: titty sucking, he hits it from the back, cowgirl, fingering, big d jk always
NOTES: okay you see, i write everything with the entirety of my heart and soul but this one carries details that are a bit too special to me compared to anything i’ve shared with you before. of course it’s just another silly little fanfiction but i got a bit absorbed into the characters and world building. also it feels like i’ve been working on this for ages so i wanted to share it in two parts bcs i was gonna lose my mind if i didn’t post at least parts of it soon enough. i hope you guys feel and enjoy this the same way i did while writing <3
𑣲 banner by 𑣲 divider by
There's a specific kind of loneliness that exists exclusively in university boys who project their fear of intimacy onto women and ruin their perceptions of love solely to keep their fragile egos away from slipping through their fingertips and breaking down like blades of glass.
Not because they're incapable of being loved. I'd say the situation is quite the opposite, actually. People like them are usually loved too loudly, too quickly. They become socially unavoidable before they become emotionally available— having mastered the art of making people feel personally seen while remaining uniquely difficult to access in return.
And maybe, that's where the actual problem begins.
Charm is easier to preform than vulnerability, attention is more addicting when you've never experienced a form of raw intimacy, and a real conversation probably feels worse than a pair of red, glossy lips.
Every generation repackages the same socially gifted boy with commitment issues and calls him different names, swearing this one is different than the last.
But surprise, it's not.
This year's version just happens to wear leather jackets and lip rings to nine a.m lectures while also somehow possessing actual analytical skills in addition to social ones— perhaps the most alarming thing about Jeon Jungkook is that he isn't a business major.
Because boys like Jeon Jungkook learn early that if they remain entertaining enough, nobody will notice how carefully they avoid stillness; as though silence might physically harm them. Does an engineering major make him interesting? Maybe. But does it fuel his hedonistic lifestyle? Not exactly.
The bass is thudding loud enough to make the kitchen cabinets tremble with every beat, pulsing through the frat house in uneven waves that settle through your body like a second heartbeat. Alcohol that's cheap enough to poison you on an empty stomach spills over sticky counter tops, and the room reeks with the smell of warm beer mixed with something disgustingly similar to your ex boyfriend's cologne— you're going to throw up.
But you don't. Because, well, you can't.
So you keep holding a cup of cranberry vodka in your hand despite accommodating a strong dislike for the drink, you keep your smile warm and flirty even though deeply missing the comfort of your bed and wanting nothing more than to rewatch Mamma Mia for the third time this month. And you keep bobbing your head along to the music even though you swear any house beat without proper lyrics would be enough to kill a fly.
You keep your chin high and your posture straight because you need this. You need something tangible. A reaction, anything capable of sitting inside your palm until you can carry it home and pour into words later. Because you've already wasted at least three hours of your precious friday night here and you are not leaving unless you find something worth pocketing.
Luckily for you, said Jeon Jungkook is standing at the center of it all.
His back is pressed against the kitchen counter as a girl keeps on kissing him as if the birth and death of her universe lies somewhere between his lips. Her fists are tangled in the collar of his leather jacket, tugging his body closer and closer into her smaller frame like distance is completely unnecessary, like she needs his body to melt and mold with hers to embody the entirety of proximity itself.
A familiar voice shouts his name from the living room, but Jungkook doesn't budge until someone else reaches over to steal the drink straight out of his hand, laughing into her mouth unapologetically.
He pulls away just enough to see whoever it is that's calling him, hands firming up on the girl's waist to stabilize himself. "Give me thirty seconds!" He shouts back casually.
The response is immediate. "You said that twenty minutes ago!"
"Then clearly I'm busy."
The girl in front of him rolls her eyes, hands loosening on his collar before dropping down to his chest. "You're an asshole."
"Mhm, you think?" He asks with a smirk playing on his lips, looking down at her.
"Do you ever take a break or is your case of over sexuality a medical condition?" Mingyu complains, drinking the beer he has just taken from Jungkook's hand as their shoulders bump into each other.
Jungkook finally pulls away fully, shifting closer to Mingyu. "You're obsessed with me."
Mingyu scoffs. "Unfortunate for Seoul's female population."
"Guys," Yugyeom interrupts, looking up from his phone with a sudden delight on his face, as if the light from his phone's screen has traveled and bloomed again behind his pupils. "Wave posted."
The reaction arrives in less than a second, because Wave had long stopped being just another anonymous campus blog sometime during sophomore year. It became something students enthusiastically refreshed during lectures, sent feverish screenshots to group chats at ungodly hours. Because everyone somehow grew to love Wave— until they became the subject of it.
Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, sparing a fraction of a second to recollect the exasperation in his heartbeat, inhaling slowly. "I swear if this psychopath wrote about me again—"
Yugyeom's grin widens. "Bad news, superstar."
"For fuck's sake." Jungkook mutters, snatching the phone away from Yugyeom's hand while Mingyu's laugh echos loudly from besides.
The familiar layout of wave flashes straight into his eyes, light blue and dreamy and so fucking pretty for a blog this cruel. Well, cruel would be an exaggeration, if you weren't Jeon Jungkook.
"Oh my god." Mingyu gasps. "Second paragraph is crazy."
"Crazy accurate." Jaehyun corrects, reaching over Jungkook's shoulder to keep reading.
"This person needs psychiatric help." He says flatly.
"Mhm." Jaehyun hums, taking a sip of his drink. "You say that because you secretly agree with everything."
Okay, you see, that's the problem with Wave.
The issue had never really been the concept itself, because Wave has always been undeniably good. Jungkook can survive a day or two of public embarrassment. God knows he has spent the last two years of university building an almost concerning amount of immunity to people's uncalled opinions. The problem is that whoever it is that's sitting behind that stupid light blue website is unsettlingly gifted at noticing things they absolutely shouldn't. The tiny, quiet things people lock somewhere safe beneath their hearts and reveal only when they trust someone with their lives.
It suffocates him sometimes, not that he'd ever say it like that.
"I'd rather die than agree with this hypocrite." He says instead.
Jaehyun nods dismissively. "Right."
The girl beside Jungkook leans over his shoulder, eyes laced with curiosity. "Wait, keep reading."
"Use your damn phone." He shuts her off immediately, handing the phone back to Yugyeom.
Yugyeom grabs his phone in one hand while he shakes Jungkook's shoulder dramatically with the other. "Did you do something to this writer we don't know of?"
"Why are you acting like i personally asked to be publicly humiliated?"
Mingyu shrugs. "Because you clearly enjoy it a little.
"I actually don't." Jungkook argues.
Majority of the people around him dissolve slowly, disappearing into the crowd to find their own group of friends to gossip on the article that just got posted, leaving Jungkook with his own group of friends who unfortunately do not make up the IQ of a normal person even when merged together.
"Hey," Jungkook says like he suddenly remembered something so crucial, angling his body towards Jaehyun. "Have you seen Mark?"
Jaehyun's brows pull together. "Thought he was coming later."
"He texted me like an hour ago."
"Your secret little rendezvous?" Yugyeom asks knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows.
Jungkook scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes. "Shut the fuck up."
Mingyu gasps dramatically. "You're cheating on us with the music major?"
"None of you are funny." Jungkook says, shaking his head once before letting his gaze drift around the kitchen while Mingyu and Yugyeom start arguing about something else entirely.
Then he spots you.
Oh.
Jungkook knows you. Okay, he doesn't exactly know you, but he knows of you. Through Mark, through Yugyeom, through this and through that but never truly by heart.
You, with a face carefully designed by gods, standing there mindlessly as if you aren't the textbook definition of beauty itself. You, who'd without a doubt get his cock rock solid in mere seconds by rolling your eyes and laughing at how dumb he is. You, who'd pretend to not be fazed by him while very obviously blessing him with flirty smiles and inviting eyes.
You would be…mildly inconvenient for him.
"Why are you staring at her like that?" Jaehyun asks from besides him.
Jungkook tears his eyes away immediately. "You're seeing things."
Mingyu laughs loudly, chiming in a beat later. "You literally are."
"Shut up."
"You don't even know her like that." Yugyeom adds, grinning.
"I know enough."
Jaehyun lifts his brows accusingly. "That is?"
Jungkook opens his mouth, but closes it again in no time. Because somehow saying prettiest girl on campus who'd drop him to his knees by casually using words he has to mentally spell twice feels a little excessive for a girl he's never had a proper conversation with in his life.
"Mark's friends with her, right?" He asks instead.
Jaehyun nods slowly, a little suspicious. "Yeah."
"Cool." Jungkook replies. And before any of his friends can say another word, he's pushing himself away from the counter and walking towards you.
Mingyu gasps dramatically behind him. "Oh my god, he's approaching."
"Act natural!" Yugyeom shouts over the music.
Jungkook scoffs in exasperation, but he doesn't turn around, walking towards you as he flips them off by waving a hand behind.
You notice him coming over almost immediately. Because Jeon Jungkook isn't exactly one to go unnoticed by many, and that sadly seems to cover you too. There is something annoyingly conspicuous about him, visible even in places that are so crowded you lose your friend within the bare minute of getting there.
Maybe it's the broad shoulders, maybe it's the tattoos and the lip rings that usually wink at you before even he gets the chance to, or maybe it's the fact that everybody seems to orbit around him with a push and pull so heavy it feels like he's the center of gravity itself.
It's probably the shoulders.
Miyeon, your gorgeous best friend, notices him too as his steps get closer and closer to where you are standing. Her lips twitch knowingly around the rim of her cup. "Well," She murmurs into her drink. "This should be interesting."
Jungkook stops right in front of you before you can reply to your friend. "Hey." He greets easily. And annoyingly enough, his voice sounds exactly the way the rest of him looks.
You tilt your head slightly, half empty cup swaying between your fingers. "Hey yourself."
Jungkook blinks once before letting out a breathy laugh. "Oh, this is already going badly for me."
Miyeon snorts into her drink, but you quickly nudge her arm before she says something she shouldn't. "I'm looking for Mark." Jungkook continues, gaze shifting back towards you. "Have you seen him?"
"You're looking for Mark?" You repeat, cocking a brow.
And for some reason, Jungkook's smile widens. "We were supposed to meet."
The answer catches you a little off-guard. Not because Jungkook knowing Mark is strange. It's not, everybody knows Mark. But because there is something in the way he says it. He's saying it seriously, with intention. Like whatever they're meeting about actually matters to him and that's not something you can coherently place somewhere solid in your head.
"You sound committed to that." You say before you can stop yourself.
Jungkook squints his eyes. "I can commit to things."
You take a sip of your drink, taking your time with the action as your brows raise with something laced with accusation. "You sure?"
Jungkook's eyes widen just slightly as Miyeon turns away, trying to hide her laughter. But she cackles anyway. "That's crazy." He says, a loose grin forming on his face. "You know absolutely nothing about me."
"You don't exactly strike me as somebody mysterious."
"Yeah?" He breathes. "What do i strike you as?"
You roll your eyes, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. And whatever that happens in Jungkook's chest— it's deeply unfortunate.
This is exactly his type, horrifically so. Pretty has never been an issue for Jungkook, he has been surrounded with pretty all his life. Pretty and mean, on the other hand, is apparently where the problem in his pants begin.
But before either of you can continue, Jungkook's name is yelled from across the room. "There you are!" Mingyu shouts, throwing an arm around Jungkook's shoulders after he makes his way towards you. "Some girl is throwing up on Jaehyun's shoes because you disappeared."
Jungkook closes eyes briefly, inhaling a long breath. "See? What's commitment if not that?"
You laugh despite yourself, loud and real and so fucking pretty Jungkook thinks he might've forgotten how to breathe properly.
"I'll tell Mark you were looking for him." You say.
"Appreciate it." He says before stepping backward towards the kitchen, then pauses suddenly. "By the way," He starts, causing you to raise a brow. "You're prettier than your articles sound."
Your expression freezes for a beat, lips parted and head still tilted. A lazy smirk dances on Jungkook's features before disappearing back into the crowd behind Mingyu, leaving you standing there with your drink still halfway raised.
Miyeon slowly turns towards you. "What the fuck was that about?"
Your eyes linger on the hallway Jungkook disappeared into, gaze floating like you've just wandered into an ocean with no trace of the start and end. Because no, you don't have an idea on whatever the fuck that was either.
Your phone buzzes before your thoughts can swallow you up any further.
namjoon: still awake?
Your eyes flick between the small digital clock on the corner and the text in the middle of your screen before your fingers move over the keyboard.
you: i'm at yugyeom's party
namjoon: you posted during a frat party?
You roll your eyes even though he can't see you, though you're sure he feels it behind the screen.
you: it was queued
namjoon: ah
namjoon: coffee at mine?
namjoon: you can sleep over
You lift your head at something Miyeon says, nodding your head without really listening to what she's talking about. You tuck your bottom lip into your teeth, weighting your options before deciding to give in.
you: wow, the honor
you: on my way
The city feels different after midnight.
Maybe not quieter, because noise never really dies down on friday nights. People like to laugh, dance, live. Because modern time doesn't really allow love anymore. Because people spare friday nights for themselves and keep it tucked somewhere they know it belongs. Because people yearn to belong and time doesn't like to stretch and bend around desire. It just moves.
The city feels softer, as if somebody reached over and mellowed the space so that everyone could find a place for themselves. At least, that's exactly the way you feel when your uber drops you off outside of Namjoon's apartment building twenty minutes after you leave Yugyeom's place. The clock is ticking past two in the morning, and by the time you make your way upstairs, your feet are aching and your social battery has officially ran out.
When the door opens, Namjoon greets you with that same old warmth you've had memorized for nearly four years— almost the entirety of your college years. He gives you a hug before disappearing back into the hallway, informing you of how the coffee is almost done.
His place is dim except for the kitchen, where a warm light spills in and drapes over the entire apartment in a yellow hue. It always smells the same here. Not in a weird way, not at all. Just very…specific. It smells like books that have already been read at least twice and expensive coffee beans that are too niche for you to have any understanding of— because to the normal person, they all just taste the same.
Definitely not to Namjoon.
You slip your heels off by the door, following him into the kitchen after dropping your purse somewhere on the couch. "Do you want to lose all the sleep left in your system?" You ask, gaze dragging over the empty coffee mugs on the counter.
Namjoon stands in the kitchen with his back turned to you, dressed comfortably in some gray sweatpants and a dark colored hoodie. His glasses sit low on his nose, hair falling onto his forehead in messy strands. "I'm writing something." He says, a soft smile forming on his face as he pours in the hot liquid carefully. "How was the party?"
You climb onto the counter, plopping your body onto the marble as your legs dangle above the height. You unashamedly stare at him for a moment, taking in the sweats and the glasses and the fact that he somehow still looks put together despite the hour. Because Namjoon looks a little unfair like this— annoyingly intelligent and completely at home.
"It was loud."
Namjoon hums, handing you the mug. "The alcohol was terrible, i spent the whole night trying to keep Miyeon away from Yugyeom, and someone cried in the bathroom after throwing up on the floor."
"Sounds typical to me."
You take a sip of the coffee, then groan immediately because it's still too hot to drink, before setting it down with exaggerated annoyance dancing on your face. You trail behind him into the living room, pulling your legs beneath yourself as you sink into the couch while he settles right next to you with his laptop balanced over one knee.
"You're actually writing." You say, eyeing him over the rim of your mug.
"I told you." Namjoon says, giving you a brief glance before he turns his attention back onto the screen.
Your eyes absentmindedly drift towards the screen of his laptop, floating over the margins that are filled with notes, sections that are highlighted, pages filled with comments and edits that are all very Namjoon. And for a second, for the entirety of a thousand milliseconds that feel way longer than it actually is, your own laptop sitting abandoned inside the void of your apartment suddenly feels eccentrically heavier.
"My advisor hates me."
Namjoon doesn't look up. "Did he say that?"
You sink lower into the couch, sipping your coffee slowly without forgetting to blow onto it. You can not burn your mouth again, not a chance. "No, but he looked disappointed."
Namjoon sighs. "I know it sucks and you want to strangle him to the depths of death, but he just has high expectations from you."
You groan dramatically. "It's so annoying."
Namjoon hums, nodding along as his eyes scan through the screen. "How's the thesis going?"
That's when you gift him the pleasure of absolute silence. Because unfortunately, deeply unfortunately, somewhere along the way, your thesis and Wave started bleeding a little too much into each other and now everything feels way too personal and disgustingly intimate.
Not entirely, of course. Wave is still just a tool for you to learn and observe without tracing everything back to yourself. But lately, it has started to feel a little less objective and a little more on the edge.
You didn't lose the hang of it, not really. You're still the same girl writing with the same devotion for the same purpose. Just…there has been small slips here and there, noticeable only to people who know you well enough to search for them.
You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. "It's progressing."
Namjoon's eyes drift towards you, and your gaze lifts until it catches his own in the air. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask when he stares at you for a second too long.
"You don't sound too truthful."
You scoff, then roll your eyes before grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it in his face. But being the man he is, Namjoon catches it without looking. Damn him.
"You write about Jungkook a lot." He says suddenly.
You shrug. "He's easy material."
"You've written about him four times by now."
You pause, squinting your eyes as every piece of writing you've ever published in the last two years flashes through your eyes. Because there is no fucking way you've written about that tattooed excuse of sex on legs for four entire times. "Four?"
"Four." He repeats.
You drop your shoulders in defeat. "You're very unlikeable tonight."
"I'm just providing you with my opinions." He says, typing while speaking. "You can't ask for help if you aren't going to take my advice."
You pull your knees closer against your chest. "I don't ask for your opinions."
"You called me crying over an econ elective last year."
You sit up immediately, placing the mug onto the coffee table. "Okay, first of all, it wasn't entirely like that—"
"I distinctly remember you saying, and i quote, what do i do now, Joon, my future is over." He states dramatically, voice disgustingly sweet and high pitched as he mocks you.
You stare at him, frozen and absolutely horrified. "I was vulnerable."
Namjoon hums, and you let yourself fall backwards dramatically against the couch cushions, throwing an arm over your face as if that's enough to physically protect yourself from embarrassment and humiliation.
It doesn't, of course. Because nothing ever really preserves you from embarrassment when it's Kim Namjoon you're talking about.
A comfortable silence settles into the living room, allowing you drown yourself inside the small indicators of life around you. You can hear his keyboard clicking softly as he keeps working on something you have no idea about, the occasional scratch of the ceramic mug against the wood table, the faint jazz pieces playing from the speakers hidden somewhere further inside the apartment. And just as you were about to part your lips and make a comment on how his furniture is so outdated, he beats you to it.
"Oh."
Your arm slowly lowers from your face, eyes squinting and peaking above it. "What?"
"Are you still helping Mark with that project?"
Oh yourself.
Everything in you physically stills, slowly and painfully, like dread is begging to be felt properly until your bones ache and sizzle with the weight of it. Because you— catastrophically, miserably, terribly; had forgotten all about it. Not in a small, oops, i should probably text him back way either. No, you had forgotten in a way that bordered on a severe case of friendship betrayal and negligence.
You close your eyes, inhaling a long breath. "Hypothetically speaking…"
You did, and of course he notices. Because if Kim Namjoon has spent four years studying journalism, he has spent six studying you.
Namjoon had become one of those people that had entered your life quietly yet stayed just as loudly, making himself impossible to imagine a life without in absolutely no time. Just like wine or Wave or the concerning amount of mediocre sex you've been having since your last boyfriend.
You had met him during the first few weeks of your freshman year when he was already a junior and head editor of the university journal. Back then, he existed in your head less as a person and more as a terrifying academic urban legend you'd never admit looking up to. But you didn't have to admit it out loud, because even the older students spoke about him with an obnoxious amount of respect.
You hated him.
But obviously, that didn't last long. As you kept sharing nights filled with stories, words and worlds no one knew existed besides the two of you, he started to matter. He'd remembered your exam dates, bought you coffee during finals, edited your essays at three in the morning. He'd answer your phone calls involving emotional breakdowns over electives and boys and broken sink pipes, then solve whatever crisis you were having in little to no time.
So naturally, somewhere along the way, your editor had turned into an older brother and became annoyingly good at reading you— so much that you're sure he keeps a version of you that's all bare and vulnerable somewhere hidden in his furthest drawers.
Because he knows you. Good enough to notice the tiny moments where Wave feels a little too personal. To notice the way that sometimes, your thesis blurs into the rest of your life and you get caught up in the gravity of it all, so much that the project you'd promised to help with weeks ago somehow slips away from your mind despite Mark being one of your dearest friends.
Because Namjoon doesn't forget, and Mark will definitely kill you if you don't show up at his studio with breakfast and two cups coffee by tomorrow morning.
Musicians who are brave enough to lay their souls open between rhymes and harmonies have always felt intimate.
Music is vulnerable, always has been. Everyone knows that. But there is something utterly naked and personal beyond the in reach vulnerability of it all.
It's the little things.
The version of them that existed on a random Tuesday in October, the argument they never really recovered from yet still shaped them into whoever they are today. The person they almost loved, the one they did love…They leave pieces of themselves behind between late nights and early mornings, and it never matters whether it's accidental or not. Because everything they touch transitions into something that carries their traces and that's enough to feel their souls on top of your own.
And, i think, that truly sums up Mark Lee as a person.
Because Mark has always felt like someone composed of the little things. He'd attach songs to memories you won't realize matters until months later, respond to texts even if it wakes him up from his sweetest dreams. He'd turn feelings into poems and records then archive them in anything that's permanent.
In college, people tend to think popularity belongs to the loudest person in the room. But despite being loved through the depths of the ocean until the very end of Milky Way, Mark Lee has never really been loud.
Just unforgettable.
Three days later, you find yourself standing outside of Mark's studio with two iced coffees in one hand and a kind of resentment that's loud yet entirely unserious in the other. Because Mark has spent the last forty eight hours guilt tripping you through frantic phone calls and dramatic text messages. And you, for some reason, can not for the life of you bring yourself accept the fact that you've forgotten your promise and properly apologize.
At least you got the coffees.
You push the studio door open without knocking, because Mark has never once respected your privacy and therefore doesn't exactly deserve it in return. As the door falls unleashed and sunlight spills until it drapes over you in a golden glow, there are a few things you expect. A Justin Bieber song Justin Bieber himself has probably forgotten about, unfinished coffees and half empty beer bottles scattered around the room, maybe even his ex girlfriend lounging somewhere in the corner because you're almost entirely certain Mark would slip straight back into her heart if she ever left it even slightly open.
But Jeon Jungkook is not one of them.
He's sitting besides the mixing desk, leaned back comfortably in his chair wearing a black hoodie with headphones hanging around his neck, one leg bouncing lazily beneath the table while he scrolls through something on his phone.
He looks up from the screen when the weight of your presence becomes impossible to ignore. He blinks once, twice, then smiles.
Shit, he has dimples.
"Well," Jungkook says slowly, leaning back further into the chair as he drags his eyes over you. "This just got better than i expected."
Your reply comes immediately. "No."
Jungkook blinks, eyes widening just slightly. "I…didn't even say anything."
"You thought of it."
He cocks a brow. "Thought of what?"
You roll your eyes, dropping your purse onto the table before leaning your hip against it. "You know what." You say, and he silently stares at you for a second longer before the corner of his mouth starts twitching.
This doesn't make sense. Not at all.
Because certain people feel attached to certain places long before they step into them. Mark belongs in studios and beneath the stars and somewhere right in the middle of your heart. Namjoon belongs beneath the warmth of yellow kitchen lights and homes that silence everything else until it's quieter than the rest of the world. Miyeon belongs anywhere between flowers and pretty cafes that somehow never match up to her beauty.
And Jungkook…Jungkook belongs beneath flashing lights that paint his features in colors that would look good on nobody but him. He belongs in crowded spaces and with girls who lean in a little too close whenever he speaks. He belongs anywhere loud and alive.
Just not here. Because music feels too intimate for him somehow.
"You know." He says after a moment, still smiling. "I thought there was a chance i imagined you."
You let out a low chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest after placing the coffees onto the table. "That's a little dramatic."
"I'm being dead serious."
"Well, you approached me." You say, tilting your head slightly, letting your eyes drift over him before they return back to his face. "And you don't seem to have that strong of an imagination."
"You're mean."
You groan playfully, leaning your hip against the armrest of his chair. "That's so not true."
A small smirk plays out on his lips. "Good thing i like my girls with a little attitude."
Pardon? Your girls?
"You're being very brave today."
Jungkook stares at you for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in a way that's not rude, just playful enough to carry traces of something cocky beneath it. He lets the silence melt and sit right in the middle of your bodies for a beat too long, then speaks.
"You're flirting with me right now."
Your head snaps towards him immediately, and you almost choke on your own saliva. Not because you're shocked. How can you be when he has built a whole persona on candied words and pretty girls and an ego that's definitely bigger than what's between his legs. It's because he says it so easily, and you hate that.
So no, absolutely not. You, flirting with Jungkook? No way in hell.
You narrow your eyes. "No, I'm not."
"Mhm." He hums, swinging left and right in his seat with a growing grin on his face.
Okay, no. That's enough. You're not doing this any longer. You don't want Jeon fucking Jungkook to think he has a chance at having you naked and open and wide on his stupid iron man mattress. You don't want to demonstrate the size of his cock with your hands when Miyeon asks on girls night, and you most definitely don't want Mark walking in on you bickering like two horny teenagers with the self control of fucking rabbits in heat.
So you change the subject.
"You sing?" Brilliant.
And peculiarly, his smile softens a little at your question. Not drastically, not enough for the entire room to shift and bend around him until it's his breath only you're drowning inside. But it's enough. Enough for you to notice the way something gentler briefly peeks through before hiding again. And you, for some reason, find yourself reaching over and folding it carefully to hide somewhere safe amongst all the other precious details people accidentally leave behind. Somewhere only you carry the map of and know how to find again.
Jungkook glances up. "Sometimes."
Sometimes.
It's funny how he says it, like it matters too much that his tongue can not carry the weight of it, so he just shrugs it off like it's anything. Sometimes, he says. As if Mark would ever involve someone who does it just whenever. As if Mark would ever reach for something that's sitting right in middle of his soul and hand out a piece of it to just anyone.
"You look judgemental." He adds.
You shrug. "I'm just surprised."
Jungkook's eyebrows lift at your answer, like he knows there is another thought sitting beneath it, quietly waiting for the permission to exit. But before he can get the chance to ask about it further, the studio door suddenly swings open.
Mark walks into the room with an amount of rush that should be concerning for this time of the morning. His hair is messy, bag is tucked beneath his arm and an iced americano is trying to balance clumsily between his fingers as he tries finding a place to squeeze himself in.
"Okay, first of all. Traffic should be considered the worse case of masochism the human kind has done to itself." Mark rambles, barely waiting for the door to close behind him before speaking, words tumbling out of his mouth in consecutive complaints.
"And you," He kicks the door shut with his foot before continuing, pointing a finger at you. "After forty eight hours of emotional neglect, show up with iced lattes? I don't drink lattes. That's for pussies who don't understand coffee."
You roll your eyes. "I do something nice and you still complain."
"You completely forgot me and brought coffee out of guilt."
You pause, looking down at the table before speaking again. "It's still coffee."
Jungkook laughs quietly besides you before Mark cuts in again. "Okay, so basically," He breathes, gesturing around the room. "This is my senior project, the one I told you about three weeks ago and you forgot because you apparently don't care about me anymore. It's a short film of my album with a narrative concept." He turns to Jungkook. "He's singing."
Your eyes drift around in silence, taking in the headphones and the sheets filled with lyrics and the fucking sometimes he threw at you as if it meant nothing.
"And you," Mark angles his body towards you. "Are helping with the writing."
"Mark," You argue, because what can you possibly be writing? Music? You don't do music. You write people, you write anything between stories and analysis but not music.
"Don't Mark me right now. You agreed to this weeks ago." He says as he rolls his eyes, chugging down his coffee. "The story. You're writing the narrative and the emotional structure, obviously."
Oh. Right.
Because of course Mark wouldn't just make music. No, he has always been incapable of touching one art form without dragging five others to it. Because Mark Lee is a man of passion and he won't do anything without making it entirely his.
"Apparently you said music without context feels lonely to Yoongi's trap arrangement last week." Jungkook says without really looking at you, swinging mindlessly in his chair.
Your head snaps towards him. "How do you know that?"
Jungkook blinks once, like he hadn't expected to say that out loud yet did anyway. His eyes flicker between you and Mark before he collects himself back together and shrugs casually. "Mark talks about you."
That's…annoyingly sweet of him.
"You talk about me?" You coo with a voice disgustingly candied, head tilted as you reach for Mark's arm.
"Oh my god." Mark groans dramatically, but he doesn't pull his arm away. "No, because Jungkook, don't let her fool you. She acts all nice and sweet then suddenly you're buying her food and driving her to places."
You open your mouth immediately, ready to defend yourself. You turn towards Jungkook, response already on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spilled— only to stop.
Because Jungkook is already looking at you. Not in a weird way, not in the way boys usually look at pretty girls when they think nobody is noticing. Just…gentle. His smile is still there, only now it has grown and molded into something smaller. The kind that doesn't really ask for attention, the kind that simply stays there because it wants to. His eyes feel softer too, like's he's really listening, sitting through the spaces of your presence until he feels it permanently engraved into his mind.
It feels a little precarious.
And perhaps the most annoying thing about Jungkook is that the disappointment never really arrives.
Because eventually, the conversation shifts and folds itself until time starts passing in a kind of haziness where it melts into something thinner. Mark disappears into one of his passionate spirals regarding symbolism and the basics of music theory and you somehow find a way to contribute just as passionately despite not exactly having the qualifications to do so.
That's normal. That doesn't surprise you, it has happened enough times to not be the slightest of a deal. But Jungkook, Jungkook surprises you.
Maybe not dramatically, maybe not in ways worth writing Wave articles about. It's the little things, tiny things that somehow fill in the entire space and make their way into the dearest corners of your heart.
Like how he listens with his entire body, the way he turns towards whoever it is that's speaking and stays there, like he genuinely thinks people deserve to be heard all the way through. The way he never interrupts Mark despite the fact that Mark tends to over explain things as if he himself personally invented art and human emotion. The way he nods along quietly, asks questions at exactly the right moments without ever interjecting anyone and reaches over to hand you your drink when you start looking for it.
And somewhere in the middle of the complexity of it all, Jungkook sings.
Mark points towards the recording booth in the middle of his nth rant today, and Jungkook pushes himself up from the couch besides you with a small sigh before disappearing behind the glass doors of the booth. And for some reason, your eyes follow him through each passing second, because simply standing behind a microphone with overhead headphones should not look this different on somebody.
Because suddenly, he's stripped out of everything you've subconsciously built for him. And for some stupid, sick, twisted reason, Jungkook looks ridiculously hot like this.
He adjusts the headphones over his ears before leaning towards the microphone slightly, eyes lowering as Mark presses something on the screen.
His voice happens a beat of two after the music starts, and it happens big. Like waves crashing into rocks, like starts falling down the sky, like spring melting into summer and summer clashing against fall.
It's stupid.
He's not bad, god, you wish he was bad. No, not at all. Because Jungkook sings exactly the way the listens. Softly, fully, like he throws himself into it before realizing he's doing it. Like somewhere in the middle of every rhyme and every note and every breath, there are pieces of him patiently waiting to be discovered.
You understand why Mark chose him.
Jungkook drops beside you onto the couch with a tired groan after Mark decides he's poured enough of his soul for today, and you find your eyes grazing over him as he scrolls through something on his phone.
"You're staring." Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone.
You blink. Fuck. "Excuse me?"
He hums, lips twitching beyond his control. "Mhm."
You angle your body a little more towards him. "I literally wasn't."
He nods, still not looking at you, but he's still smiling.
You stare at his profile for a little longer as Mark works over the keyboard in silence, then find the words escaping your mouth before you can hold them in. "You sound different when you sing." You say quietly.
Jungkook stills a little. Just a tiny, little falter that happens in his body. His eyes lift slowly from the screen, then catch yours before speaking. "Different?" He asks.
You shrug immediately, trying to fold the conversation into something drastically more casual. "Just less annoying."
You roll your eyes immediately. "Don't let it get to your head."
"You know," He says after letting a beat pass, and you turn your head back towards him. "You say very mean things for someone who can't seem to stop staring."
Your brows lift in offense. "I do not stare."
He blinks. "You do."
You scoff. "You're delusional."
Jungkook hums softly. "Earlier, when Mark was talking—"
You don't let him speak. At least, you try. "No."
"And then when i was recording—"
"Jeon."
He's fully smiling now, like he's getting the most ridiculous amount enjoyment he possibly can get from this. You stare at him in silence, lips parted and expression faltered. Jungkook stares right back at you, that stupid smile never really leaving from his lips. And for some sick and twisted reason, your stomach does a tiny little flip that irritates you through the entirety of your skin and bones.
Then, as if god has finally acknowledged the depths of your suffering, Mark cuts in exactly at the right time. "Oh my god." He gasps.
Jungkook blinks from next to you, gaze drifting onto him. "What?"
Mark doesn't respond for a moment, and that's deeply concerning for a man who'd speak even at the verge of death.
You slowly sit up. "Mark?"
His frozen state continues for a beat longer before he suddenly springs up from his chair. "No no no."
"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks as his brows pull together, leaning onto his knees.
"I," Mark starts, looking down at his feet before he slowly, dreadfully searches for your eyes. "I'm late."
Jungkook scrunches his nose. "You're late for what?"
Your eyes widen when the realization slowly stretches then breaks through you. "Oh my god." You breathe dramatically.
"Stop saying oh my god!" Jungkook snaps, thoroughly lost.
Mark closes his eyes, taking in a long, guilty breath. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with Yerin."
Jungkook's phone falls onto the couch. "You're meeting your ex?"
"You're late to meeting your ex." You correct. "And you're wearing that?"
Mark looks down, eyes taking in the gray sweatpants and the black hoodie he has worn so much it's practically another color now. "Oh my god."
He quickly gathers up his belongings, then slings his bag over his shoulder before making his way to the door. He's able to take approximately three steps before he suddenly stops, and slowly, very slowly, turns to you.
"Can i take your car?"
You blink a few times before responding. "Absolutely not."
"Please," He begs, bending above his knees with impatience. "Please, I'll do anything. Imagine if she thinks i stood her up. She's going to leave me for good this time and I'll be left to crumble and die in my own sorrow."
After two or five separate sequences of long inhales and deep consideration, you give in. "If you scratch it, I'll kill you."
He runs over to you fast. "Thank you, thank you. Oh my god, i love you."
"Okay, okay. Stop." Before you even get the chance to return his hug, he's already grabbing your keys and shoving it into his bag. Jungkook stares from besides you silently until the very last second of Mark's departure, then bursts into laughter the moment the door closes shut.
"Stop."
"I'm trying." Jungkook says between fractions of laughter.
You sigh. "No you're not."
"I'm literally trying my hardest."
Liar.
Because now, he's laughing properly and somehow it's the prettiest thing you've heard all week, minus his singing— which is a whole another problem of its own— and you feel yourself physically falter at the sound of it.
You stare at him for a minute longer before eventually drifting your eyes towards the studio doors instead. It's irritating how you're now painfully aware of everything else all over again. Spring air brushing softly against your skin through the window, the distant sound of laughter and conversation somewhere across campus, the way Jungkook is seated close enough that if you shift half an inch closer your shoulders would probably brush.
"So," Jungkook has finally, and thankfully, stopped laughing. Though the smile is still sitting there loosely. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, swinging them around his finger. "Guess I'm driving you home."
You were about to mindlessly give into defeat when suddenly, you remember one, tiny little detail.
Jungkook doesn't have a car.
You breathe slowly. "You ride that stupid motorcycle."
His brows lift immediately. "That stupid motorcycle?"
Your lips part, then close again when he cuts you off, lips twitching cockily. "You remember."
You scoff loudly. "You spent like twenty minutes talking about it."
"Mhm."
"And your personality is unfortunately very loud."
"Mhm." He hums, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he mindlessly collects his things. "You remember." He repeats with a growing grin.
"Stop saying that." You complain, following him behind through the door.
And ten minutes later, you hate yourself.
Genuinely.
Because now, you're standing outside beneath spring air and bright streetlights while Jungkook straddles his motorcycle like this isn't singlehandedly the worst thing that has ever happened to you.
Because suddenly you're surrounded by things you've never considered before. Like leather jackets and silver rings and tattooed biceps you want to suffocate and die inside.
You don't tell him that, of course.
He glances at you over his shoulder before slipping on his helmet. "You coming?"
There is a moment where he is met with a complete, utter silence. Because, first of all, you've never been on a motorcycle before. And second of all, there is a very physical, very obvious problem with motorcycles.
Where the fuck are your hands supposed to go?
Jungkook watches the way something between conflict and irritation flashes across your features, expression faltering slowly. He pauses along with you, then smiles knowingly. "You've never been on one."
And the way he says it is absolutely stupid. Because he doesn't ask, it's not a question. He has somehow read you devastatingly well and has made a statement about it. One that is entirely correct.
"I have not."
"And you're scared."
Excuse you?
You blink. "Scared?"
Jungkook says nothing, then places both of his legs on the sides of the vehicle as he patiently waits for you. You stare at him for long enough, then with the amount of dignity one can preserve in situations involving pussy clenching tattoos and massive biceps, you walk over.
"Need help?" Jungkook asks as you struggle deciding how to position yourself.
You shake your head immediately. "No."
Lies.
Because an entire thirty seconds later, you're still trying to figure out how people get on these things without publicly humiliating themselves.
"You know," He starts carefully, voice softer now." "I can help."
You look up slowly. "How?"
"Come here."
Your eyebrows pull together. "What kind of instruction is that?"
He sighs softly, calling your name. And for some stupid reason, the way your name rolls and falls out of his mouth does something irritating to your nervous system.
You hate that.
Because suddenly, the air feels warmer than it did thirty minutes ago. Because suddenly, he is patiently looking at you with those pretty brown eyes of his and the space between you feels so small that the lack of distance physically blows your breath away.
He holds a hand out towards you. "Come here." He repeats.
You stare at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. And for reasons you will absolutely be denying later, you place your hand in his.
Jungkook's fingers close around yours immediately. Warm, firm and unreasonably effortless, as if he doesn't even think about the action twice.
He gently guides you forward and suddenly you're standing between his arms for one devastating second too long as he explains something about where to place your foot and how to balance and honestly—
Honestly, you don't hear a single fucking word.
Because Jungkook is standing too close. Because his voice is low and his presence is warm. Because somewhere above you, he quietly lets out that sweet laugh again and you think that's the exact moment you realize this might be becoming a bigger problem than you ever thought.
"You listening?" He asks.
No, you're not. Not even a little.
Some men are just plain irritating.
The kind of men who make you think you're special after two dates. The kind of men who act as if their love and desire for you is past the lethal dose, long sitting far away from what's acceptable after taking you out for one drink.
They start remembering your birthday, then your coffee order, and then the stories you tell absentmindedly. They pay attention in all the ways that matter until suddenly, they don't.
They start disappearing slowly. Late responses transition into cancelled dates and cancelled dates drag over white lies and empty promises. And before you know it— they're gone.
Some people become memories and some people insist on staying as habits. Unfortunately for Kim Yugyeom, habits are significantly harder to quit.
Campus looks a little prettier at night, with string lights tangled carelessly around trees to soften the sharp corners of concrete sidewalks and buildings that usually look painfully monotone and disgustingly gray beneath daylight. Music that's floating around blends into laughter and conversations until everything feels like it's dipped into something warmer, casting the green scenery in a dimly golden hue.
People become prettier at night too. Like darkness reaches over to soften and hide all the sharp edges daylight stubbornly insists on exposing. You think it has something to do with poor lighting and the desire to dress each other up in a way that's aligned with our own fucked up fantasies, but that doesn't change the fact that you'd much rather time stops at nine in the evening instead of morning.
Miyeon walks beside you with a cup of vodka and something fruity in her hand, complaining passionately about one of her professors as if he has something personal against her and is failing her out of spite. When, in reality, she has been way too caught up in toxic ex boyfriend drama and seasonal depression.
Anyone who says spring depression is not real is lying. Because your best friend has been going through one for the entirety of march and april and may and you're not sure if it'll pass by july.
But it's fine. You love her and Mark loves her and you're sure she will be fine. Yeah, maybe Yugyeom is six feet tall with a face carefully structured by the higher powers above us. But he's utterly stupid and completely undeserving of the crazy stupid love provided by your gorgeous best friend.
"No because explain to me why participation counts in my grade." Miyeon complains beside you, taking another sip of her drink as if she has the attendance and exam results to cover up the mess caused by her miserable participation grade.
You blink. "Because participating matters?"
Miyeon stops walking like you've offended her beyond all measure, then turns to you very slowly. "The institution has corrupted you."
You let out a laugh immediately, shoulder bumping against hers as the crowd thickens around you. "Maybe your GPA is a little important and passing isn't always enough." You add with a playful smile.
"You've changed."
"Okay." You drag out the word until she physically can not hear anything after the o.
"Namjoon did this to you. You were fun and sexy until junior year and now you're a disgusting hard copy of that man."
You scoff. "Leave Namjoon out of this."
Instead of responding to you, Miyeon narrows her eyes through the crowd before you can properly defend both yourself and Namjoon's imaginary honor. Your eyes follow her line of sight without thinking too much of it, and you still just a second after Miyeon does.
Because standing near one of the food trucks with drinks sat carelessly in their hands are Mingyu and Jaehyun. But that's not the point, Mingyu and Jaehyun are fine, you've actually shared that infamous econ elective with Jaehyun during junior year and he surprisingly turned out to be sweet and worth a couple hours of your precious time.
Jungkook, on the other hand, is not ideal. But not ideal is also fine, you can bear with non ideal to an extent. What's thoroughly, completely, utterly impossible, is Yugyeom.
God truly does not love you.
Miyeon physically freezes besides you. And, I repeat, she doesn't subtly falter. She stills.
Then, Jungkook looks up at exactly the wrong moment, finding your eyes and catching them in air before anyone else gets the chance to steal them away. His eyebrows lift slightly in amusement before a smile slowly spreads across his face, and it feels a little concerning the way he does it. Because Jungkook smiles like he means it. Like the smile happens to him before he can realize and reconsider.
His line of sight is followed before any of you can do anything about it. It starts with Mingyu, then Jaehyun. Which is fine, because we've already established that Mingyu and Jaehyun are harmless.
But Yugyeom? Not even close.
"Oh no." Mingyu says the moment he spots you. And honestly? Very fair reaction.
Because unfortunately, Kim Yugyeom has always had an exceptional talent for creating versions of Miyeon you hate.
Jaehyun lifts his drink awkwardly. "Hi?" Very brave of him. Very brave.
Miyeon smiles immediately, too animated and too polite, before you can even think of interfering and softening the impact of it all.
"Hi Jaehyun." She says, tone too normal despite the situation.
"Miyeon," Yugyeom greets, voice casual and light like her name belongs naturally inside his mouth. Fucking hypocrite.
"You cut your hair."
No.
No, you're not doing this right now. Absolutely not. Because, okay, first of all, what kind of thing is that to say to your ex girlfriend of two whole years? And the worse part of it all? Miyeon cut her hair three months ago. Three, entire, months.
Yugyeom blinks one whole minute after the words leave his mouth when no one responds to him, like the sentence leaves his mouth and arrives back to him sixty seconds later. But it's already late for realization. Too fucking late.
A long silence passes, and you feel it physically sizzle and slice right through the surface of your skin. "Right." Miyeon mutters a beat later, and you close your eyes with a long, suffering inhale.
Somewhere in the middle of the discomfort settling over everybody like a layer of second skin, you catch movement from the corner of your eye as if the situation isn't terrible enough.
Jungkook, of course, is already looking at you. Because he seems to have made it into a habit.
Miyeon laughs beside you. "Three months, by the way."
Yugyeom falters. "What?"
"My hair," She starts, letting her eyes drag over him. "I cut it three months ago."
It's a little funny now. You know, the entirety of the situation. You do everything in your power to not stare at the two of them, gaze drifting around your surroundings instead. And it turns out that you, as of right now, are not the smartest person in the room. Because across from you, Mingyu suddenly becomes deeply interested in the swirl of his drink, and Jaehyun seems to be counting the birds in the sky. Jungkook? That, you don't know. Because you're sure he's still looking at you and that's the second thing your eyes are trying to avoid.
"Right." Yugyeom says again, like saying right enough times might eventually make the situation right, even though it won't. Because none of you are stupid— well, except for Yugyeom himself, it seems.
Then, Mingyu suddenly claps his hands once, and the sound echoes so much louder than he intended it to. "Okay!" He exclaims with an amount of enthusiasm that should genuinely award him an Emmy. "Amazing! Love this energy. It's so deeply casual."
Miyeon laughs again, a little softer than the one she let escape minutes ago. It's not enough to bounce and spill and take over the atmosphere the way it usually does. But for now, it's enough to let you breathe.
"Sorry," She says through another laugh, shaking her head. "No because, you're unbelievable."
Yugyeom squints. "What did i even do?"
You scoff. Obviously, that's not surprising. Kim Yugyeom deserves a hundred more of those. But Mingyu and Jaehyun scoff along with you. And, oh, Jungkook too.
Maybe society has hope after all.
That's when you stop keeping up with their conversation, because their steps slowly get closer and closer to each other and farther and farther away from you until the volume of their voices lower down enough and exist only for the two of them.
Not that you're complaining. Not at all. You're thoroughly relieved and you do not want to hear another word of this pointless conversation.
Mingyu leans over and lowers his height next to you. "How traumatized are we?"
You laugh, relaxing a little. "A solid eight out of ten."
He places a hand over his chest dramatically. "Thank god." He exhales. "For a second i thought i was alone in this."
You laugh again, and peculiarly, somewhere in the middle of cheap drinks and Mingyu defending his dignity like his life depends on it, your shoulders begin dropping one by one.
Everything softens after that.
Mingyu gets distracted after spotting somebody from one of his classes and suddenly starts passionately discussing basketball statistics with Jaehyun. Miyeon and Yugyeom slowly become figurines in your peripheral vision— still there, still existing, but further now. And somehow, Jungkook ends up right besides you.
Maybe not intentionally, maybe not obviously— but he does. It happens in that natural way he seems to be very adamant on keeping recently.
You become aware of him in pieces. The warmth of his shoulder besides yours, the sound of his laugh whenever Mingyu says something ridiculous, the traces of alcohol and masculine cologne in his scent whenever wind shifts in your direction…Tiny, stupid things people leave behind accidentally.
And unfortunately, you've spent your entire life collecting them.
"You're less guarded tonight."
You blink, then turn around slowly, eyes locking with Jungkook who is looking at you over the rim of his drink, a smile sitting loosely against his mouth.
"I'm always like this."
Jungkook lets something between a breathy laugh and a scoff through his lips. "Liar."
You roll your eyes. "You think you've got me all figured out."
He shrugs. "I just pay attention to you sometimes."
Fucking flirt.
You're only half listening to Mingyu's latest spiral on getting cheated on with a girl when Jungkook's phone vibrates against the grass. Jungkook glances down, picks the phone up, then groans when he reads whatever text that has been sent to him.
"What?" You ask.
"Mark,"
Your brows pull together in confusion. "What did he do?"
Jungkook lets his head fall back slightly. "He forgot the hard drive at the studio."
Jungkook stares at his phone for a beat longer, exhales, then turns towards you. "Come with me."
And he is met with silence. Because for a moment, for a long, dreadful sixty seconds, silence surrounds you too. Music still continues behind you but it feels distant now. People laugh, lights glow, but all of it feels very far away. Solely because of the way he says it.
Because Jungkook doesn't ask. No do you want to come? No you can if you want. He just tells you to come with him as if he already knows the answer.
You narrow your eyes, trying to play it off. "Is that confidence i'm seizing?"
"No." He says, smile growing into something gentler. "I think it's hope."
Oh.
Jungkook pushes himself up from the grass, then extends his hand towards you. Not dramatically, not enough to create a whole deal out of it, but enough for your eyes to drop down to it automatically then back to him as if a hundred different scenarios have just flashed across your mind.
You take his hand.
By the time you reach the studio, you're a little warm. Not because of walking, not because of the weather, but because of something you absolutely can not say out loud.
Jungkook pushes the door open, then lets you walk in first. Warm light spills through the room and reaches straight into your pupils the moment you step in, and you physically have to tap your thigh twice to recollect yourself back together.
Space feels a little different when it's just the two of you.
Jungkook walks ahead towards the mixing desk, still looking through his phone. "Mark said he left his hard drive somewhere."
You hum, eyes drifting around. But it all feels absent, a little pointless. Because you're painfully aware of the tiny things all over again. Jungkook pushing his sleeves up, the way strands of hair falls into his eyes, how the sound of his voice fills in the empty room…
Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's exhaustion, or maybe it's the way spring nights make people a little delirious. Stupid pollens.
You let a quiet breath escape and turn away before your brain decides to become any more humiliating than it already has tonight. "How does a music major forget a hard drive?" You ask, voice bouncing a little too loudly through the empty studio.
Jungkook shrugs. "It's Mark."
Fair.
You snort quietly and drift towards the couch instead, letting yourself drop against the cushions while Jungkook continues opening drawers and moving papers around an unnecessary amount of concentration.
For a minute, for the short time being, neither of you says anything. And maybe that's your first mistake. Because lately, silence with Jungkook has become as dangerous as vodka on an empty stomach.
Your eyes lift before you can stop them. That's definitely your second mistake.
Because Jungkook had pushed his sleeves higher at some point and now his forearms are exposed beneath the dim lights of the studio and you miserably need those long, tattooed fingers curling inside your pussy.
He crouches beside the desk, pushing his hair back before another strand immediately falls over his forehead again. "Found it." He says, and your head snaps back up.
Jungkook, unfortunately, is already looking at you. Not at the hard drive, not at the desk, just you. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Because maybe this is one of those moments where silence becomes too delicate for words. Moments that sit so carefully between people that speaking feels like touching glass with bare hands.
Your stomach tightens embarrassingly beneath your ribs as Jungkook's eyes drag all over you before they settle and stay on your face. He takes a step closer, then another, and then speaks softly. "What?"
Your brows pull together despite yourself. "What what?"
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You keep staring." He says, voice lower now.
"And you don't?" You reply, voice barely above a whisper as you rise up to your feet.
"I do." Jungkook replies. There is barely an inch between your bodies now, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. "But i don't lie about it, pretty girl."
Your entire body stiffens at that. But it's not the pretty girl, not at all. It's the way he says it. Because Jungkook doesn't rush you, he never does. He doesn't smirk, doesn't tease. Just stays there looking and waiting. Like he is giving you room, like stepping away is still an option.
And the worst part is, you don't want to step away.
Silence stretches and stretches until it begins feeling alive. His eyes drop down to your lips, then lifts back up. For one devastating second, Jungkook looks at you like he is trying to memorize something. Like he's collecting little things too.
His hand lifts, thumb softly tracing over the line of your jaw. "I've been patient for so long." He speaks over your lips. "And i know you feel it too. But i need to hear your words if you really want this to happen."
Your breath catches and flips over halfway through your throat, chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm. "Jungkook,"
"Tell me," He starts, thumb stopping by the bottom of your lip. "If you want me as bad as i want you. Because— fuck, I've been good, i've been patient but i'm terribly desperate and i need to know if you are too."
"Please," You try, but you've already stopped thinking altogether.
"Please what, baby? I need you to use your words."
"Kiss me." You fit the entire weight of those words in a tiny little breath and Jungkook's lips are on yours in an instant.
The kiss starts out slow, his lips moving against yours gently as if he is savoring every ounce of its taste on the farthest corners of his tongue. Your hands find the nape of his neck, pulling and pressing him closer until distance can't bear existing anymore.
Jungkook's hands drop down to your waist, tugging you closer so that your hips clash against his. You whimper into his mouth, and he swallows it without wasting a single second.
Because Jungkook has been waiting.
This isn't what the does, not at all. Jungkook has never been a patient man. Not with desire, not with girls. He takes and gets taken in blinks and fractions and seconds— easy, casual, weightless.
But you, you've turned into something devastatingly different. Because for weeks now Jungkook has been wanting without touching, looking without taking— ever since you laughed and rolled your eyes prettily at Yugyeom's party that night. He has spent nights thinking about your lips, mornings replaying the sound of your laugh and entire conversations searching for traces of hidden meanings beneath your words like a man slowly losing his goddamn mind.
Jungkook doesn't wait. He doesn't ache over girls. He doesn't sit awake late at night remembering the way they looked at him beneath dim studio lights or think about the possibility of their hands touching his. But with you— fuck.
With you, he has become unbearably aware of himself. You've made him patient in the cruelest way possible. Because now he notices everything and god, the pretending has been killing him.
And now you're kissing him back as if you've been just as gone. And that thought alone is enough to fold and mold his brain into something disgustingly mushy and achingly dizzy.
"More," You moan between kisses, body practically begging for his touch.
Jungkook's stomach flips upside down. "Yeah? Want more, pretty? Want me to touch you?" He squeezes the plump meat of your ass through your jeans, and your hips jerk into his with the feeling.
His hands roam all over your body before stopping right at the hem of your top. His fingers fiddle with the fabric before he pulls away to look at you properly, and you give him your consent dressed up as a weak nod.
Jungkook pulls your tank top over your head, eyes stuck on the way your boobs bounce beneath the lace of your bra with the movement. He physically, loudly, groans at the sight before plastering wet, open mouthed kisses on the soft skin. Your head falls back in pleasure, hands tangling in his soft locks. Jungkook pushes his head further into your tits before he reaches over your back and unclasps your bra in one swift motion.
Your ass hits the armrest of the leather couch when he lowers himself to take a nipple into his mouth, fingers toying with the other. You moan in short, consecutive whimpers as his tongue laps and flickers over the hardened nub, the wetness in your panties growing and growing.
His cups your pussy over the your jeans, fingers pressing into your core over the fabric. The pressure is utterly mind blowing because the course denim stretches and digs into you further, causing you to cry out in pleasure.
"Touch me properly, Jungkook." You force out, desperate to feel him on your bare skin.
Jungkook scoffs between kisses. "Greedy, aren't you?"
He unbuttons your jeans, fondling with the zipper for a beat too long before he can unzip and get you out of it.
He pushes your panties aside with two fingers before sliding them into you. Your cunt sucks him in immediately, already way too wet and way too impatient for any form of foreplay.
Jungkook tilts his head to look at the way his fingers are slipping in and out of you. "Shit, pretty. Look at that. You're gripping me."
"Jungkook," You cry out, hands curling around his biceps for support. "Need— need your cock, please."
He lifts his eyes up to look at your face properly, then sketches and carves every line of your expression onto the deepest corners of his heart.
He slowly pulls out his fingers, then draws circles on your swollen clit before pulling away to take off his own clothes. His shirt flies away first, and you can't help but gawk at the bare sight of his chest. Arms, shoulders, abs— you're lucky if you don't cum right then and there.
He gives you a small, knowing chuckle before unbuckling his belt, tossing the jeans somewhere across the room along with his boxers. Your lips are parted beyond your knowledge, eyes stuck on the hardened sight of his length.
You've never seen a cock as pretty as that.
You're not sure if you'd ever even thought a cock was pretty— because usually, to you, they're far from that. But Jungkook, god, Jungkook is so fucking pretty with a tip so pink you think you want to suckle on it like a lollipop and a length so massive you desperately want it to choke you.
You wouldn't be mad if your cause of death had suffocated on cock written on it all uppercase in bold letters.
And Jungkook just laughs. He fucking laughs.
"Don't worry, pretty. It's all yours." He says, kissing your lips once more before motioning to turn over. "Now turn around and bend over for me." He adds, pushing your back lightly so that you're completely bent over with both hands gripping on the armrest of the couch.
Jungkook drags his tip across your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt before he slowly pushes it in. You feel his tip first, letting you adjust to the stretch as he sucks in a sharp breath at the warmth of your walls. You moan loudly when he presses half of his cock into you, fingers firming around the cushion.
"Oh god," You breathe, uncontrollably pushing your ass higher into the air. He slams in the rest of his length at your movement, and your back arches even deeper. "Fuck, Jungkook. You're so— so big. I can't."
"You can, princess. I know you can. You'll take every inch like a good girl. Gonna make me proud, aren't you?"
He completely slides out out slowly, and before you can whine at the emptiness Jungkook slams himself back in. You moan loudly, head empty and thoroughly dizzy.
Jungkook starts fucking into you, one had gripping firmly onto your waist as the other toys with your nipple from the back. He is filling you up so good you're going to lose your goddamn mind. You feel so full, stretched and stuffed to the fucking brim. Your walls suck him in desperately, walls clenching and tightening around his fat cock as he pounds into you recklessly.
"Yes, fuck. Wanna be good for you." You mutter messily as his thrusts get deeper and deeper, cock twitching inside your wetness.
"I'm close." You breathe.
"I've got you." He says, and you hate how assuring the words sound.
You let yourself go just as he starts playing with your clit from behind, stimulating you as you milk your juices around his cock. He helps you ride out your high, chest pressing onto your back as he plasters small, reassuring kisses on your shoulder.
You feel physically nauseous at the domesticity.
"Switch with me." You say after coming down from your orgasm, straightening as his cock slides out of you.
Jungkook's body falters, brows pulling together. "What?"
You roll your eyes, pulling away. "Sit, Jungkook."
Jungkook somehow obeys without another word, dropping his body onto the couch beneath you. You hold his shoulders from above, placing your legs at both sides of his hips before reaching for his cock.
Jungkook's breath stutters when you take him into your hand, pumping him a few times before aligning him with your entrance. You slowly sink down onto his length, and you both moan simultaneously when you take every inch of his dick into your pussy.
"Shit," He moans, your name dancing prettily on his tongue. "You're so hot."
His fingertips dig into the soft skin of your hips, head thrown back lazily as he moans through parted lips. You bounce on his dick with every ounce of energy that's left in you, thighs aching as he twitches inside your walls.
Jungkook lifts his head a little to properly take in the sight of your bouncing tits, nearing his high.
"Where do you want me?" He asks, voice low and breathy. Your stomach churns at the question, nails scratching his broad shoulders.
"You can cum inside."
He's going to die. He is going to fucking die but at least he'll die a proud man with his cum stuffed inside you.
And just as Jungkook was about to close his eyes and release inside you, your phone rings.
His lips part to say something, but you beat him to it. "Just shut it off."
Jungkook's hand weakly finds your phone, pressing the close button twice without looking at it. Of course he doesn't look, he'd be insane to drift his eyes away from the way your soft, perky tits are bouncing up and down in his own hold. But the ecstasy lasts so long as fifteen seconds until your phone rings again.
Jungkook flips it over this time. The name on your phone's screen flashes right through his eyes and he feels his heart stumble and drop straight into the rock bottom of his stomach
ೀ⋆｡˚ worst behavior — jeon jungkook , series , on-going
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. . summary: everyone knows you as the good girl / nerd. except you’re so fucking tired of that image. (and you’re also very… horny.) so when you decide to be bold and finally go after hoseok — things don’t really go as planned. instead, you end up tangled in a fake relationship with his best friend / campus favorite fuckboy ; jeon jungkook .
. . pairing: grumpy!oc x smug fuckboy!jk genre/tropes/au : smau + written , fake dating / fake relationship , slow burn , strangers to friends (a little bit of frenemies?¿) to fuckbuddies to lovers
. . warnings: no love triangle, university au, frat house / frat boys / frat parties, mentions of alcohol / smoking / drugs, alcohol consumption, bts members + side characters involved, fluff, humor / rom-com vibes, good girl gone bad, judgy!oc ; oc is lowk mean, fuckboy jungkook who’s full of himself, mutual pining, messy feelings, bad decisions, sexual tension, jealousy, misunderstanding, arguments, sexting, eventual written smut !
— summary: you stopped expecting anything from love a long time ago. four years on your own taught you that much until you crossed paths with jungkook at yoongi’s birthday party. what begins as a chance encounter quickly becomes something real. and now, are you ready to close your eyes and trust him?
— pairing: jungkook x fem. reader
— genre: strangers to lovers, ceo au, biker au, slow burn, angst, fluff, and smut
— total word count: around 40k in total
— author’s note: soo this happened... this started completely naturally, i never expected to write a fanfic this soon, but i've been having so much fun working on it, and i wanted to share it with you all 🥰 i'm still working on it, but as i've been writing a lot the past few days, i already know that by mid-may both parts will be over. jungkook was used as a visual only on the fic, as this had no chosen member at the beginning 🤗 i guess this puts some kind of an end to my hiatus (still not sure though), and i hope you'll enjoy this as much as i'm enjoying writing it ❤️ thank you so so much for your support guys!! means always so so much ❤️
18+ | warnings listed in each part
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PART I: release on Sunday 17th May 2026
⤷ meeting jungkook at yoongi’s birthday was unexpected, but in less than twenty-four hours, he made you feel more alive than you have in years. letting him into your life felt just natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s simple. as you slowly get to know him, you find yourself trusting him more… but should you really? or is he hiding something from you?
PART II: release on Sunday 24th May 2026
⤷ finding out about his secret from someone else hurts more than expected. you’ve always hated lies, and he knew it, which made it even harder. his intentions were never meant to hurt you; he just wanted to be seen for who he truly is. despite it all, your heart burns for him. you’ve never loved anyone this intensely, but are you truly ready to trust him again?
“Don’t you have like five different porn subscriptions?”
With his crazy good looks and panty-dropper charms, your best friend in the whole wide world is a boss-level homme fatal, which is why you find it hoax level unbelievable when Jungkook declares he hasn’t had sex in three years. With all these people willing to sacrifice their firstborns just to spend one night with him, what can possibly be standing in his way?
jungkook x reader (f): friends to fwbs to lovers, smut, angst, slowburn
cw: no major warnings for the preview. see mlist for more info.
“THREE YEARS?!”
“Goddamn, your jaw didn’t drop this hard when I showed my sleeve to you the first time,” Jungkook turns his gaze to the space between his stool and yours, face contorted in absolute judgement. “That hole on the floor is at least halfway to China.”
“How the fuck is this even possible?!” you look at him like he has told you the earth is not only flat but also rectangular. “I’ve seen a woman walk into a streetlight because she couldn’t stop staring at you.”
“My dick prefers lips over eyes, baby,” he smiles into his drink.
“If you don’t keep your voice down, someone’s gonna offer,” you trace your finger on the rim of your glass, “which you could use, it feels like.”
“Nah, I’m good,” he purses his lips.
Now you’re even more confused. The sex god among mortals has been celibate for three whole years for reasons unknown, and he doesn’t seem the least bit interested in revving the horny engine again. Which makes NO goddamn sense because during the two weeks you had to share an apartment during college, you were inadvertently subjected to A LOT OF TMI regarding what this motherfucker did with his dick on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, seven days a week.
With seven different people.
“What is this really about?” you press further. “You’re literally the only guy I know who’d refuse getting his soul sucked out of him.”
“Nothing,” he calmly shrugs, pushing your annoyance levels to a dangerous height. “The kinda head game that’s up to my standards just can’t be found in the wild anymore.”
“You know the red light district exists, right?” you deadpan.
“I don’t pay for sex,” he sternly counters.
“Don’t you have like five different porn subscriptions?” you sneer.
“Along with six other streaming platforms, yeah, what’s your point?”
“Fine, smartass, why not hookup apps then?”
“No one really swipes right with the kinda shit I put on my profile,” he heaves a resigned sigh. “I mean, if they did, I’d probably have to call the cops to report a raging lunatic anyway.”
“Puh–lease!” you snort loudly. “Bitches would swipe right today just to climb your hot ass body even if your bio said ‘There’s a true crime documentary about me on Netflix’.”
“Which is why my avatar picture is a stoic capybara,” he declares matter-of-factly, then annoyingly smirks. “So you think my body is ‘hot ass’, huh?”
“So you are on digital brothels, huh? Which means you are actively searching,” you immediately block the door so the topic wouldn’t even dare to change. “Then how come you’re not hitting that every lunch break?”
“Why would I do that when I can just get high and rub one out instead?” he scoffs. “Did you know weed makes lunch break feel like three hours?”
“Why are you being so evasive?”
“What do you mean?”
“This,” you draw a circle around his stupid gorgeous figure, your voice swelling with your patience running thin fast. “I’m asking a very simple question. I know you’ve calmed down a lot over the years, which is suspicious as fuck by the way, but just what the hell kinda ‘standards’ do you have that no one in the universe seems to meet them?”
Jungkook’s lips faintly curl as he swirls his drink in his hand. You’re the only person in this world he feels something akin to trust for, yet he could never bring himself to talk about any of this even with you, not that he never came close on particularly drunk nights. He is immune to strangers getting scandalized now, calling him names, borderline running away screaming as if he put a gun to their heads, but just the thought of you being nauseated by him, being disappointed in him in whatever capacity fucking kills him inside. He can’t afford losing you. He’s never been able to.
But something about you insisting on squeezing this out of him is doing things to him because god fucking knows he wants you to squeeze a lot more out of him. Things that have been forced into dormancy for years. Things he couldn’t say, things he couldn’t feel, things that physically hurt him because of how heavy they have grown inside him. So heavy that sometimes it feels like if you touch him once, it will induce such an intense release that he will cry with unbearable relief. He doesn’t know why he’s getting such a kick out of it; maybe it’s the pregame drinks he’s rolled too fast, but it’s dangerous. It’s so damn dangerous that he can feel the control he always holds in a death grip slipping through his fingers like butter on sizzling iron. There’s a reason he never talks about these things with you because every time you’re around, the angel and the devil on his shoulders always seem to be busy fondling each other to actually give him any sage advice.
“You know what, maybe it’s better if I just showed you,” he knowingly smiles, then finishes his drink in one go and leaves the stool. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for the show.”
He’s on his way to meet you. Hope you'll look forward to it •ᴗ•
So show me, I'll show you @yoonglesgiggle - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
