#bts taehyung fic

[bangtanficsforyou]

All that Sparkles (KTH)

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Genre: Fluff, angst (smut if I write a second part)

Au: Arranged marriage, CEO Taehyung.

Warning: mentions of alcohol, curse words (so far).

Rating: 18+

Summary: you are married to Kim Taehyung; the ever charming, dashing, smart and rich CEO of Divine Diamonds. He’s sweet, kind and polite, unlike anything you’d ever expect from someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Only problem; you don’t feel a connection. Your marriage feels dull. However, the day you bring him home for a family dinner with your parents, things change.

Word count: 3.5K

A/N: whether I write a second part or not, totally depends on the feedback i get from you guys! Honestly, speaking, I love writing this Taehyung 😭

Masterlist | Patreon

Also, just so that you know, I'm dropping Deep Learning tomorrow on my patreon. So if you want to, you can check it out 😉 (all I can tell you is, it's FILTHY)

The city lights blurred as the sleek black car glided through the quiet streets, the muted hum of the engine filling the silence. Taehyung sat beside you, his posture as perfect as ever, his hand resting on his lap, while his eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

You, on the other hand, sat quietly, your gaze turned toward the window. Outside, the world felt far away, the night serene. The aftermath of the glamorous gala still hung between the two of you like a thin veil—his perfect charm, the effortless way he commanded attention, and the countless eyes that had been on you two.

But now, in the stillness of the car, the reality felt heavier. You watched as the streets passed by, your mind swimming with unspoken thoughts.

As the car approached a stoplight, your eyes landed on a small family on the sidewalk. A couple was standing outside a little bakery, bundled up against the night chill, laughing as their young daughter twirled in circles between them. The mother crouched down to fix the girl’s scarf, and the father pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. Their laughter was faint, but it reached you through the glass like a distant melody.

You smiled faintly, almost longingly, watching the family as the car waited at the light. Your chest tightened, a soft ache blooming where warmth should have been. You glanced at the father again, the way his eyes crinkled with affection, and you wondered what it feels like to feel like that.

The light turned green, and the car moved on, leaving the happy scene behind. But your thoughts lingered there, on that simple moment of joy you had witnessed from afar.

Without turning your head, you spoke, your voice soft, barely louder than a whisper. “Did you enjoy yourself at the gala?”

Taehyung blinked, turning slightly to look at you. “I did. Did you?”

You kept your eyes on the window, watching the city pass by. “I did.”

That marked the end of the words being exchanged between the two of you.

The car slowed as the two of you approached your house, the headlights casting soft shadows on the driveway. The silence remained, heavy and unsettling.

As the car pulled to a stop, Taehyung glanced at you briefly before stepping out of the car.

You watched him through the window as he walked around the front of the vehicle, his movements graceful and precise. His polished shoes clicked softly against the pavement, his suit perfectly in place even after hours of mingling and formalities. The faint light of the porch illuminated his figure as he approached your side of the car, and in a practiced, gentlemanly motion, he opened your door.

You hesitated for a second, your eyes on him as he stood there, holding the door open, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“Thank you,” you murmured, slipping your hand into his as you stepped out of the car. The warmth of his palm was a contrast to the cool night air, and for a brief moment, your fingers lingered together, an unspoken exchange passing between them.

Taehyung smiled faintly, that same polite, careful smile you have seen countless times.

As you stepped onto the driveway, he gently closed the car door behind you, his hand still resting lightly on your back as you walked toward the house. The night was quiet, the distant hum of the city fading away as you entered the familiar solitude of the house.

For a moment, you glanced up at him, your heart tightening at the way he moved with such control, such grace, even now. There isn’t even a single strand of his hair that is out of place.

As the two of you approach your shared bedroom, Taehyung speaks up, “I have some files I need to go through.”

“You’ll be in your office?”

“Don’t stay up for me. Sleep tight,” he gives your waist a small squeeze and with a small smile of confirmation, lets you go.

“Good night,” you say, with an exhale and head inside the bedroom. 

By now, you should be used to this. At least, that is what you tell yourself. Why then, do you still feel this sensation of disappointment lingering in your chest?

Kim Taehyung is handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you think he’s unreal. The kind of handsome, that can turn someone into a sixteen year old girl with a crush. The kind of handsome that makes you think he’s a painting.

Kim Taehyung is polite. The kind of polite that makes the grandmas at the country club wish they had a grandson like him. He’s the kind of polite that makes him the favorite uncle among all his niece and nephews.

Kim Taehyung is also charming. Very very much so. The kind of charming that will draw all and any attention in the room, the moment he walks in.

But that is all that you know about Kim Taehyung, your husband.

When you first learnt that your marriage has been fixed with none other than the CEO of Divine Diamonds and the only heir of the Kim family, you expected the worst.

What else were you to think upon learning that you were to marry a man who has always had everything they needed right under their fingertips? Someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth?

His flawless reputation and clean history, only added to your suspicion. A clear and perfect image is a clear indication of the power and control you have to clean up traces of all your sins. 

You expected a man who’s all charming and sweet in front of the cameras but an arrogant, cold and cruel man, behind closed doors. That, or a man-child.

However, you were surprised on the very first night of the wedding when you realized he was still as polite, kind and gentleman like, even though there was no one watching.

You remember thinking there must be something. That sooner or later the other shoe would drop. That sooner or later you’d realize this is all a façade and your initial assumptions about Kim Taehyung were indeed right.

The first month after your marriage you tip toed around him like a scared cat. Maintaining distance and not speaking more than two words, unless necessary.

After the first month though, you started letting your guard down. You thought maybe you were being too harsh on him and maybe you should give him a chance to be the person he actually is instead of trying to view him through the negative nancy lenses you had on.

Somewhere, with that thought was also the hope of having a happy marriage life.

However, as soon as you started to open up, the other shoe dropped.

Kim Taehyung was rich, handsome, polite, kind, charming and a perfect gentleman. However, his flawlessness soon became an issue, to you.

How can a person be perfect and flawless? No human on this planet is so perfect that they start feeling unreal.

How can a person be always so cheerful, kind and smiling? You have never seen any real emotion in him that would make you feel like despite the abundance of wealth and good looks, Kim Taehyung is a human like the rest of us.

You have never seen him frown, being annoyed, sad or angry. You haven’t even seen him laugh or being excited, ever. Nothing that feels real.

And six months of marriage is a long time, to go without observing any of these on your partner.

In the six month, that you have been married to him, you both have never shared a single real conversation.

Yesterday’s three sentence conversation would serve as a pretty good example and summation of all the conversations you have shared with Taehyung so far.

“Did you enjoy yourself at the gala?”

“I did. Did you?”                                                      

“I did.”

The only major difference being, in the past, you had always tried to continue the conversation and deepen them. However, as days passed by, you have slowly started to give up.

You have come to accept the fact that maybe this is how your marriage will be. You will be one of those many people that gets to know Kim Taehyung for the perfect man he is and not as the real Taehyung with all his flaws and humanness, as his wife.

After five whole months of trying constantly but failing, you’ve started to make peace with the fact that you will always be on the other side of the glass, watching him but never truly reaching him. 

Like the pristine glass walls in your home, separating the inside from the outside, there’s an invisible barrier between you and him. You can see Taehyung, admire him even, but the connection you crave remains out of reach. Just like the glass, no matter how close you get, you’ll always remain on the outside—never able to step through and touch the real him. 

You have come to realise, with a quiet resignation, that you may always be a guest in his life, kept at arm’s length, while the real him stays locked away.

As you cascade down the stairs, you spot Taehyung sitting on the breakfast table with his breakfast untouched. The moment you make your presence known, he looks up and greets you, “Good morning. I was waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” you mumble as you take a seat.

“Would you like to have the cereals first, or the pancakes?” He queries.

“I’ll just have the cereal,” you say and your hands reach for the cereal box but Taehyung beats you to it.

“I’ll do it for you.”

“I can do it,” you interject.

“Never said you couldn’t,” Taehyung smiles.

Anyone else would probably fawn at how caring of a husband Taehyung is. But all you feel is like a guest, he is doing formality with.

You don’t object however, knowing that despite what you might have to say, Taehyung will insist.

Much like any other day, you expect the entirety of the breakfast to be spent in silence. However, Taehyung speaks up, after a few more minutes of scrolling through his phone.

“Your father has invited us to dinner this Sunday.”

All your movements come to a halt and a weird feeling takes over your body. “Did he?”

“Yes,” he nods, “Do you want to go?”

“Uh, I don’t mind,” you mumble, your eyes fixed on the cereal as it gradually turns soggy.

“Then I’ll just let him know that we will be coming.”

“Sure.”

You nod, barely paying attention as the cold marble beneath your feet makes you shiver slightly, reminding you just how empty and vast the house feels.

You have come to this understanding that people in general have this idea that the rich and wealthy are these bad, evil people who would do anything to continue to be in power. But in your experience, nothing beats ambitious people who would do anything, to be like the rich and wealthy.

The thought of what they could have is mighty dangerous. The greed of power, money and control can make a person let go of all their morals and conscience.

Rich people might be arrogant and egoistic, but their ego often makes it easy for them to be manipulated. You adhere to their ego and you can make them do almost anything.

A man with greed and hunger, however has nothing they care for, except for that which they have their eyes on. That is what makes them powerful in a dangerous way.

“We heard you were fond of Indian cuisine,” your mother speaks as she serves some more of the pulao she has specially made for Taehyung. By “made” you mean she hired a chef for a day.

“It’s wonderful,” Taehyung began, “Although, you didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

“Nonsense,” your father dismisses Taehyung’s words. “You’re like our son. It’s never a trouble.”

“Plus, I know our daughter can’t really cook,” your mother gives you a fleeting glance, her smile soft but her gaze condescending. “You probably don’t get to enjoy food made by your wife.”

You refuse to look up from your plate and start mixing the pulao with the curry, hastily.

“It’s sad you know,” your father chimes in, his voice coated with regret. “We tried to make her understand that no matter who she gets married to, she should not be a burden. But all she was focused on, was her computer science course.”

“It’s unfortunate really,” your mother sighs. “And people think that we have failed as parents.”

“She was doing a course in computer science?” Taehyung asks, sounding curious. “I have never heard about it before.”

Oh no, not the computer course that was a ‘total waste of money’. The ‘wasted’ money was yours, but wasted nevertheless.

“Uh yeah, she had this passion for computers and did bachelors in computer science,” your mother speaks vainly, as if unable to understand why would you ever think that to be a good idea.

“Computer science degrees are highly in demand now,” Taehyung comments. “Why did you not take up a job?”

You feel startled when you realize that Taehyung is speaking to you. However, you’re saved from answering and being a part of the conversation for your mother answers the question.

“She didn’t manage to get a job.”

Sure, that’s what happened, mother.

“Really?” Taehyung sounds surprised. “But I thought she got offer letters from two major MNCs.”

Your eyes snap up to look up at him. How does he know?

Your mother’s smile wavers slightly, but she quickly recovers, offering a dismissive chuckle. "Oh, well, those offers didn’t work out. You know how it is, the competition is tough. Some people just... aren’t cut out for certain roles."

Taehyung’s eyes flicker in your direction, the corners of his lips curling into a calm smile. "Interesting," he murmured, his tone light and thoughtful. "I wasn’t aware that receiving offers from two major multinational corporations meant someone wasn’t cut out for success."

The room grew quieter, the weight of Taehyung’s words hanging in the air.

Your father clears his throat. “It’s a good thing that the jobs didn’t work out. If she was working, who would take care of you?”

Taehyung’s smile remained, but there was something cold lurking behind his gentle expression. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice still warm, even as the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “Because, you see, if anyone were to ever imply her as a burden…” His smile widened, though the look in his eyes was anything but friendly. “…I might feel… obliged to repay the favour in ways that others find unpleasant.”

Your parents exchanged glances, a thin layer of unease settling over their previously confident demeanour.

“Oh, we didn’t mean it that way, Taehyung. Of course, she’s not a burden—she’s our daughter,” your mother says quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual. “We only want what’s best for her.”

Taehyung tilts his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on your parents. The smile never leaves his face, but it’s cold now—calculated. “I understand. After all, we wouldn’t want any misunderstandings.” His gaze flicks to you for a brief second, and that dangerous gleam lingers. “Especially when it comes to family.”

For the first time, you feel like you are seeing him—not the perfectly polite husband or the charming CEO—but a man with layers far more complex and unsettling than you’d imagined. It isn’t anger in his eyes; it’s control. A silent reminder that, in this room, he holds all the power.

The silence that follows is suffocating, and you can feel the tension crackling like electricity in the air. You glance down at your plate, your pulse quickening. Taehyung’s charm had always been disarming, but now, it feels like a weapon he wields with deadly precision.

Your father coughs lightly, breaking the oppressive quiet. “Of course, Taehyung, we didn’t mean any offence. You know how we can be sometimes, just trying to look out for her.” His laugh is forced, and you can tell he’s trying to regain control of the conversation.

Taehyung leans back in his chair, his expression softening ever so slightly. “I’m sure you are,” he says, his tone once again light, almost playful. But that undercurrent of danger remains, simmering just beneath the surface. “I’m only concerned for my wife’s well-being. After all, she’s the most important person to me now.”

The room seems to exhale as Taehyung’s words hang in the air. Your mother smiles shakily, and your father nods, but you can tell they are both on edge, uncertain of what had just happened.

You, however, can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between you and Taehyung. For the first time, you see the real him—not the perfect husband, but the man behind the mask. And that man is far more dangerous than you ever realised. You feel like you are standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

In that moment, Taehyung turns his gaze back to you, the smile still lingering on his lips, but his eyes hold yours with a quiet intensity. For a brief second, you think you see a flash of something—something raw, something real. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the calm, polite man you’ve always known.

“Shall we?” he asks, gesturing to your plate. “I wouldn’t want your meal to go cold.”

You nod, unable to find your voice, as the tension slowly begins to ease. But even as the conversation shifts back to trivial matters, you can’t shake the image of Taehyung’s eyes—dark, calculating, and for the first time, real.

[kooktrash]

The Billionaire’s Club | KIM TAEHYUNG MASTERLIST

✧ In a world ruled by money, Kim Taehyung seems to be at the top. Being one of the country’s youngest CEOs puts him in the spotlight and others will stop at nothing to be with him. His luxurious lifestyle takes shape in all forms and here we tell three different versions of what it’s like to be a part of his world ✧

Join three writers on their tales of the rich and glamorous Kim Taehyung.

sex, money & feelings ⇢ @thvhoe

arranged marriage | ceo | influencer | s | a | f |

In an attempt to break free from the disappointment of being your family's black sheep, you agree to a proposal that would change your life forever. When your parents strike a business deal with the Kim Family to marry their son Kim Taehyung, the charismatic CEO of KTH&Comp and one of Korea's most eligible bachelors, you unexpectedly find yourself immersed in a world of unimaginable wealth and privilege. Here, socital class is the ultimate standard, and anyone below a 500 million network deemed useless.

… coming soon

lace & luxury ⇢ @kooktrash

sugar daddy | exotic dancer | s | a |

Money, Money, Money, must be funny in the rich man’s world. At least that’s how you feel working day and night to make end’s meet and still never having enough. Out of nowhere you get roped into a give and take relationship with a very powerful fashion designer who shows you the way into a life of luxury and lingerie. You’ve become his muse and in exchange he’s become your source of pleasure and riches. It’s a rich man’s world and you’re living in it.

… now posted

earned it ⇢ @joonberriess

dark romance | ceo | light bdsm | s |

‘Mr. Kim will see you now…’ Or, you’re hired as Kim Taehyung’s personal assistant. He’s a man of many expectations but you don’t expect the sudden shift of interest when it comes to you. Neither one of you are prepared for your work relationship to turn into one of pain and pleasure.

… coming soon

join The Billionaire’s Club taglist? comment below or reblog

[everybodysaynoooooo]

Save Me - Kim Taehyung ff [Chap II]

Synopsis: Two crowns are crumbling. One heir who won’t yield. And a bodyguard who stays just a little too close. In a world where masks fall faster than heads, he’ll have to decide who’s worth trusting —before everything falls apart. He wanted peace. He found war —and a bodyguard with more secrets than commands.

k.taehyung x f.oc

Words count : 9,3k

Genre : Kingdom AU, enemies to lovers, bodyguard x royalty, fluff, angst, smut

Chap content : Strong language, mild tension, Taehyung is kind of a dick, explicit violence (battle scene + side character's death at the end), no sexual content in this chapter but it might come later so minors dni !

Author Note : Chapter two's finally there ! Hope you'll like it (don't hesitate to tell me if so it makes my day :) Also I just wanted to say since I'm kinda slow writer, I'll try to update every two weeks at least, but I'll post sooner if I can !

Gentle reminder that all rights are reserved, so please do not copy, translate or repost my stories. Also I do not own BTS or their actions, the stories are fictionnal and does not depict real-life events or involve any actual member of BTS.

<-Previous - Masterlist - Next ->

When you live in the Kingdom of Irinian, even without being from there, you inevitably end up hearing about the royal family. Even I, a foreigner, had barely set foot on Irinian soil before people were already talking my ears off.

About how beautiful the Queen is. How angelic and adorable her children are. Every one of them a model for the people —each, without exception, a little perfect being.

How the two eldest princes make the maidens swoon all across the land.

How Princess Taeyeon is so radiant that no one can look away.

Then I got promoted, and the whispers changed.

People started telling me how some of the royal children treated their servants. I heard about Princess Taeyeon's frequent tantrums. About the arrogance of the two eldest princes. All the things the people would never dare to speak aloud.

When I was assigned this task, they kindly warned me about the Crown Prince’s temper. I gathered, vaguely, that he wasn’t too thrilled about being sent off to this northern estate.

What I didn’t gather, however, was that the moment we arrived —in the dead of night— he’d make me fight his strongest man in a duel to the death.

Charming fellow, to be sure.

Okay, maybe I went a little overboard. Maybe I shouldn't have been quite so insolent. Maybe.

But say what you want —His Highness is grumbling about being stuck in a magnificent castle just because he can’t be in the capital, blah blah blah— I've just spent five days on horseback without stopping, and I’d also very much like to go to bed. I can already feel the muscle aches I’ll wake up with tomorrow, so the only thing that truly matters to me right now is a soft bed and a blanket.

But no. On top of everything, I have to fight a duel because His Majesty is in a foul mood.

I knew I should never have agreed to guard the Irinian royal family. I only said yes because they promised I’d be looking after Princess Taeyeon —and I’m good with children. But a contemptuous twenty-five-year-old man who already acts like a king? No thanks. I’ll let Yoongi handle that one.

If only he didn’t already have his hands full with his own exuberant prince.

“So, Miss Min? What do you say?”

Prince Taehyung is watching me with that damned crooked smile I’d love to slap off his face —truly infuriating

I hold back from rolling my eyes, because that might well cost me my head. He looks so pleased with himself, it’s almost cute.

Instead, I nod.

“I don’t believe I’ve been ordered not to fight one of your men, Your Highness,” I reply in that polite tone he seems to loathe.

Bingo. That little smile disappears at once, replaced by a grimace and a dark glare. This close protection job is going to be a riot, I can tell.

Beside me, Yoongi stares at me wide-eyed. I don’t even have to look at him to know what he’s thinking: “Are you completely insane?!”

And maybe I am.

Accepting a duel when I’ve just dismounted after five days of travel, exhausted to the bone, might not be my brightest idea.

But the way the Prince implied I didn’t stand a chance —that irked me. I can’t stand not being taken seriously. And if I’m going to be insulted, I might as well treat it as a challenge.

Before I know it, the Prince is barking orders. We’re moved to the rear courtyard, hastily transformed into an arena by a few servants.

Improvised barricades form a large square, in the center of which the Prince’s knight and I now stand. A few torches are lit, casting a dim glow into the night —not enough to see every detail, but enough to fight, I guess.

Looking far too pleased with himself, the Prince leans casually against the barricade, a wolfish smile on his lips. He taps his golden rings against the wood as if to say, “You’re going to die, and I can’t wait.”

I answer with a glare. He chuckles.

If only it were him in the arena —I’d wipe that smile right off.

Yoongi hops over the barrier in one smooth motion and approaches me with my weapons in hand. I refocus instantly, already running through my options.

A sword, and the three daggers I usually hide in my boots and belt.

I grimace. I left my pistols packed with the rest of my things. With one of those, I could end this charade in two seconds —one bullet, between the eyes, done. But clearly, I’ll have to improvise.

“I didn’t find your pistols,” Yoongi mutters, like he’s read my mind.

We’re both trained fighters, but he knows as well as I do that marksmanship is where I truly shine. Too bad.

“This will do,” I say, offering a faint smile as I test the weight of the daggers. “Not sure His Highness would’ve allowed it anyway. Looks like he wants a show.”

Yoongi turns to observe the Prince, still watching with that infuriating smile.

“You’re completely crazy,” he mumbles, now sizing up the knight -Saer, If I remember well.

“What, you don’t trust me to win?” I tease.

“Of course I do,” he grumbles, wrinkling his nose. “I’m just saying you really didn’t need to piss him off like that.”

“He started it,” I retort with a raised brow, daring him to argue.

He doesn’t. Just shoots another glance at the Prince. I smile —he agrees with me, obviously.

I hesitate, hand hovering over the sword.

Yes, I can fence. And I’m not bad at it. But let’s be honest —when it comes to swords, reach is everything.

And this man is twice my height and like three times my weight. I’ll never get close without taking a hit first.

I’ll have to play this differently.

Gently, I push the sword away and instead grab one of the daggers, blade pointing down. The other two stay hidden —one in my boot, one at my belt.

Yoongi doesn’t ask questions. He just takes the sword back with his usual calm expression.

“I’m not wishing you luck,” he says as he walks away.

“That would be insulting,” I shoot back with a smile, which he mirrors with the look in his eyes. The scar over his right eye gleams brighter than ever.

Yoongi’s barely out of the “arena” when the Prince claps his hands.

“Well, now that everyone’s ready…”

I instinctively fall into position: back straight, feet shoulder-width apart, dagger gripped firm but flexible.

The knight does the same —straightens to his full, towering height (easily over two meters), and tightens his hold on his sword.

Right now, in the torchlight, he’s genuinely terrifying. His hand must be the size of my entire torso.

But I’ve faced worse.

“Duel to the death,” the Prince announces. “Anything goes, as long as it’s entertaining. I decide when it ends. No backing out. Questions?”

The knight glances at me as if asking whether I have any. I raise a hand.

“You said ‘anything goes’?” I ask when the Prince nods toward me. 

He chuckles.

“Getting cold feet already, Min?”

“I just want to make sure His Highness won’t mind if I damage his man.” I reply, tight-lipped.

He flinches. Behind him, Yoongi lets out the faintest smile —subtle enough that I’m the only one who notices.

“No risk of that,” the Prince scoffs, returning to his usual smug expression. Then he snaps his fingers. “Saer, whenever you like. Get rid of that eyesore so we can go to bed.”

I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed -did he really just call me “that eyesore”?— but I don’t even have time to reply.

The knight charges.

I barely dodge in time —his blade stops where my neck was a quarter of a second ago.

I see. Someone’s eager for sleep.

I take a few quick steps back, raising my dagger before me, tip aimed at him.

He sizes me up, eyes shadowed beneath thick brows in the dim light. 

“Let’s see what the special guard is made of,” the Prince hums behind us.

Saer and I size each other up.

One second.

Two seconds.

Then he strikes.

With a flick of my arm, I deflect his blow —the sound of his sword clashing against my dagger rings out loud across the arena, and even louder in my ears.

And just like that, I’m no longer in the mood for banter. One simple strike —frontal, no less— and stopping it already took more strength than usual. Worse: my arm is trembling.

With a sharp motion, I push his blade away and force my breathing to stay slow, steady.

This man is strong. Much stronger than me. I bet a single well-aimed hit to the head would be enough to knock me out. Not that I’m planning to let that happen.

I won’t last long if all I do is block. Sooner or later —sooner, most likely— he’ll figure out he’s got the upper hand when it comes to brute strength, and he’ll start swinging with real intent. And I won’t stand a chance.

So I need another approach.

And when strength fails, agility will have to do.

I let him attack once. Twice. Each time I parry with my dagger, just barely.

At the third strike, I fake an opening to the right —and when he shifts, fast, to aim there, I duck, push off with my legs, and dart forward— so fast he barely has time to react before the pommel of my dagger slams into his ribs.

He grunts, breath catching in surprise, and it gives me just enough time to step back —though not quite far enough.

As I retreat, he grabs the wrist holding my dagger. His grip is so tight I’m forced to let go, and with his other hand, he returns the favor: a punch to the jaw, delivered with the pommel of his sword.

I hit the ground hard, dazed by the sheer force of the blow. One more like that and he’ll shatter my skull.

I cannot afford to take another.

I get back up —not letting myself wince, not letting myself hesitate. I can’t look weak.

But instead of charging while I’m stunned, the knight waits. Sword still in hand, but unmoving. Watching me. Almost like he pities me.

And that’s when I hear it: the Prince, humming a little tune. Mocking.

Oh. I get it now.

Saer is putting on a show for his Prince.

Well. Let’s give them one, then.

In one smooth motion, I shift my legs into position, ready to spring back up —and just as Saer takes a step forward, I spin, grip tightening around my second dagger, and fling it hard.

His thick eyebrows shoot up as the blade sinks deep into his side.

Staggering, stunned, he clutches the wound by reflex —and that’s all I need.

I charge. A punch to the jaw. One to the stomach. A strike to the thigh, followed by a sweep to the ankle.

He crashes backward with a growl of pain —but not without dragging me with him. Reflexively, he grabs my sleeve, and before I can brace for impact, his arm is around my neck. He’s choking me.

I shut my eyes, hold in as much air as I can while hitting his arm with the flat of my hand, but it’s useless —his arm is the size of my thigh.

Just as I start to fade, I manage, somehow, to elbow him hard in the ribs —his grip loosens, and I don’t waste a second. A kick to the shin makes him howl.

I scramble away, breath ragged —but he’s faster this time, already charging with his sword. I can’t dodge.

Blood spurts from my wrist as his blade slices a clean, thin line through it. The skin blooms red instantly.

Another mocking tune from the Prince.

Instinctively, I cradle my wrist against my chest, but I stay upright. Fists clenched. Ready to hit him if he comes any closer —though I’m well aware my tiny fists are no match for his sword.

I have to face it: accepting a duel with a giant like him, right after a long journey and without so much as a warm-up, was probably the stupidest idea I’ve ever had.

Now my wrist is bleeding, and I’m about to embarrass myself in front of the Prince —and worse, in front of Yoongi. Who, of course, won’t let me live it down.

Saer advances, sure of his victory now that I’m disarmed. Instinctively, I back away, until I’m only a few steps from the arena’s edge.

And then —just as I’m starting to think I really put myself in deep troubles— I catch a glimpse of Yoongi on the other side of the ring.

Both of his black eyes fixed on me. His left eyebrow quirks in a silent question.

Something clicks in my mind.

Time to wake up, Harin.

Saer draws closer. I let him. One step. Two.

Then, just as he moves in range, I spin and leap toward the barrier.

Not to escape. To use it.

I push off it, vaulting high —right over Saer’s head.

He stares up, stunned, as I pull my second dagger from beneath my belt mid-flight and send it spinning into his other side.

His eyes widen, this time with pain, as I grab his head while soaring above him —and pull him down with me.

His skull and body slam into the ground with a deafening crash. Or maybe it just feels that loud because my ears are still ringing.

I land smoothly, knees bent, rolling to soften the fall —but as I rise, he grabs my ankle and yanks me down onto my stomach.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this guy unkillable?!

He tries to pin my arms. I roll onto my back to stop him. He tries to strike me; I knee him. Hard. Right where it hurts.

That finally stops him —but only for a second. Then he comes back, even angrier —and proving it with a punch to the stomach that knocks the breath out of me. It’s okay, though, I deserve it for being so stupid tonight. 

I can barely react before he grabs a handful of loose hair from my undone bun and holds me still by it. I wince —a small gasp of pain slips out, shamefully— and in one last desperate move, I reach for the dagger hidden in my boot and slash his calf.

This time he screams. Loud.

But he still doesn’t let go.

Desperation takes over. I grip the dagger tight and stab his thigh. Again. And again. Until finally, he releases my hair.

I’m up in an instant.

He tries to follow —and I kick him square in the face.

He groans, struggles to move… But I can already hear him getting back up as I bolt across the arena, legs burning, eyes locked on the only weapon still in reach: his sword, abandoned on the ground.

He starts running too —but too late.

By the time he reaches me, I’ve already got the sword in hand.

I spin, using the momentum to drive a kick straight into his chest. Right on the sternum.

He gasps, the wind knocked from his lungs, and collapses once more.

And then —I turn slightly, feet apart, arm extended, blade ready…

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

The shout cuts through the arena like a blade.

Stillness falls.

Saer stares at me. I stare right back.

His Adam’s apple presses against the sword’s tip as he swallows, hands raised slightly, in surrender.

I glance at the blood already beading from the fine cut the blade has left on the side of his throat.

The look in his eyes isn’t the unreadable calm from earlier. Now he’s clearly startled. Frightened, even.

And —maybe I’m imagining it— but there’s a glint of admiration, too.

Then comes the sound of clapping.

I turn my head towards the sound —only to find Yoongi, lips curled in a subtle smile, applauding with measured approval.

The Prince, however, looks like he’s considering strangling me in my sleep.

“Your verdict, Your Highness?”

The Prince raises an eyebrow, jaw clenched tighter than ever. For a second, he seems almost more shocked that Yoongi would dare provoke him —when he’d always been the more respectful of the two of us.

The Prince presses his tongue against his cheek, pouring all his fury into the glare he sends me.

Then finally, he speaks.

“It seems the young lady is more capable than expected.”

He snaps his fingers.

Turns his back on us.

“Clean up this mess. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

They say night brings wisdom.

All night ever brought me was time to stew in my own anger —and when that got too boring, sleep.

By morning, I was in a slightly better mood.

Yes, the decor in this castle is appallingly cheerful, but I’ll admit the welcome was decent —and the mattress was... passable. Though not nearly as comfortable as the one I have in the Capital.

But the key word here is slightly.

Maybe if the very moment I stepped out of my room, a servant hadn't rushed up to inform me my lieutenants were waiting in the war room to discuss the border situation, I’d have stayed in a decent mood.

Maybe if a second servant hadn’t chosen that exact moment to tell me I had an appointment the next day with Lord Ebonwick, I wouldn’t have started grinding my teeth before even having breakfast.

But most of all —maybe, just maybe, I could’ve kept a shred of peace of mind if I hadn’t learned immediately afterward that Miss Min’s quarters had been set up right next to mine, “in accordance with her new duties,” or some other absolute nonsense.

New duties, my ass.

Saer has always been my bodyguard, and that is not about to change. I don’t care if some random woman fresh out of nowhere managed to beat him in a duel by sheer dumb luck —it doesn’t change the fact that Saer is and will remain my bodyguard.

“What if we increased the guard detail, Your Highness? Perhaps it’s a question of numbers— ”

“The problem is not the number, Lieutenant. The problem is your men are dumber than headless hens.”

What did I say earlier? That I was in a better mood?

Yeah, let’s forget that.

“Your Highness...” Saer begins gently —but shuts his mouth quickly enough when I shoot him a look that could curdle milk.

I already know what he’s going to say. And, as usual, listening to him would probably be the wise thing to do —and that’s exactly what’s pissing me off.

Last night, after the duel, he joined me during dinner. First, to apologize for losing —which earned him a few sharp remarks on my part— and then to share his opinion about the woman. Min Harin.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Saer speak about someone else’s combat skills with that kind of admiration —especially not an enemy who had just knocked him flat.

It’s rare enough to see women fight —they’re not allowed in the Royal Armies, though you do find them among mercenaries or in more specialized units, like the Special Guard.

But it’s even rarer to see one defeat a man like Saer.

Actually —it’s rare for anyone to defeat a man like Saer.

And yet when he described the fight, there was a flicker in his eyes. A flicker he tried to hide, but I saw it. Admiration.

And I get it —even if I’d rather die than admit it out loud.

I’ve been hearing stories about the Special Guard since I was old enough to understand words —hell, I wanted to join them once.

I used to spend days pestering every soldier I met, asking them to tell me everything they knew: what the Guard looked like, how they fought, what they wore…

None of it comes close to the reality.

What I saw last night —I’d never seen anything like it.

Saer described it better than I could: she didn’t move, she slid.

That’s how he put it. One moment she was in front of him, the next she was beside him, already striking, and he hadn’t even seen her move.

Every step was calculated. Every strike amplified by perfect footwork.

At first, she acted timid. I naïvely thought she was afraid, that she’d go down faster than expected—

And then she turned it up a notch, and I thought I was dreaming.

Her companion —Mr. Cat-Eyes— didn’t seem particularly shocked.

Every time I glanced over at him, he was watching the duel with this satisfied, sharp-eyed look.

The only moment his expression slipped was when she jumped.

As if she’d made a mistake —something so typical that it actually annoyed him.

And that’s what annoyed me.

Because from my perspective, she didn’t jump. She flew.

My ego would very much like to believe I could still beat her in a duel.

Throwing knives, vaulting over people —fine. But I was trained to be the best fighter in the Kingdom.

No woman, no matter how well-trained, is going to beat me.

But the annoying, rational part of my brain —because apparently, I do have one— keeps reminding me:

If she beat Saer, then all you’ve got, Taehyung, are hopes and delusions.

And I hate that. I hate that.

So yes. Maybe she belongs here. Maybe.

But as my personal bodyguard?

Over my dead body.

“Your Highness...” starts another voice —and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to growl.

When I open them again, I’m met with Saer’s gaze.

He’s silent, but there’s a pleading look behind it, just enough to push my irritation over the edge.

Last night, that idiot of an old man actually suggested I take her as my bodyguard.

He, who’s practically my bodyguard himself, told me I should replace him.

With the person who defeated him. In a duel.

I’m going to punch someone.

But the worst part?

The absolute worst was when he hinted that, since he’d be handling things at the border, he’d feel better knowing I was in Miss Min’s capable hands.

That I should maybe trust her.

Stupid Saer.

And stupid Father —he’ll pay for this circus, I swear it.

With a long sigh, I let my eyes drop to the border map spread across the ebony table.

And damn it, they’re right —the issue is the number of men.

If I send Saer’s regiment, we’ll have the numbers, and my best men will be there if things go wrong.

Which means I’m stuck here with the Special Guard...

“Figure it out,” I mutter. “Find a solution and inform me of the final decision.”

They all nod. Even Saer, who’s studying me like he wants to say something.

I can tell just by the way his eyebrows are slightly raised —he has something on his mind.

Not that I care. I’ve got bigger problems.

Like the one currently waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall. Hazel eyes locking on me the second I step out.

Peace? Never heard of it. Not in this castle.

“Your Highness,” Min says, clasping her hands behind her back and giving me a slight nod.

My eyes skim over her outfit —black again, simpler than yesterday. Just pants and a shirt, though I’d bet anything there’s a knife hidden somewhere.

Her hair’s simpler too —a bun still, but with loose strands framing her face.

I want to throw up.She’s already settling in.

“I told you to get lost,” I grumble, walking past her without another glance.

She waits a beat, then falls into step behind me. Five paces, just like etiquette dictates.

“I heard you, Your Highness.”

That falsely polite tone again. Almost makes me laugh —almost.

A bitter laugh, though. This woman really knows how to test my patience.

Instead, I stop, turn to face her, and plaster on a wolfish smile.

“Min?” I say, tongue pressing into my cheek to keep from snapping.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Just a bit of advice, if you care about that pretty face of yours. Stay far away from anywhere you’re not wanted. Which includes me.”

“You’re taking good care of my idiot, hmm?” I hum as I affectionately scratch behind the ears of Holly, Yoongi’s curly-haired mare.

“You do realize I’m right here, don’t you?” he grumbles, tightening the straps of a saddlebag.

“Oops.”

He grimaces at my smug little smile and rolls his eyes.

Yeah, he’s gonna miss me. No doubt about it.

“You gonna be alright?” I ask, a bit more seriously.

A few hours ago, they finally settled on the surveillance plan for the border, and picked the troops that’ll be deployed. Since Yoongi and his men were planning to head back to Hestidia to continue their search anyway, they decided to kill two birds with one stone and accompany the prince’s men to the frontier before splitting off.

Personally, I still think Prince Jimin would’ve been better off hiding here in Irinian —security’s tighter, and it’s a friendly kingdom— but Yoongi remains skeptical. Or rather, as he puts it, he ‘prefers to keep all options open and check out the more forgotten corners of Hestidia.’

Still, if I were Jimin, I’d have come straight here.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” he counters, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “Your Prince seems to adore you…”

“Oh, please.” I sigh. “Haven’t seen him since he found out his men were headed to the border, but I’d bet anything he’s currently trying to figure out how to get rid of me.”

Honestly, I’m still surprised the Prince allowed it. Just this morning, he looked dead set on keeping me as far from him as possible —and now he’s sending his captain off somewhere?

Saer came to tell me himself —supposedly so I could pass the message to Yoongi, but I’d put money on it being a not-so-subtle way of handing me the Prince. Like, here, take the problem off my hands.

“I’m almost disappointed I have to leave,” Yoongi snorts. “I would’ve loved to see where this petty drama of yours was going. My bet? He accuses you of spying for his daddy.”

“No worries. If that happens, I’ll send you a pigeon carrying my severed head.” I grumble, and Holly nudges me gently with her nose, like she’s offering moral support. Yoongi bursts out laughing.

He’s about to say something when one of his men comes jogging over.

“The Prince’s men are ready to depart, Lieutenant. We can head out.”

“Tell them to go ahead, we’ll catch up,” Yoongi replies, squinting at the sky, which is getting darker by the minute. “They need to leave before nightfall.”

The man nods and hurries off. Yoongi turns to me, lips tight in that way I know well —his face when he’s sad but trying not to let it show. Holly shakes herself out like she’s read the mood too.

“So I guess this is where we part ways?” I say, keeping my voice light, forced or not. It’s enough to make him smile, at least.

Before I can move, he pulls me into a hug and holds me tight.

“Don’t die on me, ‘Rin,” he murmurs into my hair.

“Not planning to,” I hug back, closing my eyes and soaking in his scent —the scent of home.

Shit. I’m gonna miss him.

“And you better not have a new scar the next time I see you, got it?” I mutter, pulling back just enough to glare at him.

He just smiles, of course. Why am I not surprised he’s proud of that stupid, ugly scar?

“Yes, ma’am.” He taps two fingers to his temple in a mock salute.

“Now go, soldier Min.”

He chuckles, watching as I give Holly one last scratch behind the ears. Then he swings into the saddle, and I follow them with my eyes as he and his men ride out of the castle courtyard, slipping into the forest the way Special Guard always does —like shadows dissolving into the trees.

I watch them until they’re completely out of sight.

There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. Like something’s off.

I trust Yoong —more than anyone— and I know how good he is at tracking.

So why do I have this unshakable feeling that they won’t find Prince Jimin in Hestidia?

Yoongi’s been gone for almost two hours now. Night’s fallen —much earlier here than it does in the capital, or even down south at Princess Taeyeon’s estate— and the palace staff is bustling from room to room, laser-focused, as they always are at this hour, getting dinner ready for the Prince.

Even the violinists sound off their game tonight. They’re playing with less energy, unsettled.

Apparently the Prince is especially cranky in the evenings —yeah, I’ve noticed, thanks— and now everyone’s walking on eggshells, terrified of provoking his wrath.

And the famous Prince himself, where is he while all this is happening?

Well… to be honest, I’ve been wondering the same thing.

When Yoongi and his men left, I figured maybe I should check in on him. Not necessarily to talk —those always end so well— but just to make it clear that Saer really is gone and I’m taking over from here.

Okay. Maybe to annoy him a little.

But when I tried to find him, he was just nowhere.

I checked every room in the palace. His study, his quarters, all four grand salons, and the three game rooms. I even went out to the back courtyard. Nothing.

So, with that special kind of desperation-fueled courage, I made my way to the stables. I’d overheard a servant saying he was particularly fond of his mare the other day —maybe he went to see her?

Imagine my surprise when I found the stall empty.

I just stand there, arms hanging at my sides, not even sure how to react. I haven’t even managed a single coherent thought before someone clears their throat behind me, and I spin around instantly.

My eyes land on a young man, can’t be older than me, with the most ridiculously red hair I’ve ever seen.

“Uh-I… Sorry to bother you, I just…” he stammers, hands lifted slightly like he’s showing he’s unarmed, save for the reins slung over his shoulder. “If you’re looking for the Prince’s mare, he already rode out with her a while ago…”

I gape at him, mouth half open.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“I’m sorry—what?” I snap, sharper than I intended, and he visibly pales.

“I-I swear!” he blurts, hands shooting higher. “He even asked me personally to saddle her up. I mean, I usually do anyway, but still…—”

He keeps babbling, and I rub at my eyes, biting down on my tongue to keep from cursing out loud.

I swear, I’m going to kill that idiot of a Prince.

A sigh escapes me —long, exasperated.

“...Is there a problem, ma’am?” the boy asks cautiously.

“Not at all,” I reply with a cheery tone so fake it should win awards. I even slap on a pleasant smile that seems to put him at ease. “Would you mind saddling my horse, please?”

"Another one," I mutter, slamming the glass down on the wooden counter a little too sharply, drawing the barkeep’s attention.

He eyes me, taking his sweet time polishing the glass already in his hand.

"That’d be your fourth, sir. I’d say it might be wiser to—"

"If it’s your coin you’re worried about, innkeeper, don’t be," I cut in, a smile stretched tight across my face. "I can more than afford your piss-poor excuse for wine. Another."

His features harden at that, and his cloth scrapes a little more roughly across the glass. But he glances at my clothes —clearly worth more than his entire tavern— and eventually grabs the bottle to pour me another, grumbling under his breath the whole time.

I barely take in the wine’s deep crimson before throwing back a generous gulp, letting it burn across my tongue. The taste is awful. Bitter, cheap. If I wanted quality, I’d have stayed at the palace. But it does the job —by the time I’ve swallowed, it hits me like a slap to the face. Like getting doused in ice water while you sleep.

It stings, but it wakes you up. Which is exactly what I need right now.

Everything’s moved so fast that —for the first time in my life, I think— I’ve felt out of my depth.

My father shipping me off to rot in Ebonwick, stripping me of nearly my entire personal guard, and to top it all off, assigning a spy to keep tabs on me, dressed up as a bodyguard under the pretense of protection…

I may have been careless these past few months. I knew Father was reactive —I just didn’t realize how much.

Clearly, we both saw the collapse of Hestidia as an opportunity.

I’m just a little insulted that he acted on it first.

Slowly —deliberately— I take another sip.

The bitterness scorches down my throat.

Everything was ready. The plan, the forces, the weapons. Every scenario was accounted for, every outcome considered. It was flawless.

Then the Council had to go and wake up —those idiots who only lift a finger twice a year, usually just in time to collect taxes— and the whole thing unraveled.

Jimin’s going to be furious.

But not as much as me.

I’m cornered. So much so that I don’t think Father even realizes just how well he’s played his hand.

If I’d had Saer and my trusted men at my side, I could’ve adapted. Closed the gap this sudden change created. But no. He had to assign me the royal guard —and a bodyguard who clings like a leech.

Now my inner circle is halfway across the kingdom, and I’m left with nothing but the leech keeping tabs on my every move.

Well —not every move. Main Exhibit: this absolutely vile wine.

We’ll have to start from scratch. Maybe even wait for another window of opportunity —but what better chance could we possibly get? The people are in crisis, the royal family’s paralyzed with fear… Even in the Irinian royal palace, which hasn’t seen a single threat or attack, the high ranks are jittery.

It was the perfect moment. And Father ruined it.

"You hear the news, barkeep? They say they’re sending soldiers to reinforce the border."

The gruff, gravelly voice to my left makes me wince. Some pudgy old man just dropped onto the stool beside me, spreading his elbows across the counter and invading a little too far into my personal space. Worse still, I can tell exactly where his spit landed —big, visible droplets splattered right there on the wood.

I bury my nose in my glass, clearly uninterested —but I seem to be the only one.

Because the moment the man speaks, the whole tavern leans in.

“Mmh, so they say,” the barkeep mutters, sounding none too pleased about the topic shift.

“I’d be curious to see them,” some toothless woman calls out, beaming. “Never seen one of the King’s soldiers up close. Wonder what they look like.”

The Prince’s soldiers —they’re the Prince’s soldiers, not the King’s.

I swirl the wine in my glass, now slightly less indifferent.

"You think it’s got to do with all that mess on the other side? Old Paul —the farmer— said he saw some men on horseback, dressed all in black, riding across his field..."

Mentally, I arch a brow. Cat-eyes must’ve taken a shortcut.

"I haven’t even kept up with that whole mess..."

"Well I heard from the guy who buys my cabbages —you know the one, across the border?" Everyone nods enthusiastically. "Well he said the next village over launched a full-blown revolt. Kicked out their Lord."

Gasps all around. Even the barkeep looks rattled.

And me? My eyes stay glued to the bottom of my glass —but my ears are sharper than ever.

One of Hestidia’s minor Lords has been overthrown? That’s… far quicker than expected.

None of us —neither Jimin, nor myself, nor anyone on the Council— had anticipated a revolt of that scale for at least several more months.

This information —handed to me by a bunch of lowborn drunkards, no less, to the shame of our own informants— changes everything. It speeds things up in a deeply concerning way. If we don’t act soon, these uprisings will spread like wildfire —before we’ve had a chance to prepare.

Because if one village had the courage to do this, it means others already have. Quietly. Successfully.

And it only makes me question how little we truly know about what’s happening in Hestidia.

Did Father hide it from me?

Or was he just as clueless?

"I’ll tell you what I think," the pudgy man from before chimes in again, loud and self-important. "I think those soldiers are nothing but damn hypocrites."

I freeze.

“They come out of nowhere, just when things start getting interesting across the border, and then suddenly they’re locking down the roads so tight Lars can’t even go sell his cabbages! If you ask me, they’re hiding something from us.”

“But… the King’s soldiers are there to protect us…”

“Protect us, my ass. They just don’t want us to see what’s happening over there —‘cause they’re scared we might get ideas.”

My fingers tighten around the stem of my glass.

“He’s right! Last winter, when that sickness wiped out half the region, it took them months to send help!”

“And when the vineyards went to hell and we had nothing left to sell, we had to go beg in the Capital —just to be treated like dogs!”

“They ignore us when we suffer, but when it’s time to take our sons for their worthless army, they’re right there! And it’s not like we’ve ever seen that army, have we?”

My jaw clenches —I don’t even notice it until my teeth start to grind.

“They don’t give a damn about us! We could die like rats, and as long as we pay our taxes, they couldn’t care less!”

That’s it. They’ve said enough.

The dull thud of my glass slamming onto the wooden counter cuts through the air like a blade, turning every head in the tavern toward me. I make no attempt to look composed, no effort to feign the gracious smile expected of a prince.

If they'd recognized me, none of them would’ve dared speak in the first place.

No —I let them see exactly what their gossip has stirred in me.

I’ll admit I don’t hold much esteem for my father.

I’ll admit I sometimes find him weak, too lenient, too passive.

And I don’t doubt for a second that closing the border is, at least in part, a way to prevent Hestidian rebellion from spilling into Irinian minds.

But I’ll be damned before I let anyone say my father doesn’t care for his people.

Especially when that’s nearly the only thing he does care about —and the only thing he’s always done right.

I won’t sit back and watch as everything he’s built —everything he’s given them— gets pissed on like slop thrown at pigs fattened for the slaughter.

“If you want to cross the border and die in Hestidia, be my guest. No one’s stopping you.”

The whole room stares. It doesn’t stop my voice from ringing out sharper, clearer, and far more dignified than any of theirs. Colder, too.

Silence falls. Thick. Heavy.

Broken only by the ticking of some old clock hung above the barkeep’s head. Then, slowly, the fat man turns toward me.

“And just who do you think you are, boy?” he growls, his voice like phlegm curdled in tar. There’s a hint too much menace in it for my liking.

I don’t answer. Don’t even look at him —I’d rather gouge out my own eyes than rest them on that mess of grime and lard he calls a face.

“Go on, be ungrateful,” I say, voice like ice over glass. “Keep whining about misfortunes no king on earth could control. Wallow in self-pity, if that’s all you know how to do. But know this —while you curse a neglect that exists only in your thick skulls, it’s the King’s eldest son who’s been sent in person to help you. And this” I gesture around the room “this is how you repay him. By dragging his name through the dirt.”

The man lets out a wet, wheezing laugh.

“The eldest son? The Prince?” he spits. “Don’t make me laugh. That spoiled brat can probably barely lift his silver spoon to feed himself. He came here? That’s a good one. Never seen him leave his golden palace.”

He scans the room and receives the eager nods of his fellow pigs —emboldened by the scent of shit they’ve all been wallowing in.

Fueled by their cheers, he leans over and shoves my shoulder, trying to force my eyes toward his.

“The Prince is nothing but a coward. Hides behind his title while we break our backs in the fields! Let him come here —we’ll show him what real life looks like. He’ll run back to his daddy’s skirts in tears.”

This time, I don’t look away.

I meet his gaze, steady, as he spews his filth. Insulting a man he doesn’t even realize is in front of him.

Insulting the Crown, directly.

Once upon a time —under other kings— people lost their heads for far less.

I don’t know if I’m furious, or just stunned.

No one has ever dared speak to me like this.

And I can’t quite tell if I find it thrilling… or insufferably irritating.

“Kneel, peasant,” I say through clenched teeth. The command sounds like a threat, even to me.

He chuckles. Tightens his grip on my shoulder in a mock-friendly pat.

“Well then,” he sneers, “you tell your coward of a prince this from me: Go fuck yourself.”

And that’s when I smile —slow and sharp.

Because his gall almost makes me laugh, even as it makes my skin crawl.

But it’s not the insult to my title that stings.

No, it’s that word.

I’ve been called many things in my life. Arrogant. Cruel. Condescending.

I’ve been accused of scheming, of injustice, of manipulation —often fairly.

I’ve accepted all of it —because a lot of it is true.

But I’ll never let anyone call me a coward.

Slowly, I lift a hand and place it against the side of his face —mirroring his false friendliness, still smiling like a wolf.

“Tell him yourself,” I say.

And the next moment, my other hand grabs the glass and smashes it into his face.

He crashes backward, blood pouring, screaming.

Not dead —unfortunately— but definitely regretting his life choices.

Chaos erupts. People are yelling, running  —some to help him, some for the exit, some straight at me.

With a disdainful sniff, I rise from my stool and brush off my shoulder where his greasy paw had dared to rest. I’ll need to wash this shirt when I get back.

The barkeep stands frozen, eyes wide like he’s seen a ghost. Without glancing at the man on the floor, I untie the small pouch at my belt and toss a gold coin onto the counter. It lands with a bright clink.

The barkeep’s eyes nearly fall out of his skull. That coin alone could probably buy the whole tavern.

A crowd forms around the man on the ground, now mercifully silent —thank the gods, my ears were about to start bleeding. One woman stands up, tears brimming in her eyes, and points a trembling finger at me.

“He killed my Joseph!” she cries.

Immediately, the place erupts again —louder this time. I can pick out the insults, the outraged shrieks.

I snort. Oh, please. Killed him? Sure, I knocked some teeth loose —maybe more than a few— but dead? Hardly.

I may be many things, but even I have limits.

I don’t kill my subjects.

I punish. I beat. I sentence.

But I’ve never killed one of my people, and I never will.

I guess I have some of my father in me after all.

Not that anyone here knows that.

Because the next thing I hear is some genius yelling, “Do the same to him!” and suddenly, the whole tavern is lunging for me —and what was indignation turns into a full-blown riot.

But honestly? I choose to always see what life brings me as an opportunity.

It’s been days since I’ve wanted to hit something.

Looks like today’s the day.

The first ones reach me faster than I would’ve expected, given they’re half-drunk, bone-weary peasants. But apparently the sudden commotion sobered them up —just not enough to be even remotely threatening.

Three of them jump me —three against one, how charming, the sense of fair play— and try to grab my arms while one aims a punch at my face.

Have I mentioned I’m pretty decent in a fight? Not that it matters here. Even drunk —which, I’d like to point out, I am not— I could’ve handled a bunch of sickly barflies trying to subdue me. I barely have to shake them off before two let go —one even topples backward without me touching him. When the third lunges with his fist raised, all I have to do is step aside and let his own momentum trip him up.

I look down at the trio trying to scramble back up, one brow arched. Funny, I’d been told I’d be in for a rough time. So far, this is just... disappointing.

More drunkards from the tavern follow, taking their shot, and I quickly resign myself to putting off my ‘unwinding session’ —there’s no way I’m hitting any of them.

I’m well aware the peasants in my kingdom don’t exactly live the healthiest lives —quite the opposite, really— but I hadn’t realized alcohol turned them into barely-functioning vegetables. Most of the time, I just need to wait for them to charge and sidestep. They go down on their own.

I don’t regret hitting that man earlier —he damn well deserved it— but I’ve got no desire to lay a hand on the others still trying to reach me. First, because that would mean actual contact with their skin —no thank you— but mostly because I’m afraid I’d seriously hurt them. Which would annoy me, sure, but would definitely land me in trouble.

So I do the one thing I’ve always mocked my father for: I stay passive.

I don’t strike, don’t even try. I just dodge and let them crash into beams, walls, or each other.

…At least, until one of them manages to reach me and slaps me. Just a light tap, really, barely audible. But it’s enough to snap me back to life, just like the wine earlier.

The slap I return across his face is probably ten times harder —but fair’s fair, I say.

They, in turn, snap out of it at the crack of that hit and all charge at me —and when I say all, I mean everyone. Even the old lady without a single tooth.

They grab at my arms, my legs, one gets an arm around my neck while someone else tugs on my hair —my hair, for fuck’s sake!— and one particularly brave idiot latches onto my waist like a leech.

It feels like I’ve gone back in time, like I’m wrestling my little brothers again —back when their idea of “fighting” was to hang off me until I stopped moving and then punch me wherever they could reach.

With a groan of exasperation, I twist, using the momentum to swing the three clinging to my arm directly into the massive wooden beam next to us. They take the hit square in the ribs, hard enough that I don’t feel a thing.

Now free, I grab the first head I can reach —somewhere near my stomach, gods— and hurl it away from me. The peasant screams, lets go, and rolls until he slams into a wall.

At this point, the ones clinging to my legs aren’t even trying to hurt me anymore —they’re just wrapping their arms around my calves like their lives depend on it. I’m forced to smash my right leg against my left in a thoroughly unchivalrous move to shake them loose. They crash into each other with satisfying grunts.

When I finally manage to shake them all off, a sigh escapes me —long and weary.

I dare anyone to say I’m not close to my people now.

Except I barely get a breath in —just long enough to start processing how borderline humiliating that was (thank the gods no one from the Capital saw it, I’d be the kingdom’s laughingstock)- when the tavern door slams open with a thunderous crash. A dozen peasants barge in, this time armed with pitchforks.

“There! That’s him!” yells a short man —one I recognise as one who escaped earlier— as he points directly at me. He’s addressing a taller man, a little older than me, the only one here actually wearing armor —leather, but still.

“In the name of the King, I’m placing you under arrest!” the man declares. His face hardens —and before I can even think oh no or notice the crossbow in his hands, he raises it, aims, and fires.

Straight at me.

There aren’t many things that scare me —and certainly not drunk peasants— but having a bolt fly toward your face at top speed would unnerve anyone.

Especially when it’s moving so fast you barely have time to flinch.

I think about dodging, about doing something, but even I know it’s too late. Fired like that, point-blank, with nothing between it and me, there’s no way he’ll miss.

And as my eyes lock onto the bolt and I nearly close them, breathing in sharply—

…—The bolt stops. Just inches from my face.

“I believe that was my line,” says a calm, restrained, unmistakably female voice that I know well enough to snap my eyes back open.

And I am stunned.

There, standing directly in front of me, is Min —looking more furious than I’ve ever seen her— her long, elegant fingers curled tight around the bolt that nearly split my skull in two.

And as the projectile trembles slightly in her grip, the heavy silence in the room gives us all time to process what just happened.

She caught the bolt. With her bare hand.

“What the…” mutters the crossbowman, stunned. He lowers his weapon slightly —just enough for Min to seize her opening.

He doesn’t even get the chance to say anything else before she pulls a pistol from her belt and shoots him. Clean, between the eyes.

Right where the bolt would’ve hit me.

The tavern is so quiet we can hear the exact moment his body hits the floor.

We also hear the soft crunch as Min slowly turns toward me, her eyes —usually hazel— now pitch-black with fury, and breaks the bolt between her fingers, never looking away.

The sound makes me flinch. It’s humiliating.

With a gesture that seems calm —but that, to me, radiates rage— she tosses both halves of the bolt to the ground and gives me a mock-respectful nod.

I’m not sure whether it’s the shame or the rage that burns the hottest in my veins right now.

What I do know is that I’ve never wanted to hit something so badly. If I could punch her porcelain-perfect face, I would. Happily. But I don’t hit women. So anything else will have to do.

And somehow, my beloved subjects seem to pick up on that right away.

“KILL THEM!”

What follows is too fast for me to remember clearly.

Min and I are swarmed. The newcomers —armed with pitchforks and makeshift spears— are more coordinated than the drunks from before. They know how to wield their weapons, how to throw punches, and dodging them all is a challenge. And I hate that just as I start thinking I’m doing pretty well, I catch sight of Min behind me.

She reaches out and grabs the hair of a man sneaking up behind me, then yanks him forward so hard his head crashes into another attacker coming for her.

If someone had told me I’d live to see a woman take down two men at once and cover my back in the process, I wouldn’t have believed it.

Seeing it in real time makes it so much worse.

I’ve always liked to think I’m a decent fighter. Ducking blows, landing punches, using the space and stray chairs to my advantage without taking more than one or two hits —it’s child’s play. Especially against peasants, weapons or not.

But watching Min for just one second makes it crystal clear she’s in a different league.

She moves like air —every strike, every dodge, is so fluid it looks like she's dancing.

Me? I grumble, simmer in my anger, and lash out at whatever’s closest. She? She watches. Analyzes. And then she dances.

When she spins and kicks a man straight in the gut —she dances.

When she drops backward to avoid a pitchfork and pulls it forward to disarm her attacker —she dances.

When she uses the bar counter to leap onto a man’s shoulders and slam him into three of his buddies —she dances.

And when she spots the biggest brute of them all heading straight for me —clearly deciding I need something to vent my rage on? She dances, eyes gleaming like she’s having the time of her life.

The giant takes my first punch to the jaw. Chokes on the second, a hard blow to the gut. Whimpers as I hit him again, square in the face. And finally collapses when I land a furious kick that sends him crashing backward.

The floor shakes under his weight.

Silence falls again, broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing.

But I’m not out of breath because I’m tired —no, this is the kind of panting rage leaves behind.

Gods, that felt good. I might feel guilty tomorrow for causing a scene —well, probably not— but either way, I can’t deny it: that was satisfying.

Right now, I almost feel… relaxed.

I need a bath. I need to scrub off the filth these peasants rubbed on me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the innkeeper peeking out from behind the bar. When Min sees him, she pulls a pouch from somewhere and tosses him another gold coin. He doesn’t need to be told twice : he grabs it and vanishes without a second of hesitation.

Min turns to me, silent, her eyes still burning with that same fury —though a bit dimmer now.

Is she expecting me to thank her for saving my life? I sincerely hope not. The move may have been impressive —I didn’t even know that was physically possible— but I’d rather die than thank her.

I could be thankful she came just in time —because heck, I hate to admit it, but I don’t have a single clue what would’ve happened to me if it wasn’t for her suddenly spawning— but I don’t really feel like it. 

So instead, I glare at her.

“You just killed one of my subjects,” I say flatly, accusatory.

She bows her head slightly to slip the pistol back into her belt —and I swear I see her roll her eyes.

“I killed a man who attempted to murder the future King.”

My eyebrow lifts, surprised. Why, of all people, am I surprised she’s the one calling me that?

Her gaze locks back onto mine, voice perfectly steady as she speaks her next words:

“And I’d do it again if I had to. But next time, Your Highness? Just do me a favor —if you want a drink, ask me.”

<-Previous - Masterlist - Next ->

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: 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

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[melancholy-of-nadia]

i'm not sure?! (m) | jjk/pjm/kth

title: i'm not sure?!  pairing: jungkook x jimin x taehyung x show producer!reader(f)  rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff, smut ; the canon idol au summary: You're a producer working on a BTS travel show, called "Are You Sure?!" staring BTS members Jimin and Jungkook, with their fellow member guest star Taehyung. Everything is going well on set as filming for the night comes to an end, but when Jungkook and Jimin inform you that they caught you staring at their shirtless bodies, things quickly escalate between you guys by the poolside. warnings: fluff, language, pwp, threesome, foursome, tit play, nipple play, licking, some body boob worship, blowjobs, hand jobs, eating out, multiple orgasms, ass slapping, light mlm moment, cumming, oral sex (m and f receieving), biting, praise, they all have a big dicks but they're different!, tatted jk and jimin is a warning in itself, jungkook is a bit more rough, jimin is soft :(((, taehyung dom tease!, insinuation that this is not their first rodeo lmfao, kisses note: i am watching are you sure?! and i've thought many thoughts... i hope this one shot can be prescribed to you and heal whatever insane and nasty intrusive thoughts you guys have when watching. i am a simple woman, but these men only slightly older than me have me wrecked :"))) also s/o to @daegudrama for editing despite her busyness total word count: 6.6k drop date: August 29th, 2024 5pm pst ao3 link

A day of filming wrapped as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the lush greenery of Jeju Island.

The final shot had captured the last rays of sunlight glinting off the shimmering pool, where Jimin and Jungkook had been playfully splashing each other and playing mermaids, their laughter echoing through the tranquil evening air. The crew began to pack up the equipment, the usual post-shoot chatter filling the space as everyone prepared to unwind after another successful day.

You, the producer, had been watching the monitors closely, ensuring every moment was captured perfectly for "Are You Sure?"—the travel reality show hosted by BTS members Jimin and Jungkook. You’ve seen how their chemistry was undeniable since filming started out in the US in July. Now, once again, their camaraderie was infectious as they explored the beauty of Jeju, Korea with their fellow bandmate and guest star Taehyung by their side. Each outing in Jeju had been a hit: indoor rock climbing, go-karting, savoring omakase as well as other Jeju delicacies, and now, the pool at the luxurious house accommodation, where they seemed to find endless ways to entertain themselves, and the audiences who would eventually be watching this.

However, throughout this filming project, you found your eyes constantly lingering. The cool blue water rippled gently as Jimin and Jungkook clambered out, their naked torsos glistening in the fading light. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught yourself staring a little too long, mesmerized by the sight of them so effortlessly carefree and touchy. There was something about the way they moved, their playful energy, that made it hard to look away.

You shake off the thought. Get it together, Y/N! You finally got a big gig producing a reality show for BTS in your mid-20s and you cannot be ruining it over your lust. You sigh. Maybe the lack of touch and a relationship is really getting to you, but that’s what happens when you value your career above other mundane things. You have to remind yourself that you have to continue staying professional to make it to the end of filming this.

What you don’t know is that your stares haven’t gone unnoticed, especially by the youngest of the trio, Jungkook.

As you begin to collect your things, your heart skips a beat when you hear a voice call out to you.

“Hey, PD-nim. Can you come join us by the pool for a bit before you go,” Jungkook says, his tone casual, but his smile inviting. “We wanted to talk about tomorrow’s shoot.”

Jimin nods in agreement, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans against the edge of the pool. “Yeah, we’ve got some ideas for tomorrow. Plus, it’s a nice night—no reason to rush off, right?”

You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing. The day has been long, and you can feel the exhaustion settling in. But the chance to spend a few more moments in their company, even if just to discuss the next day's itinerary, is too tempting to resist.

“Uh,” you turn to look around at the other staff, seemingly wondering if you should stay behind.

However, the ones who notice the interaction shrug, seemingly wanting to go back to their accommodation next door and eat dinner. Great.

“Sure, I can stick around for a bit.” trying to keep your voice steady as you walk over to where they’re waiting.

All the staff but you fully exit, closing the large doors that encase you in this space with these beautiful men. You sit on one of the comfortable seats by the pool, nervously hugging your knees as you watch Jimin and Jungkook swim toward you. You notice Taehyung is still inside the living room, lying on the floor as he scrolls on his phone. “Is he coming to join us?” You ask, wondering if there are any concerns for tomorrow, wouldn’t it be good to have him hear this information too?  

“He’ll join us later~” Jimin answers, his tone sounding like he’s up to something, but his adorable smirk makes you not question it.

“Ah, alright.”

A brief silence follows as you look to Jimin and Jungkook to start the conversation, but instead, they exchange a glance and giggle.

You’re confused, but you recognize this as typical behavior from them. “Is there something wrong?”

Jungkook’s giggling becomes softer before it cuts, “You know, we’ve noticed you staring at us too much throughout the trip in America and here.”

Holy shit! They noticed!

Panic sets in. Oh no no no. Is this it? They probably think you’re creepy.  What if they think you’re some sort of sasaeng fan who somehow got involved in the production of this show to stalk them? 

You’ll be labeled a pervert, potentially losing your job and getting blacklisted from the industry. All because you couldn’t keep your eyes off of their beautiful faces… and bodies. It’s not your fault! While you were a fan of BTS years ago, you gave that up once you entered the entertainment industry a few years ago and started out as a production assistant. You’ve occasionally seen them at music and end of the year shows you worked on, but you gently admired them from afar, prioritizing your work over anything else.

“I–” You struggle to find the words to defend yourself. “I’m so sorry!” You cover your face with your hands, your words muffled. “I-I didn’t mean to! Y-You’re… He’s…”

The professional and stoic exterior you’ve maintained begins to crumble now that you’ve been caught red-handed.

But despite your panic, Jimin and Jungkook find your reaction completely endearing.

“She’s reacting exactly as cute as you said!” Jimin laughs, splashing water at Jungkook, who swims toward the pool ladder to get out.

“I didn’t realize she’d be this flustered, though!” Jungkook says, a hint of concern in his voice. He climbs out of the pool and walks toward you, dripping water onto the deck. “PD-nim, don’t worry about it.”

You peek through your fingers, still mortified, as Jungkook approaches, looking as attractive as ever with his body glistening from light reflecting on the remnants of water falling down his body. His expression is soft, reassuring, and it only makes your heart race faster.

Jimin lets out a soft chuckle. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re just teasing you,” His voice is light and teasing as he floats lazily in the pool “We’re not uncomfortable. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Jungkook nods, his expression gentle yet probing. “Yup! You’ve been nothing but professional this whole time. We just noticed that… maybe there’s more beneath the surface.”

Jimin gracefully lifts himself out of the pool and takes the seat on your other side. His presence is both comforting and disarming. “It’s like there’s something you’re holding back,” he adds, his tone hiding something deeper. “Something you’re denying yourself.”

You exhale slowly, trying to steady your nerves. Internally, you’re awestruck. It’s like they read you like a book. The intensity of their gazes still makes your heart race. Before you can respond, Jungkook’s eyes drop to your chest, his smile turning playful again.

“You know,” he says, “I noticed the black bikini top peeking out from under your tank top earlier.”

Your breath catches as his fingers touch the straps that tie behind your neck. You’d planned to swim later, after filming, wearing the bikini under your tank top and maxi skirt. Seeing how much fun they were having, you’d wanted to join in. But now, with their attention focused on you, you feel exposed in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Jimin leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Why don’t you take off your clothes so we can see it better? We’ll help you~”

Take off your clothes?! Your heart pounds in your chest, the suggestion hanging in the air between you. The teasing is taking a turn, and you’re not sure how to respond. Saying no might kill the mood, and who knows what they’d think—or say. But if you say yes… there’s no telling where this might lead.

You’re not sure. But after a moment’s hesitation, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay…”

Jungkook gently takes hold of the hem of your tank top, his fingers brushing against your skin. His touch is both soft and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine as he slowly lifts the fabric, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath catches in your throat as Jungkook pulls the tank top over your head, revealing the black bikini top beneath. Your cleavage and the roundness of your breasts are on full display, which makes them slightly more excited. The cool air hits your skin, making you acutely aware of how exposed you are. 

But the look in their eyes isn’t one of judgment—it’s something far more intense, more primal.

Jimin watches with a satisfied smile, his gaze flickering between you and Jungkook. “You don’t need to hide, okay?” he adds, his voice soft yet commanding. “We’re all just having a little fun, right?”

Jungkook’s hands linger on your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly against the skin just above the waistband of your maxi skirt. “This too,” he says, his voice almost a whisper as he hooks his fingers under the fabric.

You glance at Jimin, who nods encouragingly, his eyes dark with anticipation. There’s no turning back now, and a part of you doesn’t want to.

With a gentle tug, Jimin helps you slide the skirt down your hips, letting it pool around your feet. You stand up, stepping out of it. Now, your body is fully on display in the black bikini that suddenly feels far more revealing than it did before.

Jimin’s smile widens as his gaze travels over you, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. “Wow, you look even better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his voice sending a thrill through you.

“She’s really pretty,” Jungkook’s hands trail up your sides, his touch light but possessive. “Let’s go in the pool for a swim,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

You’re momentarily thrown off by the sudden change of scenario, blinking in surprise. The intensity of the moment shifts, and both Jimin and Jungkook burst into soft giggles at your reaction. Before you can say anything, Jungkook takes your hands and, with a mischievous grin, pulls you up from the lounge chair.

In one swift motion, he lifts you into his arms, the strength in his hold both reassuring and thrilling. “Hold on tight,” he says, winking at you before he leaps into the pool, bringing you along with him.

“Huh!? Wahh!!” The water rushes around you, cool and refreshing as you both plunge beneath the surface.

When you resurface, laughing and splashing, Jimin stands at the edge, watching with amusement. “Wait for me!” he calls out before executing a perfect cannonball right between you and Jungkook, sending a wave of water crashing over both of you.

The three of you laugh as the playful atmosphere takes over. The tension from earlier dissolves into something lighthearted and fun. In the pool, you play a variety of games: splashing water at each other, racing from one end to the other, seeing who can hold their breath the longest, and even attempting to dunk each other under the water.

You become more familiar with them and vice versa.

Jimin and Jungkook take turns lifting you up and tossing you into the deeper end, your laughter echoing in the night. At one point, Jungkook even suggests a round of “chicken fight,” where Jimin hoists you onto his shoulders while Jungkook does the same with an imaginary opponent, both of you trying to push each other off into the water.

As the night progresses, the games become more relaxed, the three of you floating side by side, your bodies gently swaying with the ripples of the water. 

Maybe this is all that’s going to happen. Maybe you were overthinking any other scenario. They were just teasing you because you were staring at them throughout the filming. You guys are gonna call it a night, right?

Right–

“Y/N, can I touch your breasts.”

The sudden question jolts you out of your thoughts, and you quickly stand up in the pool, water cascading off your skin. Jungkook is closer now, his gaze fixed on you with a seriousness that wasn’t there before. His eyes are darker, a smoldering intensity taking over the playful spark you’re used to.

You swallow hard, caught completely off guard. “Is there… a reason?” you manage to ask, your voice coming out shakier than you’d like. You are on the bigger side than most girls here, so it’s not entirely surprising that your chest caught his eye.

Jungkook steps even closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “I’m just curious,” he says softly, his voice low and almost hypnotic. “I want to see how they feel.”

Your heart races, every nerve in your body tingling as the situation escalates far beyond anything you’d imagined. You can’t believe this is happening, and yet, there’s something in the way he looks at you that makes it impossible to say no.

“Uh… sure,” you respond, barely above a whisper, your cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.

Jungkook’s hand moves slowly, deliberately, under the cup of your bikini top. His touch is tentative at first, as if he’s savoring the moment, but then his fingers press more firmly against your skin, exploring the softness with a deliberate curiosity. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his thumb brush against your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. 

The sensation is heightened by the sight of his tattooed right arm, the intricate patterns of his sleeve adding a dark contrast to his skin. The ink swirls and curves with every movement, the bold lines almost mesmerizing as his hand continues its exploration.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatens to escape, but you can’t help the way your body reacts to his touch. The water feels warmer now, the atmosphere is charged with sexual tension. Luckily the cameras outside are now off, but you still can’t let the staff in the building next door hear anything going on. 

Jimin, who had been floating nearby, quietly watching, now moves closer as well, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Jungkook,” he says softly, his voice a gentle reminder that he’s there too, “Don’t hog all the fun.”

Jungkook pulls back slightly, his hand still lingering on your skin as he glances at Jimin with a playful smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jimin leans closer, his gaze intent and voice soft. “I’m going to touch you too, is that okay?”

You nod, anticipation and nervousness swirling within you.

Jimin’s hand moves under the bikini cup to grasp your left breast, his touch gentle yet confident as he begins to explore. His fingers graze and play with your nipple, causing a shiver to run through your body. His thumb and forefingers move in careful back and forth motions. Tenderly tweaking them, carefully observing the way your face reacts to his every touch. He appears as if he is under a trance, and looks at you with such a need in his eyes.

The sensation is heightened by Jungkook, who leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. 

“I’m gonna remove your top so I can suck on them a bit,” He says shyly, pausing for a moment to untie your bikini straps from the back of your neck and remove your bikini top, before lowering his head and softly pressing his lips to your nipple, his tongue darting out to tease. 

His hands push your breasts together as his tongue caresses the inner curves of your tits, swirling his tongue across them. Your hands are on his shoulders as he continues, licking every inch of your chest, nuzzling his face between them and leaving kisses along the path. His tongue flicks your right nipple and your breathing hitches in your throat. Despite the water in the way, you can feel yourself becoming wet from below.

Jimin watches, clearly intrigued, and soon follows suit, his mouth finding the other breast. He rubs his mouth along it, giving it a couple of kisses then wrapping his lips around it. Suctioning and taking in the tit with such hungry delight. 

You feel like you have whiplash, as you cry out from the warmth of their mouths on your skin, your back arches off of the wall of the pool. You want to touch them, reach for them, feel the silkiness of his hair in your grasp. 

But Jimin doesn’t let up, taking his time licking slowly around your areola until your nipple perks up, hard and stiff. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue, and with the sudden cold from the night air, it feels all too much. 

Jungkook looks up at you through his wet hair, through black lashes as he widens his mouth over your breast, his teeth bared, scraping the fat of your breast without ever breaking the skin. You cry out in a cluster of pleasure, maybe pain, as your senses are confused about all of the sensations at once.

Despite the feelings of them against you, their actions are synchronized and perfectly in tune with each other.

The pool’s gentle ripples and breeze seem to fade into the background as the focus narrows to the intimate touch of the two men. Their movements are tender and explorative, a blend of curiosity and desire that leaves you breathless and overwhelmed.

Your mind is fighting for dear life to stay sane and not lose to your animalistic urges,

“Let’s get out of the pool,” Jungkook commands, his voice firm yet enticing. “I want you to sit back on that daybed couch, baby.”

The shift in how he’s addressing you in the past 45 minutes is striking—both intimate and commanding. You nod, your body responding almost instinctively to his command as you all exit the pool. The three of you walk over to the poolside daybed, water dripping off your bodies, cooling in the night.

You sink into the plush cushions, the soft fabric cool against your heated skin. The daybed is large, designed for lounging, but right now, it feels like the center of something much more intense. Jungkook and Jimin kneel on either side of you, their knees pressing into the mattress as they lean over you, their wet bodies glistening under the soft pool lights.

You look at both of them, a daring thought forming in your mind. “I want to… lick at your chests too,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of eagerness, shyness and uncertainty.

The thought of exploring the contrasting textures of their skin, the difference in their nipples under your tongue, is almost overwhelming. You wonder how each will react, the mere anticipation making your breath catch.

Jimin’s eyes light up with a mischievous glint. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, his voice a blend of encouragement and desire. “We’re here for you.”

Jungkook watches intently, his gaze dark with expectation. “We’re all yours,” he says softly, his tone dripping with promise.

You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing against their chests to feel the firmness of their muscles under your touch. The warmth of their skin sends a shiver down your spine as you explore the contours of their bodies. Your hands glide over Jungkook's chest first, pausing to tease his nipples with your fingertips gently. His breath hitches, a low hum of approval escaping his lips as he watches you with darkened eyes.

Encouraged by his reaction, you lean in closer, your mouth hovering just above his skin. You start with a soft kiss on his chest before taking one of his small chocolate nipples into your mouth, your tongue swirling around it in a slow, deliberate motion. Jungkook’s hand instinctively reaches up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he lets out a quiet groan of pleasure. His chest rises and falls more rapidly, his breathing growing heavier as you continue to tease him, alternating between gentle licks and firmer sucks.

The sound of his pleasure fuels your desire, making you want to elicit even more reactions from him. But as you pull back slightly, your gaze shifts to Jimin, who has been watching with equal intensity. His eyes are filled with anticipation, his lips slightly parted as if he’s already imagining what it will feel like when it’s his turn.

You move towards Jimin, your fingers tracing the outline of his chest as you did with Jungkook. His skin feels different—softer, yet still firm beneath your touch. Just below his right breast, he has a delicate script tattoo, the word "Nevermind" inked in elegant, flowing letters. You've always found it sexy, this handwritten tattoo adds a personal touch to his perfectly sculpted body.

His nipples are also differently shaped, bigger, and a bit lighter in color. You can feel the slight tremble in his body as you gently roll his nipple between your fingers before leaning in to taste him. Your mouth closes over his nipple, your tongue flicking against it in a teasing rhythm that draws a sharp inhale from him. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, his grip tightening slightly as you continue to explore him with your mouth.

Jimin’s reactions are more subtle, yet no less intense. His soft moans mix with Jungkook’s heavier breathing, creating a symphony of sounds that only heighten your own arousal. The way their bodies respond to your touch, the contrast in their reactions, drives you to explore further, to discover just how much pleasure you can bring them.

You pull back slightly, glancing toward the large doors that separate the pool area from the rest of the accommodation. A flicker of concern crosses your mind, and you bite your lip before whispering, “You two need to stay quiet. We don’t want anyone overhearing us.”

Any slight mistake and you will lose your job, remember?

Jimin and Jungkook exchange a glance, their playful expressions tinged with a shared understanding. They nod, their eyes never leaving yours as they silently agree to your request. But just as you start to relax, your actions come to a stop when you feel them guiding your hands downwards, placing them on their lower bodies.

Your breath catches as your fingers wrap around their growing hardness, the heat and firmness of their cocks hidden under their swim trunks pressing against your palms. Jimin lets out a shaky exhale, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath against your ear. “I’ve wanted to feel you so bad for months now,” he confesses, his voice low and thick with desire.

Jungkook, not to be outdone, adds in a hushed tone, his eyes glinting with a dark sparkle, “Me too. You don’t know how much you’ve been driving us crazy.”

Their words send a thrill through you, intensifying the moment. You didn’t realize you were having this effect on them. You look at them both, their shared longing evident in their eyes. Slowly, you pull their members out from their swim trunks, your heart racing as you position yourself between them, sinking to your knees on the cushioned daybed.

Oh fuck…

The size difference even extends to their dicks. Jungkook’s is much longer, with veins prominent on its sides. Jimin’s is shorter, but the girth is insane. You can’t help but imagine how they’d feel inside your pussy. No, you can’t get ahead of yourself Y/N. Not yet at least…

With a mixture of boldness and anticipation, you lean down, your lips parting as you begin to lick at their members, starting with soft, tentative strokes of your tongue. The sensation of their heated skin against your tongue is intoxicating, their quiet groans spurring you on. You alternate between them, your tongue tracing the veins along their lengths, savoring the contrast in texture and taste.

Jimin’s breath hitches as you swirl your tongue around the tip of his member, the salty taste mingling with the slickness of your saliva. His fingers suddenly tighten in your hair, but he remains obediently quiet, the tension in his body evident as he struggles to hold back his angelic voice.

You shift to Jungkook, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate sucking. His quiet sounds of pleasure are like music to your ears, the low hums of approval vibrating. His hands rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but not forceful, guiding you as you take him deeper, feeling the way his body responds to every movement of your tongue.

At the same time, your hand reaches out to Jimin, wrapping around his throbbing length. You start stroking him with a steady rhythm, making sure to keep him engaged, the sensation of your fingers gliding over his slick skin keeping his arousal high. Jimin’s breath hitches, his eyes half-lidded with desire as he watches you.

The two of them try their best to stay quiet, but the occasional gasp, lust-filled phrases or whispered name of yours slips out, betraying their growing need. 

“You’re so good at this PD nim…”

“Y/N, you’re so fucking fine…”

“Such a good girl, Y/N…”

“Fuck, right there…”

The thrill of their restraint only heightens your own arousal, driving you to explore them further, your lips and tongue working in tandem to bring them closer to the edge.

While working your mouth over Jungkook, you feel Jimin’s hand sliding up your body, his fingers brushing against your wet skin before cupping your breast. His thumb grazes over your nipple, teasing it to a hardened peak, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. The dual feeling—Jimin’s touch on your breast and Jungkook’s heat filling your mouth—intensifies the moment, driving you to pleasure them both with renewed focus.

The tension in the atmosphere thickens, all your quiet breaths turning into ragged gasps. You can feel the subtle changes in their bodies, the way their muscles tighten, and the way their grips on you grow firmer. The anticipation builds, and you know they’re close, teetering on the edge of release.

Jimin is the first to break the silence, his voice low and filled with need. “Y/N… can I come on your chest?” His eyes are dark with lust, the words almost a plea.

Jungkook isn’t far behind, his voice breathless and shaky as he adds, “And I–I want to come in your mouth. Is that okay?”

The heat in their words sends a shiver down your spine. You pause, looking up at them, their faces flushed with desire. 

“Y-Yes that’s fine with me,” You nod, your consent clear in your eyes and the slight smile that tugs at your lips.

With their requests granted, you resume your ministrations with renewed intensity. Your hands work in tandem, stroking their members with a firm, steady rhythm while your tongue flicks and teases them both. The taste of them lingers on your tongue, salty and intoxicating, driving you to push them further, to bring them to the edge of ecstasy.

Their breaths quicken, and you can tell they’re both struggling to hold back, to savor the moment as long as possible. But the pleasure is overwhelming, and soon their restraint begins to falter.

Jungkook’s voice is the first to crack, a desperate whisper as he warns you, “I’m close… so close…”

Jimin removes his hand from your hair. Instead, Jungkook’s hand, adorned with intricate tattoos and the bold "ARMY" inked across his knuckles, slides from your shoulder to your hair this time. The grip is firm and possessive, his fingers weaving into your strands with a fierce, almost primal hold. The veins beneath his tattooed skin pulsate as he uses his arm to guide you closer, pushing himself deeper into you with each powerful thrust. His tattooed bicep flexes with every movement, demonstrating his strength and control, while the rhythmic thrusts become more urgent.

Jimin's breath hitches as soft, erotic moans escape his lips, each sound laced with urgency to let go. His voice quivers, with a strained yet sensual whisper, “Me too… I’m going to come…” The words tumble out in a series of ragged breaths

With one last, deliberate stroke of your hand and a final suck, you push them both over the edge.

“F-Fuck!” Jimin lets out a guttural groan as he releases, his hot seed spilling onto your breasts, painting your skin with his pleasure. The warmth of it spreads across your breasts, the sensation almost surreal as you continue to stroke him, milking out every last drop.

At the same time, Jungkook’s hips buck slightly as he comes, the hot, salty taste of his release flooding your mouth. You swallow him down eagerly, your tongue swirling around him to milk him of every last bit. The taste of him lingers, warm and slightly bitter, but satisfying in a way that leaves you wanting more.

The sounds they make—those broken moans, the gasps of pleasure—echo in your ears, a symphony of gratification. Their bodies tremble with the aftershocks of their orgasms, their hands gentle but insistent as they guide you through the final moments of their release.

When they’ve finally come down from the high, their breathing ragged but steadying, they look down at you with a mix of awe and satisfaction. The sight of you, your chest slick with Jimin’s release and your lips still wet from Jungkook seems to stir something deeper in them—a shared sense of intimacy that goes beyond mere physical pleasure. Your fingers move instinctively, collecting Jimin’s release and bringing it to your lips, savoring the taste as you clean yourself, erasing the evidence of what just transpired. The sensation is both surreal and thrilling, the intimacy of the moment lingering in the air.

Jungkook's voice breaks through the haze, his tone a mix of innocence and desire. “PD-nim, can we do more with you?” His eyes sparkle with the same enthusiasm you’ve seen during filming, making it nearly impossible to deny him.

“H-Huh!? Oh…” you stammer, caught off guard. That look in his eyes—it’s almost impossible to resist. But a small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you should be heading back before the other staff starts wondering where you are.

“C’mon, we’ll be quick!” Jimin adds, his voice smooth and coaxing, making it even harder to stick to your resolve. “We can eat you out, or we can penetr—”

Before he can finish, another voice cuts through the tension, startling you. “Oh… so that’s what you guys were doing?”

You turn your head sharply to see Taehyung standing there, now wearing swim trunks, with a smirk playing on his lips. Your heart races, the sudden realization hitting you like a wave. “Oh my God, I forgot about Taehyung…” you gasp, instinctively trying to cover yourself, though it’s far too late for modesty.

“Hey, I thought you were going to head to bed?” Jimin narrows his eyes at the slightly younger man. He must’ve been watching you all this entire time, he thinks.

He chuckles, an amused glint in his eyes as he takes in the scene. “I thought you guys were still playing in the pool or something… but I’m not surprised things ended up this way. You two are always up to shit like this.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, clearly unimpressed yet intrigued.

“Huh?” you manage to squeak out, your mind reeling. Always up to shit like this? What’s that supposed to mean–

Taehyung’s smirk deepens, and he steps closer. “Anyways, I’m bored. Let me join in too,” he says casually with a boxy smile, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I won’t disappoint heh~” 

He winks. HE WINKS! 

The three members of the BTS maknae line look at you deviously, waiting to pounce on you at your command.

“I don’t think we should be–”

“Are you sure?” Jimin and Jungkook say in unison.

“I… “ The title of the show is going to come back to haunt you.

“I’m not sure…?” You can’t find yourself to say no, having already gone to the deep end.

You will be closer to getting fired if you get caught at this rate, but to hell with it, “Okay, fine!” 

And immediately, they’re all over your body, reigniting the hidden flame in your heart that reminds you how much you loved them as a fan years before. You won’t survive this.

“Come over here,” Taehyung murmurs, his voice deep and commanding as he settles against the pillows of the daybed. He props himself up, making sure he’s comfortable, then motions for you to crawl in front of him.

Your heart races as you move into position, with Jungkook and Jimin on each side of you, their eyes dark with lust. The daybed is deep enough that you’re perfectly nestled between them.

As you get closer to Taehyung, you feel his hands sliding up your thighs, tugging lightly at the waistband of your bikini bottoms. You gasp softly, a thrill running through you as he pulls them down slowly, exposing your wetness. The sensation sends a shiver through you, heightening your anticipation and eagerness to get this over with. You lift your hips slightly to help him slide them off completely, leaving you fully exposed.

Taehyung’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

He props himself up with the pillows behind his head, his hands settling on your hips as he guides you closer. “Sit on my face,” he tells you, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Your breath catches at the bold command, but the heat in his eyes, the way his hands grip your hips, sends a rush of excitement through you. You move to straddle him, your heart pounding as you position yourself over his face. Jungkook and Jimin remain close, their hands brushing over your body, adding to the growing heat between you all.

As you lower yourself onto his waiting mouth, the first touch of his tongue against your most sensitive spot sends a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body. 

“A-Ah~ T-Taehyung…” You gasp, your fingers gripping the daybed as Taehyung’s tongue begins to work its magic, teasing and tasting you with skillful precision.

Taehyung’s tongue explores you, from your clit to your entrance. His mouth working in a rhythm that leaves you breathless, and your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

Jimin and Jungkook are on either side of you, their hands moving to your breasts, where they each take a breast in their grasp. Their mouths soon follow, lips closing over your nipples as they begin to suck and tease you with their tongues once more. The dual sensation of Taehyung’s mouth on you and the boys’ attention on your breasts sends your mind reeling, pleasure coursing through you to unleash an orgasm. But you need to be patient and let it continue consuming you.

Jungkook’s hand slides down, tugging off Taehyung’s trunks with a practiced ease before wrapping his fingers around Taehyung’s impressive length. The sight makes your eyes widen, but you aren’t entirely surprised by their actions—after all, you’ve seen how touchy BTS are with one another. Even filming earlier in the day and even back in the States. But this? Seeing them work together to push you to the brink of pleasure only makes you even hornier.

And Taehyung’s dick… it’s massive, much bigger than the other two. The way his tan skin contrasts with the thick, veined shaft is mesmerizing, almost too much to take in. You can’t help but imagine what it would feel like inside you, making you ache with the anticipation of trying it next time.

Jimin, not to be outdone, reaches over to stroke Jungkook, his touch slow and deliberate, making sure to keep him just as aroused. His free hand slips down to touch himself, fingers wrapping around his own length as he matches the pace. The sensation of their hands moving in tandem, coupled with the attention they’re lavishing on you, makes your body tremble with need.

You ride Taehyung’s face, grinding down against his mouth as his tongue works magic on you, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he can. Your hands clutch the edges of the daybed for support, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you lose yourself in the sensations they’re giving you. Since you’re facing outwards, Taehyung’s hands slide down to grab your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulls you even closer, deepening the connection between his mouth and your most sensitive spot. His grip is firm and possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he devours you with renewed intensity. He gives it a slap, which makes you cringe before you go back to indulging in the pleasure.

The feeling of the two men’s mouths on your breasts, Taehyung’s tongue inside you, and the sight of their hands pleasuring each other is almost too much to bear. The pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, your body quivering with the need to release.

Jimin and Jungkook suck harder on your nipples, their teeth grazing them just enough to send jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Taehyung’s tongue flicks and swirls with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And then, finally, it all becomes too much. The pleasure explodes within you, sending you spiraling into an intense orgasm that leaves you gasping for breath. Your body tenses, your thighs clenching around Taehyung’s head as you ride out the waves of ecstasy, the sensation amplified by the boys’ continued ministrations.

As the last tremors of your orgasm fade, you collapse forward slightly, your body spent and trembling. Taehyung gently guides you off him, his lips slick with your arousal, and you fall onto the daybed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook quickly follow, their own bodies shuddering as they reach their peaks, their releases mingling, landing onto each others bodies or the fabric beneath them.

Now the three of you lay there, breathless and spent, with limbs piled on top of each other. The air is thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction, however a yearning for more still remains. The outdoor area is quiet, save for the sound of your heavy breathing, as you all come down from the high of your shared pleasure.

Jungkook leans in close, his voice low and filled with unfulfilled desire. “I’m so eager to fuck you, but I’ll wait until tomorrow after the itinerary is done,” he murmurs, his eyes smoldering with lust as he looks down at you.

Jimin, still tenderly stroking your skin, adds with a soft smile, “We don’t want you getting into trouble, PD-nim. We’ll be patient.”

You manage a weak smile, your mind swirling with the aftershocks of what just happened. “How have the staff not conveniently come in to check on us?” you wonder aloud, your voice shaky with exhaustion and disbelief.

The three of them exchange a glance, a shared understanding passing between them. 

Don’t say that the staff are aware that they’re doing this…!? Taehyung’s words from earlier were already… odd, but you decide not to think too hard on it right now. You need to head back anyway, so let’s keep this drama-free, you think to yourself. Wouldn’t be the first time you hear about idols doing these things.

They begin to clean you up, wiping away the evidence of your intense encounter.  They’re gentle, their touches soothing as they take care of you, ensuring that you’re comfortable before helping you to your feet to get dressed.

They walk you to the door, each of them pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before they see you out, their eyes filled with satisfaction. You step out, your mind reeling from the events that just transpired.

“Oh my god…” you say to yourself in a whisper.

As you walk away from the daybed, you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this situation—tangled up with the three members of BTS in a way you never could have imagined. The memory of their hands, their mouths, their words lingers with you, a heady reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. And though you know the risks, the dangers of what you’ve done, you can’t bring yourself to regret a single moment.

With a deep breath, you start heading back to your accommodation, telling yourself you still have more days of this show’s filming to go. And more chance encounters with them as well.

-

-

-

The End????

A/N: HAPPY SURPRISE ONE SHOT DROP! OKAY. ALSO I HAD PLANNED TO BLUE BALL YOU GUYS AND NOT GIVE YOU A TAE SCENE BUT RAE SAID I SHOULD WRITE IT SO I DID! I've seen all y'all thirsting over are you sure?! and honestly, the maknae line really FED US SO WELL WITH THIS SHOW. also never in my life did i think there would be no censoring of their bodies, but thank you god for allowing us to indulge in their beauty and cute antics lmao. if you somehow survived this and made it to the end, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think or like bc i was going THROUGH IT writing this 🥴 if it wasn’t good, i am so sorry for wasting your time. 😭

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[marknee]

bts fanfics i think shakespeare would enlist himself into the military just to show the boys.

chapter iv. ✷ chapter vi.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — he’s not really thinking about enlisting, is he?

( ♬ ) — what do you mean shakespeare shaved his head?.. oh no.

( ✎ ) — don’t military bases have security? how the hell did that man get inside?

( ♛ ) — he’s proper pulling a cross country right now. the boys look confused. and horrified.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: dear readers, did you miss me? it’s been a while since i’ve shared my secret recommendations with you. but, since the two year anniversary of this special series has recently passed, i thought it was about time i spoiled you again. i’ve had quite a while to think about this one. so, i hope you’re ready. let’s give shakespeare something to enlist for.

( ♛ ) AMALTHEA — by @daechwitatamic

!! seokjin x reader | 40k !!

best friend’s older brother!au, smut (18+), fluff, angst.

bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my friend’s brother! bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my best friend’s brother!

this is one of the BEST seokjin fics i’ve ever read. straight to the point but there is no other way to put it. got to the point i would wake up earlier just to read another chapter before work. i was always present, bitch.

alike most of you, as someone who reads A LOT (re: i have no credentials for this, just my mum), i can tell when someone pours their every blood, sweat and tears (ha.) into writing. and for me, this is one of those writers.

this writer really shocked me at how much i connected to this story whilst reading n how attached i felt after finishing. caught me off guard, but so did death to shakespeare… sooo, what can i say.

“it’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don't know if he meant his family, or you.” dude i wish you could’ve seen my face. lmfao.

let’s just say there’s a reason this one’s first. amazed. truly.

( ♛ ) MOON MAGIC — by @jincherie

!! hoseok x reader | 33.8k !!

mermaid!au, pirate!au, fluff (like.. teeth rotting).

“and he calls me mooonlight toooooo,” she sings into the empty crowd with tears in her eyes. she meaning me.

now i know i’m known for having a sweet tooth, but damn! youse are gonna eventually turn me into an elizabethan england commoner. y’know, the crap dental hygiene n all. (re: shakespeare’s teeth.)

but, you know me. i looooove a good ‘ol fantasy inspired fic, so i guess i’m willing to risk a little here. and this one was worth risking for.

slams hand onto the table. the world building! this writer was not playing around when it came to painting us a picture of the world they wanted to create. i wanna live in this fic i’m not joking. get me in touch with namjoon asap for some of that moon magic shit. ok, rolls credits.

perfect in every single way. this is my first run-in with this writer, but am i swimming (sorry.) my way over to their masterlist? yeeees.

“he laughs and tells you that, actually, it's probably the youngest three princes that are most beloved by all.”

yea girl. not on my watch. enjoy!

( ✎ ) ALL GROWN UP — by @btsgotjams27

!! jungkook x reader | 64k !!

friends to lovers, older woman/younger man, smut (18+).

the fact this fic was loosely inspired by one of my all-time comfort kdramas… i didn’t even have to question adding it to my list. it felt like i was watching it for the first time again… deeply sighs. ahhh the nostalgia…

i had this fic bookmarked on my ao3 for the looongest time, but it was only recently that i got round to actually reading it. and i’m so glad i did. bless her, she was waiting for her moment to shine. and it’s now.

youngest kids in the family please raise your hands! all in attendance! you are welcome and appreciated here. the feeling of desperation, trying to get people to see you as your current age rather than the little kid they’ll forever remember. i think that’s why i loved this fic so much: i could relate to it.

alike this story, most fics on here are on the older side of things. but honestly, if it’s good and genuine, it’ll last forever. no matter how much time has gone by. feelings stay - perhaps even grow?

the same for our adorable pair over here. could time play in their favour?

you let me know when you finish it.

( ✮ ) ALIVE AHA FXCK — by @softyoongiionly

!! vampire!yoongi x human!reader | 42k !!

vampire!au, smut (18+), soulmate!au (you know i had to), please read the trigger warnings.

devoured. no pun intended. though other vampire synonyms include but are not limited to: consumed, ate, guzzled, feasted etc… thank you google, after a few questionable internet searches.

i cannot tell you how glad i am that shakespeare never wrote about vampires. cuz he would’ve written my ass into that damn thing and killed me off from the things i’ve said about that guy. and the things i will continue to say…

i love this fic on a personal level. it reminds me of being fourteen again, curled up in my sheets as the sun reaches the tip of my windowsill and the morning chill settles in after a night of fighting sleep to finish a fanfic. it’s safe - i’m safe.

i genuinely had so much fun reading this story. the characterisation of both the reader and yoongi is so unhinged and playful and i’m obsessed. if i could recommend it to anyone, it would be my younger self cuz i know she’d love it :,). n she did!

y’know, sometimes you just gotta read a silly - infused with twilight puns - vampire-themed yoongi fic for the world to feel alright again.

and it did - for me. n now - for you.

( ♛ ) OLDER — by @lovieku

!! dilf!jk x inexperienced!reader | 18.2k !!

smut (18+), dilf!au, best friend’s father, age gap.

pure, undeniable and utter filth. in the best fuckin’ way possible. yea, if you could crawl into my mind, plunge into the inky depths of whatever lurks there.. this is what you’d find lying on the sand floor. unadulterated sin.

i am so disgustingly obsessed with this fic i can’t explain it, hence why it’s ended up on my shelf of recommendations. it scratches and pleases a deep, desperate itch in my brain. maybe it’s the age gap, who knows?

this writer has a talent for making us - or, me. - claw at something forbidden in an almost hungry advance. the sinner doing the sinning. and goddamn, i’m impressed. n i bet shakespeare is too. well, he fuckin’ better be.

the characters are imperfect and selfish and lustful, but oh my god i love them. add on dilf!jk with his slutty, unbuttoned shirts and you have me sold.

@lovieku you are such an amazing writer. you have such a way with how you express. do not underestimate that. i am beyond excited to see your future works :)

masterpiece. but what the fuck was that ending.

( ♛ ) HABITS OF A CLANDESTINE NATURE — by @alphabetboyluvr

!! college!jk x female!oc | 16k !!

rich!jk, waitress!oc, enemies to lovers, smut (18+).

he got, he got away! he got away! he got away! he’s got a way, he’s got a way! awayyyyheyeyyyyheyyy! yea, but didn’t manage to escape a 460-year-old poet, nor me.. so..

clementines, fruit trees, the sound of innocent laughter, wind chimes, a sheer blur of colour, soft hands. things that come to mind whenever i am reminded of this fic. a solid and beautiful depiction of hurt and love and everything in between.

this writer knew straight off the bat how to sell this pair to the audience. how to capture us and string us along for the journey of two hurting, longing and hurting all over again. shakespeare bought the hanging fruit that’s for damn sure… me too then, perhaps.

the vision for this story is perfect to me. i almost want to give the writer a kiss on the forehead.

i did write down one quote; used from the story. a way to sum it all up. “the perfect place to get lost. the perfect place to get found, too.”

if you’re looking for somewhere to get lost, i hope this satisfies that need. i also hope i come back to read this every once in a while. for old times sake. to get found again.

( ♬ ) GUILTY AS SIN — by @gldrushh

!! brother in law!jungkook x widow!reader | 32k !!

forbidden love!au, smut (18+), angst.

“it began to lose its meaning. healing. as if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.” oh, don’t even talk to me. people died. shakepeare died. april 23rd 1616.

god, this story is just so raw in and of itself - perfectly depicting the human experience of love and loss. inevitable and sometimes unexpected. i was - n still remain - in awe.

i crossed by this fic unexpectedly and i’m so glad that whatever butterfly effect led me to finding this succeeded, but damn that action also had consequences… like real bad… haha….

i want to cry every time this fic crosses my mind. dramatic? lil bit. but when you read it, holy shit - this will make sense to you young’uns. in due time.

well, to be even more dramatic as such… my wounds from reading this are still fresh (i will sob don’t test me), so i hand the torch over to you to make of this story what you will.

please go into this fic with no expectations. go in willingly and just… fall into it. i will be on the other side when you resurface and i will definitely say something ironic.

like i told you so. xx.

( ♛ ) CALLING PRODUCER MIN YOONGI — by @bangtan-dreamland

!! yoongi x reader | 4.6k !!

strangers to lovers, just fluff all around.

now this is the bitch i aspire to be. dials random ass numbers of random ass strangers just to yap. oh yea, that’s my kinda girl. i just hope she knows she’s the coolest person ever to exist to me. i want to buy a star for her. a big, bright one.

i think i have said this before, but never ever underestimate the power of a drabble. a short fic of little can hold the weight of ten times that amount. especially this one (which i read that long ago but has ultimately ended up here - says it all tbh).

this fic is everything and more to me. i miss it when i’m not reading it, and i miss it when it’s right in front of me. it has me wanting to ring up random people in hopes of meeting my true love - which i won’t, but who knows what might happen?

also, to point out - the immense chemistry between these characters is off the charts. felt like i was intruding on my own phone call.

good dialogue? tick. amazing characterisation? tick. interesting plot? tick. has shakespeare wanting to never learn how to use a phone in case he puts this fic to shame? tick.

lol.

( ✎ ) THE LOVE PROGNOSIS — by @awrkive

!! surgeon!jk x surgeon!reader | 90.9k !!

roommates!au, medical!au, smut (18+), fluff.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh. aaaand scene!

can i be honest? y’all stress me the fuck out! and you know who you are! starts with ‘j’ ends with ‘k’. the other one being ‘s’ ends with ‘e’. but one of you i like more and it’s not you, shakespeare.

the time it took me to finish this insanely crafted three-parter was embarrassingly short. (i think i formed a dent in my bed). so when i finished i was - obviously - heartbroken, so i did what every sane person does. i read all the drabbles. aaaand the tlp social media extras. and listened to the playlist. and cried. duh.

whilst all the fics on here deserve their own kdrama, i feel this one would ruin me completely. it’s weightlifting fairy kim bok joo all over again. it’s potential is there. like, c’mon screenwriters. i know you want to. or just pay me to do it.

the characters, the yearning, the friendship - immediately gets flashbacks… - ten’s across the board!

@awrkive is one to look out for. for real. i - along with everyone else here - will be tuning in. full volume.

oh yea, whilst we’re all still here. fuck that other guy. you know who you are! (no spoilers here).

( ♛ ) LET’S GET QUIZZICAL — by @taleasnewastime

!! jimin x f!reader | 28.6k !!

friends to lovers, angst, smut (18+).

sooooo… what i’m hearing is.. we all weren’t aware flo rida’s stage name is just florida with a space..? right? right.? cuz when you say it like that..

having been a victim of multiple pub quizzes in my past (haven’t won - yet!) the dialogue in this story was fucking perfect and scary real, depicting the anxiety, thrill and pure adrenaline running through your body as you rack your brain of every dumb fact you’ve ever read and hope it’s made a home somewhere up there.

not to mention you gotta trust your teammates like your life depends on it - cuz it fuckin’ does. n park jimin being one of them? the rest of the teams… y’all better not even bother showing up atp.

i thought the manor of the story being told through its settings was.. a slice of genius. so so cool and helped set the tone too. every time we transported back to the quiz i clutched my pearls in sheer relief.

also, i wish i could’ve highlighted angst in bold cause damn! you really hit us round the head with that one. and ofc i loved it, but damn. take notes, shakespeare. we don’t have to be killing characters off to ruin mk’s life. hm?

nothing less than spectacular from our @taleasnewastime.

( ♬ ) TRICKS OF THE TRADE — by @stutterfly

!! yoongi x reader | 24.1k !!

body swap!au, soulmates!au (you know me), smut (18+), humour.

peers down through speckled glasses, what’s next..? …oh god. sighs heavily and licks pen.

so i knew from the moment i read ‘body swap’ within the tags that this concept was gonna be so fuckin’ weird but so damn good. and low n behold, it didn’t disappoint. luckily i am a lover of fuckin’ weird.

this concept is so difficult to write. the foreign sensation of a different body and trying to channel each thought n emotions involved is complicated to convey, but this author did it so incredibly well.

also, not to be that person… but that smut… i’m gon’ be sleeping soooo well tonight let’s just say that lmfao. 100/10. might go back n read it when i’m done with this.

blushing… X

shakespeare couldn’t even fathom a story such as this - and we’re talking about the guy who once wrote about an incestuous relationship between a king and his daughter.

crazy work. you are so cool @stutterfly.

( ✎ ) TRIVIA LOVE — by @luxekook

!! namjoon x reader | 5.4k !!

non idol!au, smut (18+).

to quote myself from my reblog on feb 26 2020, “why was i smiling the whole way throughout this??” n you know what? hell yea i still stand by that!

this is the second pub quiz fic i have within this chapter (surprisingly, but not disappointing), but the circumstances cannot be more different.

the first group i would join, perhaps even rally with a little. but if i’m ever attending a pub night and these mother fuckers are in tow, best believe i’m leaving. they’re not ones to fuck with yo. they have $20 to win. they mean war.

since we’re at the end, and i’m 100% convinced nobody is still reading these, soooo… i can speak my truth. someone get me on joon’s lap. you gon’ be calling me cinderella cuz it’s gonna fit perfectly by midnight bro. on the dot.

this is - n will always be - a classic to me. one that i will always return to eventually. i can dress up all i want with these big fics, but these smaller ones are always a guilty pleasure.

like cinderella returning to her mice friends (or whatever), i will always come back to @luxekook and their stories.

forever xoxo.

MARKNEE’S SPECIAL MENTIONS:

caught my attention, and deserve their flowers.

( ♬ ) THE DEVIL SKATES ON THIN ICE — by @vankoya

!! yoongi x reader | 60.5k !!

winter sports!au, fluff, angst, humour.

my love life also skates on thin ice. lmfao. especially after this.

( ✎ ) KNOCKED — by @sailoryooons

!! streamer!seokjin x f!reader | 10.6k !!

roommates to lovers, smut (18+), humour.

more like she’s about to knock him out.

( ♬ ) NEFARIOUS — by @yoonia

!! jimin x f!reader | 39.2k !!

sex club!au, gentlemen club!au, smut (18+).

lets out a long sigh. won’t be in a rush to forget this one.

( ✎ ) THINGS WE DON’T SAY — by @wintaerbaer

!! taehyung x reader | 54.5k !!

best friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut.

the found family trope is strooong.

© marknee, 2025. all rights reserved.

[jjkssin]

Embrace of Ruins. Jk

Pairing: King jk x widowed (fem) reader.

Character count: 14,962

Genre: Dark Romance | Historical

Tropes: Dominant , controlling jk, forced proximity, obsession , captive romance, war , fragile female lead, mentions of death, mature.

Summary: When ruthless warlord Jeon conquers a rival kingdom, he slaughters its royal bloodline including the cruel king who once claimed Y/N as his wife. But instead of casting her aside, Jeon takes her as his own, stripping her of her former title and making her his possession. She was never meant to be a queen. She was meant to be his.

The air reeked of blood and burning wood, the sky dark with the smoke of a fallen kingdom. Screams had long since faded into silence, leaving only the sound of victorious banners fluttering in the wind.

The Kingdom had fallen.

This was not just another kingdom swallowed by his empire. No this war had been waged with a purpose far beyond power. It was her. The ghost of a woman he had never seen, only heard of in whispers the famed beauty of the lost kingdom, Y/N.

People had spoken of her ethereal grace, of her skin that glowed like moonlight and eyes that held galaxies within them.

At the heart of the carnage, Jeon sat upon the grand throne, one boot resting on the fallen king’s lifeless body and the golden crown of the fallen king crushed beneath his boot.

The scent of blood and smoke lingered in the air mingling with the screams of the last remnants of a dying dynasty.

His victory was absolute. The kingdom now belonged to him. And so did everything within it.

Including her.

She was a vision in a silk dress , the color of winter’s first snow.

___

Amidst it all, She ran.

Bare feet against the cold marble, her silken gown now soaked in the lifeblood of her people, dragging behind her like a ghostly shroud. The palace corridors, once familiar, had become a maze of death and ruin. She barely noticed the bodies, the shattered glass of once grand chandeliers. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat, the rasp of her breath and the distant clamor of armored boots in pursuit.

She had seen him.

He had stood amidst the wreckage of her throne room, a wolf in the den of slaughter, dark eyes scanning the ruin with calculated indifference.

He had looked at her like a claim already made, and that had been enough to send her fleeing.

She stumbled through the grand doors of the palace and into the frozen night, her thin gown no barrier against the relentless cold. Snowflakes kissed her tear streaked cheeks as she pushed forward, her breath rising in desperate clouds.

The forest loomed ahead a tangle of frostbitten branches and endless dark. She plunged into its depths without hesitation. The crown she had once been forced to wear had been torn from her head, her hair cascading around her face in disheveled waves.

The trees whispered around her, the wind howling like a grieving specter. Her feet tore through the frozen undergrowth, bare skin sliced by unseen thorns but she did not stop.

She could not stop.

She knew they would come. She had seen it in his eyes obsidian pools that swallowed light, a gaze that spoke of possession and a hunger far more dangerous than the battlefield he had razed.

She tried to be silent, tried to disappear into the vast expanse of snow and night but her body betrayed her. A misstep her foot catching on a hidden root sent her tumbling forward. She crashed into the snow, pain exploding through her limbs as she gasped, clawing at the frost with trembling hands.

She scrambled to rise, but it was too late.

A shadow loomed over her, swallowing the pale light of the moon.

Him.

The air shifted with his presence, heavy with something she could not name. His breath came steady, controlled, unaffected by the chase. He had known this would happen. He had allowed her to run, entertained her futile escape before closing in like a beast playing with his prey.

"You thought you could run from me?" His voice was velvet over steel, dark and slow, as though savoring the moment.

Y/N trembled, her body wracked with exhaustion, yet she found herself inching back, her palms sinking into the snow.

Jeon crouched before her, gloved fingers tilting her chin upwards, forcing her to meet the gaze she had so desperately tried to avoid.

"You should know better" he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "I do not chase what I do not intend to catch."

The rumors had not done her justice.

She was exquisite, a masterpiece carved by the gods themselves.

Even in her disarray, she was ethereal.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not fight. She had nothing left to fight for.

A cruel smile tugged at Jeon's lips as he leaned forward.

"Your king is dead. Your kingdom is mine"

With that his hand moved lower, gliding down the torn fabric of her gown, feeling the tremor beneath his touch. And then without warning, he slid his arms beneath her one under her knees, the other wrapping around her back.

She gasped as the ground disappeared beneath her, the sudden closeness of him knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands instinctively grasped at his shoulders, clutching at the thick fabric of his cloak as he lifted her effortlessly.

The world around them blurred as Jeon carried her back, his strides slow, deliberate, savoring every second of the act.

His men stood waiting at the forest’s edge, their eyes carefully averted, knowing better than to interrupt.

Jeon was the master of every inch of this kingdom now but she was a different kind of victory.

A victory he would not let slip from his grasp

__

Jeon had wanted her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. A forbidden desire had taken root deep within him when he had first seen her beside the now dead king , a man unworthy of even touching the hem of her gown, much less claiming her as his.

__

The journey from the snow laden forest to Jeon’s kingdom was a silent one. His kingdom loomed ahead like a fortress of stone, walls that could never be breached.

When they finally crossed the threshold into the warmth of Jeon’s kingdom, the heavy iron gates closed behind them with a resounding clang, sealing off the outside world.

He called for his servants, his voice firm and authoritative.

“Take her to my chambers,” he ordered coldly. “Strip her of the dead king’s colors. She wears only what I give her now.”

__

The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air as the maids scrubbed away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of her former life.

But no matter how many times they washed her, no matter how many hands gently soothed her skin, there were things that could not be erased.

The marks on her body. The scars both physical and emotional that she had borne under her husband’s cruel reign.

Afterward, Y/N was dressed in a delicate white nightgown. It clung to her thin frame, the silk soft against her skin, but it did nothing to ease the chill in her bones. The gown was far more modest than the opulent dress she had worn in her past life but it was far too intimate for her current circumstances.

As the maids finished their task, they led her down the stone corridors of Jeon’s castle to his private chambers.

The room was enormous, warm with a roaring fire. She stood silently before him, her eyes cast downward. Jeon stood by the bed his posture strong, unyielding and as always, a palpable aura of control surrounded him.

He moved toward her without a word, his presence overwhelming.

His eyes narrowed as they settled on her shoulders and arms.

His fingers hovered near her shoulder, brushing against the faded remnants of bruises.

“That pathetic excuse for a king,” he spat, his voice dripping with disgust.

“A man unworthy of a throne, unworthy of a crown and certainly unworthy of you."

Jeon growled, his hands flexing as if he longed to tear apart a man who was already rotting in the ground.

"What did you call him?" he mused, tilting his head. "My king? My husband?" He laughed, dark and mocking.

"No king allows his castle to fall while he cowers in his chambers. And a husband…" He paused, his fingers ghosting over the fading bruises on her wrist.

His expression turned cold. "A husband does not treat his wife like a common whore to be used and discarded. I barely had to lift my blade before he was groveling at my feet, begging for his life like a spineless dog"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, the image flashing in her mind. She had not loved the king, but his death had been brutal. The sound of steel slicing through flesh, the gurgled choking as he bled out it haunted her.

Jeon exhaled, stepping back slightly.

"I should make you my whore," he mused. "A slave to warm my bed, nothing more. It would be fitting for the widow of such a disgraceful man."

Her stomach twisted in fear.

"But no," he murmured, as if reconsidering. "Though your husband was a disgrace, you are now mine"

His gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

"Did he ever touch you properly?" Jeon murmured, his voice turning low, almost teasing.

Jeon chuckled darkly. “Of course not. I imagine he was just as pathetic in bed as he was on the battlefield. Weak. Incompetent.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. “Did he even know what to do with you? Or did he fumble like the fool he was?”

Y/N’s breath stuttered. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to think about it.

Jeon chuckled at her silence.

“You will no longer be a widow,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather.

“You will be my wife. You wil bear my mark and sleep in my bed and by the time I am done with you, you will forget you ever belonged to anyone else.” His voice low in command.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "W-what?

Jeon smirked, amused by her reaction. "You are still royalty, no matter how pathetic your bloodline is. And I do not waste what has value." He reached for her again, his fingers brushing over the fabric of her underdress.

Before she could protest, Jeon grasped the thin strap of her underdress and pulled, the silk slipping from her shoulder with ease.

Y/N gasped, instinctively clutching the fabric to her chest.

"Still shy?" His fingers trailed down her arm, his touch deceptively soft.

"Your husband must have taken his pleasures without care. Rushed. Unskilled."

His gaze flickered over her, unreadable.

"A shame. I prefer to savor what is mine."

Y/N trembled as he grasped the other strap, slowly sliding it down her shoulder. The silk pooled at her collarbones, threatening to slip further.

Y/N’s throat tightened, a tear slipping down her cheek . Heat rushed to her cheeks, shame and something unfamiliar twisting inside her.

"You were wasted on him," Jeon murmured. "But you will not be wasted on me."

His hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer. She gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You will be my wife before the sun rises. And no kingdom, no force in this world will take you from me."

Jeon murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unshakable.

“I could touch you in ways that pathetic fool never could. I could make you beg, make you forget he ever existed.”

His hands slid lower, gripping her thighs holding her still.

“You will know what it means to be wanted,” he promised. “To be craved.”

She closed her eyes as his lips descended, as his touch deepened, as the last of her old self was stripped away like the silks of her gown.

She had been the queen of a doomed king. A nameless ghost in a gilded cage. A woman forgotten by the very man who had sworn to own her.

But Jeon was not a man who forgot what belonged to him.

He pressed her back against the silk draped bed, his gaze burning into hers as he loomed above her, all shadow and heat, all power and intent.

"You will curse me," he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, "and you will crave me all the same."

His mouth claimed her then, slow and consuming, as if proving his words true. As if sealing the vow between them with something far more binding than marriage, more damning than devotion.

She let herself sink, let herself be undone, because there was no kingdom left to fight for, no crown left to bear, only this. Only him.

And as his hands traced a path of ruin and worship alike, she realized something with aching finality.

She was not lost. She had simply been claimed.

__

The first light of dawn crept through the towering windows, painting the stone walls in hues of muted gold. The warmth of the sun did nothing to chase away the lingering shadows of the night before.

She stirred, her body aching not from pain, but from the imprint of him.

Her body heavy with exhaustion.

Her skin burned where his touch had claimed her, the memory of his hands and his voice still lingering in her senses like a lingering scent, impossible to escape.

She blinked against the morning light, the thick, heavy silence of the room pressing down upon her. The bed was empty beside her, the space where Jeon had been only a ghost of heat.

A low voice broke the silence. “Did you sleep well?”

Her body tensed, her muscles still trembling from the storm of the night before. Jeon stood near the tall windows, his silhouette framed by the light, his presence as imposing as ever.

He looked unchanged powerful, untouchable.

"Get up," he commanded, already reaching for the black silk robe draped over a nearby chair. "We have matters to attend to."

She hesitated, sitting up slowly, the silk sheets slipping from her bare shoulders.

"What matters?"

Jeon turned, fastening the robe around his waist, "Our wedding."

Her breath caught.

Jeon chuckled, "What? Did you think I would leave you as a nameless concubine?" He stepped closer, gripping her chin between his fingers.

She searched his gaze, trying to understand, to make sense of this shift. "Then... I will be the queen of this place?"

"You wish to rule?" His voice was measured but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

Y/N swallowed hard. "No. But.." She hesitated, unsure how to put the ache in her.

She trailed off, shame burning in her throat.

Jeon studied her, a thoughtful hum vibrating from his chest. "You are not meant for war," he said at last.

"Not meant for bloodshed and for dirty politics." He tilted his head, his gaze heavy.

"You are meant for me."

His words did not soothe her as he likely intended them to.

She had listened. She had obeyed. She had surrendered in body.

But she would not surrender this.

"I will not marry you," she said, her voice quiet, yet firm.

"I will not be your wife unless I am your queen," Y/N said, her voice trembling but unwavering. "You took my kingdom, my home, my name. If I am to be bound to you, I will not be just another possession. "

His fingers curled slightly, then relaxed. Slowly, he turned, dark eyes locking onto her with something unreadable something slow-burning, something dangerous.

"You will," he said simply.

She lifted her chin, a flicker of defiance breaking through her usual obedience.

"Not if I am not to be queen."

A slow, mirthless smirk tugged at his lips. "Is that what you want?" He stepped toward her, his presence suffocating, the air in the room shifting like a storm about to break.

"A throne?"

She clenched her fists in her lap, her pulse thrumming against her throat. "I was a queen before you tore my kingdom apart." Her voice did not waver, though her breath did. "I will not be cast aside as some nameless wife while you rule alone."

Jeon studied her in silence, the weight of his gaze heavy, assessing. Then, without warning, he moved.

Faster than she could react, his fingers closed around her throat not choking, not hurting, just a firm grip, possessive, commanding. He tilted her head back, forcing her to look up at him, his thumb pressing lightly against the delicate pulse at her neck.

"You speak as though you have a choice."

She gasped softly but she did not break away.

Jeon’s other hand traced the curve of her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle, a contrast to the quiet fury simmering in his dark eyes.

"You were not a queen," he murmured. "You were a prisoner in a cage, a wife to a spineless rat who did not deserve you. You wore a crown but it was never truly yours. "

His fingers tightened slightly around her throat, enough to remind her of his power, enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"And now, you demand a throne beside me?" He leaned closer, his breath fanning against her lips. "No. You will kneel before it instead."

Her heart pounded, her breath shallow, but she still managed to whisper "If I mean nothing more than a body in your bed, end this now."

The air shifted violently.

Jeon’s grip tightened for the briefest moment just long enough to make her dizzy before he released her completely. He exhaled sharply, stepping back, his jaw taut, his gaze dark with something volatile.

For the first time since conquering this land, since taking her, someone had denied him.

And he did not tolerate defiance.

"Very well," he murmured, his voice eerily calm. "If you will not walk to the altar, you will be dragged to it."

Today, she would become his wife.

Not his queen.

He would marry her, not as a political arrangement, not as a necessity but because he wanted her.

He was a conqueror. He alone was enough to rule his land.

__

The silk gown clung to Y/N’s trembling frame, the deep red fabric as heavy as the chains she could not see but could feel in every step she was forced to take. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as the realization settled deeper into her bones. The room was deathly silent, the air thick with the scent of incense and candle wax.

Jeon stood before her, a predator draped in black and gold, exuding dominance with every breath. His patience was a thinly veiled thing, stretching dangerously as he watched her remain still, unmoving, unyielding.

"Come forward," he commanded, his voice steady but edged with warning.

Her feet refused to move.

In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his fingers wrapping around her wrist in an iron grip. He yanked her forward, forcing her to stumble against his chest.

“You speak of power as if it is something I would give you,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft, venom laced beneath the words. “You forget your place.”

She gasped, struggling against his grip, but he was relentless, his fingers digging into her wrist as he pulled her through the vast hall.

"You will stand beside me, Y/N," he said, voice cold, final. "But a throne is not something I share."

He did not stop until they stood before the officiant.

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Jeon studied her for a moment before sighing, almost in disappointment.

“I was willing to grant you this wedding without force. To let you walk beside me, instead of dragging you like a conquered spoil of war.”

“I did not win this kingdom with patience. I won it with blood.”

Then, louder, he addressed the officiant. “Begin.”

The ceremony was as empty as her heart. No grand feast, no celebration. Just her, him and the officiant bearing witness to the binding of a vow. She repeated them in a hollow whisper, her voice barely her own.

But as he pulled her in for the final kiss, sealing her beneath his name, his rule.

He tasted the salt of her tears on her lips.

For a moment, just a moment, he felt the bitter sting of something less than victory.

Because despite binding her to him, despite claiming her, despite stealing her body, her name. He felt the weight of something he could not conquer.

He had burned kingdoms for her. Killed kings for her. Stolen her from the ashes of a life she never wanted. Yet her sadness was a wound he could not stitch.

Jeon had indeed won the war.

But he had not won her.

__

(End)🤍

[lex1i0]

bts fic recs

✿ - my favorites

✧ty for the resources :))

— Seokjin

ᰔᩚ Mold a Pretty Lie by @blog-name-idk {college!au, unhealthy & toxic relationships, virgin reader, eventual yandere, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Scale by @shina913 {richboy!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Internal Conflicts by @yoongiofmine {non idol!au, fluff, angst, smut, step brother}

✿ Off Limits by @floralseokjin {brothers bsf!au, smut, angst, fluff}

ᰔᩚ Cupids on Holiday by @persphonesorchid {angel!au, fluff, angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers, humor}

ᰔᩚ Paraluman by @muniimyg {love triangle, fwb to lovers, bsf to lovers, smut, angst}

ᰔᩚ Lets Get Married as a Joke by @burningupp {angst, fluff}

— Namjoon

✿ A word from our sponsors by @100vern {podcast, friends to lovers!au, crack, smut, fluff}

ᰔᩚ The Holiday Pretense by @mortallydeepestobservation {fake dating!au, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers, crack, smut, fluff}

ᰔᩚ Perfect Plan by @mortallydeepestobservation {friends to lovers, fwb?, angst, fluff, happy ending}

ᰔᩚ Beauty & The Bookworm by @jungshookz {uni!au, librian!namjoon, fluff, angst, smut}

— Yoongi

ᰔᩚ Sugar Rush Ride by @lo1k-diamonds {fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Dillema by @trivia-yandere {drug dealer!yoongi, smut}

ᰔᩚ The Road not Taken by @prodagustd {brothers bsf, one sided pining?, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Oh, Darling! by @yoongiofmine {non idol!au, uni!au, fluff, angst, smut}

✿ Between the Titles by @highvern {fluff, smut}

✿Three Tangerines by @kithtaehyung {brothers bsf!au, implied age gap, angst, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Minted by @kithtaehyung {angst, action, smut, haegeum!au, gang!au}

ᰔᩚ Take a bite by @glossdebut {smut, fluff, angst, slowburn}

✿ bbydaddy!yoongi by @muniimyg {smut, fluff, angst}

ᰔᩚ So it goes by @prodagustd {fwb to lovers, fluff, smut, angst}

✿ Terms & Conditions by @ktownshizzle {fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au}

ᰔᩚ The Deal by @untaemedqueen {drug lord!yoongi, fluff, smut, angst}

ᰔᩚ Whispered Vows by @lostbookmark {angst, fluff, smut}

✿ Dating Advice by @taleasnewastime {strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Love and Lullabies by @ktownshizzle {fluff, angst, smut, idol!au, acquaintances to lovers, dad!yoongi}

✿ Hook, Line & Stinker by @yoonmetogether (smut, fluff, angst}

— Hoseok

ᰔᩚ Heartbeat by @joonbird {gang!au, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Guarded by @xjoonchildx {mafia!au, e2l, slowburn, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Connotations of Sin by @persphonesorchid {fallen angel!au, angst, fluff, smut, horror}

— Jimin

ᰔᩚ Serendipity by @mikrokosmoslove {ceo jimin!au, lovers to enemies to colleagues to lovers, angst, smut, drama}

✿ Silk Sheets by CallMeByYourName97 {sugardaddy!au, smut, fluff, toxic relationship}

ᰔᩚ Growing Pains by @taleasnewastime {unrequited love, brothers bsf, mafia!au, fluff, angst}

ᰔᩚ In the wake of your leave by @taleasnewastime {unrequited love, brothers bsf, slowburn, mafia!au, angst}

— Taehyung

ᰔᩚ A really great (love?) story by @whatifyoulivelikethat {non idol!au, fluff, smut, friends to lovers}

ᰔᩚ Stuck with you by @jungshookz {roommate!taehyung, uni!au, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut}

— Jungkook

ᰔᩚ Strictly Platonic by @jeonqkookskooks {college!au, bsfs to lovers, fake dating!au, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Game on @sparklingchim {footballer!jungjook, fake dating, f2l}

ᰔᩚ I Want You to Stay by @ahundredtimesover {boss!jk x assistant reader, strangers to lovers, slowburn, angst, smut, fluff, drama}

ᰔᩚ Bbydaddy!jk by @muniimyg {exs to lovers, fluff, smut, angst}

✿ Home by @bonny-kookoo {est relationship, foreigner!reader, fluff, smut}

✿ Hotter than Hell by @chateautae {supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, e2l, road trip, angst, fluff, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Paraluman by @muniimyg {love triangle, fwb to lovers, bsf to lovers, smut, angst}

✿ Sauvage by tjunglebook {ceo!jungkook, fluff, smut}

— Ot7

ᰔᩚ Change my mind by @winterzsurprise {soulmates!au, f2l, eventual smut, slowburrn, polyamory}

✿ Little do You Know by @yoongiofmine {fluff, angst, smut, playmate!au, idol!au}

ᰔᩚ Back Home by @alexlwrites {college!au, romance, humor, fluff, angst}

✿ Everything Falls (Into Place) by @blog-name-idk {college!au, roommate!au, fluff, humor, smut}

ᰔᩚ Sh. by @wwilloww {non idol!au, wilderness!au, f2l, smut, fluff, angst}

[gldrushh]

GUILTY AS SIN? | JK | PART 𝐈

"You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying."

→ Pairing brother in law!Jungkook × widowed fem!reader

→ Genre forbidden love! au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, smut

→ W.C 17. 32k

→ Warnings unrequited love :(, oc is in love with his older brother, early character death of the said older brother who is haunting the narrative, cute childhood sweethearts who are doomed by me, mentions of dealing with grief and acceptance, mention of cancer, a minor scene where harassment is attempted,emotionally troubled! oc, emotionally troubled and detached! jk, simp jk, pathetic man in love, he's so so lovesick, ceo! jk, protective jk, yearning, pining, loads of angst, fluff if you squint, breif yoongi mention, namjin yay!!,rich people party, mentions of anxiety,sexual tension,slow burnish,smut (omg everyone look away), kissing, unprotected sex (raw and deep, next question),dirty talking, oc is insecure,hickies,oral (f! Receiving), he cums in his pants,big dick jk, soft Dom Jungkook, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, praise, cuddles if you squint again

→ Playlist Guilty as sin, control, killing me softly with his song, do I wanna know?

→ A/N the idea of this one shot came to me at 1 am when I was supposed to be studying for a test that probably my future depends upon and after much much complementing I'm finally posting it. To me, its very experimental and I was just trying to explore my writing style and writing things that I haven't before, like smut 🫠 so please please bear that in mind!! I hope you enjoy reading and if you did please comment!! It makes my whole day 🥰💕💕

P.S: cross posted on wattpad.

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

It is a believed fact that it takes three to four short months to fall in love. 

For you, it took one summer. The summer spent watching him sketch galaxies in the dirt with a twig, summer spent learning the way his laughter sounded after stealing popsicles from the freezer, summer spent holding his hand as they made paper planes under the blazing sun. It was the kind of love that grew roots so deep, you couldn’t separate where he ended and you began.

That summer, you met Minho. The boy next door with a mind as wild as his curls and a heart so warm it seemed to shine blindingly bright. He showed you how to climb trees, told stories he'd crafted all by himself, convincing you that the universe could be held in the palm of your hand. He shared his world with you, and you fell in love with it.

You kissed his cheek on the porch of your house one late July evening, bold and brimming with the kind of confidence only childhood summers could bring. “Now you’re gonna have to marry me, Min Min,” you teased, hands behind your back, your toes curling against the wooden floorboards.

He blushed, a shade of red that rivaled the setting sun, but his grin mirrored yours.

The porch of your house was a witness to many things. Your first steps, held your first scraped knees, your first dog and Minho's new brother; your new friend.

A boy of your age, younger than Minho had appeared from right behind him, his hands clutching onto Minho's flannel, his watchful eyes going everywhere all at once. The kind of boy who never spoke unless he had to, the kind who was more familiar with loss than comfort, lingering on the edges of things, unsure if he belonged.

Jungkook.

Now, Jeon Jungkook.

You and his brother had taken it upon themselves to bring him into your fold, turning your duo into a trio. With time, he laughed with you both, trusted you both, became one of you both.

The three of you were inseparable— in the backyard of your house, in elementary school, in high school. How could you not be? You had tied the promise in the form of handmade friendship bracelets around the wrist of both boys.

Even though what you wanted with minho was far from friendship. A bold dreamer, you always have been. But not so much when you turned sixteen. Sixteen; what a awkward age.

An age of overthinking haircuts, dreams, and the lives your peers are gonna live all at once. Visits to the school councilor are doubled. Relationships happen; Friends part.

But you only grew closer with Jungkook. He didn’t seemed interested in making a move on the timid, short haired girl who passed him notes in chemistry class, neither did he talk much about the future. When you asked him what he wanted to do, he’d shrug and say something like, “Whatever makes sense at the time.” He wasn’t aimless, exactly—just grounded in a way that made you think he didn’t feel the need to plan everything out.

Minho, though, was spiraling.

He now spent more time with the councilor that he spent with you both. Had this bitter look on his face every morning you saw him on the bus stop that will have you sharing a knowing look with Jungkook—Minho had been having a lot of fights with his dad, had been overthinking a lot more because the world seemed so much bigger than he had imagined.

Maybe for the eldest son and heir to a family that ran a company as old as the town itself, the world really was big. But to you, he was just a hopeful boy with all the colors in his eyes. The colors that you loved. The colors that didn't belong in a office, crunching numbers.

Your heart ached for him, but you didn’t know what to say. At sixteen, nobody has the answers.

Seventeen is a different story. It's a starlight dream. It's you acing the college entrance test. It's Minho surfacing back. It's Minho kissing you on that very same porch, promising, “One day, we’ll have our own porch, and I’ll kiss you there every day.”

And he was one to keep his promises.

You married him at twenty-five, in crisp autumn. To your family and friends, it was "About time." To you, it was nothing short of a dream as you walked to promise forever to the man you love, a vision in white. It was nothing big, just a dreamy intimate affair with soft twinkling string lights. Something you both agreed on. Because you were content with what you had, overjoyed actually after picking out a quite cozy apartment for the both of you and landing a job as a humanities professor in a university that wasn't too far from the said apartment. Minho was too and while things weren't the same with his father now, he did what he loved. Ever the artist at heart.

It was like everything you ever wrote in your middle school diary, everything you wished for was now laid under your feet like a carpet unfolding.

You were given a good time before it started pulling away from your feet.

At first, it was subtle. A missed dinner here, a canceled hangout there. Then he told you both he’d taken up an opportunity abroad to manage the family business, something Minho had no interest in, just on the night of your wedding after he had fulfilled his role of the groom's best man, watched you walk down the aisle.

You hadn’t seen the decision coming—not that night, not like this—but you couldn’t deny it either. Jungkook had seemed restless here, especially after finishing college.Conversations with him in those days had been brief, distracted, his eyes darting to the distance even as he smiled at you. It felt as you were trying to talk to the Jungkook who had appeared on your porch the first time. He hadn’t asked for understanding, and you hadn’t known how to offer it. His reasons were vague, more like placeholders for something unsaid. And so he left, quietly, with little fanfare, and though Minho seemed sad to see him go, you could tell he understood.

“It’s good for him,” Minho had said. “He deserves something for himself.”

Relationship happened; Friends parted.

You weren't sure if you understood. While you agreed with Minho, you couldn’t help but feel the loss of a friend now that his calls became less frequent until they stopped altogether. One day, he was simply gone, leaving behind only the memory of the boy who had once trusted you with his rare, precious smiles.

"You’d laugh if you saw me right now. I tried to fix the leaky sink in the kitchen, and now the entire floor is flooded. Minho’s being no help—just standing there laughing."

"Hey, stranger. Our anniversary is next weekend. We’re just doing a small dinner. You should come. Seriously, koo, don’t make me guilt-trip you."

"Saved you a slice of cake, but Minho ate it. You’d better show up next year, or I’ll stop saving you anything."

"Hey, Koo. Just checking in. Hope you're healthy and happy. Would love to hear from you"

You'd text him timely, in hopes that he still knows how to use a phone. But apparently, not.

Still, you had Minho. Your husband, your best friend.

Until you didn't.

Until the carpet was at last, snatched right down from your feet.

The diagnosis came in the spring. It started with a faint weakness in his voice. A shortness of breath he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Just tired,” he’d say, smiling that same easy smile. But tired turned into tests. Tests turned into results. And results turned into a diagnosis that was oh so cruel.

Leukemia. Early stages. Aggressive.

The months that followed were a blur of hospital visits, treatments, and quiet nights where you held him as he cried. You tried to be strong, for him, for both of you. Told him what the doctor in the sterile white office will tell you. "They've caught it early so we're not at a great risk here." You'd reassure him. "You have yet to get away from me, min min." You'd try making him laugh but he had always been better at that.

Now, suddenly he wasn't. The next two years, your life was just the slow, agonizing process of watching the man you loved fade away, losing every bit of his lively soul to the cancer, holding his hand when he was too weak to hold yours back.

Perhaps it wasn't only Minho who was chipping away. It was you too.

You turned into the woman who knew exactly how to track medication schedules, who could list every side effect of his treatment in order of severity, who spoke with doctors as if reciting a memorized script. You learned how to bite back the frustration when he snapped at you because he was in pain, and how to smile when all you wanted was to scream at the unfairness of it all.

You started to measure time not in days or months but in cycles of chemotherapy, in percentages of remission and relapse. Life was divided into hours spent in sterile hospital rooms, waiting for results that were never as hopeful as you needed them to be, and hours spent at home trying to pretend those results didn’t exist.

You had stopped dreaming. And minho had stopped painting.

Grief doesn’t wait for death— or so you've realized as you often found yourself grieving the life you had built together, the one you knew would never be the same. You grieved the sound of his laugh, which became quieter as the months passed. You grieved the way he used to tease you about your love for terrible reality shows, You grieved the mornings spent tangled together, talking about everything and nothing.

By the time the end came, you had already lost so much of him that you thought you might be prepared.

You weren’t.

And then he was gone.

With an, "I'm sorry. I love you." He was gone.

The house was too quiet without him, the days too long. You withdrew, not just from the world but from yourself, letting grief shape the edges of your existence.

The world moved on, even if you didn’t. They tell you how long it takes to fall in love but not how long it takes to get over it.

2 years, 240 days. And you're still counting.

Time passed in pieces—fractured and unrelenting.

Your family, Minho’s family, even well-meaning friends—none of them knew what to do with the mess you’d become, so they did what people often did. They tried to fix it. To fix you.

Blind dates were their answer, little nudges toward what they called healing. The word had been said so many times it began to lose its meaning. Healing. As if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.

You didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, so you let them dress you up, hand you phone numbers, and convince you that this—whatever this was—was what you needed.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Because as the man sat in front of you in the dimly lit bar continued to talk about how his ex couldn't handle his success, the trials of being a man with ambition, you really couldn't even bother to pretend you were interested. He was nice enough—tall, well dressed (consdering the dingy bar) with a confident smile but your thoughts kept drifting, as they often did.

2 years, 240 days since Minho had died.

2 years, 240 days of waking up alone in your bed, his side untouched.

2 years, 240 days of trying to find your way back to the woman you used to be.

“Hey,” the man interrupted your thoughts, leaning forward with an eager grin. “I feel like I’m talking too much. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for fun?”

You forced a smile, your stomach twisting. “I paint. It’s... therapeutic.”

“That’s nice,” he said, reaching across the table to touch your hand. You pulled back instinctively, your stool scraping against the floor. His brows furrowed.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, but his tone was tighter now. He leaned back, shrugging as if trying to dismiss the moment. “You know, you should loosen up a little. You’ll never find anyone if you keep acting like you’re still married.”

The words hit you like a slap, your chest tightening as you struggled to process the audacity of his statement. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring the warning in your tone, “you should give people a chance. I mean, you’re here, right?” He smirked and stood, coming around the table. “Let me take you home. We can—”

“Stop,” you said sharply, rising to your feet.

But he didn’t listen. His hand reached for your arm, his grip firm.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d grabbed you, he was gone.

The man stumbled backward, a hand jerking him by the collar. The force was so swift, so unexpected, that it took you a moment to register what had happened.

And then you saw him.

“..Jungkook?” The name caught in your throat as you turned.

You took in the man standing before you, taller and broader than you remembered, the years etched into the sharp lines of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. His dark eyes were fixed on the man who had dared to touch you, glinting coldly.

His voice was low, dangerous. “She said stop. I suggest you listen.”

For a moment, the world tilted.

You weren’t in a dingy bar anymore.

You were standing at the edge of a memory—the first time you’d ever seen Jungkook, the quiet boy who clung to Minho’s shadow.

And the last.

The last time you’d seen him, a looming figure in an ocean of black suits. A barely recognizable shadow among the mourners at your husband's funeral.

Now, standing before you, he was real, tangible—and so was the flood of emotions crashing over you.

It was so loud, you could barely hear as the the man stammered out an excuse, something about a misunderstanding.

“Leave.” Jungkook snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut and bring you back to the moment.

The man hesitated, his mouth opening as though he wanted to argue, but one glance at Jungkook’s expression and he decided against it. Without another word, he turned and stalked out, muttering something under his breath that neither of you caught.

Silence followed.

Only then did you felt his gaze on you. His presence was larger than life, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of how much had changed. How much he had changed. You hadn’t registered that at the funeral. Now, you didn't know what to say, you could hardly manage to look at him. While he wasn't Minho's real brother, didn't share any resemblance with him, it still hurt you, sucked you back into those times when it was the three of you, when it wasn't.

He too didn't reply right away, his gaze searching your face, as though he was also trying to piece together the version of you he remembered with the one standing before him now. When it landed on the arm you were clutching, the arm that dipshit had grabbed, you saw his eyes glint again.

"Did he hurt you?" It sounded more like a demand rather than a question but you couldn't even deciper the words, too focused on how his boyish tone had turned sharper, harder.

"W-What?" You fumble out like a fool.

"Did he hurt you, y/n?" This time, you heard him.

Letting your hand fall, embarrassed, you shook your head, finally managing to utter something sensible out. “No—yeah. I’m fine.”

He glanced back at the door that man had fled from before looking back at you. Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and quiet.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

You blinked. “My phone?” You don't remember getting a call from anyone but then you realize your battery had died down as you looked down to see your dead device laying flat. "Oh. I didn't realis—"

“Mom said you’d been gone a while. Told me where you were.” He interrupted. There was an edge to his voice now, faint but undeniable.

You feel more embarrassed now that you know it's because of your mother in law's anxious nature that he is here. Your fingers brushed against the strap of your purse, desperate for something to do, something to hold onto as he speaks again. "Are you ready to leave?"

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “I can get a cab.”

His brows furrowed, just slightly, and you noticed for the first time the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the hint of weariness in his expression. “It’s late,” he said simply.

"So?”

“So,” he echoed, his tone calm but unyielding, “I’ll take you.”

You hesitated, your pride and your exhaustion warring within you. Finally, you exhaled out in defeat, reaching for your coat. It's just a thirty minute ride. You reassured yourself. It'll be fine.

The cool night air wrapped around you and so did your coat as you stepped outside, and the streetlights cast long shadows that flickered as you walked toward his car. He opened the passenger door for you, his movements deliberate, and waited for you to slide in before closing it softly behind you.

The drive started in silence.

It wasn’t the silence of old friends, the kind that felt easy and safe. This was different—fraught, taut, like a thread stretched too tight.

You stole a glance at him as he started the engine, too aware of the small space you were packed in with him.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you said finally, your statement sounding more accusatory that you or he would have liked.

“Just for a little while,” he replied, his tone ofcourse, unfazed. “Business.”

Buisness. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the word. If someone could look like that word, you thought, it'd be the man in the fine tailored suit with eyes fixed on the road ahead and a rolex that didn't look any more cheaper than the car he was driving and you wondered.

Wondered if the lines of his palms—the callouses from late-night basketball games, the way they had felt solid and familiar when he held yours to steady you on the wobbly bike Minho had convinced you to ride—had changed too.

Had they turned forigen, unyielding? Had time eroded their familiarity?

When the car slowed, you glanced out the window, expecting to see the acquinated sight of your apartment building. But instead, the streetlights gave way to a quieter, darker road. You frowned, turning to him.

“This isn’t the way to my place.”

“I know,” he said simply, not bothering to elaborate. "You're coming with me."

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse quickening as unease prickled at the back of your neck. “Jungkook,” you started, the word heavy with protest.

"Y/N." He ends, sparing you a glance that has you sinking back into your seat, arms folded across your chest like a petulant child that you could swear made his lips twitch at the corner, you could swear you saw your old friend who had grown a sassy tounge at the age of fourteen that'd earn smacks at the head from his older brother for a fleeting cruel second there. But that was it. It was gone as fast as it had appeared, summoning the return of the silence that felt like its own living thing.

The house was still the same.

That was the first thing you noticed as the car slowed down in front of the building that loomed at the end of the road like a memory waiting to consume you.

The overhead lights still flickered faintly, casting shadows across the steps where you and Minho had once sat, daring each other to stay outside until the stars disappeared. Even the smell was the same—faintly woody, with the comforting hint of whatever candle Jungkook’s mom always lit in the hallway.

You hesitated in the doorway, the memories rushing in too fast, too loud. It's not like you haven't been here in ages but since the year you celebrated your first marriage anniversary with Minho here, it felt like you have lived a thousand lives.

Lives that haunted you still, made you randomly pause in the grocery aisle and now before this house until you felt Jungkook’s presence press behind you as if silently urging you on.

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of your heels that have been as much as pain as the man you had been on a date with. The floor creaked softly beneath your feet as you stepped inside, the sound jarring. The same hardwood floors, polished to a faint sheen. The same floral wallpaper lining the hallway. The same photo frames arranged along the wall—a collection of childhoods captured and frozen in time.

But as you glanced toward the corner of the living room where the three of you used to pile up pillows and blankets for makeshift forts. The corner was bare now, save for an old armchair, but in your mind, you saw it vividly: Minho’s determined grin as he shuffled the pillows, Jungkook, always following the lead but never quite competing for it. You would snuggle a pillow to your lap, nestled between the two brothers, peeking from behind your fingers and giggling at the the way Minho’s face would light up in triumph when he won another round of rock-paper-scissors.

A type of smugness that came from knowing he’d get to flick Jungkook’s forehead next. But your smile would fade as soon as you would realize that it's your turn next. “Wait, wait!” you’d plead, wide-eyed, deploying the best puppy-dog look you could muster. It was the same look that had, on occasion, earned you extra TV time with your dad. Jungkook would glance at you and chuckle. Relent like your father would and sheild your forehead with his palm that'd have Minho pouting. "Hey! That's not how you do it!"

"Y/N?" A well recognized voice pulled you back to the where you were supposed to be, back from the fort of pillows and blankets.

You turned around and instantly found yourself wrapped up in a tight hug. You managed a small smile, letting your arms wrap around the warm frame of your mother in law, the scent of her jasmine oil and apprehensive energy pulling you in. "Mom." You greeted back.

Mrs Jeon hadn't always been this.. overbearing. Though after the passing of your husband, she had teamed up with your mother and been on a determined mission to make sure you are well and on a road to healing.

The next few minutes, she did what she had been doing best—fussed over you, asking how you’d been, if you’d eaten, if you were warm enough. In that time being, Jungkook had resigned to wherever his room was.

You planned to do the same, especially now that you could see on her face how she is on the brink of asking about the disaster tonight. You showed some obvious sign of weariness, in hopes she'd let it go for the night and tell you where you're supposed to go to bed for.

"Third on the left, my dear. And I'm gonna need you to stay for breakfast, okay?" You wondered if stubbornness was a running streak in this family.

Hours later, sleep had yet to come.

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the faint grooves in the plaster as if they could somehow lull you into rest. The trick didn't work. It hadn’t worked in your own apartment either—the one you and Minho had picked out together, picked the colors of the walls together, and argued over where the bookshelf should be. Yet, it was still your space. You could control how you faced the memories there, pacing them, deciding when and how to confront them.

There, at least, you’d managed four or five hours of sleep on a good night. Here? In this house that held so much of him, so much of them, you weren’t sure you’d manage even one.

The room you were led to was neat and welcoming, the kind of space that had been carefully prepared for guests. But there was no comfort to be found in the knowledge that two doors down lay Minho’s childhood room, untouched, a shrine to a boy who grew up into the man you loved and lost.

At some point, you gave up.

Sliding out of bed, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you padded quietly downstairs. The house was silent as you made your way downstairs, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound, the indistinct glow from the kitchen spilling into the dimness. You didn’t expect to find anyone there, but as you rounded the corner, your steps faltered.

Jungkook stood by the counter, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his other resting on the marble surface. His jacket was gone, abandoned somewhere, leaving him in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Tattoos.

They sprawled across his skin, intricate designs etched into muscle and sinew, that you didn't think you'd ever see on him.

Perhaps you thought wrong. Perhaps you never knew. Never knew him.

He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours that looked just as caught off guard as yours did. For a moment, you didn't feel comfortable moving from your spot until he eventually spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You shook your head, stepping into the kitchen. “Needed some water.” You said and opened a cabinet, finding the glasses exactly where you remembered, and filled one with water.

Behind you, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his presence impossible to ignore. Funny, how he always preferred to blend in the background as a child, now his mere cologne—earthy and warm—demanded attention, filled the room before he had even entered.

“Do you… do you drink often now?” you asked hesitantly, glancing over your shoulder, at the way his fingers curled around the glass, the tattoos on his hand shifting as he tilted it.

“Sometimes.” he said, his tone vague.

If things were anything like before between you two or anything like before at all, maybe you'd have pushed further, asked him if this was growing to be a unhealthy habit.

Now, it didn’t seem right when there was an ocean between you—a chasm of time. Felt intrusive. And you know it would only sound hypocritical from your mouth—talking about unhealthy mechanisms. Hah.

You ended up only nodding and put the washed glass back so you could go back to counting the grooves in the plaster. Resume your restless attempt at sleep.

But Jungkook spoke again.

"How long have you been going on.." He started suddenly, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. His voice was calm, but the muscle in his jaw twitched as he spoke. "These dates?"

You blinked at him, taken aback by the question. "Uh—for a while now, I guess?"

“Are you willing, or are they forcing you?”

The question, the way he asked it—sharp, direct—left you off balance. So did the way he was looking at you now, his eyes no longer holding the casualty as they once did when he had the glass of alcohol in his hand.

“I—” You faltered. “They just want to help. They think it’s time.”

“And what do you want?”

To go back to your room. To ask him what did it even matter to him, after all this time.

But what came out was forthright honesty. “I don’t know,” you admitted, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

He stepped closer, his feet padding softly against the kitchen floor—a contrast to his rigid frame that now towered just close enough. Close enough to see how his chest rose and fell with every breath. Close enough to see how his eyes lingered on you, like he was trying to unravel something he didn’t understand.

“You don’t have to do anything for them or anyone,” he said, his voice soft but no less rough. “Not if you’re not ready.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to deflect, to do something, but his gaze held you in place, tracing down from the dark circles that weighted your eyes to your parted lips. All you could feel was his gaze burning on you and hear your own pulse in your ears.

“Jungkook…” His name escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible.

He lingered for a beat longer, his eyes searching yours, then he stepped back, his jaw just as tight. “Get some rest.” He clipped out before he turned and walked away, leaving you alone again.

You didn't got any sleep that night.

8:00'o clock. The time's a etched number in your brain ever since you started your job at the university.

It's a routine that needs no alarm clock. It's a number you keep waiting for as you blink at the time passing. And you're more than eager when the morning comes softly along with smaller needle stopping at 8, sunlight slipping through the curtains in streaks too gentle to match the weight in your chest.

With Minho, you were the one to wake up first but here you find that the house was awake before you.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, mingling with the faint sound of voices coming from the dining room. Breakfast was warm and lively, much like your mother in law. She greeted you with a brightness that almost made you feel guilty for your somber disposition.

“Good morning!” she said with a smile that could have been plucked from a painting. Reaching for a plate of toast, setting it down in front of the empty seat beside her.

“Good morning.” you murmured, sliding into a chair.

Across the table, your father in law sat at his usual spot, his attention fixed on his phone, only looking up to give you a nod of acknowledgment. You had never fully understood him, not as Minho’s father, not as a man.

Perhaps, It had always been because of the sore spot between him and your husband, the way his father disapproved of his wishes—choosing art over business, passion over practicality. You remembered the arguments you thought would never hear after the age of sixteen, the way Minho would come home, his face tight with frustration. “He doesn’t get it,” he’d say. “He never will.” You saw the way it wore on him, the way he carried the weight of his father’s disapproval like it was stitched into his very skin.

Even now, as you sat across from him, you wondered if he ever regretted it—if he ever wished he had spoken softer, loved louder. But his face was as impassive as ever, his thoughts a mystery.

“Jungkook left early this morning,” his mother said, breaking the silence. “Something about a meeting downtown.”

You nodded, relief washing over you in a way that felt almost shameful. You hadn’t realized how much you were dreading seeing him until you knew you wouldn’t have to.

“Busy as always,” you said lightly, reaching for your coffee.

The conversation drifted into familiar topics—neighbors, extended family, stories you half-listened to with polite nods. The table felt both too full and too empty, the gazes of all the people that sat there never straying to the right one in the left corner, just right beside yours.

The older woman turned to you, her tone bright with enthusiasm.

“There’s a party this weekend,” she said, her smile widening. “Just a small gathering with some friends and business partners. It would be lovely if you came with us.”

The suggestion made you squirm uncomfortably in your chair. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“It’ll be good for you,” she interrupted gently, her gaze soft but insistent. “Everyone would love to see you.”

You hesitated, the thought of mingling with people, of putting on a brave face for strangers already making you want to go back to bed. “I’m not sure I’d be good company,” You glanced towards your father in law, half-hoping he might say something to discourage the idea, but he couldn't be any less bothered.

“Nonsense!” she pressed. “You don’t even have to stay long. But it would mean so much to us.”

There was no malice in her persistence, no attempt to guilt you, just a genuine desire to include you in their lives. You couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Her face lit up with a smile. “Wonderful. Jungkook will pick you up and bring you there. That way, you don’t have to worry about driving.”

You froze, cup midway to your mouth. "There's no need for that, mom."

"Oh hush." she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’ll be coming from the office, so it’s no trouble.”

You nodded slowly, your appetite not too great or you just wanted to get out of here.

8'30. You glanced at the rose gold wrist watch, your first anniversary gift. Your first class is due in an hour, the perfect excuse wrapped around your wrist which you use to excuse yourself from the suffocating walls that always feel like they are closing in on you.

You have come to prefer the morning buzz of the university more—the hum of young adults chatting in the hallways, the scrape of chairs against tiled floors.It was a rhythm you found comforting, predictable in its own way. Here, you were just a professor, the one who explained history and philosophy with hands that only shook sometimes.

The teenage year you would have thought predictable as boring but you— a woman gone through a dubious sets of events found a fellow feeling in it.

Found the task of grading thesis, making power point presentation better than you would have ever imagined.

But Gods, your students need to realize that they can't dump about their toxic ex in every essay. A woman can only take so much.

You were sorting through the said papers in your office when the door creaked open, and a woman peeked her head in, the light from the outside catching in her curly locks.

“You busy?” she asked, her voice light and familiar.

You looked up to see Mira, the economics professor and one of your closest colleagues, walking toward you with her usual warm smile. Mira was more than just a coworker though—being practically family, the wife of Minho’s dark haired cousin who didn’t talk much in family gatherings, and over the years, she had become a friend you could rely on and share lunch with.

“Not for you,” you said, smiling as you waved her in.

She dropped into the chair across from you, setting her bag on the floor. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

Was it that obvious?

“I didn’t,” you admitted, sighing softly. “I stayed at the Jeons’ last night.”

Her eyebrows rose, but there was something in her eyes—a softness, an understanding—that made you look away for a second. “How’d that go?”

You hesitated, picking at the edge of a notebook on your desk. “It was… fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Jungkook’s back,” you said, and her eyes widened slightly, the topic seeming to catch her attention.

“Really? I didn’t know he was in town.”

“Neither did I, until yesterday.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Just for a while, though. Business stuff, y'know?”

Mira tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “And how’s that going?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, but her eyes stayed on you, curious. “I mean, it’s been years, hasn’t it?"

“Yeah,” you said slowly. "It's fine, I suppose. We didn't talk much."

“Hmm.” Mira hummed thoughtfully as if tasting the question she was gonna ask on her tounge. “Are you okay with him being back?”

Were you okay with him behind back? Okay with him stepping in your vicinity after years of acting like you were not even family, let alone a friend?

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “It’s strange seeing him again after all this time. But he’s been… kind. Quiet, mostly.”

Mira didn’t press further, but there was something in her expression that made you uneasy, as if she knew something you didn’t.

You cleared your throat, desperate to change the subject. “There’s a party this weekend. His mom invited me. Please tell me you’re going.”

Mira winced, her smile apologetic. “Date night with the husband. Non-negotiable.”

"Oh." You tried not to show the dejection on your face but it was there. "Lucky you."

She studied you for a moment, her expression gentle. “Are you okay with going?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything for them. Not if you’re not ready.”

If only he understood how much easier it was to do things for others than to face yourself.

“Y/N…” Her voice softened, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she reached out and squeezed your hand. “You’ll be fine. And if you’re not, you can text me. I’ll make up some excuse to get you out of there.”

You smiled, grateful for her before bidding bye to her for her next class and focusing back on the pending work spread across your desk while simultaneously going through your closet in your mind.

Minho had always said red made the brown of your eyes excel more.

And you have really tried to believe it, looking at yourself from above your shoulder, from the side of your arm in the mirror but perhaps it's not only this red, off shoulder dress that's not doing your eyes justice. It's every color you have once known, once loved.

It's like, it's you that's not doing them justice.

As you stared into the mirror, your eyes flitting from one detail to the next—the slightly uneven tuck of fabric, the exposed skin of your collarbone—it felt wrong.

The little things were missing—his hands fixing the clasp of your necklace, his voice telling you not to overthink it, that you looked beautiful. That it didn’t matter what you wore, because it was you who wore it.

But he wasn’t here.

With a sigh, you adjusted the necklace you had chosen yourself, a simple silver chain that rested delicately against your collarbone. The mirror wasn’t forgiving, but you looked anyway, searching for something familiar in your own reflection. You smoothed your hands over the fabric, told yourself this was just another party, and dodged the doubts of this being a mistake.

The knock at your door came too soon, sharp and punctual, like everything Jungkook had become.

You felt your stomach clench, nerves twisting with something else you couldn’t name. Smoothing your dress one last time, you crossed the small space of your apartment, pausing just before the door.

When you opened it, Jungkook was standing right before you.

He had stood on the edge of cliffs where oceans met skies too, in countless countries at that, walked through streets that droned with history. Scrawled through the wonders of the world—the kind that made poets immortalize them in verse—but nothing—nothing—would ever measure up to this.

To you.

You, standing in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the hall light, your hair falling in waves that he had memorized long ago.

His chest tightened, the memory of another doorway bleeding into the moment as gaily as if it had just happened. He had been in the room meant for waiting, where your parents had sat moments before, your mother sniffling into a tissue, your father pacing in his polished shoes. Now it had been his turn.

The thought alone of being the second person to see you before you walked away from him for good had made his tie that he had been trying to get the hang off felt too stressed around his neck, his palms clammy despite the air conditioning. He rubbed them on his pants, glancing at the small clock on the mantle every few seconds. The minutes dragged, each one seemed longer than the other.

What would you look like?

The thought ran circles in his mind, only for a creak of the door to startle him back.

Footsteps had echoed in the quiet, minimizing the distance until he could practically feel the nervous energy of a bride bounce against his. "Okay. You can turn around now." He had heard you speak, had seen the skittish smile on your face before he even turned around.

And when he did, he felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

The dress hugged you like it had been designed with only you in mind, its soft fabric flowing as if in defiance of gravity. Your veil cascaded behind you, catching the light, and your smile was small, almost shy, as you looked up at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Well?” you prompted, turning slightly, your hands brushing the fabric at your sides. “What do you think?”

What did he think? He thought the universe was wicked for allowing him to witness this and still expect him to let you go.

He had swallowed hard, forcing his voice to steady when he finally said, “You look—” His tongue had faltered over every adjective that came to mind. Beautiful wasn’t enough. Breathtaking felt like a cliché. “Perfect.”

You—Beautiful, Devastatingly, so.

You—who weren’t his to look at this way.

He feels his breath catch, his hands clenching at his sides to keep himself from reaching for you.

Because while that version of you had been a dream, this version—worn, weathered, but still so unmistakably you—was real. And the reality of you had always been what he wanted most.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t have agreed to pick you up, shouldn’t have stepped into this space, should have kept the distance he had spent years bridging.

But he has always found himself hopeless and running back to wherever you were concerned, hopeless in a way that had him studying for a test he didn’t even have to keep you company or show up.. here. Content to be near you in whatever capacity he could. He told himself it was enough. That it would be enough to watch you from the sidelines, to sit across from you at family dinners.

It wasn’t.

Because Jungkook wasn't a virtuous man. He never had been.

Virtue belonged to his brother—the one who could weave dreams out of thin air, who saw the world in colors Jungkook had never learned to name. His brother—Minho—who had been the light, the warmth that people, he gravitated toward. He had admired Minho, even envied him, resented him in ways he never admitted aloud and kept it in shadows.

When Minho died, the shadow became a man. And that man had spent years running.

Running into work, into unfamiliar cities, into the kind of purpose that left no room for thought. No room for the times when everything was right, when he tasted family and friendship for the first time ever, no room for the last time he tasted it when you walked down the aisle to his brother looking at him like he was the sun and how it burned, how he had burned with nails biting into his palms.

And only men with no integrity burn. Men who are cowards, restless, afraid of thier own greed try to run, in hopes that the distance would save them.

But distance didn’t save men like Jungkook.

Because here he was again, standing before you, the fire still smoldering.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice pulling him back, creating a doubt in his belief.

“Hi,” he replied, his own tounge feeling heavy in his mouth.

“You’re early,” you said, your tone carefully light.

He cleared his throat, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks in an attempt to keep them to themselves. “Traffic was lighter than I expected. Are you ready to leave?"

You nodded and he stepped back, revealing his sleek Mercedes benz parked just right in front. He let you walk before him, watching how your movements were hesitant, as if the ground beneath your feet wasn’t entirely steady. He wanted to ask you if you were okay. He wanted to tell you it was okay if you weren't.

He settled for opening the car door for you.

“Thanks for this,” you said, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do.”

His grip tightened against the leather of the steering wheel with a force that made his knuckles ache. There was a rancorous way that you spoke to him, carefully restrained, that he couldn't even blame you for.

"It's not." He gritted out. "It's not a problem."

He had earned every inch of this gap between you, had spent years building it brick by brick, mile by mile. He's all to blame for. For carving the space between you with every ignored call, every excuse he made to avoid family dinners where you’d inevitably be.

For the leaving the wreckage in his wake—yours, his, theirs.

It wasn’t fair to hate the consequences of his own choices.

But hell, if he didn't outright loathed feeling like he was staring at a wall of frosted glass when he looked at you—where he could see the outline of you, but the details were blurred, distant. Like he had lost the privilge of knowing you from one glance, lost the privilge of having you speak up to him whenever you wanted, call him out, intoxicate him with your laughter that lightened up a room he wasn't even aware was dark. Found it fucking unbearable.

So much that he felt relief washing over him when the venue of the gathering came in view. A grand mansion, framed by manicured gardens and sprawling oaks that seemed to whisper old secrets to one another. It had a timeless elegance that made you wonder how many lives it had seen pass through its doors.

Small gathering, she said. You scoffed internally at rich people and their definition of small.

“Nice place,” you murmured as you walked beside him, your steps careful on the stone path after the car was eased into a parking spot.

“It’s the Kim's family home,” Jungkook said. You nodded, though the name didn’t spark much recognition. The Kims had been mentioned here and there at family dinners—names dropped in passing between sips of wine and shared laughter. You had barely paid attention then, too busy suppressing laughs at the jokes that Minho whispered near.

The front doors were open, the faint scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne wafting out to greet you. Inside, the space was as opulent as expected—high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, polished floors that gleamed under the soft light, and clusters of well-dressed guests milling about with drinks in hand.

A tall man stood near the entrance, his broad shoulders and sharp jawline making him impossible to miss. Beside him, another man stood with a softer air, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he leaned into the first man’s side.

The taller of the two men turned, his expression lighting up as he spotted Jungkook. “There he is,” He said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly.

"Hyung." Jungkook softened, clasping hands in a firm shake before pulling each other into a brief hug, the kind that spoke of collaboration and respect.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, your fingers curling around the strap of your purse as you wondered whether to step back and leave him to his conversation or stay and risk being out of place.Would it be rude if you chose the former?

You were saved from your uncertainty when the two of them pulled away from Jungkook and took you in, a gleam of recognition passing through their face. Recognition, shock, then pity. You know how it went.

“You must be Y/N,” the taller one said, his gaze shifting to you with a warm smile.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the direct attention. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Kim Namjoon ” he said, offering his hand. “And this is Seokjin, my partner.” You smiled, nodding in acknowledgment before taking the hand of the charming one in the beige suit. “It’s nice to meet you, both. This is a beautiful venue.” You assume that they're the hosts of the party. The Kims that this house belonged to.

“Thank my father for that,” Namjoon said with a chuckle. “Sixty years old and still insists on hosting the most extravagant parties. He’d never let me live it down if I didn’t pull out all the stops.”

“Extravagant is an understatement,” Seokjin chimed in, his tone playful as he glanced at Namjoon. “I’m pretty sure half the flowers in the city ended up here.”

You smiled again, but it faltered when Seokjin's expression changed in a beat.

“We’ve heard a lot about you too,” he said gently, his gaze dipping briefly to Jungkook before meeting yours again.

You tilted your head, curiosity flashing across your face. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” Namjoon assured you. “Your family is well-regarded, and we-we're sorry about Minho. He was brilliant in every sense of the world. We can't even imagin—"

“Thank you,” you said softly, trying really hard to not let the tightening of your throat strain your voice. “He was.”

Jungkook watched as your smile faltered, just slightly, at the mention of Minho. He decided to steer the conversation away but you recovered quickly, offering a polite nod and beat him to it.

There was a brief, loaded pause before you glanced at Jungkook. “I should find mom. She asked me to join her earlier.”

"Yeah, right.” Jungkook said, his voice steady despite the way his chest tightened again when he looked at you.

You walked by Jungkook, brushing close enough that your shoulder brushed against his chest, the faintest hint of your vanilla perfume that was so maddeningly you lingered in the air. He tensed, his breath catching before he could stop it. His fingers twitched at his sides, an almost imperceptible motion, but it was enough.

Subtle as he tried to be, he caught himself leaning slightly, his chest rising with a quiet inhale as though he could take the ghost of your scent and keep it for himself.

"Not as subtle as you think." Seokjin snickered by his boyfriend's side who also raised an eyebrow, his expression knowing and somewhat giving away his discomfort. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Shit.

Jungkook straightened, his jaw clenching as he avoided their eyes, fixing the collar of his shirt hoping they won't catch on the heat creeping up on his neck too. “Don’t.” he said quietly, his tone low and edged with warning.

"Maybe you don't sniff her like a dog in public? Maybe you have some decorum?" Seokjin judged, proud and loud.

"I have plenty, hyung." The younger male side eyed the older one, his eyes narrowed and the tips of his ears already crimson red like he was a boy caught watching porn for the very first time.

Namjoon sighed, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Let him be, honey.”

But the look he gave Jungkook was far from dismissive. It was the kind of look that saw too much, that peeled back layers Jungkook wasn’t ready to confront. Gods, he needed new friends.

He turned his attention back to the crowd where you disappeared.

The soft hum of conversations and the faint clinking of glasses followed you as you weaved through the grand hall, your eyes scanning for your mother-in-law’s familiar figure. The air in the mansion was heavier than it had been when you arrived, the brush of silk against silk, the way every movement seemed calculated, observed, and weighed.

You navigated through the crowd like a ghost in a gallery, your steps measured and slow, eyes flicking to the floor more than once to avoid the speculative stares. With rich circles came dirty gossip—whispered words disguised as laughter, false smiles that hid daggers. You’d learned to let them roll off your back, like rain on stone.

The Jeon matriarch had mentioned being near the back, closer to where the banquet tables were set. You followed the direction she’d gestured toward earlier, passing servers who moved seamlessly with trays of sparkling champagne.

Halfway through the journey, your steps faltered as your gaze landed on the centerpiece of one table—a chocolate fountain. Warm, rich, and cascading like liquid satin, it stood surrounded by an array of treats. Strawberries gleamed like rubies in the low light, their surfaces polished and inviting.

You hesitated, glanced around as if expecting someone to berate you for indulging in something so ordinary, but eventually, you plucked a strawberry and dipped it into the cascading chocolate.

You let the sweetness settle on your tongue, closing your eyes for a brief moment. For the first time all evening, you found this place somewhat tolerable.

Free food always making things better.

“Excuse me, miss.” a small voice piped up beside you, tugging on the flowy end of your dress.

A boy, no older than six or seven, stood by your side, his wide eyes flicking between you and the fountain. He looked as if he had stepped out of a luxury children’s catalog, his little suit tailored perfectly, his bow tie slightly askew. “Can you grab one for me? I’m not allowed to reach it by myself.” he asked, pointing at the fountain. His voice was polite, but there was a hopeful edge to it, as if he wasn’t used to asking for things twice.

“Of course, love.” you said, your lips curving into a small smile. You picked another strawberry, dipping it with care before crouching slightly to hand it to him. "There you go."

“Thank you!” he chirped, grinning immediate and radiant, the kind that softened the edges of a hard day.

"What's your name?" You asked him, crouching down to his level.

“Do-yun!” came a sharp voice, the kind that turned your stomach before your brain even processed it.

Who you assumed was the boy's mother stepped forward, her elegance severe, her lips painted in a red that matched the strawberries. She took her son’s hand but not before her eyes raked over you, head to toe, with an expression that left no room for interpretation.

"What did I tell you about bothering strangers?” she scolded do-yun who stared at the skewer in his hand apologetically.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” you said gently, straightening up and having the woman’s eyes flicker to you again, assessing.

“He just wanted a treat.”

Her eyes flicked to the chocolate fountain, then back to you, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “how kind of you.”

There was no warmth in her tone, no hint of gratitude. Just a faintly dismissive air. And with that, she turned, her child in tow, leaving you with the faint scent of something floral and the taste of bitterness on your tongue.

You'd learned better than to expect warmth from people bound by history.

You'd learned not to mind it. To overlook it. To not pay attention to them at all.

"That's her, isn't she?"

“Such a shame, losing her husband so young.”

“Yes, but you know, they weren’t exactly power players, were they? He was an artist, wasn’t he?”

The words hung in the air like cigarette smoke, acrid and inescapable.

A laugh, soft and cruel. “I suppose she’s lucky the Jeons still keep her close. Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.”

You stopped in your tracks. The sharp sting of their voices cut through the party’s hum, louder than the music, louder than your own heartbeat.

You could feel your palms start to get sweaty, eyes suddenly unable to meet anyone's.

Breathe. You reminded yourself.

One: Find your breath.

Two: Focus on something neutral—the fountain, the floor, the chandelier above.

Three: Remind yourself: They don’t know you. Their words are weightless.

But weightless wasn’t the right word.

“Though, you’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly… widow-appropriate, is it?”

You tried to focus on your numbers but you lost it.

You turned, your fists clenched, your lips thinned, the polite demeanor cracking away from your face under the weight of your frustration.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “Was there something you wanted to say to my face?”

The women froze, their eyes widening in surprise. One of them, a younger woman with a nervous smile, tried to backpedal. “Oh, no, we didn’t mean—”

“Because if you have an issue with me or my dress, feel free to say it outright,” you continued, your voice clear despite the way your heart hammered in your chest. “I’d hate for you to waste any more time whispering behind my back.”

The group exchanged glances, communicating in a language of their own, you couldn’t care less about. Atleast not in this moment.

“We didn’t mean to offend,” one of them muttered, her tone brittle.

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “How could I possibly take offense to strangers dissecting my life as if it’s some dinner party entertainment?”

Stupid old hags with no life of their own!

You kept that to yourself.

Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and stormed away.

The chandeliers above blurred as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

You weren’t looking for anything specific—just distance, just air that wasn’t thick with judgment and whispers. A bathroom, maybe, though you weren’t going to ask for directions not when your voice felt like it would crack the moment you opened your mouth.

People brushed past you, their scents of expensive perfumes swirling in the air, their muted voices blending into a hum you couldn’t quite focus on. One or two bumped into your shoulder, but you didn’t apologize, didn’t bother looking back.

You just needed to get away—you just needed out of here.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t finished testing you, a firm hand of another one of a frame you jerked into, closed around your wrist, halting your momentum.

You looked up, brows scrunched, eyes glossy and mouth parting, ready to snap but then you were met with a amicable pair of dark eyes.

A crease of his own wrinkling his forehead as he looked down at you. "Is something wrong?" He asked and you almost wanted to laugh mockingly.

Instead, you did what you initially wanted to do. Your eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face. “Let me go.”

He hesitated for a moment, tounge poking his cheek, grip on your hand loosening but not releasing entirely. "What's wrong, y/n?"

“I said, let me go,” you repeated, your voice firm, frangible at the edges before you pulled your hand away from him and pushed past to walk away without another word.

The next random hallway you stumbled into was quieter, emptier, and for that, you were grateful, stretched ahead like an endless corridor of polished wood and muted gold accents. The noise of the party faded into the background, muffled by the thick walls and heavy doors.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to roam around mindlessly any further. This should be good enough, you told yourself and leaned against one of the walls, your forehead pressing against the cool surface as you tried to breathe through the wave of vehemence emotions that crashed through you.

One: Inhale.

Two: Exhale.

Three: Forget the words they said. Forget them.

But they echoed, persistent and savage, circling in your mind like vultures.

Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.

You’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly widow-appropriate, is it?

Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, your hands clutching at your dress as if the fabric could somehow hold you together. But nothing could, nothing had. You had tried and tried and tried.. and fuck you didn't wanted to do it anymore.

Turning around, your head tipped back against the wall, the ceiling swimming in and out of focus as your vision blurred.

You shouldn’t have come here.

You should have stayed home, buried yourself in the comfort of your quiet apartment where no one whispered behind your back or looked at you with pity thinly disguised as deference.

Why did they care? Why did it matter to them how you dressed, how you existed, how you grieved?

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the tears away. Crying wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change anything.

Your hands gripped your clutch tightly, the edges digging into your palms, and for a moment, you considered throwing it—hurling it across the hall just to feel something break.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because even here, in this quiet, empty hallway, you felt the silent expectation that you hold yourself together, that you keep smiling, keep nodding, keep existing in a way that made other people comfortable.

You hated this. You hated being you. You hated being the one who was left behind. And God you hated being alone. No Minho to make a quiet joke about the ridiculousness of it all and pull you toward something fun and irreverent.

Just you.

It will be always be just you. You've never admitted that to yourself but now that you did, you feel such panic rise in your chest that you don't hear him at first. Not until his voice broke through the haze.

“Y/N.”

It was soft, tentative, but it still cut through the silence like a blade.

You flinched, your head snapping toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression shadowed with concern.

He had followed you.

“I told you to leave me alone,” you managed, your voice trembling as you turned away, willing him to disappear.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, his footsteps growing louder as he moved closer with a cautiousness that made you feel like a wounded animal. “Talk to me.” He added, the pleading in his voice almost running free.

"I mean it, Jungkook.. go away." You tried putting distance between the both of you again but far too quick for your slowed senses, he was now standing right in front of you, hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know what to do with him while also knowing.

"And I told you, I'm not leaving." His tone had coarsened and your dam had broke.

“Why now?” you cried, stepping closer to him, your fists balling at your sides. “Why do you want to stay now? You’ve spent years acting like a stranger, Jungkook. Years acting like I didn’t exist. And now—”

You shoved at his chest, your fists pounding weakly against him, but he didn’t move.

“Now you want to act like you care?” you yelled, your voice cracking as you hit him again. “Now you want to be here? Why?”

Jungkook stood still, his arms at his sides, his chest solid and unyielding beneath your fists. He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back, didn’t even try to stop you. He just let you hit him, let you pour out everything.His silence infuriated you, and yet it steadied you in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Why do you care now?" you repeated, your voice cracking, trembling like your hands as they hit his chest incessantly. Each word felt like it scraped raw against your throat. "Where were you, Jungkook? When everything fell apart, when I—when I needed someone. Where were you?"

“I don’t need you now!” you snapped, your tears falling freely now. “I don’t need you to come here and act like you care, like you’ve always cared, because we both know that’s not true."

“Because you left!" your voice cracked, the words laced with betrayal. The hurt from the breach of faith weakening you and your punches on his chest until they finally stilled, your hands trembling still as they curled into the fabric of his shirt. Jungkook caught your wrists, his hold firm but gentle, and for a moment, you fought him, your breaths coming in sharp and ragged. But when he didn’t let go, when he didn’t flinch or step back, the fight drained out of you.

Your knees buckled, and his arms came around you slowly, hesitantly, as if he were afraid you might push him away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were too tired now. Empty hands that had been holding onto something for as long as you could remember were too tired, have forgotten the feeling of what it felt like to be held instead.

You allowed to let yourself feel that. You allowed yourself to feel someone else other than the woman you couldn’t even recognize in a mirror as you sagged against him, your head pressing against his shoulder as your tears soaked into his shirt, body shaking and shivering from the quiet sobs that you let out.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, angel." You heard him say those words like a mantra against your hair, arms tightening around you, nestling you close against his chest.

For a moment, you heard pain there, raw and unfiltered, pain that felt similiar to your own in ways you hadn’t expected. You clutched his shirt tighter. You didn't wanted to be alone and Jungkook felt and smelled of times when you weren't. Earthy and Warm. Like that one time when he pulled you in to him after the death of milo- your first dog, and didn’t even mind your snort.

You had clung to those memories but it felt better clinging to him. A small, desperate part of you wanting to drag him closer, to cling to what little you had left of the past. The rest of you wanted to push him away, to keep screaming at him for daring to come back after all this time, after all this distance.

The sobs subsided slowly, leaving behind the kind of stillness that felt fragile, as if it might shatter with the wrong word or movement. Jungkook didn’t push you away, didn’t loosen his hold. If anything, he pulled you closer, as though he feared you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your gaze searching his face. His eyes shadowed, a stupid perfect strand of his stupid perfect hair falling on his forehead with tension prominent in his jaw and you wondered if there was a time there wasn't.

You wondered if it would make you any more vulnerable that you are right now if you say the words that sit on the top of your tounge, sting in the tears that linger in the corner of your eyes.

“I missed you,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. They felt dangerous, like exposing a wound that had barely begun to scab over.

His eyes darkened, a low sound rumbling in his chest—something between a growl and a sigh. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I missed you too, angel."

The rawness in his tone made your chest clench, a part of you craving more, while another part shrieked at you to stop this before it went any further, gather whatever semblance has left of you and walk away, play his cards against him.

But you have never been too good with cards or walking away.

“Then why did you leave?” you croaked. “Why did you stay away for so long?”

His gaze dropped to the space between you before meeting your eyes again, his own breathing now getting uneven. You could feel it beneath you. Rising. And Rising. And Rising.

"I didn’t knew how to look at you and not feel like I'm.. betraying him." His voice trembles as he drews in breath and you're so close you feel the heat of it brush against your temple. "And I can not, not look at you. That became a problem."

Your body stiffened at the confession, the world around you shrinking until it was just the two of you, his voice echoing in your ears.

Your first instinct was disbelief.

This can't mean what you think it does.

This can’t mean what you think it does!

The words replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to settle. Each repetition twisted something deeper, something buried in the hollow space that had once been you.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, needing space, needing air.

He didn’t move. His gaze followed you, his expression resolute, like he was determined to lay everything bare now that the first truth had slipped out.

But you didn’t even wanted to acknowledge it as something, let alone, a truth. “That’s not—” Your voice cracked, and you forced yourself to start again. "Are you drunk, Jungkook?" You found the thought so repulsing, you could only think of ways to brush this up, put all the blame on the champagne.

From the way his eyes narrowed and brow ridged, you could tell that it was not the champagne.

“Y/N.” he says with a warning. “I’m not fucking drunk.”

“Well, you sound like you are,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “Because that—what you just said—sounds like something someone says when they’re not thinking clearly. You're not making any sense, Jungkook!"

“It makes sense,” he was starting to get frustated now. “It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

And you were starting to get scared. You needed him to stop talking. Anything and everything he said made you physically want to recoil. You took another step back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if you could shield yourself from the weight of unsaid words that are no longer so.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice breaking, hands tempted to cover your ears like a child. His confession felt like a pin pulled from a grenade, and now the blast was unfurling within you. “Don’t do this. It's not fair. It's-It's not fair to him. Or me. Or you."

I know. He admits quietly to himself because he doesn't think anyone knows better than the man who was holding the jagged ends of a once delicate thread. And he hates himself for it because hating you was as unrealistic as the existence of a greater being to him. He had tried. Tried turning to salvation. Tried to despise you for being the one thing that has turned him the best and worst person he can be but he just can't. He prefers hating himself better.

He wants this punishment, that is you. He wants to whisper I'm sorry- I'm sorry for leaving- I'm sorry for coming back in every crook and nook of your body for the rest of his life so you'd feel his expression of regret that could only be a product of love so consuming embedding into you.

Because it's truth. It's his truth, has been for years and years, before he even knew what are the consequences of being a honest person. Now that he is seeing you in front of him—you with a revolting look, a stray tear rolling down your eyes that is nowhere near as angry as it had been before, he understands that it's not a consequence he can take.

He dares to step forward again and even if takes a whole lot of power in him not to pull you into him again, he doesn't and only raises a hand and catches the tear with his thumb.

“You don’t get to do this to me.” you repeat, your voice low and trembling.

And so does his. "I know."

Jungkook didn’t know what he expected you to say, what he hoped for. Forgiveness? Understanding? He wasn’t sure he deserved either.

Yet when you don't pull away, look back at him with the same daring he had stepped forward with, a silence understanding passes between the space that is separating you from him. And he's done being separated from you.

He tilted his head down, his breath stirring your hair when he inhaled deeply, his nose tracing a path down until it rubbed against yours—softly, deliberately—as if giving you time to move away. You didn't and his eyes fell on your inviting mouth again.

Fuck it.

Jungkook surged forward, his hands cupping your face, tipping your face up to him as his lips crashed against yours. The way he kissed you was nothing like the way he had touched you. It was rough, desperate with the way tounge and teeth clashed, filled with years of pent up desire and regret and emotions too tangled to name.

He kissed you like the nights he’d spent staring at the ceiling in places too far from home, wondering if you’d be happier without him there to complicate things, wondering if things had been any different if he said something before. Will you have looked at him like the way you looked at his brother? Would that choice have saved you from years and years of tragedy? Would that have saved him from the weight of his guilt, his love—love that had been a silent, unwelcome presence in his life for so long that it felt like another organ, vital and inescapable?

When he felt you grip him again and kiss him back. Nothing else mattered. The world stopped spinning and he didn't wanted to run anymore.

His hands found your waist, gripping tightly. A low groan slipping from his mouth to yours at the feeling of how you melted against him when he deepened the kiss, tounge proding and exploring all that your sweet mouth had to offer. Gods, he was drunk now.

"Shit." He shuddered as the taste of you finally started to settle in, pulling you closer and closer, then pushing you back until your back met the wall of the hallway.

You should be scared, anxious and pushing him back. The mere thought of someone walking in on you kissing him, your supposed family. Should make you want to end this because you could only imagine the stake they'd pin you on. They'd be not wrong to.

This is traitorous—what you're doing, what you're allowing yourself. But so is a shameful part of you that had always reached for him. Something that whispered to you, so soft it felt like it came from inside your own chest.

It's not so bad. His lips feel good.

But oh, it is. It makes you sick from just thinking how bad it is. Anger, confusion, guilt—oh, the guilt—swirl together and make you so sick.

"W-We shouldn’t.." You gasp against him as your unpracticed lips suck on his in a contradiction.

"No, we shouldn't." He kisses you harder, his mouth only leaving yours to trail a train of kisses along the column of your accessible throat to him, making you whimper out loud that he takes as an sign to nibble and bite.

Your hands find their way to his shoulder and his to your hips. "Legs around me." He licks the length of your neck, narrowing your world down to the feeling of his provoking wet tounge on your skin, his calloused fingers squeezing your hips. It felt all too real now. And despite you being balant enough to start this in the first place, you're not sure if you're still feeling bold. What you are feeling is this sinful, unexplainable craving seeping into your bones, curling around your ribs, making it hard to breath and think. Or maybe it's him.

Whatever it is, you get yourself to pause his eager hands and hungry mouth and speak, your breath coming in short, hot puffs. "Jungkook.. I don't think-" He straightens up and the vulnerability in his voice and eyes is gone as he squeezes your hips tighter.

"Finally gave me that perfect mouth of yours and now you want to walk away? Do you like tormenting me, angel? Do you like knowing that I'd fuck my fist to only the thought of you when you do?" He growls against your ear and you feel yourself flush so hard you're sure he even feels the heat coming off you in ripples.

"Please, baby." He pleads unapologetically, fingers tugging you closer even when all of you is pressed against all of him. "I want you." So bad it hurts.

Gone is the man who had once been so armored, seemed so unreachable and untouchable. And left is Jeon Jungkook, who looks like he will crumble to the ground if you pull away now.

You wouldn't want that. But the words came anyway, right from where shame twisted in your stomach, tangling with the guilt that clawed at your throat. "Do you still want me even if I'm nothing like the woman I used to be?" It came out breakable and in segments, and the second they left your lips, you weren’t sure what to except as a answer.

For a moment, all you could hear was the ragged rhythm of your combined breathing.

You swallowed hard, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The intensity in his dark eyes was almost unbearable, raw and unrelenting as they searched yours.

"Don't ever say that again." he bit out, every syllable heavy. "I want you always. I want you with my every breath. There's always been only you for me, understand?" He added with a brief grind of his hardened arousal against your front, making you mewl.

The words, though, hit you like a physical forcek, breaking through the walls you’d built around yourself, the ones you’d convinced yourself were impenetrable.

Before you could respond, he moved.

His mouth fell onto yours again and with practiced ease, his hands slid to the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. "Now. Legs around me, baby." he murmured in the kiss, and though your mind was a whirlwind of what seemed like every single thought you've ever had, your body obeyed.

You could barely figure out to where he was taking you, too engrossed in the kiss that you steered towards a softer, mellow one, fingers tangling in the hair that has grown a little bit on the nape of his neck. Feeling like you both were two audacious college students trying to find a space in a messy party where you both won't be interrupted.

When he halted in his steps, you assumed that he found it as he kicked it open with a firm nudge of his boot, the room beyond dim and quiet but he barely give you time to register anything else, his movements urgent and frantic as he carried you over to the bed in the middle after swiftly locking you both away. You bounced on the silk mattress as he set you down, though his intentions were grave, his actions or the way he held you was gentle, tounge swiping over his glistening lips like chasing the taste of you that made you want to give him once more.

Audacious, you were.

Your eyes on his face, shadows played along the planes, softening the hard edges of his jaw, but his gaze burned. Dark and piercing, it held you in place as if daring you to look away.

You didn’t.

Your eyes followed the sluggish movements of his hands as he reached up, his fingers deftly working the knot of his tie. The fabric slid free, whispering against the buttons of his dress shirt before he cast it aside, forgotten on the nearby chair.

Next came his jacket. He shrugged it off with practiced ease, the broad span of his shoulders rolling beneath the fabric. Your breath hitched as he discarded it, leaving him in the crisp white shirt that clung to his frame, the outline of him barely hidden.

And then his hands moved again, this time to his wrist.

You watched, mesmerized, as he undid the strap of his watch, the silver buckle catching the faint light. He pulled it free and set it down on the nightstand, the movement so fluid it felt almost rehearsed.

It wasn’t until he turned his wrist slightly that you noticed it—the worn thread of a bracelet wrapped around his wrist, faded from time and use but unmistakable.

The one you’d tied around his wrist when you were kids in an action of promise to stay friends for years to come.

But he still wore it.

He still wore it.

Your fingers twitched against the bedspread, the urge to reach out and touch him almost overwhelming.

And as if understanding your anticipation, he soon followed you down, your breath catching as he hovered above you. You waited for him to kiss you again because god help you, you liked a little too much but he only pressed a chaste one, smirking subtly at the pout that subconsciously formed on your lips that soon parted in a gasp when he started to suck on your neck again, this time with the intention to claim the spot with the scrape of his teeth.

He hummed against your skin, the sound deep and satisfied, before he drew your flesh into his mouth again, harder this time. The sharp pull sent a jolt of pleasure-pain coursing through you, thighs clenching together.

"My angel." he said softly, yet nothing was soft about the way he pulled down on the straps of your dress. The fabric slipped, baring the smooth skin of your shoulder, and he pressed his lips there, warm and firm, before trailing lower, his mouth following the path he’d just uncovered. "My undoing."

The red fabric gathered at your arms as he pushed it further, exposing the tops of your collarbones and the swell of your chest. His gaze flicked up to meet yours then, dark and questioning, seeking permission even though his hands were steady, his intention clear.

You nodded, perhaps with too much enthusiasm and earned a chuckle from him that you were sure was the reason for the wetness pooling between your legs.

You had missed that sound. You had missed him.

And he was hell bent on making up for lost time as he dived face first into your chest, humming again when he took in your pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling his tounge around the roundness of you.

"Oh shit." Your back arched, hands finding their way to his hair again. Pulling and tugging. Urging him on until his hand was fondling the other, abandoned tit. Squeezing under his rough palms that made the heat lowering your stomach worse—all of it felt too much, too soon. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

It had been so long.

Too long since someone had touched you like this, with a reverence that made you feel seen, whole, wanted.

You told yourself it was natural, that anyone in your position would respond this way. That it wasn’t about him—it couldn’t be. But your body betrayed you before your mind could even catch up. Your legs wrapped around his waist once more as you ground yourself against him. Against the print of his bulging length you could feel pulsing against you.

"Fuck yeah.." You cursed low, head falling back on the pillows and Jungkook looked up, his own cock twitching at the sight of you, at the feel of you. Of everything he has ever wanted. Of everything he thought he would never have. But here you were straight from his flithest wet dream that would have him taking more cold showers that he could keep count of.

A goddamn miracle for him, this wasn't a dream.

"This here needs some attention too, hmm?" He rasped, hands slipping down from the curve of your waist, to bunch up your dress to your hips. Wasting no time in finding the wet mess you made of your panties. "Look at this." He grunted, hand cupping your clothed mound. "So wet."

You exhaled out like you'd been freed from shackles that felt too heavy and a whimper followed right after when he disposed you of them, exposing your deprived cunt to the cold air that had you clenching around nothing. "And so fucking responsive." He breathed against your bare sex after moving his head down.

You hadn’t expected that. You breath was bated, cheeks were flushed and heart was pounding at the view alone of his face between your thighs.

Then again, he was all about surprising you today.

Though, it didn't make it any less overwhelming.

The way his hands gripped your thighs, firm yet careful, as if he were both anchoring you and holding himself back. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to leave the faintest imprint, a reminder of where he had been, where he was. Your legs draped over his shoulders, trembling with a mix of anticipation and disbelief, as though your body was still catching up to the reality of this moment.

Never in your wildest dreams, it would have come to this. Come to Jungkook licking a greedy strip up from your folds.

"Jungkook—oh God!" You gasped and he groaned, feeling all of his restraint and the plan to savor this, to savor you, slip away from his tightening hands. One taste of you and he wanted to grasp every drop of like it would be his last.

And so he did.

Burying his face in your wanting pussy like a man with purpose, he lapped. His mouth wrapped around your clit, tounge swiping and licking with a reverence because you were something sacred, something he had put on a pedestal so high, others in his life barely mattered.

"Oh- mhm. Feels so good!" You moan out, mind in a haze of pure fog and he takes it as his cue to plunge his digit inside your dripping core. You're sure you've got no mind now. Grunts of his own leaving him at the thought of your heat wrapping around his aching cock instead.

He felt no shame in that. No shame in what he was doing right now. Because then you moved, your body arching toward him as if to erase every doubt. Your fingers found their way to his hair, tugging as selfishly as he fed on you, flatenning his tounge on your slit to take all he can get, to give you all he can.

A shaky exhale brushing against your folds. The sound was low, guttural, and filled with more longing than he knew how to contain. "Does it, baby? Sweet pussy's feeling good?" His fingers—knuckles deep now—worked you faster, curling and testing ways to get you closer to the edge.

This was more desire that he knew he was possible of as his hips started to rut on their own, seeking friction in a way that was both instinctual and helpless. Brain flat lining. Face drowned in the essence of you. Desperate, as you pulled on his hair. Pathetic, as he chased his own high from just the taste of you, from just how you enveloped his curving fingers. Ecastic, when you finally reached your breaking point from how he alternated between broad strokes and targeted flicks, making you come all over his mouth that kindles his face, that he swallow all because he refuses to let anything go to waste.

"Ah fuck—Oh lord!" You fingers tear in his scalp and hips bucked against his face, eyes rolling back until they whitened.

Oh.

Oh.

It was in this moment, with your thighs braced against his shoulders and his name spilling from her lips, that Jungkook knew.

He would never be the same again.

That he too would be coming in his pants like a high school boy.

It wasn’t enough—nothing would ever be enough—but it was all he had, and it drove him to the edge faster than he would’ve liked to admit. The tension inside him snapped before he could stop it, his body tensing and toes curling because he found everything else secondary to the sheer joy of watching you fall apart beneath him.

"Oh shit, y/n. Shit. Shit. Shit." He whimpers against your cunt, his hips finally slowing down their mindless movement. His forehead pressed against your thigh as he caught his breath. His chest heaved, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his entire body felt like it was vibrating, the aftershocks of his release making his muscles twitch.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to your clit before leaning back up to feel another wave of release threatening to overcome him when he sees your content expression, hands loosening their grip in his raven hair, half lidded eyes meeting his own before they trail down. "Y-You.." You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t have spoken even if you tried.

A lazy smirk made it's way to his lips that caught the light before he licked whatever remnant what was left of you on his fingers.

"I'm a starved man, angel. Cut me some slack." He panted, pinching your bud in emphasis and moved back up before you could even process it, the warmth of his breath retreating, replaced by the cooler air of the room as he straightened. The absence of his lips against you left you gasping, your chest heaving, your pulse thundering in your ears or maybe it was you still riding your orgasm or maybe it was the knowledge that he came in his pants from just eating you out.

Then he was there again, his hands sliding from your thighs to the mattress on either side of you, bracketing you in like a secret he refused to let escape.

"Hi." He breathed against your forehead.

You felt a shy smile twitch on your lips. "Hi." You reply just as breathlessly.

He presses another kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah?" You couldn’t reconcile it.

How could he say things that made your cheeks flush, your body respond in ways you couldn’t control, while his lips brushed against your temple with a tenderness that felt like an apology?

How could he make you feel like you were unraveling and being held together all at once?

You wanted to know. "Mhm. Please." You mewl, hands softly going through the beautiful mess that you made of his hair.

"Please, what?" He demanded, lips on your cheek.

"Please fuck me." You whine and he bumped his nose against your face, chest rumbling from a sound so feverish that you can't help but grind against him again. Coaxing his cock back into hardness with your bare cunt against him, from the realization that you shared the insatiable urges with him.

It got his hand trembling when they reached down to unbind his belt, pushing the fabric down his hips to reveal predicament he's made of his boxers that were bounding his hard, leaking cock but hell if he had it in himself to care.

He had been bidding his time for far too long. Waited enough—longer than any man should have to wait for something that felt this inevitable, this right, this his.

Ridding himself of the last piece of clothing on him, other than the white dress shirt that flexed against his coiled muscles, he took himself In a fist, groaning when he pumped himself in one slow stroke. Eyes never leaving your wide ones like you weren’t sure if you should be impressed, intimidated, or both.

Your breath hitched audibly, and your chest rose and fell as your eyes darted from his face to the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, but you couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away, couldn’t stop the thought that immediately took hold.

"You're too big." Your throat dry, and your fingers fisted the sheet beneath you, trying not too think too much about how thick he would feel down your throat. The sounds he'd make when you would lick him just right.

"And you're gonna take every inch." He said it like a statement, a prominent vein popping in his neck when he finally let go of the locked gaze and focused instead on compressing the tip of his angry, veiny cock to your slick folds.

"Won't you, angel?" He asks with a confident smirk passed your way for a second before his breath wavered again, brows scrunched together and if it wasn't for his tip nudging inside you, you'd thought him endearing.

But once his tip is actually is in, you're left with no thought. Rendered speechless, eyes falling shut when he starts to jab inch by inch.

"Dear lord—" You gasp out loud. The sheet beneath you not providing much semblance so you switch to his shoulders. And you swear, he feel him shake when he is finally all in. Closes his eyes and relishes in your heat stretching around. "Fucking hell." The sensation was overwhelming—heat and softness so consuming it felt like his mind short-circuited, every thought dissolving into static.

But you feel that its your pussy that feels like it's going to split apart any moment now that's stopping him from moving. And partly it is. "You're so..tight." He hisses out and squeezes your hips with great roughness.

"Been long since you've been fucked, eh?" He muses, dark hungry eyes devouring yours when he makes an attempt to move inside you like he was testing your limits. Your mind reels, caught between the sharpness of the initial sensation and the overwhelming desire that followed.

He felt impossibly big, like your body wasn’t prepared for the sheer intensity of him, and for a fleeting moment, doubt crept into your thoughts.

It’s been so long.

The thought came unbidden. Your body had grown used to quiet nights and cold sheets, to the impersonal hum of a vibrator and the absence of warmth.

"Been so long." You confirm, nails clawing at his shoulders, mimicking the roughness that only spurs him on. His lashes fluttered shut, his forehead drops to your shoulder and with a whine of disagreement from you, he pulls back fully just to (to your satisfaction) bury himself back to the hilt.

An unadulterated moan from you broke the silence, a sound so sweet it made him want to come right there and then again. But he'd much rather have you convulse first. Priorities.

His jaw clenched, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he started to move his hips against yours, slow and deliberate, like he needed to feel every inch of your.

Your legs tensed around his hips, pulling him closer. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him, your mind a dizzy blur of heat and need and overwhelming sensation.

He pulled back again, the drag of him leaving you feeling empty, only to return with the same slow, measured thrust.

“That’s right,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven, barely coherent through the sounds your free spilling moans and the fact that his face was buried in the crook of your shoulder. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect.” His voice unrefined at the edges, raw with honesty and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe you were really here, with him, like this.

Your hands slid down his back, clinging to the flexing muscles beneath your palms. You suddenly didn't like that his shirt was still on. Wanting to map out his bare skin with every graze of your nails. But with each thrust, pleasure sparked at the base of your spine and spread outward, your thoughts scattered like autumn leaves.

"Yeah- Oh mphm! Just like that!" He flourished in your cries of encouragement, his grip on your hips tightening, his fingers digging into your skin as he was afraid he'd lose control too soon.

And you wanted nothing more. "F-Faster! Please go faster!" His pace was unhurried but devastating, every pull and thrust deliberate, designed to drag you to the edge and keep you there, teetering. You couldn’t take that anymore.

And Jungkook couldn’t take keeping you unsatisfied. His lips found the corner of your mouth, brushing against it in a fleeting kiss before moving lower, his teeth grazing your jaw. His hands moved to your thighs, urging them higher, wrapping them around his waist as he drove into you with more force, more intent.

“taking me so well, was made for this cock.” Were made for me. he praised, his voice sounding like a backdrop to the obscene sounds his hips snapping against yours as your own body moved with his, meeting him with the same intensity, the same desperate need. "Yeah." He grunted, punctuating his words with a squeeze to your boob. "Fuck me back. Use me. Feel me."

All you could possibly do was feel him.

He felt like fire and electricity all at once, a heat that spread from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

“Jungkook…” you whispered again, your voice catching on the syllables when his head tipped forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his damp hair brushing your skin.

He whimpered in response, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through you, and he pistoned his cock harder, pulling a cry from your lips that you couldn’t hold back.

"I-I missed you." You can feel tears gather in your eyes again. You don't even know why. Why you're repeating what you've already admitted. Why the words feel more vulnerable now. All you know that you missed him and the coil is tightening in your stomach.

Jungkook, too feels like he will break down any moment when he stares down at you. But he’s got a impending orgasm to deliver.

He kisses your eyelids, is tempted to lick the tears that slowly make their way down to your chin but doesn't. He's not sure he'll be able to handle the taste of your despair without feeling like he has to chastise himself for ever being the reason for it.

"I know. I know." His cock thrusts with renewed vigor. "I missed you too. I missed you." He says through his gritted teeth, feeling how your walls fluttered around him.

"Gonna cum now?" He knows what your answer will be. There's a smug underline tone in his rasps that gives him away. How he takes pride in knowing that he's the one to make you release all this tension; once on his mouth; then on his cock that is pulsing with an reoccurring ache.

You can only manage to nod, lips tightly tucked between your teeth, hands scratching and marking on his once crisp shirt that is now crumpled from the fate of your hands.

"Gonna soak my cock, huh? Go ahead, baby. Go ahead and come with me." He demands, his hand slipping between you to rub tight circles against your puffy clit that is just enough to tip you over at last.

"Koo.. ah..oh god!" The name you've always called him with a fondness falls unintentionally from your lips when your walls tighten for the last time and you release all over his cock that is now stuttering with it's every thrust.

"Oh fuck. Call me that again." He all but snarls. Cock turns firmer inside your heat that hugs him. And balls screw up.

"Koo.." You whine and that's all he needs before thick ropes of white hot cum is spilling inside you, filling you to the brim. "Mhm, take it all. There's my girl. Pussy looks so good stuffed with my cum." He grinds the best his spent body can into yours that still welcomes him and fuck if that doesn't make him never want to leave.

And he doesn't, for a moment, when he collapses onto you. Just not enough to crush you under his weight. Just enough to latch his lips where ever he can find and whisper words of affection. "Could'nt fucking breathe without you." He's yet to get enough of you. This life won't suffice, he thinks. Then finally pulls out his softening cock from your slick hole with a hiss.

You too feel the loss the of the connection that had pulsed faintly between you, leaving you achingly empty.

He moved with the same carefulness, reaching for the tissues on the bedside table. The room was quiet save for your mingled breaths as he knelt beside you, his touch impossibly tender as he wiped at the inside of your thighs. You shivered under the cool press of the tissue against your skin, the sensation making you acutely aware of the aftermath—the way your body still quivered, the way your breaths still came uneven.

You stared at the ceiling while he did so, the edges of your perception blurred as you tried to silence the tingles that still hummed across the length of your legs. A reminder of how throughly he had disentangle you, how throughly his very essence had penetrated into you.

You were ruined by him.

There was no going back from this. You knew that.

What scared you was the realization that you didn’t want to.

You just didn't know how to admit that out loud where everyone and he could hear you.

Your eyes seeked out for him as if that alone could answer all your questions. He returned back against you without a question. Hands finely adjusted the strap of your dress and drew you closer to him with a soft voice, hoarse from the strain of everything he’d given you. "Come here, angel." Bundled you up in his arms and then only did he breathe out.

Your breath stayed differing. “Why do you call me that?” Your voice was curious but tentative. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”

You felt his lips curve up against your temple. "You were wearing this really pretty white dress the first time I met you." he began, his voice quiet, almost wistful. “Had these frills on the sleeves. I thought you looked like an angel."

You tried to piece together the memory. “That was so long ago."

It might be understood that it takes months to fall in love but Jungkook had been falling all his life.

[pennyellee]

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬

a/n: welcome to my little reading corner! This post is my love letter to the fics and authors that stole my sleep, left me clutching my heart, or made me shed tears. These are the stories that left their mark on me last year. New or older, re-reads or first times. I hope you’ll find something here that speaks to you as deeply as it did to me. And if you have a recs to share or a favourite trope to gush about, my comment section is always open or jump here to tell me! Let’s keep celebrating the beautiful chaos of what this fandom can bring. Love you fairies. PS: I cannot wait to dive into the projects I have started on my own ♥

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @sailoryooons Namjoon x female reader; werewolf au - absolutely astonishing, amazing rendition of the trope, kept me in the world from beginning till the end, an unmissable gem; i've found it difficult to find good namjoon!werewolf content on this app for a long time and this just embodies everything and even more that I was hoping for.

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐲 @personasintro min yoongi x reader; zombie apocalypse au - I actually revisited this fic and it was just as perfect as when I read it the first time, heck, if I wasn't sucker for Min Yoongi then, this made me crush on that man even more.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @solecize jungkook x reader; friends to lovers, inspired by stardew valley - beautiful, beautiful and beautiful, cutest fic ever, i was rooting for them so much and I just might go and re-read this now as this was so touching to read.

𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 & 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐛𝐲 @lostberet min yoongi x female reader; racer boyfriend; smut - HOT, HOT, HOT, did I say HOT?

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍’ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊! 𝐛𝐲 @lovieku fuckboy!jungkook x female reader; fwb - I actually re-read this today, or yesterday, whenever, depends on when I post this, and the way the narrative flows is so captivating, and I love me some miss grande inspired content, naturally fell in love with this fic

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐲 @hollyhomburg polyamory bts x reader; omegaverse au, mafia au; dom-sub dynamics - like what do you mean that I cannot marry this fic, tsk, i want to, i need to, so many sleepless night because i just wanted know what happens next; to confess, i did avoid this fic, and now i can tell that this is just the kind that you avoid and avoid and then you're completely soft and fluffy for it. such complex themes being incorporated into the narrative in a way that's going to tight your aorta enough for you to cry and cry and then it will release and you'll feel the dopamine and excitement flowing through your body. bravo.

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐋𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @ktownshizzle dad yoongi x teacher female reader - when i say that this fic slapped me you won't believe why, but it did. Cutest, emotional, and just so captivating to read. ps: capybara capybara capybara capybara capybaraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

𝐚𝐦𝐲𝐠𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐚 𝐛𝐲 @chaoticpuff17 yandere yoongi x named mc; mafia au - Becca the queen has always a way to characterize the shit out of her yandere male characters and MIN YOONGI is something here! I perceive this masterpiece as a good reinvention of fics with named MCs coz we gradually forgot about that it seems. Becca to the whitehouse pls!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐲 @angelicyoongie yandere ot7 x female reader; soulmate au - as someone whose academia expertise became the study of narratology, I propose this to be a new submission to the field because this narrative structure is illegally good. Excellently crafted, scenes are gradually built upon from chapter one till the very end, and the end makes your heartbeat faster and in unison the oc (ain't gonna spoil).

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @97kuu jungkook x reader; smut, friends to lovers au - car sex became underrated trope and we should all learn and f*cking worship this smut area, pleaaaseee, I love car sex smut, I need to read about it more often and this fic is just chef's kiss.

𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐛𝐲 @hueseok jungkook x reader; inspired by purple hearts - since the movie came out I was waiting who will jump to do a fic with the boys inspired by it and this one did not disappoint. Remarkable, amazing rendition, and I wish I could read it again and again for the first time.

𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 @chaoticpuff17 yandere namjoon x female reader; mafia au, forced marriage - words will never be enough to talk about how this fic has my brain occupied for years. it holds a special place in my heart, as this was the first ever bts mafia fic i've ever read. hence, i am doing annual re-read. sometimes even several times a read. covid times were rough and i'm glad we all had something to hold space for at the time. this fic it is for me, a sanctuary, albeit its themes, and subsequently its sequel 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

until we meet again fairies. love, p.

[onlyforyoukook]

Let’s make a movie | JJK

paring: jungkook x fem¡reader

synopsis: you suggested the idea, to make a sex tape with jungkook.

genre: one shot„smut„non idol au

wc 4.4k

their playlist 🙃: dollhouse - the weeknd & lily rose depp, for me? - asal, nice & slow - usher, anytime, anyplace - janet jackson, pony - ginuwine, earned it - the weeknd, or nah - the weeknd, skin - rihanna, when we - tank

WARNINGS: MDNI. filming, oral (m & f receiving), cum swallowing, pet names, aftercare.

You're sitting in your living room, snuggled up on the couch with Jungkook, watching TV. The credits of a movie roll on the screen, and you turn to him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Hey, Kookie,” you say, a playful tone in your voice. “I have an idea.”

Jungkook turns to look at you, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Oh yeah?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And what idea might that be?”

You lean in closer to him, a sly smile on your lips.

“Let's make a sex tape” you whisper in his ear, your voice low and seductive.

Jungkook's eyes widen slightly at your suggestion, clearly not expecting that.

“A sex tape?” he repeats, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Are you serious?”

You nod, your smile turning even more mischievous.

“Yeah, why not?” you say, your voice low. “It could be fun, and we could keep it just for us.”

Jungkook hesitates for a moment, considering your suggestion. He looks at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

“I don't know, babe,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Isn't that kind of risky? What if someone else sees it?”

You chuckle softly at Jungkook's concern, finding his protectiveness endearing.

“Babe, relax” you say, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Nobody will see it unless one of us decides to show it to someone, and it'll be on a camera, so it's not like it's just going to be floating around out there.”

Jungkook looks at you for a moment, considering your words. He knows you have a point, and he can't deny the idea is kind of exciting.

“Okay, fair enough” he says, his expression softening. “But we have to be careful with it, alright? No one else can see it, and we need to keep it hidden somewhere safe.”

You get up from the couch and head to the bedroom, where you have a camera stashed away in a drawer. You grab it and return to the living room, where Jungkook is waiting for you.

“Ready?” you ask, holding up the camera with a playful grin.

"Definitely ready," he says, his voice low and husky.

Jungkook grins back at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation. He gets up from the couch and follows you to the bedroom, his steps a little more eager than usual.

Once you're both in the bedroom, you set the camera up on a tripod facing the bed. You adjust the angle and make sure it's capturing the entire bed and everything that will happen on it. Jungkook watches you intently, leaning against the wall and watching as you fiddle with the camera settings. He can feel his excitement building, his heart rate increasing with each passing second.

Once you're satisfied with the camera setup, you turn to Jungkook with a sultry smile. He pushes himself off the wall and walks over to you, his eyes fixed on yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. He looks down at you, his expression full of desire and anticipation.

“So, where do we start?” he asks, his voice low and husky in your ear.

You run your hands up Jungkook's chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. You look up at him, your eyes locked on his.

“Right here” you whisper, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “Let's get these clothes off.”

Jungkook grins at your suggestion, his hands already moving to remove his shirt. He pulls it off in one swift motion, revealing his toned abs and muscular arms. He stands there in front of you, shirtless and radiating confidence. He runs a hand through his messy hair, his eyes roaming over your body.

Jungkook steps closer to you, his body mere inches from yours. He reaches out and grabs your hips, pulling you against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He leans down, his lips hovering just above yours.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. You shiver slightly at his words, your body responding to his touch and proximity. You look up at him, your eyes filled with desire and need.

“I think I have an idea” you reply, your voice a bit shaky. “Because I want you just as badly”

Without hesitation, Jungkook closes the remaining distance between you and captures your lips in a heated kiss. His lips are soft yet demanding, and he wastes no time deepening the kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, exploring and claiming you as his own. He pulls you even closer, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he devours your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your jawline and neck, nipping and sucking on your sensitive skin.

Jungkook lifts you up with ease, his strong arms effortlessly supporting your weight. He carries you over to the bed, his lips never leaving your skin. He gently sets you down on the edge of the bed, his hands already moving to remove your shirt. He pulls it over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your bare torso, his eyes dark with desire. He reaches for the waistband of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs, leaving you in just your panties.

Once your pants are off, Jungkook kneels down in front of you. He runs his hands up your thighs, his touch gentle. He looks up at you, his eyes burning with desire as he leans in and begins to trail kisses down your body. He starts at your stomach, his lips moving slowly and deliberately over your skin. He presses kisses along your hips, nipping and sucking on the sensitive flesh as he works his way lower.

Jungkook reaches your panties, and he gently slides them to the side, exposing your most intimate parts. He looks up at you one more time, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself between your legs. He leans in, his warm breath hitting your skin as he moves closer to your center. He gives your inner thighs a few gentle kisses before focusing his attention on your clit. He licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, tasting you and savoring the moment.

Jungkook moans against you as he continues to lick and tease your clit, his tongue swirling and flicking against the sensitive bud. He looks up at you again, his eyes locked on yours as he speaks between kisses.

“You taste so good, baby” he says, his voice low and hoarse.

Jungkook moves his hands to grip your hips, holding you in place as he begins to lick and suck on your clit in earnest. He uses his tongue and lips to drive you wild, determined to make you feel as good as possible. He alternates between slow, firm strokes and rapid, flicking motions, always keeping a watchful eye on your reactions to gauge what you like the most.

You can't help but moan and arch your back at the feeling of Jungkook's tongue on you. The sight of him between your legs, looking up at you with such desire and determination, is almost too much to bear. You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, needing something to hold onto as he works his magic on you.

“Oh god, Jungkook” you gasp, your voice shaky and filled with pleasure. “That feels so good”

Jungkook picks up the pace, knowing that you're getting close. He focuses his attention solely on your clit, his tongue moving in tight, circular motions. He uses his lips and suction to add to the sensation, creating a delicious friction that has you writhing beneath him. He looks up at you again, his eyes dark with lust as he notices the signs of your impending orgasm. He keeps going, not letting up for a second, wanting to make sure you cum hard and long on his tongue.

You can feel your orgasm building, the heat and tension coiling tighter and tighter in your lower belly. Jungkook's relentless attention to your clit is driving you wild, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

You tug on his hair harder, unable to form words as you moan and whimper under his ministrations. Your body is tense, every muscle straining as you approach your climax.

With one final flick of his tongue against your clit, you're sent hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, washing over you in waves of intense pleasure. You arch your back and cry out, your fingers clenching tightly in Jungkook's hair as your body spasms and shudders with release. He keeps his mouth on you, lapping up every drop of your juices as you cum hard on his tongue. You lay there, panting and gasping for breath as you come down from your high. Your body is still tingling from the intense orgasm, and you can feel the sweat cooling on your skin.

Jungkook lifts his head, looking up at you with a satisfied smirk. He licks his lips, savoring the taste of you. As you start to catch your breath, you suddenly remember the camera. You glance over at it, still perched on the tripod, and an idea forms in your mind.

You slowly sit up, still a bit shaky from your orgasm. You look down at Jungkook, who is still kneeling between your legs, and smile.

“Hey,” you say, your voice a bit hoarse. “Get up for a sec.”

Jungkook looks up at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. He raises an eyebrow, but does as you ask and gets up from the floor.

“What's up?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

You stand up as well, and you take a step towards the camera. You can feel Jungkook's eyes on you as you walk, his gaze following your every move. You pick up the camera from the tripod, adjusting the focus and making sure it's still recording.

You turn to face Jungkook, camera in hand. He's standing there, watching you with a mixture of anticipation and desire. You hold the camera out to him, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Here” you say, gesturing for him to take the camera. “You get to be the director for this part.”

Jungkook grins and takes the camera from you, adjusting it in his hands as he prepares to record. He looks down at you, his eyes roaming over your naked body as you crawl towards him on the bed.

You make your way up the bed, stopping when you're kneeling between Jungkook's legs. You reach out and hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down over his hips. Jungkook lets out a low groan as his cock springs free, finally released from the confines of his underwear. He adjusts the camera, making sure to get a good angle as you settle between his legs.

You settle yourself between Jungkook's legs, your eyes locked on his hard cock. It's long and thick, already hard and throbbing for you. You reach out and wrap your hand around the base, giving it a gentle squeeze. You look up at Jungkook through your lashes, a small smile on your face as you start to tease him. Jungkook's breath hitches as you begin to tease him, his eyes darkening with desire. He holds the camera steady, focusing it on your face and your hand wrapped around his cock.

He lets out a low, strained groan as you give him a few slow, deliberate strokes, your fingers trailing up and down his length. You look up at Jungkook again, your eyes sparkling with mischief. Without warning, you lean forward and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

Jungkook lets out a low moan, his grip on the camera tightening as he watches you take him into your mouth. He adjusts the angle of the camera slightly, making sure to get a good view of your lips wrapped around his cock.

You slowly begin to bob your head up and down, taking more and more of his cock into your mouth with each movement. You keep your eyes locked on his face, watching as pleasure washes over his features. Jungkook lets out a string of curses, his breathing ragged and uneven as he struggles to keep the camera steady. He looks like he's struggling to hold on, his entire body tense with arousal. Jungkook watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face as you suck him off. He lets out a shaky breath, his voice low and rough.

“Fuck, baby” he groans. “Your mouth feels so good.”

You continue to work his cock with your mouth, using your tongue to swirl around the tip and apply just the right amount of suction. You can feel him getting closer and closer to the edge, his breathing becoming more and more erratic. Jungkook's free hand tangles in your hair, his fingers gripping tightly as he tries to hold on. He looks like he's struggling to keep control, his body tense and his jaw clenched tight.

Jungkook lets out another string of curses, his words coming out in a jumbled mess as he gets more and more worked up. He's practically panting now, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each ragged breath.

“I'm not gonna last much longer” he grits out, his voice strained. “You're driving me crazy baby.”

You can tell that Jungkook is close to cumming. His body is taut, his muscles tense as he struggles to hold on just a little longer. You increase your efforts, bobbing your head faster and taking him deeper into your throat. Jungkook's grip on your hair tightens even more, his fingers pulling slightly as he tries to control the urge to thrust up into your mouth. He's panting heavily now, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. Finally, with a strangled cry, he reaches his peak. He throws his head back, his eyes squeezed shut as he lets out a stream of hot cum into your mouth. You swallow his cum, taking everything he has to give. You continue to lick and suck at his sensitive cock, wanting to make sure you've milked every last drop out of him.

Once he's finished, you pull back and sit up. You look down at him, a satisfied smirk on your face as you admire the wrecked expression on his face. Jungkook is still catching his breath, his chest heaving as he tries to recover from his intense orgasm. He looks up at you with a dazed expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and awe.

You straddle Jungkook's hips, settling yourself on top of him. You can feel his cock twitching against your inner thigh, still slick with your saliva and his cum. Jungkook lets out a low groan as he feels your weight on top of him. He reaches out and grips your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he tries to ground himself.

“You're going to be the death of me” he murmurs, his voice still shaky from his earlier orgasm. You smirk at him, clearly enjoying the effect you have on him. You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving it a few slow strokes to bring it back to full hardness.

Jungkook lets out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering closed as he arches up into your touch. He's still sensitive from his orgasm, but his cock responds eagerly to your ministrations, hardening once again under your skilled hand.

You position yourself above Jungkook's cock, the tip brushing against your entrance. You can feel how wet you are, your own arousal having been heightened by pleasuring him. Jungkook's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he watches you prepare to take him in. He looks up at you with a mixture of anticipation and desperation, his eyes dark and hungry.

You slowly sink down onto Jungkook's cock, taking him inch by inch until he's fully sheathed inside you. You let out a low moan as you adjust to his size, feeling the delicious stretch as your body stretches to accommodate him. Jungkook groans in response, his hands sliding up from your hips to your waist. He watches as you begin to ride him, his eyes glued to the place where your bodies are connected. He lifts one hand from your waist and grabs your breast, squeezing it firmly as he records you with his other hand.

Jungkook looks up at you, his eyes dark, as he watches you ride him. He squeezes your breast again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

“You're taking me so good, baby” he groans, his voice low and rough. “You feel so tight and wet around me”

You lean forward slightly, giving Jungkook a better view of your body as you ride him. You let out a breathy moan as you grind your hips down against his, taking him even deeper inside you.

“Feels so good, daddy,” you reply, your voice low and sultry. “Your cock fills me up so perfectly, love having inside of me.”

As soon as the word “daddy” leaves your lips, Jungkook's grip on you tightens even more. His eyes flash with something primal, and he lets out a low growl in response. He suddenly sits up, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he inhales deeply.

“Say it again” he growls in your ear. “Call me daddy again baby.”

You let out a shaky breath as Jungkook's arms wrap around you, pulling you close. You can feel his chest pressed against yours, his heart beating rapidly against your skin. You tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. You know what he wants to hear, and you're more than happy to oblige.

“Daddy” you repeat, your voice low and breathy. “My daddy.”

Jungkook lets out a growl as you call him “daddy” again. He moves his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. He sucks hard, his teeth grazing against your skin as he marks you with a dark hickey. He pulls back slightly to admire his handiwork, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“That's right” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Jungkook lays back down, holding the camera steady, recording as you begin to bounce up and down on his cock. He watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face as you move on top of him. He adjusts the angle of the camera slightly, making sure to capture every moment. He wants to remember this, wants to be able to watch it back and relive it over and over again.

As you ride Jungkook, you can feel your orgasm approaching. The pleasure is building inside you, each movement of your hips sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You start to move faster, chasing your high as you grind down on his cock. You can feel him getting close again too, his grip on you tightening as he tries to hold on.

Jungkook lets out a low moan as he feels his second orgasm approaching. He watches you, his eyes dark and intense, as you ride him with increasing urgency. Suddenly, he can't hold back any longer. He lets out a groan as he comes, his hips bucking up into you as he spills inside you. As soon as he finishes, he quickly turns you over onto your stomach. He pushes your hair out of the way and grabbing the camera, ready to record your next position.

Jungkook moves behind you, positioning himself between your legs. He grabs your hips and lifts them slightly, giving him a better angle to slide into you from behind.

He doesn't waste any time, immediately starting to thrust into you at a relentless pace. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, using the leverage to drive his cock even deeper inside you.

As Jungkook pounds into you from behind, he lets out a low growl and leans down to your ear.

“Who does this pussy belong to baby?” he demands, his voice rough and possessive. “Say it.”

You let out a gasp as Jungkook hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, and it takes you a moment to form a coherent response.

“It's yours daddy” you manage to say, your voice shaky. “My pussy belongs to you. It's all yours. All for you.”

Jungkook grins at your response, clearly pleased by your words. He releases your wrists and slides one hand down to your lower back, rubbing soothing circles on your skin.

“That's right baby," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You're my good girl. You know who you belong to, don't you?”

You nod, your head bobbing up and down as you try to focus on Jungkook's words. The feeling of him inside you, filling you up so completely, is making it hard to think straight.

“Yes daddy” you manage to gasp out. “I'm your good girl. I belong to you. Only you.”

Jungkook's grin widens at your repeated affirmation. He leans down again, his chest pressed against your back, and nuzzles his face into your hair.

“Good girl” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “You're so good for me.“

As Jungkook continues to pound into you from behind, he remembers the camera in his hand. He lifts it up and focuses the lens on where your bodies are connected, capturing the sight of his cock disappearing into your pussy. He groans as he watches, completely captivated by the way your body takes him in. He leans back slightly, giving himself a better view.

“Fuck baby,” he mutters, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Your pussy is so beautiful. It looks so good taking my cock like this.”

Jungkook can't take his eyes off the camera screen, completely mesmerized by the sight of himself fucking you. He lets out a shaky breath as he continues to watch, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic. He zooms in on your pussy, getting a close up shot of how your body stretches to accommodate his cock. He groans again, his voice thick with arousal.

“So tight...so wet...fuck...”

The sight of himself pounding into you on the camera screen is almost too much for Jungkook to handle. He can feel his third orgasm approaching rapidly, spurred on by the erotic sight of his cock disappearing into your tight, wet pussy. He groans again, his grip on the camera tightening as he struggles to keep himself together.

“Fuck, princess” he grits out. “I'm not gonna last much longer, you're driving me crazy.”

You hear Jungkook's words, and a smirk crosses your face as you realize how close he is to cumming. You clench your inner muscles around him, trying to push him over the edge.

“Cum for me, daddy” you gasp out, your voice laced with need. “I want to feel you cum inside me again.”

Jungkook lets out a strangled cry as he reaches his climax, his hips bucking wildly as he spills his hot cum deep inside you for the third time that night. At the same time, you feel your own orgasm wash over you, your body clenching and spasming around his cock as waves of pleasure course through you.

After a few moments of catching his breath, Jungkook slowly pulls out of you and sits up. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and adoration. He runs a hand through your hair, gently brushing it away from your face.

“Stay here baby” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I'll be right back.”

He gets up from the bed and disappears into the bathroom. You hear the sound of water running as he starts running a bath for you both.

As Jungkook prepares the bath, you slowly sit up in bed and look around for the camera. You spot it lying on the bed beside you, and a mischievous grin spreads across your face. You pick up the camera and turn it towards yourself, zooming in on your face. You look thoroughly fucked, your hair a mess and your cheeks flushed from exertion. You turn the camera to capture the bed, focusing on the wet spots where you and Jungkook had been.

You pause for a moment, thinking about how far you and Jungkook have come in just a few hours. You never expected things to turn out this way, but you can't deny that it's been incredible. Jungkook walks back into the room, carrying a towel and a robe. He stops in his tracks when he sees you holding the camera, a smirk on your face. He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused by your antics.

“Whatcha doing baby?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

You hold up the camera and give Jungkook a sly grin.

“I'm recording the aftermath” you say, your voice laced with amusement. “I figured it would make for some interesting memories later on.”

Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head, clearly amused by your unabashed behavior.

“You're something else, you know that?” he says, as he walks over to the bed and helps you up. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

He leads you into the bathroom, where a warm, inviting bath is waiting for you both. He helps you into the tub, making sure you're comfortable before sliding in behind you.

As you and Jungkook settle into the warm water of the bath, you let out a contented sigh. You lean back against his chest, feeling completely relaxed and spent. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he gently runs a washcloth over your body. He takes his time, being extra careful as he cleans you up. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Jungkook speaks up.

“I think that's the most fun I've ever had in my life,” he says, his voice filled with satisfaction. You chuckle softly and nod in agreement, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“I think you're right,” you say, a small smile on your face. “It was definitely an experience I won't forget anytime soon.”

MASTERLIST

[bangtanficsforyou]

All that Sparkles (KTH)- early access

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Genre: Fluff, angst (smut if I write a second part)

Au: Arranged marriage, CEO Taehyung.

Warning: it's chill (so far).

Rating: 18+

Summary: you are married to Kim Taehyung; the ever charming, dashing, smart and rich CEO of Divine Diamonds. He’s sweet, kind and polite, unlike anything you’d ever expect from someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Only problem; you don’t feel a connection. Your marriage feels dull. However, the day you bring him home for a family dinner with your parents, things change.

Word count: 3.5 K

A/N: whether I write a second part or not, totally depends on the feedback i get from you guys! Honestly, speaking, I love writing this Taehyung 😭

Main Masterlist | Patreon Masterlist

Read it here!

[girlatmirror]

baby, baby | jjk

why would jungkook need to entertain other women when you have enough personalities to keep him completely occupied?

husband! jungkook x (kinda crazy!) pregnant!reader

warnings: reader is sooo bratty but very pregnant so it’s justified, jungkook is the president of i 🫶🏼 my wife club, in my mind this is bend my rules jungkook and reader in the future, smut (minors leave immediately), degradation!!!, slapping (only once), spanking, use of the word slut, penetrative sex, bj, i didn’t proofread 💔, i had entirely too much fun writing this (i’m just a silly girl in a non silly world), idk what else, but i love this jungkook and reader

_

Your mood swings had never been worse. you, 4 months pregnant with an even worse attitude than before, were a lot to handle, but your husband was beyond resilient.

Jungkook worked extremely hard as well, owning a big law firm and juggling a needy, pregnant wife who needed his constant attention and love was almost impossible. Well, it was actually just impossible.

He gave you everything you needed; a cleaning lady, a private chef, a masseuse, a personal midwife that would visit you whenever he wouldn’t be able to go to the appointments with you.

But you didn’t want any of that, you simply needed him.

He didn’t work more than he used to, he actually reduced his work hours as much as possible when you two found out about the pregnancy, but that didn’t seem to satisfy you.

Picking fights and using his ‘absence’ against him was now your go to, but jungkook was always calm with you, simply saying ‘baby, it’s just 9 hours and you sleep through half of them anyway.’

sometimes, the problem was his calmness.

You thought back to those days where you were dating, or engaged and you would have the arguments that would lead to the filthiest, roughest sex. You missed seeing his face scrunch up, his nostrils flare up and his eyes darken.

He was always your sweet, understanding jungkook, but back then, it was easier to make him lose his cool.

Ever since you got married, he became a big softie, never raising his voice, even when you did and never showing you the fiery side that you could not admit you yearned for. You could do or say anything and he would simply listen and abide. Especially while pregnant.

You obviously loved him for it and thanked God for giving you a husband as wonderful as Jungkook, but since you got pregnant, you started craving the jungkook that would voice his anger and later, turn it into passion.

You didn’t know if it was something about your hormones changing and what-not, but you just simply knew you needed him to react to your brattiness the way he used to.

Longing for the Jungkook that would put you in your place, you (semi-unintentionally) went on a mission to bring him back.

_

You woke up and waddled your way to the spacious kitchen, where you found jungkook making a big breakfast for you two - it was his day off after all.

Once he saw you, his face broke out in a huge smile and he kissed your lips softly. “good morning, my baby, how are you?”

You simply huffed, taking a bite of the crispy bacon. your lips were pouted and your eyes slightly squinted.

Jungkook was not even confused by your behavior, he was already used to not being able to foresee your mood.

“What’s wrong, yn?”, he carefully asked, planting a kiss on your forehead, resting a hand on your growing belly. “did you sleep well?”

You just shook your head in response and turned your back on him.

“How could i sleep well??”, your dramatic response caused him to slightly chuckle under his breath. “you cheated on me!!”

That accusation made jungkook drop everything he was doing and look at you with the most questioning face he could muster; what could possibly make you believe he cheated on you?

“huh?”, was all he was able to say.

You rolled your eyes and lightly, but not playfully punched his arm. “I saw you with that girl last night! you were kissing her and whispering things into her ear..”

Jungkook’s confusion seemed to grow even stronger, trying to understand how you could be so serious and sure of something that never happened.

“Baby, i don’t know what you’re talking about”, he expressed his confusion very calmly, a soothing hand running over your arm. “you do know i was with you the whole night last night?”

“That was before!”, you let out, which confused him even more. “I went to sleep.. and i saw you there in bed with .. her and you were so in love.. how could you do that to me, jungkook??”

Actual tears formed in your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Babyy”, he cooed and wiped away some tears from your face. “that happened in your dream, it wasn’t real at all. i promise i’d never do that to you, princess.”

“But”, you sobbed silently. “it felt so so real.”

Jungkook took you into his arms and gently held and swayed you, of course not without adding a kiss on your head.

“I’m sorry, baby”, he muttered genuinely against your head. “if i ever do that again in your dreams, i’ll make sure to make it up to you, okay? i’m sorry, please forgive me.”

You nodded, against his chest, which had been dampened by your tears. “okay.. i guess i’ll forgive you.”

Not all days started off this way, of course, some days you would wake up and attack him with kisses, some others you wouldn’t wake up until after he’s gone to work (which meant waking up to a handwritten note from him) and then there were days where you would either find a reason to be mad at him or hold onto him so tightly and tell him not to go and then get whiny when he did go.

It wasn’t just your desperation to get fucked hard, it was also just the fact that you, for some reason (pregnancy), felt lonelier and more bored than ever before.

You can only go on shopping sprees and sit in cafés and gossip with your friends a certain amount of times before you get super bored.

At least before the pregnancy you were a working woman, which was not that fun either to be fair but at least you were productive.

Jungkook suppressed a chuckle and just held you for a while.

Despite you being so difficult sometimes, he enjoyed every single moment.

_

The worst thing about being pregnant was, without a doubt, the sleep. you were actually a side sleeper and for obvious reasons that wasn’t possible at the moment.

You had about an hour of actual sleep (and it wasn’t even satisfying) before you gave up trying and just decided to sit on the bed with your hands dramatically resting on your belly.

One thing ran through your mind like usain bolt; food. You tried to think of any snacks you had in the house but quickly remembered you ate them all the other day and didn’t restock.

Watching and low key envying the way your husband was peacefully sleeping with his pretty snores and his even prettier face, shirtless as he always slept. You suddenly had an idea.

“Jungkook”, you softly nudged his naked arm.

He didn’t budge.

“Jungkooook”, you repeated, dragging out his name and softly poking his nose.

A low grunt escaped his lips as he slowly started to stir.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “jungkook, wake up.”

Once his body recognized you were talking to him, he jolted up with wide eyes. “what?! what’s wrong?? are you okay? is it the baby?”

He was now sitting up straight, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to be able to properly see you.

You pouted, dramatically nodding. “the baby’s hungry.”

“Huh?”

“The baby wants snacks. and we don’t have snacks at home.”

Jungkook glanced at the clock and said, “baby.. it’s almost three in the morning.”

You tilted your head and adorably shrugged your shoulders, lips still pouty. “well, your child doesn’t know the concept of time yet.”

With a groan, jungkook got up and stretched.

“What kind of snacks do you want, baby?”, he asked mid stretch, before putting on a shirt.

“All of them”, was your ambiguous answer. “I want sweet, sour and salty stuff. If that cookie store on Bel Air drive is open, get me three of the marshmallow-filled ones.”

“Alright, baby”, he leaned down to kiss you. “You just text me whatever you need. I’ll be right back. I love you.”

you grinned up at him, so satisfied with his lenience and kissed him again, “i love you more.”

Simultaneously hearing the car start and your stomach rumbling, you found yourself trying to occupy your mind with something other than food, but you were so impatient.

Moments later, your phone rang.

Incoming FaceTime Call from Hubby🧎🏽‍♀️

You immediately picked up. “Hey.”

Jungkook’s still sleepy face took over your phone screen, seemingly looking down at something. “Hey, baby, just wanted to make sure these are the sour patches you like.”

He went on to show a bag of sour patches, holding it up for the camera.

You squinted, dramatic as always. “hmm… those are the right ones. but get two. the baby’s feeling greedy.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “you sure it’s the baby?”

“Are you calling me greedy?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d just committed a felony.

“I would never, baby”, he chuckled again, his raspy voice doing things to you.

While he was still out, being your knight in shining armor, you decided to pull out your wedding photo album (something that never failed to make you break out in tears) and look through every single picture taken that day.

It was by far the most precious day of your life. a destination wedding in a venetian palace, just as you had requested (of course jungkook had to fulfill your wish).

Before you could even flip to the second page, your eyes started to water.

He was so handsome that day, even more than normal, which was a very hard thing to achieve and the way he looked at you.. ugh.

Pictures of him kissing your hands, your photoshoot on the palace stairs and the gondola brought back instant memories.

The calming melodies of ‘over and over’ by Bobby Vinton replayed in your mind.

you swore you could hear the ‘wows’ of the guests as you walked down the aisle in your wedding dress, a breathtaking dress designed by Elie Saab himself, and see a teary eyed Jungkook waiting for you at the altar.

you couldn’t even hear the front door open, that was how invested you were.

“Baby?”, Jungkook’s concerned voice interrupted your crying. “what happened?”

you got up from your spot and walked up to him, directly throwing yourself into his arms, which resulted in him dropping the bag of snacks on the ground.

“i missed you.”, you sniffled against his neck and kissed it.

jungkook coo’ed at you and swayed you gently.

“I was gone for 20 minutes.”, he murmured against your hair.

“but..”, your voice started to quiver a little. “that’s way too long.”

he held onto you for a while, “i know, baby, i know” and then ultimately let go to grab the snacks. “alright, what do you want to eat first?”

you both sat on the bed and he dumps all the snacks onto the bed. your mouth started watering; a whole lot of chips, cookies, sour patch kids, drinks and chocolate bars.

that man knew the way to your heart and walked it.

you instantly grabbed a cookie and bit into it, groaning, “oh my god.. this is so good right now. just what we needed.”

holding it up for jungkook to take a bite, he chuckled and took a big bite.

suddenly, you felt a kick in your stomach and excitedly waved your hands, pointing at your stomach. “oh my god, the baby is kicking. i think it’s trying to say thank you to daddy.”

ever since you got pregnant, you and jungkook became the cheesiest couple you swore you would never become but here you were.

jungkook instinctively laid his head on your stomach gently to hear the kick, before he kissed it lovingly.

“hey, baby”, he whispered against it. “mommy and daddy love you so much and we can’t wait to meet you.”

your heart warmed at the sight of jungkook being such an amazing dad; it made you want to give him everything. your eyes traveled back to the photo album that was now back in its original place.

brushing through his dark hair soothingly, you watched him with an amount of adoration that was so palpable.

the baby kicked again.

“i think the baby likes your voice.”, you noted softly. “it kicks whenever you’re around.”

jungkook couldn’t help but smile, now his head was sleepily pressed against your chest, which was obviously his favorite place in the world. “i’m its daddy, of course it love me.”

you scoffed jokingly. “well, it better love me more, i’m the one carrying it.”

that made jungkook let out a laugh. “of course, baby. you shall be the most beloved.”

you stayed in your positions for a moment in silence and then, you felt and heard Jungkook’s cute snores against your chest.

poor him, he had to wake up for work just 4 hours later.

not much later, you also felt yourself getting closer to sleeping.

_

You felt a little bad about waking Jungkook up at night when he had work in the morning.

So, you decided to make him lunch and visit him at the office, like the good wife you were.

You packed plain white rice, sautéed veggies, and some grilled chicken along with a spicy sauce (what can you say, your husband loved spicy food). It wasn’t much, but the expectations for you weren’t high right now.

Besides, the lunch was just a front to have an excuse to see your husband. You needed to look good, so while it took you less than half an hour to prepare the food, it took you an hour to pick out an outfit and do your makeup.

You opted for a flowy pink sundress that showcased your little baby bump you had grown to adore. You were pregnant, not exempt from looking gorgeous.

You checked the stove, called the driver, made sure your keys were in your bag, and finally, he arrived.

“Where to, Mrs. Jeon?” your driver, Mr. Petrov, greeted you with his usual kindness.

He had been driving you everywhere since your 21st birthday. You admitted to Jungkook a couple months before that you hated driving, so he got you a personal driver for your birthday. In a way, you considered him family — an uncle or something like that.

After all, he had witnessed your relationship through almost all its stages: from being a couple, to becoming engaged, then married, and finally, soon-to-be parents.

“To my husband,” you replied eagerly. “I want to bring him lunch.”

The drive went by as it always did: Mr. Petrov telling you stories about his teenage daughters that you always loved hearing, asking about Jungkook’s wellbeing (which you found adorable), and, of course, giving you parenting advice.

Once you arrived at your destination, Mr. Petrov made sure to help you out of the car (the privilege and disadvantage of being pregnant; people always thought you were incapable of doing anything by yourself) and watched you enter the building to make sure you got in safely before driving away.

The building was as tall as ever. The guard immediately recognized you and personally escorted you to the elevator.

Your walk was confident (at least you thought so). Despite your pregnant self, you looked like you owned the place — which, you kind of did since it was your husband’s company.

The receptionists and all his employees already knew you; you liked to think you had built a good relationship with them. As the boss’s wife, you took that responsibility seriously.

The elevator doors opened to the executive floor and you waddled out toward Jungkook’s assistant.

“Mrs. Jeon, how good to see you!” she greeted you eagerly, with her usual nervousness. “Mr. Jeon is in a meeting right now. He should be done very soon.”

You thanked her and made your way to the meeting room. Through the glass windows, you could see your husband in action, ever the perfect businessman.

He looked so effortlessly commanding and authoritative, but there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes you couldn’t overlook.

Your eyes met his and suddenly, his entire posture changed; the tension in his shoulders softened and a small smile formed on his handsome face.

You waved, and for about four minutes, you waited — which in pregnancy minutes felt like an hour.

He rushed to you once he dismissed all the meeting participants, giving you a tight hug, careful not to press on your belly.

“Hey, beautiful,” he uttered, placing a kiss on your forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my handsome husband and I brought him lunch,” you smiled. “You look so tired. I feel bad for waking you up so late.”

Jungkook shook his head gently, adoring you with his gaze. “Don’t feel bad,” he murmured. “Let’s go to my office. I’m starving; I want to eat that food you made.”

He sat down at his desk and you positioned yourself on his lap immediately, not needing an invitation, pulling the lunch out of your Goyard bag.

“Eat,” you practically demanded, handing him the spoon.

Jungkook, who had been hungry for a while, immediately dug in, taking big spoonfuls of the food. He offered you some, but you informed him you already ate at home.

“This is so good,” he mumbled through a mouthful, scrunching up his nose like he always did when something tasted especially delicious.

Of course, you loved seeing him like that — and even more when you were the reason.

He quickly finished his food and went back to giving you all of his attention, his hands drawing soothing circles on your back.

“Do you love me?” you asked out of nowhere.

“Yes,” Jungkook didn’t even hesitate to answer.

Nor was he weirded out or surprised by your randomness.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my head?”

Jungkook chuckled, his hands now gripping your waist. “Yes, you’d still be the prettiest woman in the world.”

Your heart smiled. You lazily traced his sharp jawline.

“What if I were a worm?” you asked; it was a question you had asked a million times before.

“Ugh, that question,” he feigned annoyance. “How would I even know it’s you? Hypothetically, if I saw a worm, how would I know?”

Hand on your chest, you pretended to be offended, much to Jungkook’s amusement. “If your wife, I, were to suddenly vanish from your life, you’re telling me you wouldn’t look for me everywhere and in everything?”

He shook his head again.

“Of course I would!” he explained, the smile never leaving his lips. “I just wouldn’t think you’d turn into a worm… more like a fox or a lynx.”

You giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

_

“I need everything to be perfect!”

The workers didn’t know whether to admire your dedication or be scared of you; either way, they appreciated the hefty sum and the hospitality they were given.

The decorations for today were carefully chosen by you (Jungkook was allowed input too, but not too much). You opted for a classy lavender theme and wore a white maternity dress that perfectly sat on your body.

Today was an especially special day: the gender reveal party for the demon living inside you.

Your sister was picking up the cake that you insisted had to be a white chocolate cake with cream pistachio frosting.

Jungkook was in charge of the guests; he made sure they all arrived safely and were taken care of.

There were, to the surprise of absolutely no one, a lot of guests: besides your and Jungkook’s close and extended family, there were your numerous friends, a few of his workers, neighbors, a couple of women from your prenatal Pilates class, and of course, Mr. Petrov and his family.

You already knew his two daughters; they were self-proclaimed fans of yours. “I want to be just like you when I’m older, Mrs. Jeon.”

“Hi, sweeties.” As soon as you saw them, you hugged them. “How are you guys? I missed you.”

They were practically squealing at the sight of your pregnant stomach, exclaiming how “Wow, your stomach grew so much!” which was received with laughter.

“Girls, has no one taught you basic manners?” Mr. Petrov scolded his daughters semi-jokingly in his thick accent. “Seriously, who raised you?”

The girls didn’t even bother to look at their dad, simply too in awe of how beautiful and pregnant you were.

“That kid is gonna be so gorgeous!” Natasha spoke with excitement. “I mean, with your genes and then Mr. Jeon’s… oh my god.”

“Oh, thank you, my love,” you patted her cheek lovingly.

More guests kept arriving, which left Jungkook, who was very used to being in charge, looking like the perfect host he was.

“Seriously, I hope it’s a boy,” Daria admitted, an eager look on her face. “So we can raise him to be a gentleman.”

That statement quickly turned into an argument between the two sisters; Natasha wanted a girl, and Daria wanted a boy.

You, wanting to give them a bit of space in their sisterly fighting, made sure to greet all the other guests after offering Mr. Petrov a drink.

Jungkook had a moment to spare, using it to make sure you were doing okay. He came over to you, placing a hand on your back. “How’s my princess doing?”

You instinctively put a hand on your stomach (something you did quite often these days) and gently smiled at him. “I’m doing well, just waiting for my sister to come through with the cake…”

“Is the photographer already here?” you suddenly started panicking, realizing you momentarily forgot about somebody.

Jungkook tapped you on the shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, he’s right there by the bar.”

That didn’t reassure you though; on the contrary. “Why is he drinking?! That could mess up all the pictures. Oh my god… Jungkook, go and tell him to stop drinking!”

You pushed him toward the bar and immediately left, leaving him with no other choice but to actually go up to the photographer and prevent him from drinking.

Right then, your sister finally arrived with a huge cake box in her hand, puffing from the sheer weight of it. “…I’m here, oof… damn!”

Just as you wanted to go over and help her, your dad took it from her hand and placed it onto the table.

The cake arrived, the buffet looked good, the music was great, the kids were having fun on the bouncy castle, the adults were happy about the free drinks and food, and there was nothing to complain about…

Jungkook was hoping you would not find anything to complain about.

“I’m so excited,” your fingers almost trembling as you wrapped them around Jungkook’s big arms. “Do I even want to know? Like… what if we waited until I give birth to know… so many moms do that, maybe I should too.”

Jungkook couldn’t believe his ears; first, you turned the entire world upside down to make this party as epic as you could, and now, you were practically objecting to it.

“Baby,” he spoke ever so gently. “You’ve been wanting this for a long time now. You’re just nervous, don’t worry. We’ll know the gender and nothing bad will happen regardless.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Okay.”

A few hours of dancing, gift opening, and games passed, and now you were all ready to witness the sole reason for this party.

When you were planning the gender reveal party, you wanted something classic and simple for the reveal.

The good old cutting into the cake to find out the gender. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, there you both were, standing in front of the podium where the cake sat in all its glory. Your shorter body was in front of Jungkook, and he was positioned right behind you, his hand on yours, both holding the knife.

Your heart pounded; you didn’t even know why. This wasn’t even an anxiety-inducing situation. Your hormones were messing you up.

All the guests were watching curiously and with full attention as you and Jungkook cut a piece of cake.

The frosting was pink. Cheers broke out.

“It’s a girl!” Jungkook announced with joy in his voice, hugging you so tightly.

You, of course, cried tears of happiness. “I can’t believe we’re having a little baby girl…”

He kissed you on the lips passionately, both of you completely forgetting the camera and the guests.

“She’s gonna be a handful,” he joked, holding your chin and caressing your tear-stained cheeks. Finally, you laughed.

He was probably right.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed with him. “But you’re gonna spoil her, so it’s gonna be all on you.”

Jungkook couldn’t deny it, so he just tilted his head. “What can I say? It’s my thing.”

_

it was dinner time, your favorite time of the day. on most days, dinner is the only meal you really got to sit with Jungkook and enjoy the food, unlike the hurried breakfasts and the lunch that you either eat together during his ‘break’ or just completely separately.

that’s why you got so annoyed whenever something distracted him from dinner; this was supposed to be your time together.

you crossed your arms, nostrils flaring while he was on the phone with Selene, a new employee of his that seemed to come to him whenever she was overwhelmed or unfamiliar with something at work.

you completely understood that this was a new job for her but you didn’t particularly like that she felt the need to call your husband outside of work; if she needed help, she could just ask any other employee.

it was excessive.

“Yes, i’ll tell Jason to bring a copy too”, jungkook spoke into the phone, his tone professional. “don’t worry about the presentation, the material you showed me today was good.”

fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you very passive aggressively poured juice into your glass and drank it.

“finally.”, you said once they hung up.

jungkook’s eyes narrowed a little but he didn’t say anything, he just scooped some more rice onto his plate.

“she just needed some help, baby.”, he explained after he noticed your sour expression wasn’t going anywhere.

“pf. why are you even talking to her outside of work? what’s so important that can’t wait until literally tomorrow morning?!”, you spewed, louder than intended. “and you just pick up, ugh. you should’ve ignored her but nooo, of course you had to pick up.. almost like that phone call is more important than having dinner with your wife.”

“yn.. that was a 2 minute conversation.”, he started getting more irritated by the second. “what are you even implying here? do you think i’m cheating on you cause i answered my employee’s phone call?”

“i don’t know, maybe you are.”

you were so obviously trying to push his buttons and see how far you can go; you wondered if he noticed or if he didn’t.

he knew you knew he would never ever cheat, perhaps that’s why the accusation irritated him even more.

“yn, don’t piss me off. you know damn well i would never cheat.”, he spoke with fire in his voice. “and why would i? you have enough personalities to keep me completely fucking occupied.”

it was true that you were a woman of multitudes and normally, you would have laughed at that statement but you could not give him the satisfaction.

you knew you were getting closer to your goal; he already looked like his veins were about to pop.

it wasn’t like he didn’t know how you were; he had to endure you every single day of his life, but he was bound to break eventually.

suppressing a smile, you simply huffed and stated, “that’s honestly hard to believe.”

jungkook’s nostrils flared and he looked down at you with an expression you hadn’t seen in months.

you were looking up at him with big eyes, your hand on your hips as you seized his reaction.

“yn..”, he fought the urge to raise his voice but ultimately lost. “i’m so serious right now, do not piss me off. i’ve been so damn patient with you.. i forgot that’s not the fucking way to deal with you..”

his hands were now gripping your waist tightly; if it hadn’t felt so damn good, it would probably hurt.

“what is the way to deal with me then?”, your voice was soft, almost angelic as you held eye contact with his fiery eyes.

“you know.”, he lowly spoke against your lips.

“no”, pushing him further and further, you held onto his muscular arm. “show me.”

that was when he crashed his lips into yours with a sense of desperation mirroring your own, his hands roaming your body like he memorized it. he gripped your ass hard, getting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

your baby bump wasn’t making any type of difficulty for either of you, thank God.

he carried you all the way to the couch and practically (yet very carefully) threw you onto it. he quickly took off your night gown and threw it aside, before taking off his own shirt.

“is that what you want?”, jungkook’s voice was now merely a growl as he started undoing his pants. “to get fucked hard? huh?”

his pants were off, leaving him in only his boxer shorts; the sight delicious.

the wetness in your pussy was almost unbearable at that point, even pressing your legs together didn’t help.

you nodded, reaching for his boxers and kneading his dick almost desperately, before completely taking them off, revealing his hard dick.

as horny and perverted as that sounded, there was almost nothing in the entire world you loved as much as seeing Jungkook like that. So in control, yet so needy for you.

there was already precum on the tip of it, you licked it off.

jungkook reacted with a groaned ‘fuck’.

you wrapped your hands around his thick shaft and massaged it up and down, then gently wrapped your full lips around it, sucking it while holding eye contact. his moans continued.

despite you barely being able to take all of him at the same time, he thrust his dick further and further into your mouth, making it difficult to breathe.

“you can take it, baby.”, he breathed, hands gripping your hair. “you run your mouth all day long, this shouldn’t be so hard for you.”

you let out a groan, pressing your legs tighter together.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you enjoyed the feeling of his dick in your mouth. you moaned around it, big, innocent eyes meeting his.

he rammed his dick into your mouth in steady, aggressive motions, making you choke on it, causing your saliva to coat his dick.

the moans that he released were enough to make your head dizzy; you were nothing but mush.

your face was now a teary mess.

before he could cum, jungkook pulled back suddenly, his dick sliding out of your mouth and slapping gently against his lower abdomen. he grabbed your jaw and said, “i’m not gonna cum in your mouth.”

you knew what he was doing, he was being an asshole. he was aware of how much you loved swallowing his cum or even having his cum all over your face and he denied you of it. your brows furrowed just slightly.

You whimpered, the ache between your thighs unbearable. “Then where?”

he didn’t verbally respond, simply putting his big hands on your thighs and separating your legs roughly, making you gasp. he pushed two fingers inside your wet mess of a pussy without warning and started curling them teasingly.

“fuck”, he let out. “that pussy’s so fucking wet.. shit, you fucking love making me mad.”

you started desperately grinding against his fingers but he removed them before you could truly enjoy it, grabbing your jaw again and approaches your face so you’re facing each other directly, breathing against your lips. “open your mouth.”

you obeyed. then, he spit in your mouth.

“swallow it.”, he demanded.

you swallowed.

“good girl.”

“jungkook..”, you whimpered, overwhelmed by your own arousal, needy for any kind of friction.

jungkook just pressed his index finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. “you don’t get to talk right now.”

that was what you were waiting for for a while; the sheer dominance and degradation that jungkook seemed to have shyed away from lately. you were craving the side of him that completely shut you down and put you in your place.

he pumped his dick before slightly bending his legs to teasingly slowly slap his dick on your wet pussy. your breath hitched and jungkook smirked at your state.

“i don’t think you deserve to get fucked.”, he declared after almost slipping his dick in, enjoying the power he had over you entirely too much. “good wives get dicked down.. the ones that obey their husbands.. and don’t drive them insane.. not spoiled brats like you who don’t know when to shut up.”

with every breath, he slipped his tip in and out, causing you to arch your hips up in desperation.

“please”, you begged with almost tears in your eyes. “i’m gonna be good, i’m gonna be so good, jungkook.”

jungkook laughed, almost evilly, and breathed through his teeth. “i don’t believe that.”

you reached for him and clung both your arms around the broad shoulders you were unhealthily obsessed with and hid your face in his chest.

you sniffled with teary eyes. “but i promise.. please.. please just put it in.”

with that he entered you, completely too slow for your liking. your head curled back at the pleasure.

he started thrusting very slowly, teasingly so, his breath getting heavier against your ear, before he began fastening the pressure.

the thrusts were so deep, he made sure to hit the spot right. his grip was almost unbearably strong, making your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

his lips moved to your full breasts, taking your hard nipples in his mouth and sucking on them.

“still so fucking tight.”, he groaned, before crashing his lips against yours.

your whiny moans met his as he suddenly picked you up, his dick never slipping out.

before you could realize, your naked back hit a cold wall, making you gasp.

the angle made it easier for jungkook to completely plow into you mercilessly.

you were so lost in the moment, almost felt like you were in heat. you didn’t think, you couldn’t.

the sounds of slapping skin and wet arousal spread across the room.

jungkook slammed his hips against yours, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with hunger. “don’t forget your place, yn. you exist to get fucked by your husband and do as he says, not disobey him.”

you knew this was all just sex talk, this wasn’t truly what he believed but God.. you wouldn’t be mad if it were. you instinctively clenched around him, replying with soft cries.

“shit.. look at you”, the strokes became harder with every second. “even pregnancy can’t stop you from being a dick crazy slut, huh?”

his pace was relentless, yet steady. he held onto your hips, controlling your movements, ensuring you take every single inch of him.

When all you could manage were broken, whiny moans, he seized your jaw in a tight grip and delivered a sharp slap across your cheek.

You gasped, the sting spreading warmly across your skin and you both knew you loved it.

“Answer me when I speak to you, fucking slut,” he growled, his fingers digging harder into your jaw.

“yes, jungkook.. please don’t stop.”, you whimpered with teary eyes. “i love that dick so much, ah.. i’m just.. a fucking whore for you.”

a wicked grin tugged at his lips as his thrusts became gradually slower, yet deeper.

“that’s right,” he growled, “that’s what you were made for, to get fucked and bred. the only thing you’re good for.”

you clutched his neck even tighter, hiding your fucked out face in his shoulders, moans spilling out shamelessly.

you could practically feel your pussy juice dripping on his dick, your body tightening against his as you felt your climax nearing.

“kookie..,” you whimpered, voice trembling, “please… don’t stop. I need you. I’m so close.”

he only nodded as he continued with the same force, driving you closer to the edge with every brutal thrust. a mixture of moans and sobs flooding the room.

your entire body tensed with the last couple of thrusts and waves of uncontrollable pleasure rushed through you, your pussy squeezing with urgency and then, your vision blurred, leaving you dizzy and breathless.

chest heaving heavily, “ah, ah, ah” and the intensity built up until you came undone blissfully, collapsing into a trembling mess.

a couple of seconds later, jungkook’s hips stuttered, signaling his own orgasm. his big hands left bruises on your hips, a rough growl leaving his lips, “fuck, fuck, fuck”. he fucked the last thrusts into you with force, his breath heavy. with a guttural groan, he spilled his hot, thick cum deep inside of you. he stayed buried inside longer, making sure every drop of cum entered your pussy.

your heartbeat was faster than ever, you felt (good) pain all over your body. before you could climb jungkook like a koala bear and demand him to carry you to your bedroom, he turned your still aching body around, your body facing the wall.

then, he slammed his heavy hand down on your ass.

“ouch!!”

“stop whining, you asked for this.”, he hissed, delivering another spank to your ass. “i told you to fucking behave.”

your whimpers were almost pathetic. you could never admit to him that you enjoyed the pain, but something told you he already knew. your pussy was still soaked, his fingers lightly brushing against it from the back while his palm met your generous backside.

“you’re so fucked out, you can’t even speak”, he whispered, now kneading your ass. “that’s how i fucking like you.. if i could fuck another baby in you right now, i would.”

you tried to suppress your moans, but failed.

His fingers grazed your slick folds, sending another shiver to your core, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.

He removed his hands completely and you turned around, too scared and turned on to look him directly in the face.

He caught your gaze and softened instantly, the fire in his eyes melting into something quieter, more tender.

“Come here,” Jungkook murmured, pulling you into his chest with surprising gentleness for a man who’d just wrecked you.

You melted against him, your breathing still uneven as his arms wrapped securely around your swollen belly and your trembling body.

the earlier degradation was replaced by his usual warmth.

You stayed like that for a long moment, your fingers tracing lazy circles over his back, both of you finally still.

Slowly, he carried you to the bed, careful and deliberate as if you were the most fragile thing in existence.

after cleaning up, the both of you settled under the soft blankets, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your eyelids growing heavy.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Goodnight, Kookie,” you breathed, already slipping toward sleep.

_

the next morning, jungkook woke up way too late. you were already awake; he couldn’t feel you when he sleepily slid his hand across your shared bed.

scenes of the night before played in his mind, causing a smile to spread on his handsome face.

looking at the clock, he couldn’t believe you wore him out so well that he woke up about three hours later than he usually did. he didn’t even care that he missed work; he was the ceo after all.

damn, that pussy truly got power.

after freshening up in the adjacent bathroom, he started hearing voices from downstairs; certainly more than just yours.

making his way downstairs, he found you in the dining room, surrounded by both of your mothers, animatedly talking about some new recipe you wanted to try.

his heart warmed at the sight. they must have dropped by unannounced or you might have forgotten to tell him they were visiting.

he immediately walked up to the three of you, greeting his mother and mother-in-law.

“good morning, ladies!”, he greeted, giving each one a kiss on the cheek.

and there you were, now quiet and admiring the interaction, looking beautiful in your yoga pants and that fitted shirt that did nothing to conceal your baby bump.

“and good morning to my beautiful wife”, he was practically beaming at you, approaching you with open arms. “and my future princess.”

he first kissed your lips and then, he squatted and lovingly put his hands on your bump.

“good morning, my handsome husband.”, you smiled up at him, your cheeks heating up from the flashbacks of last night. “you’re finally awake!”

both of your mothers knew what type of couple you were, even before pregnancy. they admired you two deeply.

“aren’t you supposed to be at work, jungkook?”, his mother’s playful voice broke the moment.

“I slept in”, his head was now resting on your shoulders from behind, his hands holding onto your waist. “this one kept me up all night.”

his suggestive tone made your moms laugh; they understood exactly what he meant. for you, It was embarrassing because, surprisingly, you're not as shameless as he was.

it wasn’t that big of a deal though, they could tell a couple of hours ago when you couldn’t stand properly from all the pain your body was still in.

jungkook immediately started eating breakfast like the food was going to run away, as per usual.

after a heated 15 minute discussion over the baby’s name, you decided to change the topic without hurting your moms’ feelings and just directly tell them you didn’t like any of the names they suggested.

“you two go sit on the couch, i’ll be right back with the tea and cakes”, you told them, not wanting them to lift a finger, despite their constant need to stand on their feet.

“i’ll help you”, jungkook insisted and followed you to the spacious kitchen. “when the hell did you have time to make cake?”

he asked you in such a confused tone, it almost made you laugh. did he forget you were at home basically the entire day?

“tsk.. acting like i don’t have all the time in the world”, you replied, cutting into the chocolate cake you knew jungkook’s mom would love. “taste this.”

without hesitation, he took a big bite.

“hmmm”, he took another bite and then another. “so good.”

you snatched the fork away from him with feigned offense. “leave some for the others.. greedy.”

he bursted into laughter at your offended face and pinched your cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him and just breathed in the happiness; he was your husband, yours.

as long as he was yours, you didn’t care about anything else because there was nothing you wanted except for him to be with you.

you were so grateful for his existence, for his love, that life brought you together.. and it was always the most simple moments that made you appreciate him even more.

you put your head on his shoulders.

“Marry me.”, you whispered.

He blinked. “We’re already married.”

“Well, I wanna marry you again, Jungkook.”, desperation was evident in your voice. “Please.”

and then, he got on his knees, taking your hand in his, a goofy smile on his face. “yn jeon, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife again?”

you teared up, getting on your knees with much effort and engulfed him in a hug, gripping his arms like you’re never letting go of him.

“yes, yes, yes. a million times, yes.”

_

i love writing unserious stuff honestly 😭 hope you enjoy this!!! 😘💗💗

[devotedfem]

«Corpse bride groom»

Synopsis: You were forced to marry for convenience, so you practiced your vows in the forest, but you didn't expect the branch coming alive after you marry it. You thought you saw a ghost, but he was worse, a corpse groom.

K. Taehyung x f. Reader

4.7K words.

Genre: Corpse bride au | yander-ish.

Tags: inspired by Corpse bride by Tim burton, arranged marriage, Infatuation, obsessive behavior, Original male character (Victoria's male version from the movie), Tae is so deeply in love with reader, he's whipped, dead Taehyung (he'll come back to life for smut purposes lol), captivity, innocent and naive reader, gothic vibes, Taehyung's a wolf in sheep clothes, possessive behavior, bad ending for reader but not for Tae, smut and dub-con s3x.

From the series masterlist; Hush.

Navigation Masterlist.

You tapped your fingers against your dress impatiently, you didn’t want to be there, you didn’t want to be wed to a stranger. The huge living room greeted you and your parents, the place looked cold and lifeless, your soon to be parents in law were standing before you, with grimaces on their faces. You felt them staring at you -judging you- so you crossed your arms over your chest, almost as if you were shielding yourself from their stares.

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Everglot!” Greeted your mother with a big smile, you noticed contempt flashing Mrs. Everglot face, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

“Why, you must be Victor…” said your father with a gentle smile.

The boy before you was pale and scrawny, like a fragile Victorian kid. You couldn't believe you’ll be wed to this dull looking boy.

“Smile Dear,” whispered Mrs. Everglot to his husband, and the man did try his best to smile but he made a weird grimace instead, and of course your parents chose to ignore the pathetic attempt.

“We’ll be taking tea in the east room.” Commanded Mrs. Everglot with a blank bored face, turning around to walk towards the east side.

You noticed them walking away and leaving you behind almost as if they forgot about your existence. You sighed with slumped shoulders, blinking with excitement when you spot a piano in the corner of the living room. You glanced around before sitting to play it. You let your fingers play the keyboards, turning them into a sweet melody.

“You play very beautifully.” That voice startled you, making you jump away from the piano.

You felt your cheeks heating with embarrassment at being caught by the fragile Victorian boy.

“Do forgive me, I didn’t mean to be rude…” You muttered biting your inner cheek.

The boy chuckled shaking his head.

“Oh please don’t apologize, I’m not like my parents.” He said smiling, easing your tense shoulders.

But the moment was interrupted by a dramatic gasp.

“Y/n! Victor! How improper of you two being alone before the wedding!” Yelled Mrs. Everglot, making the fragile boy roll his eyes. You bit your bottom lip trying not to laugh.

That woman was such a prude.

After the unnecessary scold, Victor and you were practicing your vows for the wedding. The problem was that your brain wasn’t braining, if that makes sense. You were making mistakes every time.

“With this hand I… I will uhm, lift your, your-“

“Sorrows,” finished softly the fragile boy, you smiled at him in gratitude.

“Sorrows,” you repeated.

“Your cup will never- never empty… and uhm, for I will be your… your wine!”

You heard a deep and disappointed sigh behind you.

“With this candle, I will light-“ you interrupted yourself when the candle flame goes out, lighting it up again.

“I’d light your way in the darkness.”

“I will,” scolded the priest, but you ignored him.

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine.”

The ring fell to the floor, rolling under Mrs. Everglot's dress. You didn't think twice before pulling it out from under her dress, regretting your action almost immediately when you accidentally set his fabric on fire.

Long story short, it was a disaster. Your parents were ashamed, and a strange woman save the day by putting out the fire. You felt your lips wobbling and your gaze blurring, you didn’t mean to be so clumsy, you were just trying your best. You ran away from the house, after all everyone was ignoring your presence, so you weren’t worry about them wondering where were you going.

Your eyes were teary and your chest stung with shame and helplessness. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realize that you were walking into the forest. It was already night; the forest floor was covered in blankets of snow with the moonlight as the only source of light. You paced around with knitted brows and clenched fists.

“That pale boy must think I’m a fool,” You spoke out loud to yourself, with a long sigh. “It shouldn’t be that difficult to say a few simple vows…” You muttered, clearing your throat to practice your vows again.

“With this hand I will- i… uhm, cup your wine? Fuck no, with this uhm… candle! I… i… set your annoying mother on fire,” you mumble kicking a branch.

You look up to watch the beautiful moon, spinning around and imagining you were at your wedding, everything was perfect and Victor’s parents didn’t hate you.

“Oh hello Mrs. Everglot, you look lovely this evening,” you smiled to a trunk, spinning around with your fluffy dress.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows,” you said raising your hand. “Your cup will never empty… For I will be your wine,” you carry on with an imaginary cup. “With this candle I will light your way in the darkness.”

And then you stopped, watching the shiny ring on your palm.

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine,” you whispered softly, placing the ring on a branch as if it was a finger.

And suddenly, the earth shook beneath you, making you gasp with horror at the sight of the branch coming back to life. Or more like a man rising from the earth, or from the death.

In front of you stood a handsome man, dress for a wedding. His boxy smile and left white eye were charming, unlike his ragged suit and cadaveric purple-like skin. You spotted some of his rib bones through a hole in his wedding suit.

You blink hard and quick, thinking you went mad. You screamed with fear when the man walked towards you, showing you his finger wearing the ring. His grin never eased.

“I do.” He replied with a deep voice, bringing his face an inch closer to yours. “Now kiss the groom.” He whispered lowly, brushing your lips.

And when his mouth touched yours, everything turned black.

“She’s still so soft and warm,” said a distant voice, making you frown and blink slowly your eyes open.

Your eyes widened with horror and your mouth opened with a scream at the sight above you, there was two men looking down at you, the both of them were definitely dead. The one in your right didn’t even have arms. It was horrific, straight out of a horror movie.

Where the fuck were you?

The place seemed like a bar cave, with skeletons speaking and living corpses looking at you with confusion and pity.

“Oh don’t frighten her Yoongi, maybe she’s one of those that doesn’t know they’re dead yet,” the man on your left says with pity in his gaze, making you gasp with disbelief.

“Dead? The fuck are you talking about! I’m alive, is… is this a dream?” You whispered the last words to yourself, maybe you just were in a bad dream. Nothing to worry about, right?

“You two leave her alone, don’t overwhelm my wife,” the mysterious man from the woods ordered with a stern voice, however his gaze was gentle and fixated on you.

You blinked with knitted brows, did you hear him right?

“Wife?” You muttered with confusion, but everyone ignored you.

“Of course tae, we are very aware of your temper,” said the man named Yoongi.

“To the newlyweds!” Yelled the other man, raising a beer and making everyone repeat the words with joy.

“Newlyweds!?” This time you shouted out the words, watching them with horror written on your face. As far as you know you were still single, yet to be wed but single.

“You said your vows so beautifully in the woods my dear,” the deep and dark voice from the mysterious mantook your attention again. His gaze was still lingering on you, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. You didn’t know how to react at his intense gaze, so you averted yours instead.

“I… did?” You muttered to yourself, remembering your rehearsal in the woods. You didn’t mean to wed a corpse.

“You did, my love.” His words were sugary sweat, as if they were trying to melt into your ears.

You gulped, feeling a deep and primal fear squeezing your chest, you were about to have a panic attack. You wanted to run away now.

“Well, let me introduce myself, I’m Namjoon, the waiter. I died a year ago and-“ You interrupted him by grabbing a dagger from a corpse to aim it at them as a threat.

Your mind was foggy and your thoughts erratic, you weren’t thinking straight.

“Get away from me! I-I have a knife and I’m not scared to use it! Give me questions now!” You yelled with panic.

“I think you mean answers sweetheart,” your supposed husband mention with amusement.

You blinked feeling like a moron. Realizing you were threatening literally corpses.

“Ehm, yes, answers. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said calmly, walking towards you with every step screaming confidence and elegance. He stopped inches from your body, leaning his beautiful face to yours. You flinched when you felt him curling a lock of your hair with his finger.

“As you can see, I’m a dead groom, with a very… tragic past. I was betrayed in life the day of my wedding, I thought I’d doomed for eternity until you said your vows to me, as a gift from life… or dead.” He caged you against the bar counter with his arms at each side of you and his body leaning even more closer, making you lean your back on the counter as an attempt to get away from him.

“Our poor Tae, he was so handsome and naïve in life. Always wearing his heart on his sleeve, that snake of a woman manipulated him to keep his money.” Said Yoongi with anger on his voice, while he was speaking, tae didn’t look away from you for a second. His intense gaze was piercing you.

“And our Taehyung has always been a romantic with a kind heart, for that woman to murder him in cold blood on his wedding day. But he made a vow, to wait for his true love.” Continued Namjoon.

You felt a pang of guilt cross your heart, that was truly a tragic and sad story. No one deserves to die in such way.

“Taehyung,” you whispered his name, making him inhale sharp.

“Yes, my moon.” He said back, smiling at you gently.

“I’m… really sorry for what happened to you, but I think there is a misunderstanding,” you tried to say, getting away from Taehyung with him following your steps.

“There is none my love. We are married.” Irritation flashes his handsome face.

“We’re not!” You yelled, and then you ran away.

You ran as fast as you can, almost tripping a couple of times. You watched with horror and fear the corpses surrounding you, passing in your way between a person cut in half. You watched all of their organs.

But then exhaustion drugged your movements, making you stop to take a deep breath and calm your racing heart. Your eyes burned with tears at the realization that you were lost, with nowhere to go. You sit on a bench and sob your heart out like a child.

“Oh my dear, what are you doing here alone sweet thing.” Taehyung’s voice cooing at you made you look up at him, feeling relieved to see at least one familiar face. You hiccupped with fat tears streaming from your eyes, making Taehyung knit his brows with deep concern. He opened his arms and you rushed to them, hugging him tight.

“I want to go home,” you sobbed into his chest, wetting the fabric of his shirt.

He shushed you, stroking gently your hair and tightening his grip on your body.

“You are home.” His words only made you cry harder.

But then a thought crossed your mind, maybe if you manipulate him to take you up to the world of the living then you could escape from this marriage.

“Tae, i- I want to introduce you to my parents,” you said not looking into his eyes.

“Sure Mon Amour. Where are they buried?” He asked cheerfully.

Your stomach twisted at his words.

“They are… alive.”

His brows knitted for a moment, but he smiled again.

“Then we must find a way to go up.” He said taking your hand to pull you with him.

And that’s how you two ended up in front of an old skeleton magician, who was trying to find a spell in his huge and dusty book.

“Aha! There it is, a spell that’ll allow Taehyung to go to the world of the living,” said the skeleton before coughing loudly.

Taehyung’s grin was wide, he was so charming and beautiful like this, it was such a pity and waste that he was dead.

The skeleton that resembles an old man, gave Taehyung an egg, telling him to eat it to be able to go up. After he does, a cloak of smoke wrapped you both, you felt dizzy for a second, with Taehyung holding your hands. And then you blinked slowly, noticing with joy that you were in the woods again.

“Yes!” You shouted without being able to contain your relief.

Taehyung smiled gently at you, although he has a white dead eye, his gaze was full of life and love. Your smile fell at the guilty pang piercing your heart, it was a little bit cruel to leave him like this, but you have no other choice. You don’t belong to the world of the dead, at least not now.

“I- uhm, I’ll look for my parents to bring them here. I’ll go ahead, wait here for me and don’t move,” you said clearing your throat, trying to look convincing enough.

“Sure thing, I’ll wait right here,” he said cheerfully, sitting on a piece of log. Looking at you with a hint of innocence and trust. You averted your gaze, unable to bear looking into his eyes.

“I’ll… I’ll be right back,” you muttered, walking away from him.

At first your steps were calm and confident, until you turn your head back realizing you were far enough to run like a mad woman, and you did, gasping by how fast you were running. You burst with happiness when you got to the town safe and sound, back home.

But Victor’s house was on the way, and you needed to give him some explanations as to why you disappeared the night before the wedding. You climbed to the balcony of his room, too scared to face his parents at this hour.

Your grin widened when you watch him reading on his bed, so you tapped his window eagerly. He jumped with surprise at the sight of you.

“What on earth are you doing here!?” he whispered shouted to you when he opened the balcony doors, and you walked past him into his room.

“I’m so sorry for disappearing, i-I am so scared Victor. Something really bad and weird happened to me! I got wed to a corpse groom against my will!” You knew you sounded like a maniac, probably making no sense to Victor. But there was no other way to explain what happened to you in the woods.

“What? I’m confused…” Victor said carefully, with his brows knitted and looking at you as if you grew another head. You sighed deep at his words.

“I know I sound crazy, but I’m telling you the truth. I’m running from-“

You were interrupted by the balcony doors bursting open and slamming against the walls, making Victor and you startle. There, on the balcony, stood Taehyung, with an intimidating aura. He looked frightening without his typical smile, looking at you two with a cold face.

His steps were large and heavy, pulling you away from Victor with force, tightening his grip around your arm.

“Y/n? who’s that?” Taehyung asked between teeth, not breaking his heavy gaze from Victor.

“He’s my… my-my…” Your brain literally bugged at that moment, blank and without any rational thought.

“I’m his soon to be husband.” Replied Victor, making you open and close your mouth like a fish, you wanted to deny it but you just couldn’t because it was the truth. You didn’t know how well Taehyung will cope with that information.

“You wish,” said darkly Taehyung, pulling you away with him. You two disappeared into the cloaked smoke that brought you here. And you witnessed the horrified face of Victor before vanishing away into the air.

You were again in the place of the old magician skeleton, with Taehyung crying in front of you. Your heart was clenching with pity and anger, he didn’t have any right to take you away from Victor!

“You’re a liar!” Sobbed Taehyung, with tears streaming from his betrayed eyes.

You gasped in disbelief.

“Excuse me? I’ve never lied to you!”

“Yeah sure, go back to that other man,” said lowly Taehyung, with venom and hurt in his voice.

“You are the other man!” You shouted, feed up with his victim complex.

“No I’m not! You’re married to me! He’s the other man!” He screamed with his voice breaking at the last words.

“He’s got a point though,” the skeleton commented softly.

There was a moment of silence, you didn’t know what to say at this point. Taehyung looked defeated with his shoulders slumped.

“And I thought this was going well,” he muttered, making you feel even worse.

“Look, I’m so sorry you have to find it out like this, but I don’t want this marry.”

Hurt flashes Taehyung’s face, his eyes swan in tears again.

“But why? It’s because my eye, isn’t it?” He whispered sadly, looking vulnerable and hurt.

“No! Of course not, your eye it’s very… lovely, you are very lovely, and handsome. But that’s not the point.” You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. “The point is, that we’re not meant to be! You’re… dead, and I’m alive, this just can’t work.”

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before saying your vows,” he replied with an angry scowl and crossed arms.

“Why can’t you understand that this is a mistake! I would never, ever, marry you!”

You regretted your words immediately after watching Taehyung’s crestfallen face. He just stood there, saying nothing back and turning around, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

“Well, a marriage isn’t a marriage without arguments, isn’t it?” You ignored the skeleton, feeling really bad with yourself.

You went out, ignoring the corpses watching you with curiosity, you were the only one with a beating heart and they know it, everyone knows it except Taehyung.

With a sigh, you sit heavily on the bench, biting your bottom lip with no clue of what to do down here without the company of Taehyung. Are you doomed to be in the land of the death? Maybe that was your destiny, in some way, the universe fulfilled your wish; you won’t marry Victor, but at what cost?

You searched for Taehyung after a couple of hours, asking every corpse If they have seemed him, but they never answered your questions.

And then you listened a sweet piano melody from afar, your body followed the sound as a sailor going after the call of a siren. Your feet brought you to a small terrace where Taehyung was playing piano, he looked absorbed in his own little word, until you sat beside him on the piano’s bench, making him startle and widen his pretty eyes.

But he blinked his surprise away, snorting with a roll of his eyes, ignoring you to keep playing. You played the keyboards too, following his melody. He side-eyed you with annoyance, playing quicker the piano, making you smirk playing even more quicker than him. Your hands touched at some point, and you noticed how Taehyung’s defenses broke down little by little, enjoying the melody you two made, smiling softly at you.

“That was so beautiful,” you say breaking the comfortable silence. Taehyung only nodded at your words.

Your lips curled down, feeling that pang of guilt in your chest again.

“Look, I’m so sorry for what I said earlier. You’re the most interesting and handsome man I’ve ever met, and if death weren’t separating us, I’d fall head over heels for you.” You said softly, trying to make him understand why you two weren’t compatible at all.

He just hummed, not looking at you.

“So the only thing you want from me… it’s a beating heart?” He asked trying to look nonchalant, but you noticed the tension of his lips.

“I… I mean, I can be dead to be with you… at this point, there’s nothing left for me up there,” you muttered, you didn’t miss Victor’s parents flattering the woman that turn off the fire of Mrs. Everglot dress, she seemed interested in marrying Victor.

“No.” Growled Taehyung with anger, a fire burning his dead eyes. “I would never take that away from you, life is a gift, and you’re full of it. That’s whyI’m head over heels for you, my moon.” He whispered the last words, full of love and passion, melting your heart and filling your eyes with tears.

You’ve never felt more loved and seemed in your life, but it felt wrong, because the feeling wasn’t mutual. You appreciate him, yes, you think he’s beautiful and sweet, also yes. But you didn’t love him.

“I have to be honest with you Tae, I just… don’t feel the same, and I can’t guarantee you that my feelings will change in the future.”

Taehyung smiled with sadness and determination, holding tightly both of your hands and stroking lovingly the back.

“I have enough love for the both of us, even If you never love me, even if you hate me. I’ll never leave you.” He said like an oath, one he’s not willing to break.

You blinked at his words, taken aback. It felt more like a threat rather than a confession of love, but you didn’t mind. It felt nice to be cared for.

“Okay.” You whispered, looking into his pretty eyes.

“I have something to show you,” his voice dropped an octave, and his gaze darkened for a moment, but he returned to his bright persona immediately. You nodded slowly, not sure why you felt uneasy all of a sudden.

He took you to a hidden cottage deep in the land of the death, it was hauntingly beautiful, its garden has dead roses and dark sunflowers. Charming and deathly, just like Taehyung.

He showed you a death rose covered in honey, smirking at you like the Cheshire cat, with a mischievous and a naughty glint in his eyes. You narrowed your eyes, raising a brow when he remained silent.

“So? You wanted to show me a withered rose?” You asked with a frown, not sure what the hell you two were doing in that cottage. “Do you live here?” You changed the subject, watching your surroundings with curiosity.

“Yes, we live here. And… this rose it’s enchanted, it will bring me back to life, it’ll make my rotten heart beat again.”

You freeze at his words, whipping your head towards him in shock, watching Taehyung’s eyes darkening. His gaze was intense and unreadable, staring piercingly at you like a hawk, a predator ready to pounce and chase its preys if it dares to run away.

You gulped hard, blinking and processing his words.

“Are you sure…it-it’ll work? I mean, I’m sure it will, we got up a couple of hours ago.” You rambled, trying to think how to say your next words. “If… if, this works, that means… we can go back to the land of the living?” You asked softly and cautiously, watching his every expression as if you were dealing with a wild animal.

Taehyung only smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. That smile looked forced, so unlike him.

“Of course, my moon, we will go to your home. I want to meet your parents after all,” his voice sounded constricted, as if he was restraining himself.

“If you don’t want to do this, then don’t. Do it because you want it, not to please me.”

This time his smile was genuine, sparkling his eyes.

But then his gaze darkened again, like a dusty cloak covering his eyes, his intentions.

“Don’t worry about me, although I have to tell you something. To make this spell permanent, there’s one condition.” He said, not breaking his heavy gaze from you.

A chill run down your spine at his odd vibe.

“What condition?” You asked with your brows knitted.

“We have to consummate the marriage,” he said lowly, approaching you with slow steps.

You widened your eyes at his proposal, no fucking way. You won’t fuck a corpse.

“Taehyung you’re dead. I’m not fucking a corpse, I’m sorry.”

To your surprise, his smirk didn’t falter.

“Did I say I’ll fuck while dead? No. This spell will revive me, but only for 4 hours, that’s why we need to… be intimate to make it permanent.” He said calmly, getting even more closer to your body.

You didn’t know what to say to that, it wouldn’t be a problem if he was alive, right? But… he was still a stranger, and you didn’t feel comfortable being intimate with him.

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t you want to go back home? To be with your parents? Wouldn’t be easier if you tell them you’re already married? I promise to give you space up there, I can love you from afar.” His tone was deep, and his stare burned with determination.

“I… guess you’re right.” You whispered, not knowing what else to say.

It can’t be that bad. Right?

Taehyung smirked mischievously, his eyes glinting with eagerness. He took the withered rose, eating its petals covered in honey. Staring at you while swallowing each one of them.

And then… he changed.

His purpled skin tone turned tan with a healthy glow, his lips changed into a cherry tone. His hair was more ebony and shinning, and that hole that showed his rib bones, was covered with new skin.

He looked alive.

Your lips parted and your eyes widened with fascination. You took one large step to be an inch closer to him, putting slowly your hand on his chest. Laughing with joy at the feeling of his heart beating against your palm. You just witnessed a miracle.

“I’m impressed,” you said feeling his heart, he felt so alive.

Taehyung pulled your hand towards his lips, kissing it softly and staring at you heavily. His lips lingered on your hand, brushing the inner of your wrist.

And then he carried you in bridal style, making you gasp in surprise by the sudden movement. You wrapped your arms around his neck, watching how he took you deeper into the cottage, laying you on the mattress of his bed.

He lingered above you, caging your head and body with his hands and legs, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. His left white eye didn’t change of color, making you smile. It was his charm.

And then he kissed your smile away, sucking and biting your lips like a starve man, swallowing all of your sounds as if he wanted to devour you.

Your head spined because of how rough he was kissing you, not breaking the kiss to give you a chance to breath. You felt him tearing off your clothes like a savage, making you frown and whimper. It was a lot, you tried to turn your head away but he growled, gripping your chin to attach his lips again.

“Tae. I, I don’t know if this is-“

“You said yes, I won’t let you set a foot outside until I’m buried balls deep inside you.” He snarled, with anger and lust clouding his intense eyes.

He widened your legs until your knees brushed your shoulders, baring you open to him. You felt your cheeks heating with embarrassment, you’ve never felt more exposed in your life.

And Taehyung’s eyes glinted with so much hunger that it scared you, the grip he has on your legs was tight, not letting you go.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

And you teared up, feeling like a lamb that fell into its predator’s trap.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg @acherry04 @lizziekitty @catlove83

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that own my mind, body, heart, and soul

in other words, this is a collection of my favorite jk fics on tumblr! if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, pls remember to support the authors by interacting with their post. part 2 | other bts members

➺ bitchin - by @kinktae

summary: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook.

➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk

summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

➺ hotter than hell - by @chateautae

summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

➺ jump then fall (into you) - by @writtenwhalien

summary: bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

➺ too late to dream - by @kookslastbutton

summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

➺ the forgotten spaces- by @oddinary4bts

summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

➺ when the end comes - by @oddinary4bts

summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? **sequel to the forgotten spaces

➺ falling - by @starshapedkookie

summary: soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm.

➺ love alive - by @jamaisjoons

summary: a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.

➺ changes in between - by @taegularities

summary: Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.

➺ falling skies - by @fortunexkookie

summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did - it was a twin thing - and if you were her sun, and he was her moon, then she just wished she could show you how he reflected your light.

��� sugarplum elegy - by @bymoonchild

summary: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

➺ an abundance of mondays - by @diortae

summary: "why the fuck would it be easy? you’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. of course it’s complicated.” he pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.

➺ five dates - by @kpopfanfictrash

summary: “Ten dates,” he nods, smile tugging at his lips. “Ten dates, to decide if you want this – want me – or want me to go. Ten dates to get to know me. Ten dates,” he says, oddly soft, “to fall in love with me.” Which then becomes five.

➺ here comes the bride, all dressed in pride - by @hansolmates

summary: You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!