#jk scenarios | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

awrkive · 1 month ago

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summary: where you and jungkook love to play the push and pull game

w/c: 4.7k

warnings/misc: idol!jk x (fem)producer!reader. the usual. mean words being exchanged to each other in the name of banter 😕 they dk how to be nice to e/o and i enjoy writing that way too much methinks. explicit sexual content (penetrative s*x, unprotected s*x, c*wgirl position, d*ggy, shower s*x, cre*mpie, dirty talk) idk what happened but there is angst here

note: due to popular demand here is pt 2 🤩🤩 i actually kinda have more ideas for this universe tbh and would love to go thru with it but it def depends so dont expect anything!! anywho. hope u enjoy!!!!! its unedited tho will fix later

index: part 1 | pt. 2

jeon jk. (bighit) [10:25pm]: im stressed i need to eat you out jeon jk. (bighit) [10:50pm]: whats taking u so long to answer? jeon jk. (bighit) [10:58pm]: will it kill you to reply

you [11:31pm]: shut up i just got off class

jeon jk. (bighit) [11:32pm]: who gets off class at 12 fucking midnight jeon jk. (bighit) [11:33pm]: are you fucking ur professor again jeon jk. (bighit) [11:36pm]: who was that. kim namjin. the lame ass linguistics prpfessor

you [11:40pm]: kim namjoon* and if im fucking him again whats it to you? you [11:40pm]: hes not lame and hes got a bigger dick than you

jeon jk. (bighit) [11:41pm]: yeah by like 0.05 inch.

you [11:43pm]: if thats what makes you sleep at night ig

jeon jk. (bighit) [11:44pm]: funny bcs who did you come back to after all that? def not namjan

you [11:46pm]: only bcs u send me stupid shit like “im stressed need to eat u out” when u dont get to fuck me

jeon jk. (bighit) [11:46pm]: youre infuriating as hell

you [11:46pm]: I literally do not care.

Your doorbell rings for the second time. Rolling your eyes, you let out a loud sigh and drop your highlighter on your book, dragging your feet to the doorway and opening it against your will.

“What the fuck took so long?” Is what Jungkook welcomes you with, taking off his black mask aggressively and stepping inside the threshold without you even inviting him inside.

You lock the door again, watching as Jungkook expertly navigates the space of your apartment, used to the way he heads to the kitchen with ease where he places the – you noticed it just now – bags of take-out on the counter.

“I told you, I can’t get into anything right now. I have to study for a test.” You cross your arms under your chest, following him. You stop by the counter across Jungkook, looking at him as he opens your fridge to get a bottle of water.

He’s worn all black from head to toe for obvious reasons because you live downtown and near Gangnam, and there’s no way nobody would recognize him if he didn’t get into any disguise.

Jungkook turns to you once he’s chugged the rest of the drink, leaning onto the counter, brow raised as he says, “Who said we have to get into anything right now?”

You shoot him a mirrored look.

“We only see each other for sex. And we can’t have sex tonight. I need to spell it out for you?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gestures to the food on the counter and begins shrugging off his leather jacket and cap.

“Eat. You look pale.”

“Jungkook—”

He furrows his brows. “Is it that time of the month? Why are you so mouthy more than usual?”

“Fuck off.” You flip him off which makes him chuckle. It takes you aback a little.

“See. You’re irritable because you haven’t eaten yet. So what if you have to study? Eat first. I’ll help you with your flashcards later, then we’ll have sex. Easy.”

“Who are you and why are you telling me what to do?” You bite back.

“Because you’ll probably die at 27 if I wasn’t constantly reminding you of eating your meals,” Jungkook shrugs and starts tearing off the tapes on the take-out food. “And you like having sex with me. So.” You purse your lips, making a small scoffing sound, prompting Jungkook to glance at you. “Yeah?” He quirks a brow with a hint of a smile on his lips.

You frown. “You’re cocky.”

“You get me hard when we argue. Save it for later.” He says, as if chastising you and redirecting your attention again to the food.

You roll your eyes again, annoyed that there’s a weird feeling in your stomach about the whole exchange and your mouth muscles are itching to curl up a little at his… stupidity. It irritates you, the way Jungkook goes through life in an easy-going way because he knows exactly who he is.

You almost let out a moan as you start digging in the chicken he bought, feeling relieved to finally have something. Jungkook was only half-exaggerating when he said he had to tell you to eat, because most of the time you really forget all about it.

Today was one of those days… you didn’t have to clock in at the company on Fridays but your classes go from 5 to 9pm which drains the hell out of you. Waking up midday means not bothering to eat… and aside from the bagel and coffee you grabbed at the cafe earlier, you haven’t consumed real food.

“I don’t like this.” you suddenly say.

“What?”

You look up at him. He still looks weird.

“That.” you point at his general direction. He raises a brow, growing confused. “You look happy. I’m not sure if I like that.”

“Ouch.”

You can’t help yourself. You laugh at his completely blank face. Cutting yourself off completely, you clear your throat.

“It’s weird. Why?”

“I smile and it just… what? Ruins your day?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook laughs out loud. “You’re infuriating.”

You hum, weirdly satisfied with that.

Jungkook has been over your apartment many times because as much as his place is way nicer, you don’t like going there. Too risky, too many eyes. Too… scary. You know Jungkook improves his security every three months, as sad as it sounds, but still. You don’t feel comfortable going there, probably why you refused to use the keycard he’s given you. You do fuck a lot in your studio, though, or in the empty rooms over at the company, but when you’re not, Jungkook and you drive here. It’s almost safe to assume that Jungkook knows this place already like the back of his hand.

Probably because whatever the hell this is between you has been going on for eight months now.

After Jungkook and you inhaled every last bit of the food (because he was apparently starving as well), true to his words, he actually did help you study a bit. But that didn’t really last when Jungkook suddenly had his fingers in you thirty minutes later.

One moment you were talking about phonological change and sound laws, the next thing you know, you’re cumming on his fingers, while Jungkook sits on the edge of your bed frantically helping you straddle him. Meanwhile, half of your clothes are forming a heap on the floor as you heavily make out with each other.

“F-fuck,”

Jungkook sighs when the tip of his cock finally enters your pussy as you slowly push down on him, thighs clenching at the way he’s stretching you out.

You gasp when you fully sit on him, open mouths breathing against each other.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so b-big–”

And you might never really get used to it, no matter how many times you do it.

You let out a shaky moan when you feel Jungkook’s dick twitching inside you, opening your eyes only to see him already staring right at you.

“You okay to move?” He rasps, the veins in his arms telling you he’s trying to hold back.

You nod eagerly, placing your palms on his shoulders and preparing yourself to go up. Your slick from the foreplay doesn’t make the stretch of his cock fully burn, making it a little easier for you to slide out and bounce back down on him until you’re repeating the movement faster, with Jungkook taking a hold of of your breasts, squeezing the flesh tightly in his huge palms. He groans, leaning down to capture your nipples, biting the pearls a little too rough you whimper a little too loud.

“O-oh—! Not too rough, Jeon.” You whine, grabbing the back of his head. Jungkook looks at you with brows raised, rightfully confused ‘cause you usually like it when he’s rough with you. You bite your lip, continuing to ride him. “Just a little sensitive. My period’s next week.”

Jungkook nods understandingly, squeezing your chest again, quite apologetically might you say so. He licks over a nipple, this time considerably more gentle with it.

“How’s this for a studying session?”

“N-not bad,” You bite your lip when you feel your thighs quivering, already starting to run out of breath, digging your nails in Jungkook’s shoulders. His hands travel down to your hips, where he grips it tight and starts guiding your ministration, literally bouncing you up and down on him. “Ahh– fuck.” you moan, shutting your eyes close at the delicious sensation of his engorged cock touching every part of your pussy.

You’re dripping on him, both of your bated breaths filling your room as he picks up your own pace.

“You – fuck – enjoy riding my cock like this?” He suddenly cups your jaw, making you look at him. The sides of your eyes sting with unshed tears, whimpering when his dick slips out of you when you try to go down again. Both of you look at it, with Jungkook quickly helping you put it back in, moaning in unison when it enters you again. You tighten your grip on him, soft sighs falling out of your mouth. But Jungkook suddenly lets out a quiet tsk, looking at you with furrowed brows as he says, “Answer me.”

“Y-you know.” you say, mirroring his look. You start rocking back and forth instead, heightening the pleasure.

With the way Jungkook’s face contorts, you know the new movement feels just as good for him.

But he suddenly thrusts from under you, grabbing the back of your hair – the stretch on your scalp didn’t hurt, but it’s enough to make you gasp.

“Why do you gotta be such a fuckin’ brat, huh?” Jungkook groans, guiding your face closer to his. “You act like this around— who’s that guy again? Professor Kim?”

You bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling at that. You knew he was gonna bring that up one way or another. You and Professor Kim fucked that one time — okay maybe two times when Jungkook and you had this weird cool-off thing going on four months ago, and he made sure to remind you of it every singe chance he got.

“No,” you firmly say, leveling him with a look, still keeping your pace on his cock. “He likes it when I’m a good girl.”

Jungkook’s expression darkens, and you moan when his grip on your hair tightens.

“You’re far from a good girl, sweetheart. But he wouldn’t know that ‘cause he only got to fuck you twice.”

“Y-yeah? You sure it’s not more tha—”

Jungkook cuts you off with a hot, angry kiss. Your teeth cling together, and with the aggressive way he inserts his tongue into you unprompted, you know he’s getting a little heated.

It’s juvenile, but you take a little pride in how much it's so easy for you to piss him off.

But one second you’re sharing a searing kiss, the next moment you feel a sting on your bottom lip.

“Oh—! What the fuck!” You push Jungkook away so hard he unceremoniously plops down on the mattress, bringing you down with him. You manage to support yourself with his hard chest, looking at him with bewildered eyes, touching your bottom lip. The fucker just bit it.

Jungkook lets himself rest against the mattress, gripping your thighs instead.

“He’s fucking weird for fucking his student, by the way.” he says, apparently still not done talking about Kim Namjoon. His hands have made their way from your legs to your breasts, but you whisk them away, shooting him a glare.

“You’re a dick,” you jab at his chest, making him let out a slightly pained “Oh!”, soon exchanged with a grunt of pleasure when you reach for his cock behind you to sit on it again, grinding against it. You lean on his chest, keeping your daggers on him. “You can say whatever you want but you can’t blame Prof Kim for fucking his student.”

Jungkook immediately scoffs. Because you refuse to have anything to do with his hands, he crosses them under his head, eyes casting a glance down where you meet, darkening when you roll your hips against him deliciously.

“He’s a person in power. That gotta be unethical.”

You roll your eyes almost automatically.

“So you wouldn’t fuck me if I was your student, then?” you raise your brow, taking note of the obvious surprise coloring Jungkook’s face.

But he quickly shuts it down with a smug response.

“I would just have to look at other professors to fuck. Especially at SNU? Have you seen the women professors there?” There’s a bite to it, and the smirk on his lips heighten that. Like he’s telling you he has way more options than you – and those options can come easy for him. If he wants to.

“See how you’re not fucking any one of them? Exactly.” you retort.

Jungkook snorts. “I don’t have to,” He removes his hands from his head. “Besides, I fucked Hana before in a professor outfit. Does that count?”

You grit your teeth together at the mention of Hana. She’s a friend of yours, also an idol like Jungkook. You actually do have a lot of friends in the industry, and coincidentally, Jungkook has fucked most of them.

“What’s the matter? Don't like the reminder that much?” Jungkook grins. “I remember Jiyeon being in the same position as you now. She really loves riding my dick. Kind of like you. You two really are friends, huh?”

Kim Jiyeon, a member of a famous group in the country. Another one of your friends and one of Jungkook’s on and off hook-ups too. You don’t know if they still do it from time to time – as far as you know, they ended just as you two began. But you don’t ask either, don’t really care at all.

But it’s funny since you remember him saying awhile ago he hasn’t fucked anybody other than you in a long time. Was that a lie?

“Sure. Don’t feel special though, I rode Jaehyun exactly this way. Went at it for hours because my pussy just gets so wet for him.”

You relish the fact that Jungkook’s smile immediately falls off his face when you say that. But that victory only lasted for a brief moment when he spoke his next words.

“You have a dirty mouth on you, I’ll give you that. Shin’s was dirtier, though. Gives crazy head too.”

You don’t really know why he’s mentioning all your idol friends, but fine. If he wants to play that game, you’ll give it to him.

“Don’t you just love a crazy head? Mingyu gave me one when we finally went out on a date, and I still think about it,” You made sure to grind against his cock painfully slowly, making a show of moaning out loud. “Oh god,”

Thankfully, that shuts Jungkook up.

“So he did ask you out.” Jungkook says, and it sounds so… firm. You can’t even recognize the look on his face.

“Yes.”

He goes quiet after that, but his hands on your waist are tight.

Like nothing happened, you continue riding him – and maybe because you talked too much that the momentum got killed, but suddenly, you stop your ministration.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, about to say something. Just as when he opens his mouth to speak, you get off him, leaving him astounded on your bed with his dick still stiff and hard against his abdomen.

“What the hell?”

“I’m going to take a shower.” you say nonchalantly, already heading to your bathroom.

“Seriously?” Jungkook says, the disbelief in his tone palpable. “I’m still hard and I haven’t even cum yet.”

You look back at him. “You can take care of that.”

Jungkook gestures with his hand. “Are you fucking kidding– you’re serious?”

You turn away and go straight to the bathroom, locking the door and immediately turning the shower on – aggressively so.

You’re not mad, is what you tell yourself. You know you started it when you goaded Jungkook about Namjoon. But you also shouldn’t have taken the bait, because Jungkook is competitive in all areas that affects his huge, dumb ego.

Well, fuck him. Figuratively this time. You can’t believe you let him in your place tonight. You can’t even fucking remember what you were reading earlier, because his stupid horny brain decided it was okay to finger you when you were memorizing the mor—

“What the—!”

You look at Jungkook in shock when he suddenly barges in the shower, all naked just like you and goes under the stream too, looking just as pissed as you left him.

“I know where you keep your keys and you can’t just walk out on me like that,” He turns off the shower and you’re about to complain when he suddenly looks at you again, brows furrowing and tone a little dark when he says, “So what? You play this little I’m-fucking-other-people-and-not-just-you games on me every fucking time and expect me to just take it? When I decide to ride along you get a little pissy and act like a child?”

Your jaw slacks, not expecting the call-out. Jungkook steps closer to you, heavy footsteps sounding like a ticking clock above your head. You’ve always known he’s muscly, and much much taller and bigger than you, but his presence especially looms over you when he’s obviously heated like this.

Your backward steps are futile when he only takes steps forward, until you feel the glass wall on your back.

Jungkook follows, and even though his hands are wet from the water, warmth spread through your body when he takes you roughly by the waist.

“Now you have nothing to say because you know I’m right,” he rasps. You whimper when he presses his body to you, his dick flatly rigid against your stomach, the tip aching red when you glance down to look at it. Jungkook clicks his tongue against his cheek, cupping your cheek to redirect your face to him. “Turn around.”

He doesn’t even bother hearing you out, just manhandles you around himself. You suppress a moan when he rests his dick against the cleft of your ass, his body heat spreading within you when he leans down to whisper in your ear, “You know what’s funny? Your mouth looks adorably small when it’s stuffed with my cock, but it sure is big enough when you run it just to piss me off.”

Your thighs clench at his words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look back at him. “S-so what are you gonna do about it?”

Jungkook raises a brow. “The best option is to put my dick in it but you’d be way too happy with that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so full of yourself—”

“God, can you shut up for even just a minute?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes again.

“Can you just fuck me and get this whole thing over with?”

You don’t expect the slap in your ass that comes after that. Looking back at Jungkook with a gasp, you’re about to voice out a complaint when he suddenly inserts a finger in you, cutting your train of thought.

He slowly eases out of your pussy, but shoves his digit back in, settling with a steady pace in and out.

“Look at you, you’re a cockslut. You like when I’m mean to you, that’s why you piss me off, right?” He says, nibbling on your ear.

You whimper when he adds another finger, moaning at the sensation. Jungkook picks up his pace, and your lewd sounds bounce off the shower stall as you start feeling the hot coil in your stomach.

“J-jungkook,”

“Hm?”

“I want– more.” You say, looking at him with your mouth agape, tears forming in the sides of your eyes. Your thighs feel like giving out, and you feel so empty even though he’s two fingers in it’s almost criminal.

“Say it. What do you want?”

You fight the urge to flip him off, but your tone is still snarky when you simply say, “Dick.”

He chuckles, sending shivers down your spine. “Whose dick? And what’s the magic word?”

You shut your eyes close, grinding your teeth in quiet anger.

“Your dick and please.” You say in the most monotonous voice you could ever muster.

You fully expectd Jungkook to prolong the moment a little longer, but fucking finally, you see him stroking his dick a few moments later, shaking his head and chuckling lowly when he adjusts your position against his crotch.

“You whine and I give you what you want. Aren’t you too spoiled, princess?” He says, aligning the head to your oussy until you feel the tip slowly entering you.

You inhale, relief of having his cock back inside you washing over you.

“Y-you love giving me what I want.” You retort back, pushing yourself on him, careful to keep a tight balance on the glass before you even though Jungkook’s got a tight hold on your waist with his other hand.

He only hums, and soon he thrusts inside with no warning – but it’s a pleasant stretch when it happens, a loud moan escaping your mouth from the sudden movement.

“O-oh god!” you yelp when he begins sliding in out of you at a fast pace, gushing as he kept on giving it to you.

You try to keep your voice low but Jungkook’s stretching you out so well, his thrusts so precise and forceful, dick growing impossibly bigger every passing second.

Soon, the cramped shower stall is fogged, with nothing but your heavy breaths and moans and groans filling the air, Jungkook beating your pussy with speedy trusts your breasts are starting to hurt from the jiggling – thank god that Jungkook decided to fondle them with his palms, squeezing and holding, flicking your nipples every now and then.

“It’s–shit–it’s only me who gets to see you like this, begging for my cock because you fucking love it so much,” Jungkook says against your neck. “So fucking wet, such greedy pussy – and it’s mine, right?” You only whimper, but that obviously does not make Jungkook happy. With a forceful tug on your hair, he makes you look at him. “Answer me when I talk to you, baby, or you’re not gonna cum.”

“Y-yes!”

He hums, slowing down to give you a slow, purposeful trust.

“I don’t care who else you fuck, __. Because at the end of the day, it’s me you come back to.”

You could almost cry by the way he’s going so slow that you feel almost every ridge of his cock, but it feels so good. He’s so big and hits all the right spots, even when he talks shit.

“Shit.” he hisses before speeding up again, and you can feel fhe tell tale sign of his orgasm when his rhythym becomes uncoordinated for a bit of a moment, groaning a little loider than usual, until one of his hands on your waist let go to squeeze his dick in your pussy.

“I’m gonna cum,” Jungkook says with heavy breaths, staggering a little. “Where can I cum?”

“Inside.” you say, “Please cum inside. I need it, Kook. Cum inside me.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah. Please. Need it. Need it so bad.” you bite your lip, feeling a little delirious.

When Jungkook moans a little louder, that’s when you feel the hot liquid running down your legs. It makes your pussy flutter, whimpering when Jungkook inserts his cock in you to push his cum back again, stuffing you with his cum.

“So damn pretty… fuck,” Jungkook whispers, rubbig the base of his cock against your lips.

“Kook–”

He doesn’t let you say any more, just creeps his finger in your pussy, thumb rubbing your clit in eights. And because you’ve been basically edged as well, it doesn’t take too long for you to follow him, cumming down hard.

Jungkook helps you get up, lets you rest your back against him as you try to regain your mobility, chest heaving up and down.

It’s weirdly calming when he runs his hands over your body, caressing your stomach and squeezing your tits as you both come down from your high.

“You okay?” Jungkook whispers against your head. You nod. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it.”

You’re about to ask if he plans on showering as well, but you stop yourself before you can even say it out loud, looking at his disappearing figure when he walks out of the shower box and the bathroom altogether.

It takes you a moment to start the shower again.

But it was only a quick one, and you didn’t exactly think about where Jungkook would’ve gone by the time you're finished, but once you’ve emerged in your bedroom again, you see him pulling up his pants, buckling his belt.

“You’re leaving?” You say, pausing. Then you realize it came out kind of weird, so you try to scratch that. Glancing at your alarm clock by the bedside table, you clear your throat. “I mean, it’s 3 am.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “Yeah. I have practice at 6.”

“Ah.” you nod, blinking at him. You head to your closet, picking out your clothes for the night. “You have three hours left. Tough.”

Jungkook snorts. You can hear him shuffling behind you while you wore another clean camisole and shorts. When you turn around, Jungkook’s dressed now in his black shirt and jeans. His cap and jacket are in the living room, so he'll probably just grab them when he heads out.

When you plop down on the bed, you watch as Jungkook picks up his wallet and his phone, stuffing them in his pockets. You thought he’d leave by then, but he suddenly speaks.

“Hey.” He calls. You raise your brow at him to continue. Jungkook pauses for a moment, looking a bit unsure. Before you can ask, he finally says something. “You can fuck Kim Namjoon or whoever you like,” he starts, staring intently at you. “Just tell me beforehand so we can sort it out.”

A few beats.

Jungkook doesn’t follow it up with anything, and nor do you say anything quickly to that.

The silence sounds way too loud.

“Okay.” Is what you settle with. Jungkook stares at you a little longer than necessary, so you arch your brow. “What? Anything else before you leave?”

It takes Jungkook awhile to say, “Nothing.”

“Okay… and uh, thanks for bringing food.”

He arches a brow, lips curling up a little. You squint your eyes, rolling it when he gives you a knowing smile.

“Good night, I guess?” Jungkook lamely offers.

You nod. “It’s 3 am but okay.”

“You can’t tell me good night, too?” Jungkook says.

“Uh, have a good sleep and sweet dreams?” you say with the flattest tone and face.

He scoffs, but he looks amused. “You can be a little more sincere than that.”

You wave him off. Jungkook shakes his head, turning on his heels to head out the door.

“Jungkook.”

His hands around the door handle pauses mid-air to look at you.

You look away.

“Mingyu did ask me out,” you start.

Jungkook’s face is unreadable when he says, “I didn’t ask.”

You shake your head. “No, I know you didn't, I just–” you sigh. “That was a week ago. I just want to say that… nothing happened.”

It takes awhile for Jungkook to understand.

“So…”

You lied. About the head or whatever the hell you said about Mingyu and you together. Mingyu was a nice guy, and the date was also really nice. But it just… didn’t work out.

“Yeah.” is what you settled with.

You don’t really know what you expected from him, but he just nods.

“Alright.”

That was the last thing he said when he walked out of your door.

You look away, grabbing your phone to check some notification. There’s something on instagram, and there’s a message from Yoongi. Some mp3 file. Music stuff, you guess. And there’s one from Yena too, a member of a rookie female group over at the company who’s getting into songwriting.

When you lie down to sleep, you feel empty.

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #p; drabbles #fic: idol!jk

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jiminrings · 1 month ago

Text

mature drabble: jealousy

wherein you become a TA alongside yoongi, and jungkook has no choice but to prove his superiority in other ways

[ smut, unprotected sex, oral, jealousy, slight dumbification kink AND praise kink, he’s a little dense and a little mean and beyond endearing (like always), he Wants so badly to give a creampie (so he does), hints of possessiveness, overstimulation, typical mature!jk levels of yearning n overcompensation ]

read mature here!

If you had to isolate one thing about Jungkook (just one, singular thing) that both annoys the living hell out of you and endears you to him to the point that it gets you closer, if that was even possible — it would be his inability to let go of things.

In his process of climbing up the ranks to become your boyfriend, Jungkook’s inability to let you distance yourself from him without getting into numerous fights and an incessant amount of groveling cemented him in your life in the first place.

He’s mouthy and nitpicky, yet he knows diligently when to shut up and just take it. He harnesses the perfect amount of stubbornness that would make you cave after several negotiations here and there, but never excessive to the point that you’d feel the need to post about him on Reddit with a seething heading of “my partner M27 pretends to faint in front of me every time I tell him I don’t want to cuddle”.

(Jungkook isn’t even faking it.)

Jungkook knows that he’s not the go-to guy for a lot of practical things. He knows that he’s not the one you run to when you need to go over your reviewer for your oral exam that’s worth 70% of your grade, because that’s Yoongi’s place.

Jungkook’s there when you need to get your shirt ironed to perfection without any creases (even in the tricky part of the underarm-to-midline area), and he’s also there when you need someone to poke holes at your seemingly airtight presentation proposal. He is there, but it doesn’t mean he’s the best guy for the job.

Jungkook is and will be there for anything that you need, require, and desire of the world even, but he knows to himself that he can’t be utilized in the way you can bond with Yoongi.

(He hates that stupid, intellectual son of a bitch.)

Your boyfriend knows in his heart of hearts (he knows that it exists somehow and someway) that although he’s not the most optimal partner around for the technical, higher-process things that fill up your everyday life, he’s trying his best to catch up. Jungkook studies voluntarily now (70% to impress you and get you to call him your smart boy, and 50% to make an attempt at getting an above passing grade in all his classes) and even better than before, he loves listening to you.

Jungkook, your (occasionally smart) beloved, listens when you tell him about your day.

He listens and hums and replies when you tell him how tiring it is to be a TA, and how you’re simultaneously excited because it feels so fulfilling to be praised and approached.

He listens and laughs and his eyes twitch slightly when you tell him how fun it is to be a TA alongside Yoongi, because the both of you would have glowing recommendations after the gig and your superiors keep telling you that you’d probably end up at the same place of work after graduation.

He listens and smiles very tightly and squeezes his fists roughly against your pillows when you tell him how some juniors keep muttering that they want to have the uni experience of being smart and being a TA with their partners, supposedly like how you and Yoongi look to them.

Jungkook, a man of his word, will catch up to you.

Jungkook, a man of his word and an even bigger man of his overcompensation, will beat Yoongi.

“You know what they say about guys with big brains,” your boyfriend tuts out of nowhere, looking up from his laptop that only had Yoongi’s LinkedIn profile up for the past half hour while he stews in annoyance. “Really, really small dicks.”

“Where’d that come from?” you immediately snicker, looking up from your actual reviewer, putting your highlighter down to indulge Jungkook in what you’re sure of is just a random conversation.

Just a random conversation out of nowhere that’s totally not fueled by the jealousy he’s been harboring the past few weeks.

“I’m not citing my sources to you,” Jungkook huffs, closing his screen unceremoniously before crossing his arms, shaking his head slowly. “Such a shame about Yoongi.”

Now that you think about, you should’ve seen it coming from a mile away.

You should’ve been suspicious when it was Jungkook himself who asked how Yoongi did awhile ago with a shit-eating grin on his face, as if he’s just gathering all the pent-up frustration he has for the sake of being over with it.

You snort at the implication, the excitement of what could possibly be running in Jungkook’s mind slowly hitting you. “Well, I heard from a friend that he’s really end-…”

“Don’t give a fuck,” he rasps immediately, clicking his tongue. He doesn’t want to hear about what you heard about Y**ngi being well-endowed. He doesn’t want to hear anything but you.

“When you said that fun trivia,” you start, rolling your eyes playfully as you stand up from your desk, joining him on the bed. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch like he usually does to accommodate you; he just lies there, seeing you adjust to his strapping figure on your twin bed. “You do know that you were kind of insulting yourself, right?”

“That I’m not smart but I can fuck you dumb?” he shrugs carelessly, willing himself to not react when you sit on his lap seemingly innocently, embracing him warmly whilst fixing his bangs. “Not really an insult to me.”

The laugh that leaves your lips was purely unintentional.

“You don’t believe me?” he tilts his head, his eyes still bordering on playful yet there’s something behind them that’s even bigger, something you can place as none other but Jungkook’s sheer will to prove himself.

“I don’t think you’re dumb, Kook,” you placate him, the gentle smile you have on your face breaking at the edges into something more intoxicating for him; something more provocative that would set him over his limits. “Just like I believe you haven’t exactly fucked me dumb either.”

The grin on your boyfriend’s face would be appalling if not for the stern grip he has on your thighs, fingers digging resolutely at the flesh with the politest, most harmless known tone to man, even if his words were anything but.

“Now you sound like the dumb one between us,” Jungkook laughs, his sweet laughter going straight to your ears as he noses your cheeks, teeth grazing your jaw as he refuses to kiss you when you try and catch him. “You don’t remember, baby? Don’t remember how I’m the only one who can worship you like this?”

Within a split second, Jungkook strips you out of your tank top that’s far too tight on you, immediately making your boobs spring out right in front of his face like the universe intended for him alone.

Your boyfriend, never losing his thoroughly amused and offensive grin, cups your boobs harshly to the point that he pulls you even closer to him, tongue grazing at your nipples that peek out in between his reddened knuckles.

“Kook…” you swallow the lump in your throat, exhaling shakily when Jungkook keeps you upright with one arm against him, the other doing quick work of shimmying you out of your panties like it’s a test item he can answer in his sleep. “Yoongi’s j-just next door, I don’t think-…”

“Oh, I know that,” he hums, his large, tattooed hand traveling from the small of your back and all the way to your scalp, his trimmed fingernails just barely grazing your hair when he tugs, setting you down on the pillow while he hovers above you. “He can think about how smarter he is than me alll he wants,” he hums, taking his clothes off while conveniently ignoring the way your heartbeat keeps pulsing uncontrollably with barely controlled lust, but Jungkook, just this once, would like to think that he’s better than you.

Jungkook, just this once, would like the upper hand completely when it comes to pleasing you, unwavering to your insistent demands of him giving you what you want, exactly when you want it.

Your boyfriend is not and will never be the one to deprive you of anything; as a matter of fact, he’d like to give you everything— far more than you’re ever asking and deserving of, just as his idea of getting even.

“But he’ll never get to beat me when it comes to fucking you.”

“Yoongi’s not challenging-…” you interrupt yourself the moment Jungkook inserts two fingers right from the start, curling them immediately out of muscle memory. You seethe at the intense, overwhelming pressure he gives to you without even begging for it, the warmth of his digits still being no match to the dumb, willful anger in his face; Jungkook’s so mad and determined, his cheeks turned pink just thinking of how to bend you at his mercy.

“He’s just-..! He’s just trying to get in your nerves, that’s all,” you whisper shakily, hands darting to try and grip onto his hair but Jungkook pushes your hands away, instead redirecting them harshly to keep yourself open. “It’s all just… rage bait, baby. You know that.”

Jungkook laughs thickly, shaking his head as he can quite literally see your struggle for words. You’re dripping wet and trembling, and yet you still want to placate him as if it would save your case.

“And you think I’m not gonna leap on it? I literally will be baited into rage. You know how dumb I am,” he huffs, the addition of a third finger into your pussy that’s already sopping wet making you writhe in sweet tension still, the pleasured cry that leaves you without inhibition making Jungkook even rougher. “You know how dumb I can go just trying to please you.”

There’s a sickly sweet sense of pride that fills Jungkook when he sees you keeping yourself open for him despite your legs aching to clamp down and squeeze on his fingers.

There’s a sickly sweet and overwhelming sense of cockiness that only Jungkook could feel at the moment when he rubs the entirety of his palm roughly against your folds, barely cupping and moving yet all your juices quickly spread, the rough pads of his palm only amplifying the punishing pace of his digits inside you.

"Feel too good, sweetheart? Haven't even become precise with it," Jungkook laughs, biting his bottom lip as he savors in the way your mouth couldn’t even close with the amount of gasps and moans that leave you desperately.

“Fucking arrogant ass," you whisper under your breath in between whimpers, your attempt of a dig at him becoming futile because Jungkook immediately stops rubbing his palm against your core, landing a rough slap against your folds instead.

"What's that now?" he asks, voice deepening as he straightens up, rolling your clit in between his fingers menacingly. The high-pitched, needy moans that leave you make Jungkook even more smug, your frustration making your head jerk repeatedly against the cushions. "I'm not saying it's rocket science to make you cum, baby. I'm not a nerd like Yoongi," he hums, the smile on his face widening the more that you plead at him. "I'm just saying..." Jungkook lulls, burying his fingers knuckle deep before pounding you with them repeatedly, making your entire being squirm upwards at his insistence of making you cum messily. "It takes a whole lot of devotion for it to come easy to me."

“I-I’m gonna— fuck, fuck, f-fuck!” you blubber at your release, crying out as Jungkook dips his head to your pussy (partly admiring at his handiwork, and mostly criticizing himself because it was just not enough for him), grabbing you by your thighs and setting them flush against his face until there's no gap; until he feels lightheaded.

Jungkook eats you out fervently like you’ve always depraved him of such a blessing, your cum still warm as it hasn’t even finished dripping out of you yet your boyfriend laps you up regardless, eyes closed and breathing ragged.

It just wasn’t enough for Jungkook. Getting you to cum felt less like a feat and more of an intimidation for himself, proposed by himself, because Jungkook didn’t want to stop.

He didn’t want to stop eating you out scandalously with his biceps curling in on your thighs, refusing to stop making you feel good as you practically tremor in his hold. He didn’t want to stop being better; he didn’t want to stop catching up with you with none other than his appetite and will.

“Y-you don’t have to-…” you whisper as you shake, the never-ending cycle of Jungkook’s tongue fucking you and cleaning you from the inside making your back arch from the mattress in overstimulation. “Fuck, Jungkook. I-I think I’m-…”

“Isn’t that so stupid, baby?” he giggles sweetly, the entire lower half of his face covered by your cum and his spit, lips reddened and swollen from how hard he’s going. “Gonna cum twice and I haven’t even put my cock in you?” he frowns playfully.

“My smart girl,” Jungkook lulls, talking against your folds as his hands knead your skin even harsher, barely matching up to the sheer desperation in his mind that being inside you wouldn’t even be enough.

He doesn’t take mercy on you, and you don’t even ask for it. You take what Jungkook gives you and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. Even if he rises to his full height and pulls you to the edge of the bed, lining his cock perfectly into your tight pussy that does nothing but suck him into a warmth that would never not stop feeling new and overwhelming for him, it wouldn’t be enough.

“Feel good? Feel good looking stupid on my big, dumb cock?”

“So— s-so good, baby. I-I can’t-…” you whimper, your cheeks sticky with your tears and Jungkook’s open-mouthed kisses that you keep asking for because you can’t be any closer than this; you think you can’t be any more satisfied than this in your life and it makes you cry even harder. “Can’t…. c-can’t talk. I can’t stop c-cumming."

“I can’t hear you,” Jungkook sing-songs, his pace punishing to the point that your skin burns at the impact of his thrusts, body moving alongside every push Jungkook gives you. “My silly girl. Thought you had all the words?” he laughs, gnawing on his bottom lip in amusement when he sees your eyes getting crossed slowly the harder that he slams into your sweet spot. “You need cue cards, is that it, baby? Y’need to brainstorm with Yoongi for them?”

“No, no, n-no!” you ramble, shaking your head desperately. “I-I don’t— d-don’t need Yoongi. I don’t, I-I swear!”

“Then what do you need, hm?” Jungkook asks, prying your lips open with his fingers, your tongue immediately darting out even before he could gather enough of his saliva to spit in your mouth scandalously. “Need you to spell it out for me, pretty girl. I can’t understand otherwise,” he spits, pupils blown out as you immediately swallow what he gives you, mouth parting open slightly to try and respond clearly yet you struggle.

“I just— ffffuck!” you groan, the rough, calculated pull of your hair right when he thrusts into you harshly with all of his weight making you sob in pleasure. “Just n-need you, Jungkook! Just you!”

“Just me? Cute,” he pants, the white edging at his vision making Jungkook feel truly, madly, and sincerely grateful of the universe rewarding him in exchange of all his dumb misfortunes before you. Jungkook feels so good that he could cry. “Can you explain that to me?”

The sincerely annoyed groan that leaves you in frustration in between all of your pleasured moans makes Jungkook throw his head back in laughter, the crawl of both of his hands towards your neck cutting your annoyance short.

“You mad?” he sing-songs, the quiet, panicked chants that leave your lips for his change of pace making Jungkook’s ear ring nonetheless. “Aww, but I slowed down just so you could talk again.”

The look that you give Jungkook– eyes red and lashes wet, lips puffy and bearing evidence of him— is enough to make any living being sink to their knees and devote their lives to you.

Jungkook, however, wants to be the lone devotee, and he wants to make it perfectly clear.

“But I don’t want you to,” you whine, the temporary gift of regaining your voice and your words only irking you.

“Don’t wanna give me a presentation? But you’re so good at those, baby,” Jungkook frowns, his pace only slow and barely noticeable, if not for his size that you still haven’t accustomed to no matter how many times he fucks you.

“I-I… I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper in admission, eyes wet for a completely different reason this time, tugging at his heartstrings.

Jungkook tilts his head as if asking you to elaborate, thumb wiping at your tears.

At the very moment, Jungkook decides that true, absolute strength is always giving what you want, whenever you want it.

“I want you to keep fucking me dumb again.”

Jungkook doesn’t waste a single second before bottoming out completely, his calloused hands adjusting you repeatedly as you moan fervently because no matter what, Jungkook feels like he's not close enough to you. He'll remain to feel like he hasn't bottomed out completely until he finds that spot of yours that completely dissolves you into his hold, all for him to mend.

Jungkook folds you in half with both your legs raised, putting you in a mating press with the entirety of his weight, the unbearable squeak and the drawled out, pornographic moan that leaves you after making him sigh in relief.

“Like this?” he whispers to your ear, pace slow and punishing yet deep; far deeper, closer, and more crushing than he’s ever been in you. “Until— fuck, fuckkk— u-until you’re drooling again? ’Til all you can do is say my name?”

“Say it, Y/N,” Jungkook insists. “Say— s-say I’m better than him.”

You moan graphically at the entirely new sensation of being full of nothing but Jungkook in all senses, your words coming out desperate and resolute.

“Give it.”

“What?”

“Give me a creampie,” you grit, scratching your nails against his back, making him whimper. “Give me your cum, Kook.”

“W-what?” he stutters, breath evidently shallowing at your command.

“Give it,” you practically snarl, your desire bleeding out evidently into Jungkook’s bloodstrean. “I-I already know you’re better than him, Jungkook. I… I just need you to prove it.”

“This is not proof enough?” Jungkook switches in an instant, his brief moment of shock and disbelief being overwhelmed by your desire that’s always been his. “N-need me to— holy shit-…! Need me to stuff you with my cum so we’d know?”

“Yeah. T-there’s not other way, right? How would we know?” you indulge him, nodding your head continuously as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, the weight of Jungkook’s cock in you getting heavier by the second. “My dumb, dumb baby. How are we gonna know how stupid I’ll look if you don’t cum in me?”

Jungkook realizes then, that the upper hand he’ll have over you is by giving you what you want, always, because it’s all he’ll ever want too.

“Y-you’re right. So, so smart, sweetheart,” he concedes, gripping your jaw. “Look at me, baby,” he whispers, eyes boring into you deeply. “Need you to know that I’m the only one who can see you like this, yeah?” Jungkook pouts, talking you through both of your desperation. “That I’m the only one who can fuck you dumb,” he hums. “And how I’m the only one who can see that stupid look on your face.”

“Just you,” you nod without a single dust of doubt, screwing your eyes shut when you feel full beyond your limits within an instant, Jungkook’s cum shooting into you with all its warmth and fulfillment of stuffing you making you squirt.

Jungkook stays inside you as he writhes in overstimulation, the moans that leave him paying absolutely no mind to your neighbors because at this point, it had totally slipped his mind that he went into pleasuring you trying to get even at Yoongi.

Your boyfriend peppers you in kisses as you come down from your high, his own cheeks smeared with his tears as he nibbles at your shoulder out of habit.

“Can I creampie you next time again, please? Like, not just a special occasions thing?” he mumbles sheepishly after some time, looking up at you with his head pressed to your chest.

“The special occasion tonight was you being jealous,” you retort, rolling your eyes at Jungkook’s meekness as if he wasn’t just rearranging your guts minutes ago.

“Thanks for the correction. Let me revise,” he returns your attitude, picking up your habit of rolling your eyes as he clears his throat. “Can I cum in you henceforth?”

“Smartest thing you ever said,” you joke, shaking your head.

“I know,” Jungkook giggles boyishly, tucking his face into the crook of your neck in shyness. “I felt my temple pulse with that one.”

#mature jk drabbles #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook imagine

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jjkssin · 1 month ago

Text

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)🤍

1K notes · View notes

gldrushh · 2 months ago

Text

GUILTY AS SIN | JK

"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.

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.

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.

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s4svnn · 2 months ago

Note

First sexy time after oob!jk and aj reunited plsss

Control - Out of bounds drabbles

Summary: You hated to admit it but the existence of your boyfriend alone was enough to make you horny, so when he was so distracted with work that he wasn’t making any advances on you, there was only one way to get what you wanted - you needed to make him lose control.

Pairing: F1 racer Jungkook x reader (Aylah)

Genre: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/content tags: unprotected sex, rough sex, riding, back shots, orgasm denial, impregnation kink, sub + dom dynamic, degradation kink, oral (f+m receiving), spanking, mirror sex.

When Jungkook told me he was staying in London with me instead of going back to Canada, I was over the moon. And when he surprised me with a freaking penthouse and asked me to move in with him? I swear, I almost blacked out from excitement. More time together, more late-night cuddles, more waking up next to each other—it sounded perfect.

But then reality hit. And by reality, I mean Jungkook. Shirtless. All. The. Damn. Time.

It didn’t matter what time of day it was—morning, afternoon, middle of the night—he was allergic to fabric from the waist up. Just abs, tattoos, and sweatpants slung dangerously low on his hips. And to make matters worse, he wasn’t even doing it on purpose. No teasing, no smug looks. Just existing in all his ridiculously sculpted glory like it wasn’t the most unfair thing to ever happen to me.

At first, I tried to be normal about it. “It’s fine,” I told myself. “You’ve seen him shirtless before.”

Yeah, but I hadn’t lived with it. Hadn’t been ambushed by the sight of him casually sipping his morning coffee with messy bed hair, tattoos flexing as he stretched. Hadn’t walked into the living room only to find him doing push-ups because apparently, that’s what he does when he’s bored.

And to top it all off? The man was busy. So busy training for his upcoming matches that he barely had time for me. It wasn’t that he ignored me—no, he still kissed me, still pulled me onto his lap during movie nights, still curled around me in bed like I was his favorite thing in the world. But when it came to, uh, other activities? Yeah. That wasn’t happening.

At first, I was patient. I told myself he was just tired. But as the days passed, my suffering increased. My boyfriend was the human embodiment of temptation, parading around half-naked while I was practically feral. And he had no clue. None.

I was nearing my breaking point.

So, when I walked into the bedroom one night and found Jungkook standing there, fresh out of the shower, damp hair falling into his eyes, abs glistening under the warm lights… I knew I wasn’t making it out of this alive.

“Babe?” he said, tilting his head when he saw me frozen in the doorway. “You good?”

No. No, I was not good.

And if he didn’t do something about it soon, I was going to lose my mind.

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile onto my face. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just gonna… take a shower.”

Jungkook nodded, running a towel through his hair, completely unaware of the absolute war raging inside of me. “Okay,” he said casually, turning back toward the dresser like he wasn’t the reason my entire body felt like it was overheating.

I spun on my heel and practically fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind me as if that flimsy piece of wood could somehow protect me from my own thoughts.

The moment the water hit my skin, I let out a deep breath, trying to relax. Trying to wash away the tension. This is fine. This is nothing. You just need to cool down. Literally.

But the second I closed my eyes, he was there. The way he’d been standing in the bedroom just now—fresh from the shower, hair damp, muscles flexing with every little movement. His tattoos, dark and intricate, wrapping around his arms, his shoulders, his chest. The way the water had still clung to his skin, little droplets running down his abs—

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, my fingers twitching at my sides. Maybe… maybe I could just—

I exhaled slowly, letting my hand drift lower, the warm water making everything feel softer, more intense. I tried to focus, to chase the feeling, but it was useless. No matter what I did, my mind kept circling back to him. To Jungkook. To the man standing just outside this door, completely unaware of what he was doing to me.

Frustration curled in my stomach, making my movements frantic, desperate—until suddenly, I knew. It wasn’t going to work.

Nothing was going to work.

Not without him.

With a frustrated groan, I slammed my hand against the shower wall, resting my forehead against the cool tile as I tried to steady my breathing.

This was officially the worst.

Because now, not only was I still aching, but I also had to walk back out there and act like I hadn’t just attempted—and failed—to relieve myself while thinking about my own boyfriend.

Kill me. Just kill me now.

Taking a deep breath, I shut off the water and grabbed my towel, already dreading the moment I had to face him again.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my skin still flushed from the shower, my eyes dark with frustration. This wasn’t working. I needed a new strategy.

And suddenly, an idea hit me.

A very reckless idea.

Normally, I’d bring my clothes into the bathroom and change in here, avoiding any unnecessary… distractions. But tonight? Tonight, I didn’t care. No, actually—I was counting on it.

I grabbed my black lace two-piece set—the one I knew Jungkook loved—and slipped it on, adjusting the delicate fabric until it sat just right. Then, I reached for my cocoa-scented body oil, pouring a generous amount into my palms before smoothing it over my skin, starting from my legs and working my way up.

My hands glided over my thighs, my stomach, my arms—every inch of me gleaming under the bathroom lights, the sweet scent wrapping around me like a second skin. By the time I was done, I looked dangerous. And I felt it too.

The towel I’d wrapped around myself earlier? Straight into the laundry basket. No backup plan, no safety net—just me, my frustration, and the sheer audacity to walk back into that bedroom like this.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and pushed open the door.

Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to the storm that was about to hit him. His damp hair fell messily over his forehead, his jawline sharp under the glow of the bedside lamp. He still hadn’t put a shirt on—because of course he hadn’t. Just sweatpants, hanging low, exposing the sharp V-line that was already my weakness.

He didn’t even look up at first. But then, as I stepped fully into the room, his thumb froze mid-scroll.

And then he looked up.

I watched as his gaze trailed over me, slowly, deliberately. From my bare legs to my oiled-up skin, to the black lace hugging my curves perfectly. His jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

I smirked. Got him.

The air was thick—whether from the heat of my shower or the shift in energy between us, I wasn’t sure. But I could feel it. The weight of his gaze pressing into me, the way his movements seemed to slow, like he wasn’t sure whether to speak or stay silent.

Good. Let him wonder.

I made a show of walking over to my dresser, pulling open a drawer with practiced ease, pretending to search for something important. In reality, I didn’t need anything. I just wanted to make him wait whilst I was bent over giving him a full view of my backside.

Because if there was one thing Jungkook hated, it was being teased.

Still, I said nothing. Just took my time, moving with slow, deliberate care as I picked up my hairbrush and dragged it through my damp strands, the rhythmic strokes filling the tense silence. I could feel him watching me, I could almost hear the way his jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin.

I fought the smirk threatening to curl at the corner of my lips.

"You're really gonna act like I’m not here?" His voice finally cut through the silence, low and edged with something between amusement and irritation.

I blinked, finally pausing my movements, as if I’d only just realized there was another person in the room. Slowly, I turned my head in his direction, my expression blank, eyebrows slightly raised in feigned confusion.

"Hm?" I murmured, tilting my head.

Jungkook leaned back against the bed frame, arms crossed over his chest, eyes locked on me with an intensity that would have made anyone else squirm. But not me. Not tonight.

"I said—" He exhaled sharply, licking his lips as if trying to keep his cool. "You’re really gonna act like I’m not here?"

I frowned slightly, as if deep in thought, then looked around the room as if searching for something. Then, with the most convincingly oblivious expression I could muster, I turned back to him.

"Oh… were you talking to me?" I asked innocently, blinking up at him.

The muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Don't do that," he warned, his voice lower now, more controlled.

I shrugged, returning my focus to my hands as I massaged the last of my lotion into my skin. "Do what?"

I could tell he was biting back his frustration, but that only made my game more fun. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, casually scrolling as if he truly wasn't worth my attention. The air between us was practically crackling now, thick with a tension neither of us would acknowledge—yet.

But I knew Jungkook. And I knew he wasn’t the type to be ignored.

He wouldn’t just sit there and take it.

And that was exactly what I was counting on.

Jungkook was silent for a beat, but I could feel it—the shift in his energy, the way his patience was thinning by the second.

I scrolled idly through my phone, tapping at the screen as if completely engrossed, while in my peripheral vision, I saw him shift his position, one hand running through his dark hair. A habit of his when he was trying—and failing—to keep his composure.

He exhaled, slow and measured. "Alright, bet."

I didn’t react. Didn’t look up. Just kept pretending he wasn’t there, despite the way I could feel the weight of his stare burning into me.

Then, before I could even process his next move, my phone was snatched clean out of my hands.

"What the—" My head snapped up, eyes narrowing as Jungkook leaned back against the bed, holding my phone above his head like it was nothing.

"So now you see me, huh?" His voice was smug, his lips curling into a lazy smirk as he spun my phone between his fingers. "Thought I was invisible a second ago."

I folded my arms, leveling him with an unimpressed stare. "Give it back."

He raised an eyebrow. "Make me."

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play?

I let out a slow breath, tilting my head as I considered my next move. Then, with zero hesitation, I crawled onto the bed, reaching for my phone. But Jungkook, being Jungkook, was already one step ahead, shifting just out of my reach, his smirk deepening.

"Try harder," he challenged.

My frustration flared, but I kept my expression neutral, deciding I wasn’t going to play his game—I was going to flip it.

So instead of lunging for my phone again, I sat back on my heels, brushing a stray strand of hair over my shoulder, acting completely unbothered.

"Fine," I said coolly. "Keep it."

That caught him off guard. His smirk faltered for half a second, his grip on my phone loosening slightly. "What?"

I shrugged. "You clearly need it more than I do. Enjoy whatever you find there." I dragged my gaze over him slowly before turning away, sliding off the bed with a nonchalant grace that I knew would get under his skin.

Jungkook didn’t move at first. He just stood there, watching me, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he was debating his next move. But the look in his eyes told me he’d already made up his mind.

And then, just as I was about to turn away, he grabbed me.

One strong hand wrapped around my wrist, the other settling on my waist as he turned me around, backing me up until my legs hit the edge of the bed. My breath hitched, but I refused to show any reaction. I just stared up at him, my chin high, daring him to do something.

Jungkook let out a slow exhale, his grip firm but not rough. His eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch, like he was deciding exactly how he wanted this to go.

Then, his voice dropped—low, steady, completely in control.

"Get on the bed."

I blinked, heat prickling up my spine at the way he said it. Not a question. Not a suggestion. A command.

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Excuse me?"

Jungkook’s jaw ticked, and in response, he leaned in, his hand sliding from my wrist to my hip, squeezing lightly. "You heard me," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. "Get on the bed."

A slow, deliberate silence settled between us.

I could have fought him on it. Could have tested him a little more, dragged this out just to make him work for it.

But something about the way he said it—the way his voice dipped, the way his grip tightened just enough to remind me that he wasn’t playing anymore—made me decide against it.

Without breaking eye contact, I stepped back, the backs of my knees pressing into the mattress.

Then, still moving slowly, I climbed onto the bed.

Jungkook watched me the entire time, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek, like he was pleased. Like he had been expecting me to obey.

I sat back on my hands, one leg bent, the other stretched out, watching him carefully. "Happy now?"

Jungkook let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers flexing at his sides. "Not yet."

Then he took a step closer.

And just like that, the game had changed.

Jungkook’s smirk didn’t fade as he hovered over me, his bare chest inches from mine, heat radiating between us. His hands skimmed my thighs, firm but slow, his touch setting fire to my skin.

"See?" he murmured, his lips so close to mine I could feel his breath. "I knew you couldn’t lie to me."

I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, but my body betrayed me—my breathing uneven, my pulse racing beneath his touch.

He noticed. Of course, he did.

His fingers traced higher, his thumbs pressing into my hips as he pulled me closer, our bodies flush against each other now. My breath hitched at the feeling of his skin against mine, the warmth, the tension so thick it was almost unbearable.

Jungkook tilted his head, his lips barely grazing my jaw, trailing down—slow, deliberate, teasing.

"You act tough," he murmured, his voice low, rough. "But the second I touch you…"

His hands slid up my waist, fingertips ghosting over my ribcage, and I had to fight the urge to arch into him.

"You go back to being a slut for me," he finished, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just beneath my ear.

A quiet gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

Jungkook smirked.

"That’s what I thought," he murmured against my skin.

I exhaled, fighting to stay composed, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as his touch traveled, inch by inch, making me burn for more without a single word spoken.

“You’ve got this way of acting like you’re in control," Jungkook murmured, leaning in, his lips brushing against my ear. "But I know better."

I barely held it together, my body reacting instinctively, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me unravel.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his gaze searing. “So don’t worry,” he added with a hint of mischief in his voice. “I’ll make sure you feel it.”

If you had told me an hour ago that I’d be at Jungkook’s mercy, I wouldn’t have believed you for a second. The version of me standing in the bathroom, all glazed up, thought she was going to have complete control over her boyfriend. But now, looking at the present situation, I can see just how delusional I was..

I was now sitting on the floor, my legs tucked underneath me, feeling a rush of vulnerability as Jungkook stood over me. The weight of his presence was overwhelming, his figure towering as he looked down at me with an intensity that sent shivers through my body. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently at first before pulling me closer, his grip firm and possessive. With a deliberate, slow movement, he guided my mouth, making sure every inch of his length was covered as he moved me back and forth. The control he held over me was undeniable, each motion timed perfectly, leaving me breathless and at his mercy. I could feel the heat radiating from him, and despite the haze in my mind, I couldn’t deny how thoroughly he had taken charge of the moment.

"Good girl," he breathed, his voice low and thick with desire. As his pace quickened, his hands gripped me tighter, urging me on. "You take me so well," he continued, the words dripping with approval. The rhythm between us grew more frantic, and he could feel every subtle movement I made in perfect sync with him. I gagged as he continued his relentless pace, shoving me forward as he pushed his hips further into my mouth with more force, tightening his grip on my hair to keep me in place as he used me to chase his own high.

Once he released himself into my mouth, he tilted my head back, his eyes locking onto mine with a cold, unwavering stare. 'Swallow it,' he demanded, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. I paused, staring back at him, my lips curling into a mischievous grin, as if daring him to push further. Then without warning, his hand shot out, tightening around my neck, pulling me in so close I could feel his breath on my skin. His gaze burned into mine as he growled, his voice low and full of authority, 'Swallow it, Aylah. I won’t repeat myself.”

With no more hesitation, I swallowed, feeling the pressure of his gaze intensify. His grip remained firm on my neck, his eyes never leaving mine as I processed the sharp command hanging in the air between us. The taste lingered on my tongue, and I could feel the weight of the moment, each second feeling like a challenge he was daring me to meet. Then without warning, he gripped me tightly, lifting me effortlessly off the ground and tossing me onto his shoulders. My body was suspended for a moment, disoriented, before my legs instinctively wrapped around his neck. The shift in position was swift and commanding, my hands instinctively grabbing onto his hair to steady myself as my heat came in direct contact with his face.

For a brief moment, he stood there, silent and still, as if waiting for something. Then, slowly, he began to exhale warm breaths directly into my core, each one caressing my skin with a heat that seemed to grow more intense with every passing second. The soft, steady warmth made my body react instinctively, heat pooling in places I hadn’t expected as I arched into his touch. I could feel the subtle curve of his lips as he smiled against me, a smile that was tinged with satisfaction, clearly pleased by my response. After a brief pause, his voice dropped to a low, almost dangerous tone. “You don’t deserve this,” he murmured, each word deliberate and heavy with meaning, “after the stunt you pulled.” There was a pause, just long enough to make my heart race, before he continued, his voice darker and laced with authority, “But you’re lucky I’m patient, I’ll leave your punishment to later.”

Before I could fully process the weight of his words, I felt the fabric of my thong shift as his hand moved with precision, pushing it aside to expose my wetness to him. The air around me seemed to still for a moment, every inch of my body acutely aware of the shift in the atmosphere, as his tongue moved slowly and deliberately in a long, lingering stripe across my core. I found myself momentarily frozen, a mix of surprise and anticipation rushing through me, my breath catching in my throat. Yet, despite the effect his touch had on me, he continued without hesitation, completely unfazed by the way my body reacted. He dipped in further, his movements growing more urgent as he devoured me with an intensity that felt almost desperate. It was as though he'd been starved for so long, his actions frantic, as if he feared that at any second I might slip away and he'd never have this again.

He paused momentarily, his lips brushing lightly against the skin of my thigh as he pulled back just enough to catch his breath. His eyes, heavy with satisfaction, met mine, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You taste so fucking good,” he said, his voice low and rich with appreciation, as if every taste was a revelation. He then shifted his stance, harshly throwing my back against the wall, as he forced his face further in between my legs, gripping my thighs with increased pressure. His hands strong and assertive pulled me closer, guiding my movements with a firm control, I couldn’t help but release a soft, breathless moan caught in the intensity of the moment. But before I could completely ride out my high he pulled away dropping me onto the bed without hesitation.

I let out a soft whine, my breath shaky as I propped myself up on my arms, struggling to steady myself. My voice was a mix of confusion and frustration as I looked at him. “What gives? I thought you said I was off the hook.” My words hung in the air, a little pleading, but more curious, as I tried to make sense of the shift in his demeanor." He smirked at me, his eyes glinting with that familiar, teasing intensity. “I didn’t say you were off the hook, I said I’d leave your punishment to later” he replied, his tone playful yet firm, as if reminding me that the game was far from over.

I glared at him, my eyes narrowing as my body stiffened in defiance. I refused to give in easily, the challenge burning within me. But as I met his gaze, I saw the determination in his eyes—unwavering, unmoving—and I knew that resistance was futile. With a reluctant, heavy sigh, I began to turn agonizingly slow before his hands reached out grabbing my thighs to hoist my ass up and against him, as he pushed my head down to lay flat on the bed. Suddenly, his hand shot out again and gripped my hair, yanking my head back with a sharp pull that jolted my neck. His face was inches from mine, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath. His voice was low, filled with an edge of frustration. “Stop acting like a little bitch, and do what I say,” he growled, his words carrying a weight that was impossible to ignore.

I pushed my ass into him, desperately trying to gain some form of touch, but his grip tightened, holding me in place. A smirk spread across his face, his eyes glinting with amusement as he stared at the evident stain my wetness left on his sweatpants. “Treating you like a slut turns you on, noted.” Before I could even get the words out to tell him to hurry up, his hand came down with surprising force, the sound of it cutting through the air with a loud, stinging crack that resonated between us as I jolted forward. The impact sent a shockwave through my body, the sharp sting on my ass lingering long after the sound faded, leaving the tension in the air thick and almost palpable as I moaned out at the sensation.

At my lack of response another sharp slap landed on my ass, this one even harder than the first, leaving an imprint of his hand on me. He started massaging the spot where his hand had landed, the pressure of his fingers working into my skin, as he dropped his fingers in between my legs dragging them up and down my folds to collect my slick before dipping his fingers into his mouth, “You’re so responsive.” I let out a soft whine, feeling my patience wear thin at his actions. “Jungkook, please,” I said, my voice laced with a hint of desperation. He leaned down closer, a playful smile tugging at his lips as his body laid flat against my back, his abs digging into my behind, “Please what, my love?” he teased.

I spoke again, my tone dropping slightly “Fuck me.” He paused for a moment, leaning in closer as if listening intently, only to tilt his head and raise an eyebrow, acting completely oblivious to what I had just said. “Hmm?” He leaned in even further, a playful smile curling at the corners of his lips. “I didn’t quite catch that.” he teased, his tone light. “Could you speak a little louder, my love?” His eyes twinkled with mischief, and I could tell he was enjoying the moment far more than I was. Then with newfound confidence I spoke more angrily “hurry up and fuck me you prick,” but unfortunately he didn’t react in the way I expected, instead he pulled me backwards by my neck, his pants long gone as he forced me down onto his length pulling me to sit flat on his lap, his legs in between mine as the sudden intrusion caused me to cry out. “Talk to me like that again you bitch, I dare you.” he spoke lowly, his anger radiating off him.

I let out sharp breaths trying to adjust to the feeling but Jungkook didn't allow me to do so, instead he grabbed my hips harshly pushing me up and down against him, bringing his mouth to ear before whispering “you wanted to be impatient, so this is on you.” My breathing quickened as his pace became more relentless, the sound of skin slapping against eachother filled the quietness of the room, as he thrusted into me whilst dragging my hips down to meet his brutal actions. The intensity of it all led to me inadvertently clenching around his length, causing him to push me down so that I was layed flat against the bed as he took me from behind, watching my ass clap as he pushed harshly into me. I moaned out at the sensation urging him to carry on as he grabbed onto the skin of my ass dragging me backwards, his nails dinging into my skin as he spoke clearly amused by my reaction “You like that, you like being a slut for me?”

“Y-yes go h-harder, fuck.” At that, he smirked, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. Without a word, he stopped moving, his hands gripping my waist with firm control. In one smooth motion, he turned me on the bed to face the floor-to-ceiling mirror that reflected both of us. I found myself suddenly face-to-face with my own dishevlled reflection, yet my gaze remained locked with his through the mirror. He stood proudly behind me, his presence commanding, a contrast to the vulnerability that seemed to radiate from me as I was bent down before him for him to as he pleased with me.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and deliberate, the words piercing the silence. “You see that?” His voice was calm, yet there was an edge to it that made my heart race. “I’m in control, don’t ever get that twisted.” His eyes burned with a quiet authority as he spoke, making sure every word sank in, before he continued his relentless pace forcing my head up to watch him through the mirror. His hand gripped the back of my neck tightly urging me to watch as he used me for his own pleasure, leaving marks all over my body as he claimed me entirely with his actions. “I want you to watch,” he said, his words carrying weight as he subtly emphasized the command. His eyes stayed fixed on me through the reflection, never wavering, as if reminding me to stay present in the moment, fully aware of everything happening between us, “You’re mine you understand.”

“Y-yes—” I cried out overwhelmed by the feeling of his length pounding into me as I felt myself nearing my release. I watched as his expression shifted, the corners of his mouth curving into a satisfied smile. The change was subtle, but unmistakable—he seemed pleased, the tension in his features easing as he spoke clearly content with my response, “good girl, now take me like the slut you are, take all of me.” I cried out again as I felt him release inside of me, his pace not faltering even in the slightest as he sped up throwing me into a state of overstimulation, his voice looming over the sounds of my moans, “You’d look so good carrying my child, fuck, imagine that.” His voice only edged me further as I clenched around him cumming for what felt like the hundreth time as he filled my mind with more impure thoughts, “Shit, you like that don’t you, the idea of being filled with my cum, have me put a kid inside you.”

I gasped at the seriousness of his words, my mind turning off as I welcomed the idea of bearing his child, completely possessed by his alluring tone. Then with a few last thrusts his movements came to a halt as he laid down against my behind, his length still inside me as he kissed up my back, "I love you. I love you so fucking much," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. The words hit me like a rush, and without thinking, I turned my neck slightly to face him, my breath catching. "I love you too, babe," I whispered in return, the sincerity of my words clear. Then, without hesitation, I kissed him, matching the raw intensity of his previous actions, our connection deepening with every second. I pulled away slightly, resting my forehead against his, letting the moment stretch out just a bit longer. A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips as I gazed up at him, teasing, "So, impregnation kink?"

He blinked, a sudden flush creeping up his neck, and quickly turned his face away, trying to hide the red on his cheeks. "Shut up," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. I raised an eyebrow, amused, then leaned in just enough to catch his eyes. "To be fair, I'd be lying if I said I was opposed to the idea." The blush deepened, his face turning even more red, as he stumbled for words. "W-what?" he stuttered, his voice betraying his unease. I smirked, feeling the teasing spark between us. "But you're going to have to put a ring on me first, Jeon," I said, my words playful but laced with absolute seriousness.

At that, he broke into a wide grin, his face still flushed. He kissed me all over, his lips soft and insistent, a promise in each touch. "I will, I will I promise," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, as his hands gently cradled my face as he kissed me again. “I love you.”

1K notes · View notes

jungkoode · 3 months ago

Text

Strings Attached (to my heart)

→ PAIRING : Spider-Man!Jungkook x F!Reader

→ RATING: Explicit, 18+.

→ DATE POSTED: January 20, 2025.

→ GOAL FOR PART 2: 1000 notes. ✔️ NEXT

→ SUMMARY : You were a journalist at Yonsei University when you started noticing the strange coincidences between your favorite bumbling freshman and Seoul's newest superhero. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when flustered. You tell yourself it's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.

→ TAGS : second person perspective used, female pronouns used, college au, spider-man au, noona kink, slight age gap (he’s 21, she’s 24ish), dry humping, virgin jungkook, first time, inexperienced jk, creaming his pants, sexual content, explicit content, library smut, clothed getting off, breast play, grinding, praise kink, crying during sex, crying after sex, embarrassment kink, humiliation kink, slight dom reader x sub jungkook, size difference, pining, jungkook has a big fat crush on you, secret identity, touch starved, protective jungkook, closet sexual activities, desperate jungkook, gentle domming, aftercare, emotional intimacy, fluff and smut, Korean setting, university setting.

→ PLAYLIST: set the vibes.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 11.8k

→ A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to my first attempt at a Spidey!JK AU, where he somehow manages to be an even bigger mess than Peter Parker 😭. This story is very close to my heart because it dives into the dynamic between a confident noona and her adorably flustered freshman—who just so happens to be Seoul’s clumsy new superhero. To be honest, this Spiderkook oneshot was heavily inspired by Tangie, aka @rpwprpwprpwprw (love you bb!!!). I’d been lowkey daydreaming about Spiderkook for ages but thought, “Nah, that’s too silly.” Then I discovered there’s an entire community sharing the same brain cell as me??? Like, you’re welcome for my service, I guess?? Originally, this was supposed to be a short, smutty 5k romp. But do you think I can write smut without plot? I CAN’T. IT’S A MEDICAL CONDITION. Now it’s a 12k beast with feelings, webs, and chaos. Sorry (but not really). If you enjoy this, I might turn it into a mini-series because, let’s be honest, spider powers in… certain scenarios… sound very intriguing. Hihihi. Hope you enjoy this mess I’ve unleashed on the world! 🕸️

Edit: also, yeah. Tae is older than Jimin and Jungkook here because my sleep deprived brain slapped a ‘hyung’ on Jimin’s mouth and I’m not editing again. (≖͞_≖̥)

The thing about Spider-Man is that he reminds you too much of a certain freshman.

A freshman named Jeon Jungkook who keeps hovering around the journalism building with his messy hair and his wide eyes and his endless supply of convenience store snacks.

You've been telling yourself it's just a coincidence. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when they're flustered. It's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.

Maybe that's why you're hiding in August Coffee, your usual spot tucked away in one of Sinchon's winding side streets.

The late autumn breeze carries the scent of roasted coffee beans through the open window, and your laptop screen glows with half-finished articles and interview transcripts. Your notebook lies open beside a rapidly cooling americano while the café's jazz playlist provides a gentle backdrop to your furious typing. You're on a deadline for tomorrow's paper, and the last thing you need is—

A flash of red and blue swings past the window.

You pretend not to notice. Maybe if you focus hard enough on your screen, he'll take the hint and—

"Noona!"

—of course he doesn't.

There he is, hanging upside down outside the second-floor window, the eyes of his mask wide and eager. A plastic convenience store bag dangles from his hand, swaying in the autumn wind. Several patrons are already pulling out their phones, and you can feel your carefully cultivated productivity slipping away.

"No," you say firmly, not looking up from your laptop.

"But noona—" His voice cracks on the honorific, and you absolutely refuse to find it endearing. "I haven't even said anything yet!"

"I'm working." You take a pointed sip of your americano, grimacing when you realize it's gone cold. Perfect. "Some of us have actual responsibilities, Spider-Boy."

"I brought you snacks!" He awkwardly maneuvers through the window—you're not sure if the owner keeps it open for him specifically or if he's just that persistent. "You know, the ones you like with the matcha filling? The new ones from that fancy Japanese brand?"

You pause, fingers hovering over your keyboard. "How do you know I like the ones with matcha filling?"

"Uh—" Even through the mask, you can tell he's flustered. His hands fidget with the plastic bag. "Lucky guess? Not that I know you, noona. Uh, I mean, you look like a noona. Not that I know for a fact you're a noona—"

"Stop talking." You pinch the bridge of your nose, painfully aware of the phones still recording this interaction. This will definitely end up on some university Instagram page later. Again. "You're making it worse."

He deflates slightly, shoulders hunching in that familiar way that reminds you too much of a certain someone who keeps "accidentally" running into you at the journalism building. The same one who somehow always knows your coffee order and brings you snacks you oh so casually mention fancying—

No. You're not going there. You're not connecting those dots, because connecting those dots leads to complications you absolutely don't need in your final year.

"I can leave if you want," he offers, but he's already approaching, placing the snacks on your table with careful precision. "But you've been here for four hours, and you always forget to eat when you're working on a big story."

You stare at him. "How do you know how long I've been here?"

"I, uh—" His mask's eyes widen comically. "Spider-sense?"

"That's not how spider-sense works."

"You don't know how my spider-sense works! Maybe it's... hungry-noona-sense?"

A laugh escapes before you can stop it, and you quickly cover it with a cough. "That's the worst excuse you've come up with yet."

"Yet!" He perks up. "So you're keeping track?"

"Go away." You open the snack bag anyway, pretending not to notice how he straightens up eagerly when you do. "Don't you have a city to protect or something?"

"Seoul can handle itself for ten minutes while I make sure my favorite n—while I make sure hardworking journalists eat properly."

You raise an eyebrow at the slip, and he fidgets under your gaze. "Your favorite what?"

"Nothing! No one! Just, you know, doing my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man duties. Very friendly. Very neighborly. Nothing specific or personal about it at all."

You bite into one of the matcha-filled snacks—they're fresh, which means he must have bought them recently. Specifically for you. Just like how a certain freshman keeps bringing you fresh triangle kimbap from the convenience store near your morning lecture hall...

No. Stop it. You're not doing this.

"Sit down," you sigh, pushing the chair across from you out with your foot. "And stay quiet, or I’ll kick you out."

He practically collapses into the chair, bag already placed on the table. You notice his hands shaking slightly, and something in your chest tightens.

You shouldn't find it endearing. You really, really shouldn't.

But then again, you probably shouldn't find anything about this situation endearing — a masked vigilante bringing you sweets in the middle of your favorite cafe, stammering through excuses that sound exactly like the ones Jungkook uses when you catch him "accidentally" walking the same way as you after class.

You really need to stop noticing these things.

You try to refocus on your notes after that, but it's hard—mostly because Spider-Man is still sitting there. Quietly. Staring.

And not in a "just glancing around the cafe" kind of way, either. No, he's full-on watching you, eyes darting between the scribbles in your notebook, the crumbs on your plate, and, worst of all, your face. Like you're the most fascinating thing in the world. Like he's never seen someone drink a mediocre americano and type furiously into Google Docs before.

It goes on for five minutes. Five full, agonizing minutes of silence, punctuated only by the occasional click of your keyboard and the muted sounds of espresso machines in the background.

Finally, you sigh, your fingers pausing mid-typing. "Don't you have better stuff to do?"

"No." The response is immediate. Too immediate. His tone is absurdly casual, like the very idea that Spider-Man—the literal defender of Seoul—could have anything more important than sitting in August Coffee and bothering you is completely ridiculous.

You raise a brow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "No supervillains to fight? No cats stuck in trees? Nothing?"

"Nope," he says, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Pretty quiet day."

You shake your head and turn your attention back to your laptop. "Must be nice."

There's a pause. You can feel him shifting in his seat, the chair creaking slightly under his weight, and when he speaks again, his voice is just shy of hesitant.

"How are the pastries? Do you like them?"

Your fingers freeze over your keyboard. Slowly, you turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes.

"You didn't spit in them, did you?"

"Wha—no!" he sputters, his whole posture stiffening in obvious horror. "Why—why would I—noona, I would never spit in your pastries!"

You let him sweat for a second longer, just to amuse yourself, before breaking into a small, satisfied smirk.

"Relax, Spider-Boy. I'm kidding." You reach for the bag of snacks he brought. "Yeah, they're good. Wanna try?"

His eyes widen a little—well, as much as they can through that mask—and he seems to hesitate, like he's not sure if you're serious or trying to bait him again. You wave one of the pastries in his direction. He glances at it, then back at you, before finally nodding.

"Okay. Yeah, sure."

You watch as he carefully rolls his mask up just to his nose, revealing his mouth for the first time. You don't know what you expected, but… it's a good mouth. Maybe annoyingly good, given how little you want to admit that very obvious fact to yourself. Full lips, slightly pink, with just the faintest hint of nervousness as he bites at his bottom lip before leaning forward.

He takes a bite of the pastry you're holding out to him, and the pleased groan he lets out immediately makes you regret offering him anything at all.

"God, that's delicious," he mumbles around his mouthful, crumbs falling onto his suit. He barely finishes chewing before continuing. "Now I know why you like them so much. I mean—why people say they're so good. Not you specifically. Just, you know, people."

You snort, shaking your head as you turn back to your laptop. "You're a terrible liar."

"And you're a terrible bossy noona," he mutters, mostly to himself, stuffing the rest of the pastry into his mouth before leaning back in his chair.

You're about to toss another sarcastic remark his way when something catches your eye. Or, more specifically, half of something. A small smudge of green—matcha filling, you realize—lingering on the corner of his mouth.

It's instinctive, the way your hand moves—completely unthinking, like muscle memory kicking in before your brain has a chance to catch up. One moment, you're perfectly stationary in your seat; the next, your thumb is brushing against his lip, swiping the smudge away with a gentle, practiced motion.

He startles at the touch, his whole body jerking slightly as his eyes snap to yours. And then, just like that, reality crashes back in.

Your hand freezes midair.

His mouth parts for half a second, like he's about to say something, but then his tongue darts out—slow, deliberate—to lick the exact spot your thumb had just brushed.

You snatch your hand back like you've been burned, your face heating despite yourself.

The silence that follows is awful. Deafening. Inescapable.

He shifts in his chair, his eyes flickering to the table, then back to you, then down again. He clears his throat—once, then twice—before adjusting the edge of his suit with what you can only describe as frantic energy.

"So… uh…" His voice is tight. Way tighter than usual, cracking slightly on the first syllable. "Thanks for that. The, uh. The whole… lip thing. That was. Uh. Cool."

You blink at him, deadpan. "Cool?"

"Yeah. Cool. Totally normal and cool. Happens all the time. Super casual."

If you weren't so flustered yourself, you'd have laughed at the way he's fidgeting in his seat, his hands gripping his thighs under the table like he's trying not to explode.

"Right," you say slowly, leaning back in your chair. "Casual."

"Exactly."

He nods a little too enthusiastically, and you notice his knees bumping against each other under the table before he quickly crosses his legs. His hands drop to his lap almost immediately after, like he's trying to adjust the spandex near his thighs.

Your gaze is momentarily drawn there before—

"Anyway!" The word comes out nearly an octave higher than it should. He's already standing—or, more accurately, bolting to his feet—his hands still awkwardly hovering in front of him. "I should, uh, get going! Supervillains don't wait, you know? Gotta, uh… save the people of Seoul. Yeah. Big hero stuff."

You stare at him, unblinking, as he starts inching toward the door. "Uh-huh."

"Thanks for the pastries, noona! Great talk, as always!" He clears his throat again, audibly struggling to keep his voice steady. "Okay! Bye!"

And then he's gone, practically sprinting out of the cafe before he can embarrass himself any further.

You sit there for a long moment, still frozen, your brain catching up to what just happened. Then, slowly, you reach for another pastry.

Whatever just happened? Definitely not your problem.

"I'm such a fucking idiot."

Jungkook's voice is muffled by his hands, currently covering his face in what can only be described as unrelenting shame. He's lying on Jimin's couch, legs splayed out haphazardly, the picture of a man defeated by his own existence.

Across the room, Jimin raises an eyebrow, lazily popping another chip into his mouth. The bag crinkles loudly, much to Jungkook's dismay. "It's not that bad, Kooks. She probably didn't even notice."

Jungkook groans, dragging his hands down his face until his eyes peek out dramatically between his fingers. "She 100% noticed. It was—like—a five-minute interaction. FIVE minutes, and I made it weird. Now she's gonna think I'm a fucking weirdo and a creep."

Jimin doesn't even try to hide the snort that escapes him, his expression somewhere between entertained and unimpressed. "Yeah, because stalking her as Spider-Man didn't have her thinking that already."

Jungkook bolts upright on the couch, eyes wide with panic. "She told you that?!"

Jimin chokes on his chip, wheezing as he waves his hand for Jungkook to calm down. "No! Shit, man, calm down. I'm just saying. Like, I guess? I mean, you do kind of… hover. A lot."

"I don't hover," Jungkook protests, indignant. But even as the words leave his mouth, he hesitates. "Do I hover?"

Jimin gives him a look.

Jungkook groans again, flopping back onto the couch like his limbs have given up on life. "Oh my god, you're right. I hover. I'm that guy. And now it's worse because who the fuck pops a boner from someone—" He pauses, embarrassingly aware of the words about to leave his mouth. "—touching their lip? What is wrong with me? I must be insane. She must think I'm insane."

Jimin, now thoroughly entertained, leans back in his chair with his bag of chips, one leg crossed over the other. "I mean... it's not great," he says unhelpfully, though there's a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jungkook lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and buries his face back into his hands. "She's never gonna look at me the same. I probably freaked her out. GOD, she's gonna think I'm some kind of pervert. Or—worse—she's gonna avoid me completely now. And then I'll never see her again. And then—"

"Okay, okay," Jimin interrupts, holding up a hand to stop whatever spiral Jungkook's about to drag them into. "First of all, she offered to share her snack with you, so I don't think she's avoiding you anytime soon."

"But that was BEFORE—"

"Second of all," Jimin continues loudly, ignoring Jungkook's interjection, "maybe just... stop calling her 'noona' every chance you get? It's not helping your case."

Jungkook frowns, peeking out from behind his fingers again. "What's wrong with calling her noona? That's respectful!"

"Yeah, but it's also kinda... you know," Jimin winces, waving a hand vaguely. "Weird, coming from you. Like, you're already bumbling around her like a lost golden retriever. Adding 'noona' into the mix just makes you look—what's the word?"

"Adorable?" Jungkook tries hopefully.

"Pathetic," Jimin finishes, deadpan.

Jungkook groans for what feels like the millionth time, throwing his head against the couch cushion. "Why do I even talk to you? You're supposed to make me feel better, hyung. Not worse."

"Hey, I'm here for the truth," Jimin says, pointing at him with a chip in hand. "You want a cheerleader, go call Taehyung."

"Taehyung's just gonna laugh at me," Jungkook mutters into the cushion.

"And yet, you're shocked I'm doing it too."

Jungkook mumbles something unintelligible, his face half-smashed into the cushion now as he replays every excruciating detail of his interaction with you earlier. The way your thumb had brushed his lip. The way he'd immediately been unable to control the—well, reaction. The way he'd panicked like an idiot, stammered something incomprehensible, and practically bolted out of the cafe without even finishing his sentence.

"Kill me," he says dramatically, still face-down in the cushion. "Just end me. I can't show my face again."

Jimin laughs, leaning forward to pat Jungkook's shoulder in a way that's more mocking than comforting. "Relax, man. You'll survive. Just... maybe keep your hormones in check next time, yeah?"

Jungkook flips him off blindly, his hand waving somewhere above his head.

"Love you too, Spider-Menace," Jimin quips, taking another chip like this is the best entertainment he's had all week.

The crunching sound of Jimin biting into another chip is loud enough to make Jungkook groan into the couch again. "Do you ever stop eating?" Jungkook mutters, his voice muffled by the cushion.

Jimin raises an eyebrow, unbothered, and is about to throw a smartass reply back when his phone buzzes on the coffee table. He glances at the screen, sees Taehyung's name, and shrugs, casually placing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he picks up without pausing his snacking.

"What's up?" Jimin hums lazily, chips still in hand, completely ignoring Jungkook's existential crisis unfolding just feet away from him.

Jungkook's ears perk up despite himself—because why else would Taehyung be calling Jimin right now? He lifts his head just enough to peek over the cushion, his hair mussed and sticking up in odd directions.

Jimin's expression doesn't change at first, eyes still fixated on the bag of chips in his lap as he listens. "Yeah, he's with me," he says vaguely, gesturing aimlessly toward Jungkook, who frowns at being referred to like some stray dog Jimin found.

But then Jimin freezes. His chewing slows. His eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline as Taehyung says something that causes him to do a violent double take at Jungkook.

"What?" Jimin coughs, choking on the chip he was mid-swallow. He pounds his chest a little before leaning forward sharply. "He—what? What, what, what—? Tae, calm down—!"

"What's going on?" Jungkook asks, sitting up now, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at Jimin's sudden change in tone.

Jimin waves him off with a quick flick of his hand, signaling for him to shut up. "No, yeah. Yeah, no, I know," Jimin mumbles into the phone, his tone getting increasingly more exasperated as he listens. "Tae—okay? Can you just—okay?"

"What's wrong??" Jungkook asks again, panic creeping into his voice. He hates not knowing what's going on, especially when Jimin looks... concerned? Flustered? Whatever it is, it's not good.

Jimin twists his head toward Jungkook, eyes narrowing as he motions aggressively with his entire head for Jungkook to shut the hell up.

"Okay, let me— what? You wanna talk to him?" Jimin repeats, his voice pitching higher in disbelief. "Oh, now you wanna talk to him? Fine! Okay, okay, okay, here."

Before Jungkook can process what's happening, Jimin is all but shoving his phone into Jungkook's hands, plunking the bag of chips onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.

"Take it," Jimin mutters, irritation bleeding into his tone.

"Wait, why do I have to—"

"Take it," Jimin repeats, louder this time, his hand already retreating as he grabs another chip to munch on, clearly done with whatever chaos Taehyung just unloaded on him.

Jungkook swallows nervously, holding the phone to his ear as Taehyung's voice immediately fills it in a panicked rush.

"Jungkook! Oh my god, dude, you're not gonna believe this—" Taehyung starts, and Jungkook feels his entire stomach plummet before Taehyung can even finish his sentence.

"Believe what?" Jungkook half-yells into the phone, his voice cracking just slightly at the end, betraying the anxiety bubbling under his skin.

"Don't freak out," Taehyung begins, which, of course, makes Jungkook's blood pressure shoot straight through the roof. His knuckles grip Jimin's phone tightly, and he shares a panicked look with Jimin, who's now leaning against the coffee table with a chip halfway to his mouth, watching the scene unfold like it's prime-time drama.

"I'm already freaking out, hyung! Just tell me!" Jungkook demands, pacing the room like a caged animal.

"Okay, so," Taehyung starts again, and Jungkook can hear the smirk in his voice, which immediately makes him want to fling the phone out the window. "You know Y/N, yeah?"

"Do I—what do you mean, 'do I know Y/N'?! Of course I know—just get to the point!" Jungkook's frustration is mounting by the second. He's wound so tight he feels like a single flick might send him spiraling.

"Okay, Mr. Touchy," Taehyung says innocently, and Jungkook can practically see him holding back a laugh wherever he is. "So, uh… apparently, she's been asking questions."

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. His heart lurches in a way that makes his hands clammy against the phone. "Questions?" he repeats, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Taehyung continues, tone far too blasé for Jungkook's liking. "You know, like... about Spider-Man."

Jungkook swears his brain short-circuits. For a second, all he hears is static, like every neuron in his head has collectively stopped firing.

"...What kind of questions?" he asks quietly, his voice taking on an edge that immediately grabs Jimin's attention.

"Oh, you know." Taehyung's voice is light, purposefully teasing. "Like, how he seems to always show up when she's around, or how he just happens to bring her favorite snacks, or—oh, this one's my favorite—how his voice cracks exactly like a certain freshman she knows at Yonsei."

Jungkook's knees buckle, and he collapses back onto the couch like his strings have been cut. Jimin is now openly laughing, clutching his stomach with one hand while pointing at Jungkook with the other.

"She—oh my god," Jungkook mutters into the phone, his free hand running through his hair in frantic tugs. "She knows. She knows, doesn't she? I'm so fucked."

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Taehyung says hurriedly, though his voice is still laced with amusement. "She doesn't know know. I mean, I don't think so. She's not like, accusing you or anything. Just... putting pieces together. Y'know, connecting dots."

"Connecting dots?!" Jungkook hisses, his chest tightening as his worst nightmare begins to unfold in real time. "Do you have any idea how many dots there ARE, hyung?! I'm like a walking... dot-factory!"

Jimin absolutely loses it, doubling over in laughter as crumbs from his chips scatter across the floor.

"Okay, Kook, you need to calm down," Taehyung says, though his tone suggests he's also suppressing a laugh. "She's just curious, that's all. You know how Y/N is. She's a journalist. She's always sniffing around for a good story, right?"

"She doesn't need THIS story!" Jungkook yells, his hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. "Oh my god, what if she writes about it? What if she—what if it ENDS UP IN THE SCHOOL PAPER?!"

"Relax, relax, relax," Taehyung says in quick succession, his voice almost soothing now. "She's not gonna write about it. I don't think she'd do that to you... unless, you know, you give her a reason to."

Jungkook groans, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands again. "I'm so dead. She's gonna out me. My life is over. My life is literally over."

"Hyung," Jimin finally pipes up, gasping for air as he wipes away a tear from laughing too hard. "Tell him to just confess already. At this rate, she'll figure it out before he ever grows the balls to tell her himself."

"Confess?" Jungkook sputters, jerking his head up to glare at Jimin. "Are you insane?! You want me to walk up to her and go, 'Hey, Y/N, funny thing—remember how you thought I was stalking you? Well, surprise! I was, but it's okay because I'm Spider-Man!' That's your plan?!"

Jimin shrugs, smirking as he tosses a chip into his mouth. "Worked for Andrew Garfield."

"THIS IS NOT A MOVIE!"

Taehyung's laugh echoes through the phone, loud and clear. "Oh man, I wish I was there to see this meltdown in person. Seriously, Kook, stop freaking out. Just... play it cool, okay? She doesn't know anything for sure. Yet."

"Yet?!" Jungkook exclaims, horror-struck.

"Gotta go!" Taehyung says way too quickly, the call disconnecting before Jungkook can yell at him further.

Jungkook stares at the phone in disbelief, his chest heaving as Jimin's smug laughter reverberates in the background.

"Cool," Jimin repeats mockingly, curving his lips. "Yeah, Kook, just play it cool. You're so good at that."

Jungkook groans, tossing the phone onto the couch and collapsing after it. "I need new friends."

"You love us," Jimin chirps, reaching for another chip.

Jungkook screams into the pillow.

You were expecting something, anything, really. A subtle slip-up. A sheepish confession. Hell, maybe even some stammering and nervous sweating.

But the moment you confronted Taehyung—cornered him, really, by the vending machine in the student lounge—and the words "Do you know if Jungkook's Spider-Man?" left your mouth, all he did was cackle. Loudly. Mockingly. Like a full-on villain in a Saturday morning cartoon.

"Spider-Man?" he wheezed, doubling over and clutching his stomach like you'd just told him the funniest joke in existence. "Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook? Noona, you're joking, right?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by how visceral his reaction was. "No. I'm not joking," you said stiffly, crossing your arms. "What's so funny about it?"

Taehyung straightened up, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye as he glanced at you with barely contained amusement. "Do you know Jungkook? Like, know him? Because that kid has two left feet. I've literally seen him trip over air. How would he even swing that gracefully?"

For a brief, fleeting moment, you felt the smallest hitch in your resolve. Because, well, the evidence did kind of contradict itself, didn't it? Jungkook is clumsy sometimes. That much is true. You've seen him knock over a whole stack of textbooks just trying to nod hello at you in the hallway. He once walked into a doorframe because he was too busy staring at his phone.

Spider-Man, by comparison, is supposed to be graceful. Quick. Precise. Not... whatever it is Jungkook embodies most of the time.

But then you think about the stupid coffee shop incident. The way Spider-Man stammered and fidgeted and tripped over his words like a nervous wreck. The way he dropped his entire cool superhero persona when he handed you those damn matcha pastries. He wasn't exactly graceful then, was he?

And okay, let's talk about those pastries for a second. Because the more you think about them, the more your brain starts spinning. You distinctly remember mentioning them once—to Eunjae, over lunch in the cafeteria, weeks ago. How the hell would Spider-Man know about them if he wasn't there to overhear?

You frown, chewing on the inside of your cheek as the pieces start stacking themselves again in your head. Jungkook might be clumsy, sure. But Spider-Man was clumsy too. At least, that day he was. And the matcha pastries aren't just a coincidence. They can't be.

Your inner spiral is abruptly interrupted by a bright, familiar voice calling out behind you.

"Noona!"

You whirl around at the sound like a guilty kid caught stealing candy, heart practically leaping into your throat because you know that voice anywhere. And there he is, the devil himself—Jeon Jungkook, all floppy hair and dumbly wide grin, bounding toward you like an overexcited golden retriever.

He sidesteps a couple of students in his path, his long legs moving with just a little too much energy. Honestly, it's a miracle he doesn't trip.

"I brought you these!" he announces, holding up a plastic bag like it's some kind of trophy. His grin stretches so wide it practically touches his ears, and you hate that your first thought is how stupidly adorable he looks.

Stupid, you think, swiping the bag from his hand. Not adorable. Definitely not adorable. You're sure of it.

Peeking inside, your brows furrow. "Hotteok?"

Jungkook presses his lips together, humming as he nods eagerly. "Yeah! You—" His smile falters just a touch. "You don't like it?"

The way his face drops shouldn't make you feel so guilty, but it does, and it's annoying. "No, uh, I mean…" You struggle for the right words, because… hotteok? Really? You'd been expecting the matcha pastries again. This feels almost purposeful—like he's playing dumb. Is he? Or is this proof that you've been completely off base this whole time?

You're overthinking again. Shaking your head, you wave off the thought entirely. "Yeah, thank you, Jungkook-ah," you mutter, tone softer than you mean it to be.

The banmal slips out without much thought, but the effect it has is immediate. His eyes go wide, and then his whole face lights up in the kind of beam that makes you want to smack yourself for fueling his enthusiasm.

"This is the first time you dropped honorifics with me," he says, looking downright gleeful.

You clench the bag a little tighter and wish you could hate him. Why is he so excited over something so small? Why does it make your chest feel weirdly tight? And why is it so hard to stay annoyed at him when he looks at you like that?

God, this kid.

"Don't get used to it," you mutter gruffly, turning away before the growing warmth in your cheeks betrays you completely.

"So," he begins, falling into step beside you as you start walking toward the journalism building. "What are your plans for today?"

You don't respond. Not out of spite or anything—you're just not in the mood to entertain whatever puppy-dog energy he's radiating right now.

"Writing notes?" he prompts, glancing sideways at you, his tone just a little too hopeful for your liking.

Still, you say nothing.

"Coffee?"

Nope.

"Gonna catch leads for Spider-Man's identity?"

That one makes you stop dead in your tracks. You whirl around so fast he nearly collides with you, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. "Huh?"

His eyes widen marginally, mouth opening and closing like he's trying to come up with a quick excuse. "Taehyung told me!" he blurts, the words tumbling out in a rush.

For a second, you just stare at him, blinking once, then twice. "Huh," you reply, eyebrows quirking upward.

"Yeah!" he adds, voice pitching slightly higher, probably in an effort to sound casual. "He said you were, uh, investigating? Like, Spider-Man and all that? You know, trying to figure out who he is?"

Your head tilts as you study him, arms crossing instinctively. "Did he now?"

"Uh-huh," he nods enthusiastically, though the way his hand rubs at the back of his neck gives him away almost immediately. "I mean, not that I think that's, like, bad or anything? It's cool! Totally cool! I mean, you're a journalist, so, like, it's your job, right? Investigating stuff and—"

"Jungkook."

He freezes, looking way too much like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

"Why," you ask, narrowing your eyes just slightly, "do you sound like you're trying to convince me not to?"

"I-I'm not! I'm not," he stammers, waving his hands frantically. "I was just, you know, saying! Like, uh, if anyone were trying to find his identity, it'd definitely be you because, uh… you're smart? And observant? And not at all easy to fool?"

Your brow arches higher, his stream of nervous compliments only fueling the suspicion building in your chest.

"Right," you say slowly, dragging out the word as you step closer, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs nervously when your gaze meets his. "So hypothetically…"

"H-Hypothetically," he squeaks, leaning back like he's mentally bracing himself for whatever's coming next.

"If I was trying to find out who Spider-Man is," you continue, voice calm and steady, "you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, now would you?"

The way he freezes, body rigid and eyes darting everywhere but at you, would be funny if it weren't so telling. The sheer panic written all over his face is practically criminal.

"I—uh—no? N-No. Definitely not," he stammers, the pitch of his voice betraying him entirely. "W-Why would I have anything to do with that? I'm just a freshman! I don't even know Spider-Man! I mean, who even is Spider-Man? Could be anyone, right? Crazy world we live in, haha…"

You take a moment to just stare at him, fighting the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might actually get stuck. "Right," you deadpan, turning on your heel to start walking again.

Jungkook exhales audibly behind you, feet scrambling to catch up. "Y-Yeah, right! That's what I thought too!" he says quickly, clearly desperate to steer the conversation in another direction. "Anyway, uh, where were we? Oh! Notes! Are you writing notes today, noona?"

You don't respond. Again. Mostly because you're too busy replaying his very suspicious reaction over and over in your head like a mental highlight reel.

Yeah… no way this kid isn't up to something.

You keep walking, your steps steady, purposeful. Jungkook, as always, trots along beside you like he's afraid you might disappear if he doesn't keep up. And unlike you, who values peace and quiet, Jungkook doesn't seem to understand the concept of shutting up.

"So, like, I was thinking," he starts, voice bright and eager. "If Spider-Man's around all the time, do you think he lives nearby? Like, maybe he's a uni student? Or—or maybe he's secretly a professor? Oh my god, imagine Professor Kim as Spider-Man—he'd probably web someone for being late to class, right? Oh, oh, or he'd use his powers to booby-trap the lecture hall if we don't submit our midterms on time! Haha—what do you think, noona?"

You don't answer.

"And have you noticed he wears, like, the same colors as Yonsei's? Like, blue and red? Do you think that's on purpose? Maybe he's trying to rep the school spirit! Or maybe he's trying to throw us off! Who knows, right? I mean, what's your theory? You must have a theory—you're always so smart about these things—"

"Jungkook," you interject, your voice flat as you stop abruptly in your tracks. He almost trips trying to halt beside you, blinking wide-eyed like he didn't expect you to actually respond.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you have class?" You ask, turning your head just enough for him to see the pointed look you're giving him.

He licks his lips, and you know he's about to lie before the words even leave his mouth. "No?"

"Liar," you deadpan, already turning back to face forward.

"You know my schedule?" he shoots back, voice teasing as he trails after you again.

You roll your eyes but don't give him the satisfaction of a retort. If you respond, he'll just milk it—probably tease you further, or worse, distract you with another string of nonsense questions about Spider-Man. No, you're better off ignoring him.

So, you keep walking. He keeps rambling.

And then—

The sound of a bus engine roaring down the street takes you off guard. You don't even register the rush of movement until it's too late.

Suddenly, there's a firm pressure against your shoulders, and you're stumbling—but not forward, no—backward. Stumbling directly into Jungkook's chest, his arms bracketing your body like they're the only thing stopping you from tumbling straight into the pavement.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding against your ribs. You freeze, blinking up at him in shock. "What the—"

He's close. Too close. His face hovers just inches from yours, his expression wide-eyed and… strained.

"Are you okay?" he blurts, his voice laced with breathless concern like he's just sprinted a marathon.

You don't answer. You can't answer. Because all you can think about is how the hell he even managed to grab you like that.

He was five meters away. Five meters away, Jungkook. There's no way he could've—

"What the fuck," you murmur under your breath, your mind racing a mile a minute as you shove yourself upright, still staring at him like he's grown a second head. "How—when—how the fuck did you just—"

"It was nothing!" he rushes out, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence. His voice cracks, and he's already letting go of you, stepping back like he's afraid of the scrutiny in your eyes. "I-I mean, reflexes? Adrenaline? Fight or flight? Haha…"

You narrow your eyes, suspicious once again. "…Right."

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. "Yeah, uh… it's all good. You're fine, right? Totally fine! So, uh… should we—keep walking? Yep, let's keep walking!"

He starts to turn away again, clearly desperate to move on, but you don't budge. You're too busy trying to piece together what just happened, trying to figure out how Jungkook keeps doing things that defy all logic and common sense.

And that's when it hits you.

Spider-Man. Fast reflexes. The ability to move like that without warning. You glance down at his feet, planted firmly on the ground, and then back up at his sheepish grin.

No fucking way.

"I'm leaving."

"No—come on, Tae, you promised!" Jungkook whines, clutching at Taehyung's shoulder like a child trying to stop his older sibling from walking out the door.

Taehyung stops mid-stride, turning to glare at him with an expression that's this close to murderous. "I promised you I'd study with you at the library," he hisses. "Not that we'd come here so you can sit there and drool all over her."

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide. "I—what?!"

"You heard me," Taehyung deadpans, shoving Jungkook's hand off his shoulder.

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Jungkook mumbles, feigning innocence as he suddenly averts his gaze.

Taehyung rolls his eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck. "Kook, you've been staring at her table since we walked in. Don't even try to deny it."

"I—have not!" Jungkook protests, voice pitching just slightly higher than normal. His head jerks around, and of course his eyes instinctively flicker to your table. The one three meters to the left. The one where you're currently sitting, completely engrossed in your notes, pencil moving methodically across the page like it's the only thing that matters in the world.

You're breathtaking. Ethereal. Like a beam of light in the dull, dusty gloom of the library.

And honestly, Jungkook's not even sure why he's into you. Okay, maybe he's a little sure. Or a lot. But that's not the point—the point is—he is definitely not staring. Not staring, not drooling. Definitely.

"You're doing it right now, man," Taehyung mutters, arms crossed.

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"I'm not! It's just—" Jungkook swallows, gesturing vaguely in your direction. "I was just… checking out the table. It's a nice table! Good wood quality, sturdy legs. The craftsmanship is—"

"Good wood quality?" Taehyung repeats, staring at him like he's lost his mind.

Jungkook groans, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Okay! Maybe I glanced at her for a second. It's not a crime, hyung!"

Taehyung lets out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's already regretting his life choices. "I am so done with you," he mutters. But even as the words leave his mouth, he walks toward one of the tables anyway and plops his bag down into one of the vacant chairs.

"Sit," he grumbles, motioning vaguely to the chair across from him. "And don't make me regret this."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice. He practically trips over himself as he sits, trying to act cool and not-at-all-focused on the fact that you're sitting so close. So close that he can see the faint furrow in your brow as you concentrate, or the way you absentmindedly tap the end of your pencil against your notebook.

He's not staring. Definitely not staring. Probably.

"You're staring again," Taehyung says flatly, not even bothering to look up from his own notes.

"No, I'm not!" Jungkook hisses, slouching lower in his chair.

Taehyung snorts. "Okay, Mr. 'Good Wood Quality.' Sure."

Jungkook tries. He really does. He's here to study—or at least, he's here to pretend to study—and he's determined to do something productive. Something library-like. Something that doesn't involve spending the entire time sneaking glances at you like some lovesick idiot.

So, step one: grab a book. Easy. People in libraries read books, right? He can do that. Simple.

He meanders through the shelves, grabbing the first book that catches his eye. He doesn't even check the title. Doesn't matter. A book's a book.

Step two: sit down. Done. Chair, occupied. Book, open.

Step three: look at the book like he's actually reading it.

He squints at the text, hoping his brain will absorb something through sheer willpower because god knows his mind sure as hell isn't cooperating right now. Every five seconds, it drifts back to the table three meters away, where you're still sitting, still taking notes, still looking unfairly... breathtaking.

"Jungkook," Taehyung mutters, his voice barely above a grumble as he glances up from his own book. "Why the fuck are you reading that?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks, startled, then looks down at the book in his hands for the first time.

Advanced Theoretical Physics.

Oh.

"You don't even study physics," Taehyung points out flatly, his tone dripping with judgment.

Jungkook flushes, slamming the book shut and fumbling to shove it under the table. "I—uh—thought it looked interesting."

Taehyung stares at him. "Sure you did."

Before Jungkook can come up with anything to salvage what's left of his dignity, you—of all people—decide to stand up, and all the air in Jungkook's lungs promptly decides to leave with you.

Oh, god. You're moving. Why are you moving? Where are you going? Should he say something? Should he act casual? Should he—

You shift slightly, gathering your things, and suddenly Jungkook's heart is doing this weird thing where it's racing and stuttering and flipping over itself, and now his body is moving before his brain can even think to stop it.

"Gotta go," he blurts, practically tripping over his chair as he bolts to his feet. "To the bathroom. I have to—pee. Yeah, really super really need to pee right now. See you in a bit!"

Taehyung looks up, stunned, as Jungkook all but sprints toward the library exit. "What the—wait—"

But Jungkook's already halfway across the library, muttering curses under his breath as he tries not to make it obvious that he's absolutely not going to the bathroom.

Taehyung sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face before muttering to himself, "He's gonna get us banned from this place, isn't he?"

Jungkook's halfway to the library exit, heart pounding, when he realizes something odd.

You're not heading to the exit.

You're not even walking toward the bathroom.

He skids to a stop, trying very hard to play it cool, to act like he's not absolutely clocking your every move. His hands find their way into his hoodie pocket as he leans against the nearest bookshelf, pretending to scan the titles like he's not also sneaking glances at you over his shoulder.

Okay, so you're not leaving. That's fine. Totally normal. You're just… heading deeper into the library. Toward some distant corner, weaving past tables and shelves like you've got some secret mission.

And Jungkook? Jungkook is absolutely not a stalker. He's not. He's just curious. That's it. Normal behavior. Normal library behavior for a normal freshman.

Totally not unhinged.

But then you disappear behind a bookshelf, and his feet are moving before his brain can step on the brakes.

He follows, not too fast—just casual-like. Normal person stuff. Nothing suspicious. His eyes dart between shelves as he tries to spot where you went, his stomach doing this weird twisty thing that's part nerves, part excitement, part oh-god-why-am-I-like-this anxiety.

And just when he thinks he's catching up, just when he rounds the corner of yet another shelf and is about to spot you—

Yank.

Jungkook barely has time to register what's happening before soft hands grab him by the hoodie and pull him into a small, cramped room. His back bumps into something solid—he thinks it's the door—and suddenly you're standing right there, close enough that he can see every detail of your face, from the faint line of concentration on your forehead to the subtle curl of your lips as you exhale sharply.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

"You," you exhale, your voice sharp but quiet. "Have some explaining to do, young mister."

Jungkook's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His brain is short-circuiting, sparking like a broken circuit board, because—how? Why? When? What?

"I—uh—I—what?" he stammers, blinking rapidly as his eyes dart around the tiny supply closet you've dragged him into. It's all brooms and cleaning supplies and the faint smell of lemon disinfectant, and holy fuck, it is too small in here. You're too close.

"Don't play dumb," you mutter, arms crossing as you lean back just slightly—not enough to give him actual breathing room, but enough to make him feel like he's being scrutinized under a microscope. "You've been acting… weird."

"Weird?" He squeaks, his voice cracking embarrassingly. "Me? Weird? No, I'm not weird! I'm—uh—normal! Super normal! The most normal person ever!"

Your brow arches, the skepticism written all over your face making his knees weak. "Normal people don't act like they've got something to hide," you reply evenly.

"I don't have anything to hide!" he says way too quickly, voice pitching high again.

You don't look convinced. Not one bit.

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as he tries to come up with an excuse, a cover, a way to escape both this tiny-ass room and the weight of your accusing gaze.

But all he can think about is how close you are. How your voice sounds louder in this little space. How your shampoo smells faintly like citrus. How utterly and completely trapped he feels—not just against the door, but under the intensity of your stare.

And he's so screwed. So screwed.

"The bus thing," you say, and Jungkook feels his entire soul leave his body for approximately three seconds before crash-landing right back into his chest with a painful thud.

"What bus thing?" he asks, trying for innocent confusion, but his voice comes out more like a strangled whisper. "There are lots of bus things. Buses are everywhere. Seoul's public transport system is very efficient and—"

"Three days ago," you cut him off, eyes narrowing. "When I almost got hit."

Oh.

Oh fuck.

The memory hits him like a freight train. Three days ago. That stupid bus driver who didn't see you crossing. The way his heart had stopped dead in his chest when he realized you were about to—and he'd just—without thinking—

He'd used his webs.

On you.

In broad daylight.

As Jungkook.

Not Spider-Man.

Just... regular freshman Jeon Jungkook, who definitely shouldn't have access to web-shooters or superhuman reflexes or the ability to yank someone out of harm's way from five meters away.

"I don't—" he starts, but his mouth is dry, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. "That was just—"

"Just what?" you press, leaning closer. "Just adrenaline? Just reflexes? Just another totally normal thing that totally normal freshmen do?"

"Yes?" he squeaks, pressing himself further against the shelf on his back like he might somehow phase through it if he tries hard enough.

Your eyes narrow further. "Really."

"Really!" He nods frantically. "I mean, haven't you heard those stories? About moms lifting cars off their kids? Same thing! Totally the same thing. Chemistry major stuff. Very scientific. Fight or flight response. Cortisol. Adrenaline. Biology... things."

"You're not a chemistry major."

"I could be!"

"You're in communications."

"...Minor in chemistry?"

You stare at him for a long moment, and Jungkook swears he can feel sweat beginning to bead at the back of his neck. This closet is too small. The air is too thick. You're too close, and your eyes are too sharp, and oh god, he's really messed up this time hasn't he?

"Jungkook," you say, voice low and steady. "How exactly did you pull me away from that bus?"

"I... ran really fast?"

"You were five meters away."

"I'm... very athletic?"

"Five meters, Jungkook."

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Would you believe me if I said I've been working out?"

The look you give him could probably melt steel. "Try again."

"Yoga?"

"Jungkook."

"Pilates?"

You lean even closer, if that's possible, and Jungkook's pretty sure his heart is about to explode right out of his chest. "One more chance," you murmur. "Tell me the truth."

And god, he wants to. He really, really wants to. Because you're right there, looking at him with those eyes that see right through him, and he's tired of lying, tired of pretending, tired of—

"I just..." he starts, voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't let you get hurt."

Your expression softens, just slightly, but your gaze remains unwavering. "How did you do it?"

"I—"

Just as Jungkook's about to bolt, there's a distinct click that makes both of you freeze.

"What the—?" You whirl around, pushing past him to grab the handle. It doesn't budge. You try again, yanking harder this time. Nothing.

"You must be fucking kidding me," you mutter under your breath, jiggling the handle with increasing frustration.

And that's when Jungkook realizes several things at once:

1. Someone's locked you two in.

2. The closet is tiny.

3. You're pressed up against him trying to open the door.

4. Your ass is—

Oh god.

This cannot be happening. Not again. Not after the coffee shop incident. Not after he literally had to swing away to deal with his... situation.

"Fuck," he breathes, trying to press himself further into the piece of furniture behind him, but there's nowhere to go. The shelves dig into his back as he attempts to create even an inch of space between your bodies.

His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, not daring to touch you, not daring to move. His breath catches in his throat as you shift again, still wrestling with the door handle, completely oblivious to the way each movement sends sparks of electricity through his entire body.

"Hey!" you call out, banging on the door. "This isn't funny!"

Focus on something else, Jungkook tells himself desperately. Anything else. Math. Chemistry. Professor Kim's boring lectures. That time Jimin ate an entire jar of kimchi and—

You shift again, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to suppress a strangled noise.

"Seriously," you growl, hitting the door again. "Whoever's out there better unlock this right now or I swear to god—"

Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts. Dead puppies. Tax forms. Spidey suit chafing. Anything but how soft you feel against—

"Jungkook?" Your voice cuts through his desperate mental gymnastics. "You okay? You're breathing kind of weird."

"Fine!" he squeaks, voice way too high to be convincing. "Totally fine! Just, uh... claustrophobic! Very claustrophobic. Super claustrophobic. Did I mention I'm claustrophobic?"

You turn your head slightly, and even in the dim light, he can see your brow furrow. "Since when?"

"Since... right now?"

Another shift of your hips as you try the handle again, and Jungkook has to close his eyes, silently praying to whatever deity might be listening to either kill him now or get him out of this situation before he combusts from sheer embarrassment.

Because if you notice... if you realize... oh god, he'll never live it down. He'll have to transfer schools. Change his name. Move to a different country. Become a hermit in the mountains where no one will ever find him—

"Can you try pushing while I pull?" you ask, completely unaware of his internal crisis.

Jungkook makes a sound that might be agreement, might be distress, might be his soul leaving his body. He's not really sure anymore.

All he knows is that he's trapped in a closet with you, with your body pressed against his, and his spidey-sense is absolutely no help because apparently it doesn't warn him about situations that might kill him from pure mortification.

"Jungkook?" you prompt again, and he realizes he hasn't moved to help with the door.

"Right!" he says quickly, voice cracking. "Sorry! Just... give me a second to... uh... mentally prepare."

You snort. "For pushing a door?"

"Yes," he says weakly, because what else can he say? 'Sorry, I need a minute because you feel too good pressed against me and I'm trying very hard not to embarrass myself'?

Yeah, no. He'd rather die.

Jungkook does what you say. He really does. He plants his palms flat against the door, muscles tensing as he tries to push in time with your pulls. But it's too much. Too much to focus on, too close, too you.

His very healthy, very 21-year-old brain is absolutely screaming some unfortunate, very, very filthy thoughts right now, and no amount of silently yelling at himself to stop it, stop it, STOP IT seems to be working.

Push and pull. Yeah, he's thinking of that in an entirely different context, and honestly, sue him. He's a guy. A guy experiencing literal hell because your ass keeps brushing against him every time you shift, and it's doing things to him.

You move again, and Jungkook swears he's going to lose it. Like, right here. On the spot. His knees are weak, his palms are sweating, and his brain is running on some kind of autopilot loop of, "Abort mission! Shut it down! This is a disaster!"

Fuck him. Fuck his life. Just take him now, death. Send the reaper. Hell, send Taehyung to throw him into the Han River. Anything but this.

But then—just as his brain reaches critical overload—you stiffen.

Oh no.

You turn your head slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder, and the look in your eyes is... not great. In fact, it's terrifying.

"Jungkook," you say, his name an ominous warning.

His whole body seizes, every alarm in his mind blaring at full volume as sweat beads at the back of his neck. "Yeah?" he squeaks, his voice cracking so hard he wants to dig his own grave and lie in it.

"Are you hard?"

Oh, fuck.

Oh FUCK.

His brain short-circuits. His entire being freezes. His soul? Gone. It has left the building. His vision blurs at the edges as the words echo around the tiny closet, bouncing off every surface and hitting him square in the chest over and over again.

"I—uh—what?" he stammers, his voice so high-pitched it might as well be a dog whistle.

You straighten, still half-facing him, and your brow furrows with that look of realization that makes him want to throw himself into the sun.

"You are," you say, your tone shifting between disbelief and a growing edge of... amusement?

"I—I—no—what? No, I'm not! That's—no, that's ridiculous!" He tries to back away automatically, but there's nowhere to go, and his shoulders slam against the wood behind him.

You fully turn at this point, arms crossing as you raise a suspicious eyebrow. "Really, Jungkook?" Your eyes drift ever so slightly downward, and oh no oh no oh no don't look down don't look down don't look down.

He flails. Not physically, thankfully, but mentally? He's losing it. He's scrambling for something, anything, to salvage even a shred of dignity.

"It's—it's not what you think!" he blurts out, his hands flying up defensively. "It's—it's the—the door! Yeah! This stupid closet! I told you I was claustrophobic, right? That's gotta... do something... biologically... right?"

You stare at him, unimpressed. Completely, utterly unimpressed.

"It's not me," he continues, voice cracking again because his body is betraying him. "It's—it's like—science! Random reaction!"

"...Random reaction." Your expression is unreadable now, which somehow makes this worse.

"Totally random," he insists, nodding way too quickly. "You know, like... blood flow! Hormones! Human anatomy! It's a thing! You can look it up!"

"Oh, I'll look it up," you mutter, the corner of your mouth twitching like you're trying very hard not to laugh.

"Please don't," Jungkook whispers, his face burning so hot he's genuinely worried the fire alarm's going to go off.

And honestly? He doesn't even care if the fire alarm goes off at this point. He'd happily burn in this library right now if it meant escaping the absolute mortification of this moment.

Jungkook is fairly certain he's about to pass out, maybe die, and definitely disintegrate into dust when it happens. You turn around, shift again, just slightly, your body brushing against him in a way that feels… deliberate?

Or is his brain just playing tricks on him now?

Oh god. Oh fuck. Is this some cruel, sick hallucination brought on by his overactive imagination? Is his mind punishing him for thinking all those filthy, traitorous thoughts earlier? Why can't he have some kind of superpower to read minds right now? Be Professor X or some shit, because at this point, anything would be better than not knowing what the hell is going through your head right now.

Do you think he's a creep? A weirdo? A perverted little freshman who can't keep it together for five fucking minutes?

Or—

The thought makes his stomach flip violently, a spark of something hot—and definitely dangerous—shooting down his spine as you shift again.

Or do you find this… fun?

Amusing?

Arousing?

Because there's something about the way you're not stepping back, the way you're not recoiling in disgust, the way your breaths are just slightly heavier than before, that's making Jungkook's head spin.

And then you chuckle—low, quiet, but unmistakable.

"This is the first time this has ever happened to me," you mutter, the sound light but laced with something he can't quite name.

But he doesn't care what it's laced with. He doesn't even care what it means.

Because oh god, that chuckle—he'd bottle it if he could. He'd trap it in a jar and keep it with him forever, listen to it on repeat like a favorite playlist, let it echo in his head until he went insane from the sound of it alone.

His mouth opens, but no words come out. His body is frozen, his brain completely fried, every single one of his senses hyper-focused on the fact that you're still right there, pressed against him, closer than you've ever been before.

Say something, dumbass, his brain screams at him. Anything. Literally anything.

"I—it's not my fault?" he manages weakly, his voice cracking so pathetically he wants to punch himself.

You laugh again, and this time there's no mistaking it—there's something mischievous in it, like you're enjoying watching him squirm. And oh no, oh god, you're enjoying this.

"I didn't say it was," you reply, your voice smooth, calm, fucking deadly.

Jungkook swallows hard. His legs feel like they're about to give out any second now. His palms are clammy. His heart is doing that thing where it feels like it's both racing and stopping entirely at the same time.

"I—uh—should we try the door again?" he stammers, trying desperately to redirect the situation before his entire body spontaneously combusts from the sheer tension in the air.

You hum softly, not answering right away, and Jungkook feels every muscle in his body tense in response.

You keep moving, but now it's with purpose—up and down motions that are too deliberate to be anything but intentional. Like you're actually trying to... to get him off. Right here. In this tiny closet. In the fucking library.

Jungkook's mind is gone. Absolutely fucking gone. His consciousness has left his body, floating somewhere near the ceiling as he tries to process what's happening. He's honestly shocked he hasn't passed out yet, given how fast his blood is rushing south.

His hands hover awkwardly over your hips, trembling with the effort not to touch. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, desperate to hold back the embarrassing sounds threatening to escape. Because he refuses to pant like some desperate animal, even though that's exactly what you're reducing him to.

But then—oh fuck—you reach back, grabbing his hands. And before his brain can catch up, you're placing them firmly on your hips.

"It's okay," you murmur, your voice low and honey-sweet. "You can touch me."

The permission makes him shudder, a full-body tremor that he couldn't suppress if he tried. Your hand slides over his, guiding it upward, and his breath catches in his throat as you move it higher, and higher, and—

Oh god.

You press his palm against your breast, and Jungkook's brain completely flatlines.

A pathetic whimper escapes him before he can stop it. His fingers twitch against the soft swell under your shirt, and he's pretty sure he's died. This is death. This is heaven. This is some kind of fever dream his horny brain has cooked up.

"Is this really happening?" he whispers, his voice raw and desperate. "Like, actually happening? Not just another dream or—"

He cuts himself off, realizing what he just admitted, but it's too late. The words are already out there, hanging in the heated air between you.

"Another dream?" you repeat, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. "You dream about this often, Jungkook-ah?"

Fuck.

"Way too often," he confesses, the words spilling from his mouth before his brain can catch up. And yeah, that's definitely because his mind has completely checked out. Because normal Jungkook? Coherent Jungkook? Would rather die than admit something like that.

But normal Jungkook isn't here right now. Normal Jungkook left the building the moment you pressed his hand to your breast. Now there's just... this Jungkook. The one who can't think straight because you're letting him squeeze and touch and feel, and your ass is doing absolutely criminal things against his cock.

His forehead drops to your neck, breath coming in heavy pants that he can't control anymore. Fuck trying to be quiet. Fuck trying to be composed. His hips move on their own, grinding forward to match your rhythm.

Because you gave him permission, right? You said he could touch. You guided his hands. So this is okay. This is allowed. This isn't just another fevered fantasy his desperate brain cooked up at 3 AM.

"Noona," he breathes against your skin, the honorific slipping out again because his filter is completely gone. His fingers flex against your breast, testing, exploring, learning what makes your breath hitch. "Fuck."

You guide his movements with a confidence that makes his head spin, showing him exactly how to touch you. His fingers find your nipple through the fabric, and the way it peaks under his touch makes him dizzy with want. Your hand stays over his, encouraging him to squeeze, to explore, to learn.

And Jungkook? He's never been this hard in his entire fucking life.

He's pathetic, really. Getting this worked up from some dry humping and breast play like he's fifteen instead of twenty-one. Sure, they're absolutely amazing tits—perfect, actually, fitting in his palm like they were made for his touch—but still. He's broadcasting his virginity like a fucking neon sign, getting this desperate this fast.

But he can't help it. Can't stop the way his hips keep rolling against you, seeking more friction, more pressure, more. He knows he's close—can feel it building in his abdomen, that telltale tingling that makes his toes curl in his stupid mismatched socks.

"Noona," he whimpers against your shoulder, the sound muffled by your shirt. "Noona, I'm—fuck—"

His breath comes in sharp, desperate pants. He's making these absolutely embarrassing sounds—little whimpers and moans he has to muffle against your skin because if anyone heard him like this, he'd actually die on the spot.

The pressure builds, and builds, and builds, until he's grinding back helplessly, practically sobbing because it feels so good he can't stand it. His free hand grips your hip like a lifeline, probably too hard, definitely leaving marks, but he can't help it.

"Please," he chokes out, though he's not sure what he's begging for. "Please, I'm—I can't—"

He's going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager, and the worst part? He doesn't even care anymore.

"It's okay, Jungkook-ah," you murmur, voice honey-sweet and deadly. "Let go for noona."

And that's—that should be illegal. The way those words hit him is criminal, making his whole body seize up like he's been electrocuted. His hips stutter, losing rhythm as everything goes white-hot. He groans against your shoulder, embarrassingly loud even muffled against the fabric, as his orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train.

He came. He just—he actually just—came in his pants. Like some inexperienced kid who's never been touched before.

Mortifying. Absolutely fucking mortifying.

A hiccup escapes him, something between a sob and a whimper, and he wants to disappear. To evaporate. To cease existing entirely.

"Hey," you whisper, so soft it makes his chest ache. Your hand reaches back, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, and his skin erupts in goosebumps immediately at the gentle touch.

He wants to cry. Wants to apologize. Wants to explain that he's not usually this pathetic (lie), that he can last longer than three minutes (another lie), that he's not always this embarrassingly eager (the biggest lie of all).

But the words stick in his throat like clay, thick and suffocating. Because what can he possibly say? 'Sorry I just creamed my pants from some dry humping and titty grabbing?'

"It's okay," you murmur, and another hiccup escapes him.

No. No, don't do that. Don't pity him. Don't say those words like anything about this situation is remotely okay. Because it's not. It's the furthest thing from okay. He just—he literally just—

"I really liked that," you add, voice soft but sure.

Jungkook's head snaps up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. "What?"

You… liked it? How could you possibly have liked that? He barely lasted three minutes. He came in his pants like a middle schooler. He probably squeezed your tit too hard and left bruises on your hip and made the most embarrassing sounds and—

"How?" he croaks out, voice raw and disbelieving. "How could you—that was so—I'm so—"

Pathetic. Desperate. Inexperienced. Embarrassing.

His brain supplies about fifty different self-deprecating adjectives, but none of them make it past his lips because he's still trying to process the fact that you said you liked it.

The dam breaks.

Jungkook is crying. Tears spill over his flushed cheeks, unbidden and hot with shame, and oh god, he's really lost it now. He's crying, actually fucking crying, because apparently, being mortified isn't enough. No, his body has to betray him in every possible way all at once.

His blurred vision catches you turning around to face him, and then your hands—soft, warm—reach up to gently brush the tears away from his eyelids. The gesture makes him hiccup, and he immediately wants to crawl under the floorboards and die.

"It was cute," you murmur, and your tone is soft but steady, like you actually mean it.

"Don't say that," he mumbles, voice cracking as he ducks his head, his tears threatening to spill faster. He can't handle this. He really, really can't.

You smile—a smile so kind it feels like a dagger to his chest. "Why? I'm not lying."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"It was so embarrassing!" he bursts out, the words tumbling from his mouth in one long, panicked string. "I made such embarrassing sounds and—and I—I came in my pants and—"

"It's what I wanted," you interrupt, your words cutting through his spiraling like a blade.

He freezes, the tears still clinging to his lashes. His breath catches, the air suddenly clammy.

"...What?" he croaks, the word so small and broken it barely makes it past his lips. His mind blanks, unable to process what he just heard. Surely he misheard you, right? Surely this is some kind of cruel, shame-induced hallucination because there's no way.

"It's what I wanted," you repeat, your voice unwavering as you look him straight in the eye, your gaze too steady, too certain.

His breathing stutters. His tears momentarily forgotten, he stares at you, wide-eyed and silent, like you've just flipped his entire world upside down.

Your hand is still on his cheek, thumb brushing away the lingering wetness under his eye, and Jungkook can't look away from your face. Can't process the way you're looking at him—soft but certain, like you actually meant what you just said.

"But—" he starts, voice wavering. "But why would you—I mean, I—" He swallows hard, his face burning. "I barely even touched you. I just... got off on you like some desperate—"

"Because," you cut him off, your other hand coming up to frame his face, holding him still when he tries to look away. "I liked making you fall apart like that. Liked knowing I could affect you that much."

His breath catches. "But—"

"And," you continue, your thumb trailing down to brush over his bottom lip, making him shiver. "I liked how honest you were. How you couldn't hide how much you wanted it."

Jungkook's brain short-circuits again. Because what the fuck? What the actual fuck? You liked that he was desperate? That he was pathetic and needy and—

"The sounds you made," you murmur, leaning closer, close enough that he can feel your breath against his lips. "Were fucking hot."

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, caught somewhere between a whimper and a groan. Because this can't be real. This has to be some kind of fever dream. Some kind of post-orgasm hallucination.

"Noona," he breathes, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure if he's allowed to touch you again. "I—"

And then the door clicks.

Both of you freeze, heads snapping toward the sound. Light floods the closet as the door swings open, and there stands Taehyung, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Time's up, lovebirds!" he announces cheerfully. "Did you two work out your... tension?"

Jungkook is going to kill him. He's actually going to murder his best friend. Right after he dies of embarrassment. Again.

"Hyung," he croaks out, face burning hotter than the sun. "Did you—was this—did you plan this?!"

Taehyung just grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're welcome!"

Yeah, Jungkook is definitely going to kill him.

Just... maybe after he changes his pants.

1K notes · View notes

muniimyg · 2 months ago

Text

ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

25 // next // series m. list

note: the reveal !

warnings: kissing, grinding, missionary, ummm.. one leg on headboard position idk, doggy, and riding ! dirty talk (daddy, fanboy, fucktoy, whore, etc) idk what else but that's the vibe ! enj <3

the past month with jungkook has been nothing short of fun and comfort. all you’ve felt with him is this kind of warmth that sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

jungkook is playful in ways that make your stomach ache from laughter and patient in ways that make your heart swell. he’s always giving in, always biting into you—whether it’s your words, your antics, or the way you press your fingers into his jaw when he teases you too much. he’s funny and charming in ways that are overbearing—smothering—if it weren’t for the fact that you love every second of it.

and god…

it’s been so hard not to slip out the words.

you love him.

it’s only been a month, but what the fuck does time has to do with the kind of certainty he makes you feel? the kind of love he makes you believe in?

because this is… this is it. this is love. there is nothing else it could be.

jungkoook is a gentleman in ways you never expected.

not just in the hold-the-door-open-for-you way, but in the way he holds it open for the people behind you, too. to him, it’s second nature. it’s the same way it’s second nature for him to shrug off his hoodie and tug it over your shoulders before you even realize you’re cold. it’s in the way he loves everything you are, everything you wear, but still, when you lean in to take a bite of food, his hand finds your chest, shielding you from prying eyes like it’s instinct.

“baby,” you laugh, mid-bite, muffled. “you don’t have to do that.”

he just shrugs, nonchalant. “they don’t deserve the view.”

even at the movies, as he walks behind you, it’s the way his hand is placed at your lower back, guiding and protective. in crowded spaces, he pulls you into his side and tucks you against him like a secret. at dinners, he doesn’t just push your chair in—he makes sure your drink is within reach, makes sure you get the first bite of his food before he even digs into his own.

it’s so strange.

to feel such passion for someone in a short amount of time—but who are you to reject such goodness? such satisfaction?

so you don’t.

for the past month, you have let yourself be loved the way you deserve to be. for the past month, you have been loving him the way he deserves to be loved… except, through sex.

oh god.

sex.

you haven’t had sex with anyone since your ex-boyfriend. it’s always just been you and your vibrators… so, when you met jungkook—fuck.

you were excited.

but after the first time you met and he didn’t kiss you… you had a gut feeling sex with him would take time. which is fine. he’s a loser anyway, what did you expect?

but time (and ovulation) catches up. your lips want to kiss something that isn’t his lips. in fact, you want his lips to be kissing your lips—the ones in between your legs.

the frustration has been eating you up for days. so, you give in to your cravings at your one month mark. it was a joke—at least, it was meant to be one… instead, you find yourself scrambling through your closet for lingerie you think he’ll like best.

you choose black.

simple, classy, and sexy. perfect for him.

once you get yourself dressed, you put on a silk robe and spray your favourite perfume. you touch up your make-up (yes, we’re wearing makeup and sweating it off) and eagerly wait for him. for a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror and tilt your head.

wow, you’re so pretty.

you hope he lasts longer than 5 minutes—

just then, there’s a knock on the door

hurriedly, you let out a little squeal before heading to the front door.

as you open the door, you find jungkook standing there, a cake box balanced in one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. his hair is a mess—like he’s been running his fingers through it over and over, the way he always does when he’s nervous. but the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

without a word, he lifts the lid of the box, revealing the cake inside. in bright, obnoxious frosting, the words;

best dick ever

… stare back at you.

you blink.

then snort.

then burst into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand.

“aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“oh… right. sorry,” he says, feigning innocence as he tilts his head. “should i make it up to you?”

you narrow your eyes. “yeah.”

his brows lift, playful. “yeah? like how?”

you don’t answer. instead, you grab a fistful of his hoodie and pull him in, catching his mouth in a kiss. he hums against your lips, the corners of his mouth quirking up. mid-kiss, he murmurs, “happy one month, baby.”

you laugh into him, harder this time, shaking your head as your arms slip around his neck. and when he tugs at the knot of your robe, letting it slip from your shoulders, he throws his head back with a groan—boyish, excited, so very him.

“fuck,” he grins, placing the cake down on the coffee table without looking, hands already reaching for you. but you’re already a step ahead, fisting his hoodie again, tugging him toward your room.

he follows without hesitation.

the hottest thing anyone can do is want you.

like, all of you.

jungkook is sure to do just that.

the minute jungkook steps into your bedroom, he tugs his hoodie over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought. his hands move to his pocket, pulling out his phone. at first, you think he’s checking something—maybe a text, maybe the time—but instead, he holds it up so you can see.

the screen goes black as he shuts it off.

for a second, you’re confused. he’s always on his phone, always checking something, scrolling absentmindedly even in the middle of conversations. but then, it clicks.

jungkook wants all of you.

this isn’t about notifications ruining the mood, not about avoiding distractions or the buzz of the outside world. it’s a quiet declaration—he doesn’t need a screen, doesn’t need to record, doesn’t need anything but this. he doesn’t need proof.

he just needs you.

his eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching, waiting.

your chest tightens, warmth blooming in your stomach. you swallow, stepping closer, fingers skimming over his wrist before you take the phone from his hand, placing it on your nightstand.

“just us?” you murmur.

his lips twitch.

“just us.”

and then he’s kissing you, slow and deep, like he’s savoring the moment already. like he’s making sure you feel it, too.

for someone who has been salivating, craving, and whining for his dick—you sure have a funny way of showing him just how bad you want it.

as jungkook’s toned and slightly sweaty body towers of you, you bite your lip and watch the way his chain dangles above. you’re sweating a bit, a little overstimulated from the way he just finished eating you out.

of course, he edged you. he didn’t let you finish on his tongue, but you were so fucking close. your pussy is currently throbbing and so sore from the agonizing pain of clenching.

jungkook smirks, watching you regulate your breathing. you aren’t panting or anything, but he can tell you’re trying to play it cool. he leans in, kissing your lips ever so slightly.

“it’s okay to cum.”

“says you.”

he chuckles and mocks you. “says you.”

“shut up and put it in.”

jungkook raises a brow at you. “i’d watch your mouth if i were you.”

“why’s that, daddy? am i being naughty? we’re not even doing this raw. if anything, i’m not being naughty enough.”

he rolls his eyes.

“you and your fucking attitude.”

“what attitude?”

“shut up.”

“you shut up—oh…”

jungkook holds his length and glides it around your entrance. you feel his head enter for a millisecond before he uses his hard cock to split through your wet folds. he hums, taking the feeling in. you let out little whimpers, needy and ever so lewd.

it’s music to his ears. in fact, it’s his favourite melody.

“gonna put it in,” jungkook prepares you. “okay, baby?”

“o-okay,” you breathe. “mhmmmm…”

then, jungkook hisses.

he feels himself harden even more as he pushes himself inside you. your cunt is so fucking tight, it sends shivers throughout his body. you’re so warm and so fucking pretty as he watches the way you shift, adjusting to his size. you roll your shoulders back, your chin is slightly tilted as you whimper his name.

“jungkook…”

“mhmm?”

he moves in more, and then entirely. jungkook buries his long, hard, thick, and veiny cock inside you. it slips in easily, all thanks to your precious wetness. jungkook shifts his position, lowering his body more and places kisses around your neck to your ear.

for a moment, he blanks.

this is all he has ever wanted. he wanted to wait for a month because of everything you were dealing with but also because… he knew it would be worth the wait. the tension, the built connection, and the yearning… oh god, does this feel so fucking good.

to put it into perspective; you’re home and he’s been homesick.

“nghhh… jungkook?”

“yes, baby?”

“can you put it in?”

jungkook’s eyes shoot up at you.

his pleasurable expression changes into a death glare.

instantly, you throw your head back and laugh. you mumble an apology and cup his cheeks to kiss him. he bites your bottom lip as he pulls away. pouting, he huffs at you.

“that wasn’t funny.”

“it was so funny.”

“you’re the worst, actually.”

“i know,” you agree. “i’m sorry. you’re actually really big.”

his glare stills.

“how big?”

you sigh and give in to what he’s leading you to.

“you’re too big daddy,” you begin to praise him. “never felt cock like this. feel you in my guts… god, are you gonna rearrange them? gonna slut me out? bet watching me all this time made you so horny. did i make you horny? was waiting out one month worth it? do i feel good, baby? how does your giant monster cock feel good inside me? or… are you just gonna be a little bitch and make me do all the work? make me fuck you like the good little fanboy you are?”

“not a fucking fanboy.”

“but you are my stupid fanboy… you must’ve loved watching me get myself off. how does it feel, daddy? how does it feel to fuck the pussy you’ve been dreaming of?”

jungkook moans in response.

“so good..”

“how good?”

“too good…”

he places one forearm down beside you as the other reaches for your breasts. squeezing it, he begins to thrust in and out of you.

“ohhh.. oh my god… yes, yes, yes! y-yeah, that’s it…” you moan. “just like that, daddy… fucking me so gently… come on, daddy—i know i’m your favourite toy. use me, okay? promise to use me like a little bitch?”

jungkook hisses through his teeth.

“don’t talk about yourself like that, baby. you know how much i—”

“how much you… what?”

love you.

“how much i… god, you’re so pretty. have you always been this pretty? feel like you got prettier.”

with that, he fucks you harder and faster. the switch-up is so crazy that you hit your head on your headboard.

“shit, you okay?”

you can’t help but laugh.

“i’m fine,” you reassure him. “come on, daddy… keep going.”

as he fucks you, your breasts move in unison and he can’t help but drool at the sight. for a split second, you feel him tremble.

it’s like he’s about to give in.

so, you do the only logical thing you can.

you gasp, eyes widening, mouth hanging open in exaggerated shock. then, slowly—dramatically—you stick your arm out, turning your thumb downward like you’ve just witnessed the most tragic disappointment of your life.

“boooooo!”

“w-what the fuck?” jungkook rolls his eyes.

without hesitation, he roughly places his hand over your neck. tightening his grip, he fucks you harder. you gasp for air and roll your eyes back.

you take the feeling it.

how rough and fast he’s pumping himself inside you. how you feel yourself climaxing soon… how wet you are and how it’s spilling into your sheets. how his dick feels inside you—like it belongs inside you.

the curve of his tip hits specific spots inside you that has never been reached before. his length, girth, and motion compliment each other—making him fucking you easily your favourite feeling in the world.

perhaps, he was right about waiting for a month.

the yearning and tension makes all of this feel a million times more worth it.

“nghhh,” you croak. “yes, yes yes… that’s it, daddy… f-fuck me harder! fuck me so hard!”

“you want me to fuck you harder, baby?”

“mhmm. fuck me so good, please… wanna more.”

jungkook nods and takes his hand off of your throat. he lets you catch your breath before he pulls himself out of you. jungkook places his hands on your waist and pulls you down. without hesitation, he kneels and lifts you. both of your ears ring from how fast your hearts are beating as he takes one and places it on the headboard and leaves the other on the mattress.

“look down,” jungkook spits.

obediently, you do.

he hisses, jerks himself off, and then shoves his cock inside you.

you watch as his balls smack into your ass. you watch as he moves his hips, dragging his dick in and out of you. you hear the sound of your wet pussy, sucking his length as he pulls out. before you know it, jungkook is smacking your ass. you see his hand flying to your cheeks and you let out a whimper as his palms make contact with your ass.

“nghh…. feels so—”

“you wanna be treated like a fucking whore? look at your pussy right now. look at how much it needs my stupid cock. do you see it, baby? do you see how desperate your pussy needs my cock?”

“yeah,” you choke out a sob. “need you so much… my pussy is yours, daddy. so fucking yours—ahh! oh my god, oh my god—j-jungkook!”

he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you back up. roughly, he tugs your hair and kisses you. you let out a moan as he takes your leg off your headboard and brings you to the edge of your bed. naturally, you get on all fours and arch your back. he gets off the bed and stands behind you. he licks his fingers and explores your folds before placing his dick back inside.

as expected, he fucks you like an absolute dog.

“this is what you wanted, right?”

“m-mhmm,” you moan. “so good. you fuck me so good, daddy..”

“that’s right, baby… only me. god, your ass is so pretty. your tits are so perfect. you’re so… holy fuck, you’re my dream girl.”

“yeah?” you blush, fighting the urge to cum.

“yeah,” jungkook whimpers. “my dream girl.”

with that, he pulls himself out. you crawl back to the middle of your bed and wait for him to join you. when he does, he crashes his lips onto yours and gives you this deep and passionate kiss. like he’s never kissed you before… it feels so new.

without exchanging words, you grab him by his shoulders and have him lie down. you get on top and begin to grind on him. jungkook watches with his brows knitted together and his throat dries as you hump his cock. then, he loses it when you lift your hips and take a hold of his cock.

“can we… can i?”

jungkook nods.

no hesitation.

not a thought behind his doe eyes.

nothing.

of course, he’d do it raw with you.

anything you want.

with loving eyes, jungkook watches as you peel the condom off his angry cock. you twist the plastic around your fingers and gather it all up before dangling it in front of him.

“you have to cum inside me.”

“okay.”

“promise?”

“promise.”

happily, you toss the condom to the side and giggle.

planting your legs on either side of him, you sit on top of his raw cock and rub yourself on it. you move your hips up and down, taking the feeling of how the curves of his dick feel against your swollen pussy. jungkook watches his dick’s tip grow angrier and angrier.

and just when he feels like it’s about to explore—

“ohhh,” you shiver as you sink into his cock. “holy shit…”

jungkook lets out a relieved moan. you hum as he throws his head back and shuts his eyes. you feel him harden even more inside of you. as a reaction, your walls tighten.

“feel so good, baby…”

“yeah? open your eyes, daddy… don’t you wanna watch me fuck you?”

jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll last if he sees this. if he watches your tits bounce or if he watches the way your pussy eats his dick up… he can’t. he’s not strong enough.

“might cum if i do.”

you laugh and hit his chest.

“okay… cum then.”

suddenly, you grab his hand and place it on your breast.

jungkook lifts his head and opens his eyes. he watches as you bounce on his dick shamelessly. you throw your head back. your hips move fast and slow—dragging the consuming feeling of climaxing out.

then, jungkook feels his hips about to buck.

“___,” he huffs. “gonna cum…’

“me too,” you pant.

jungkook winces, feeling his toes curl. he feels like he’s just been hit by lightening as this sense of electricity rushes throughout his body. jungkook cums inside you, spilling as you continue to ride him.

shortly after, you cum.

then, you get off him.

you fit yourself into jungkook’s arms without a second thought, tucking yourself against his chest like you belong there—because you do. his warmth wraps around you instantly, familiar and safe, and he presses a kiss to your lips, then your forehead, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter.

then, he murmurs, “so… best dick ever?”

you groan, smacking his chest, but you’re already laughing. you’re already pulling him in for another kiss. he’s already kissing you back.

“best dick ever.”

the room is quiet.

your breathing is even, soft against the pillow, completely knocked out. jungkook lays there for a moment, staring at the ceiling before sighing, pushing the covers off. he’s thirsty.

jungkook rubs a hand over his face as he makes his way to the kitchen, feet padding softly against the floor. he’s thirsty.

but when he gets there, he stops.

hoseok is at the sink, sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in soapy water. his hair is slightly damp, like he’s just gotten home and taken a quick shower. the fridge door is still cracked open from when he shoved the cake inside.

jungkook leans against the counter, watching him. "you just get back?"

hoseok doesn’t look up.

"yeah. figured i’d clean up a bit."

jungkook hums, grabbing a glass. he watches as hoseok rinses a plate, setting it neatly in the drying rack. his movements are methodical, familiar.

"you always do this?" jungkook asks, filling his glass with water. “wash dishes at 3am?”

hoseok shrugs. "she’s sensitive to smell. hates waking up to dirty dishes."

there’s something about the way he says it, like he’s done this a thousand times before, like it’s second nature. jungkook doesn’t like the way that sits in his chest.

jungkook takes a sip of water, trying to figure out the vibe right now. he’s never really had any issues with hoseok before but for some reason… right now… something feels off.

hoseok finishes up, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it onto the counter.

"you should get some sleep," he says, already heading towards his room.

jungkook swallows the last of his water. "i’ll wash my cup."

hoseok raises a brow. "you don’t have to."

"i want to."

there’s a brief pause before hoseok nods, drying his hands one last time before disappearing down the hall. jungkook turns back to the sink, rinsing out his cup. then, just as he reaches for the faucet, something buzzes.

he glances over. hoseok’s phone, left carelessly on the counter, screen lighting up with a notification.

jungkook shouldn’t look. he knows that.

but he does anyway.

@ donotdisturb: hobi idc if you gave me the video ffs @ donotdisturb: u gave that to me all on ur own. i never asked for that shit. i tweeted it, but u supplied it. get that thru ur fucking head. it’s ur fault. @ donotdisturb: u’ve stalled her enough. she’s pushing thru with the fucking lawsuit thanks to that fucking jungkook guy. do u get that? @ donotdisturb: i’m getting sued and it’s all ur fault @ donotdisturb: shit, what kind of a best friend are u to her anyway? going thru her shit and stealing her fucking sex tape to send to a hater like me when the gag is that u’re her biggest hater. what is that? @ donotdisturb: thought u liked her lol. turns out u’re the worst wannabe boyfriend @ donotdisturb: stop the lawsuit or send me fucking money to pay the settlement. this is ur last warning before i expose u.

jungkook freezes as he reads the notifications.

his grip tightens around the cup. his jaw clenches. the words sit heavy in his stomach, stirring something ugly.

before he can think, before he can stop himself, he picks up the phone and storms down the hall, shoving open hoseok’s door without knocking.

hoseok barely has time to react before jungkook is in his face, voice sharp.

"what the fuck did you do?"

hoseok freezes for half a second, then instantly goes on the defensive. "who the fuck do you think you are barging into my room like this?" he snaps. "why do you have my fucking phone? give me that—”

“it was you.”

“what the fuck are you on? holy shit, you’re so fucking irritating, you know that? i get you’re her boyfriend, but this is my fucking room, that’s my fucking phone, and she’s my fucking best friend—"

"that’s all she is to you," jungkook bites. "right?"

silence.

before hoseok can even open his mouth to say anything, you appear in the doorway, rubbing sleep from your eyes. you don’t even think twice before stepping into jungkook’s side, arms looping around his waist as you nuzzle into him.

"why are you guys so loud?" you mumble, half awake. "what’s going on?"

jungkook doesn’t look away from hoseok. yet, his arm tightens around you.

“___…” hoseok begins. “jungkook… it’s late. we can talk about this tomorrow—”

“no,” jungkook spits. “explain yourself now.”

hoseok steps forward, attempting to grab his phone. jungkook doesn’t move back. instead, he offers the phone to you.

you stare at it blankly.

with worried eyes, hoseok shakes his head. “please, jungkook. i’m begging you. don’t—”

“tell her," jungkook deadpans. his tone is steady and leaves no room for argument. he means it with all his heart when he threatens hoseok; "right now… tell her or i will."

#bts smau #bts mini series #jungkook x yn #jungkook smut #bts jk #jk smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook boyfriend au #jk x yn #jungkook x reader #bts x yn

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irunaki · 4 months ago

Text

i watched the 1997 Odyssey movie

Circe drawing cuz shes so pretty

this is the scene in the Circe island with eurylochus n polites (or piglites, if u will) that i redrew with the epic designs

also Calypso is stunning too

dunno i just love pretty women

also Aeolus is a silly old man here AND I LOVE HIM HES SO HAPPY AND GIGGLY AND SILLY

ok now to the real thing

how did they make Hermes even frutier

hes so zesty i cant i was literally dying while watching this

this frame had me crying LOOK AT THIS

overall 10/10

the cgi and special effects had me rolling on the floor i cant tell if its bc they are good or too bad but either way very good

extra points for extra pretty women, i think i fell in love with Circe and Calypso twice now so good job on that

Also I love Athena so much specially when shes mesing around with Ody and then Telemachus, they're so cute

2K notes · View notes

pennyellee · 3 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 - 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐁

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔 title: champagne confetti - side B (part 2 of champagne confetti) pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 18,4K beta read by @chaoticpuff17

main masterlist

Prompt 1:“you give me brand new emotion, you got me drinking that potion” Prompt 2: The lines did blur, in his mind for sure. Will you be tamed or will your passion for fashion falter for greater good - a life without Jeon Jungkook. When everything you’ve worked for hangs in the balance, his twisted love comes as both a gift and a curse.

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | physical violence, hint of incapable police department, jk is the boy saviour here and everybody bends backwards for his famous ass, dubious consent, possessive/obsessive behavior, emotional manipulation, references to medication that affects mental and physical responses as "drugs" or "pills" or "medication", power imbalance, themes of isolation and confinement, gaslighting, mentions of mafia and criminal underworld, forced intimacy, oral sex (m!receiving), numbness, reader's difficulties getting wet, use of lube, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding/cow girl, orgasm difficulties, creampie, and so on (if i'll forgot smth, im so soorrryy!)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, abuse of medicine, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

previously: 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 next:

author's note: happy new year to all of you! so, where to start right? this was a long ass ride, mainly because i was fighting with myself to not burn out on this fic coz i loved it so much, and i still love it, but i won't lie that i got lil overwhelmed with how much love this fic received and how much pressure i had to suppress to not decide to just not finish part two. I am so so so grateful for each and one of you! ♥ and thank you for your patience too. Life's not easy, please understand that, i always try my best. Thank you all.

On a different note, part two a.k.a side B content is most likely something you might or might not expect to happen. And while I understand that many of you might not like where the narrative is headed, I humbly ask you to express your opinions in a nice and respectful way. If you wish to treat champagne confetti as a one-shot, I suggest you to not read part two, naturally.

1996 If they asked you how you managed to slip away when he had you in his grasp, ready to pull you back upstairs, you wouldn’t know the answer. That night became blurrier each day. All you remember is the rush of adrenaline as you pushed through the crowd, your heart racing with each step that took you further away from him.

If they asked how you ended up in the New York City police department, drenched in a flimsy pyjamas with an empty black file you once thought was your portfolio, shivering from the cold and sheer panic coursing through your veins, you wouldn’t know the answer.

If they asked how Jeon Jungkook picked you up not even thirty minutes later, knowing exactly which department you were at before you even managed to get your bearings and speak of what had happened to you, you wouldn’t know.

Apparently, you head-butted Jeon Jungkook. Well, that would explain why you were arrested and why he picked you up, ensuring the officers wouldn’t press charges against you.

Why didn’t you say anything to the officers, you may ask. Unless you did.

"You’re arresting me for what?! SELF-DEFENSE, MOTHERFUCKER, KIDNA—"

"Baby, that’s enough already. I’m so sorry, officer. I threw her birth control away by accident—"

That’s what he told them. You got into a fight over birth control, ran away in the heat of the moment, and accidentally head-butted him. You could still see the dried blood under his nose. His whole story felt like one truth mixed with lies, but you may not remember much. You certainly didn’t head-butt him by accident. You would never miss such a exquisite chance, god forbid.

"Are you seriously going to believe that sh—"

"Sir, she’s clearly having an episode. I’m so sorry about this," Jungkook’s voice dripped with concern as he addressed the officers, his hand running through his hair in apparent distress.

"Listen, you little—" your words were cut off by one of the officers raising his hand.

"Ma’am, please calm down. Mr. Jeon here is a respected man. These accusations you’re making are very serious."

"But he’s lying! He’s manipulating everything!—" your voice cracked with desperation.

"She’s been under a lot of stress lately," Jungkook interjected smoothly, fixing his gray zip-up hoodie, all dry unlike your clothing. "The fashion industry can be brutal. I’ve been trying to help her cope."

The officers exchanged knowing looks, their expressions softening as they regarded Jungkook with sympathy. One of them nodded understandingly, "We see these situations more often than you’d think, sir."

"I can take care of her from here," Jungkook assured them, his voice honey-sweet but his eyes cold as steel. "She just needs rest and her medication."

You watched in horror as the officers began nodding, your truth dissolving in the face of his perfectly crafted lies. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as you realized no one was going to believe you over him. He made you look like a psycho.

So, if they asked how in God’s name you ended up being led back to the glass cage you vacated only a few hours ago, with memories flashing before your eyes like a broken film reel, you wouldn’t know. Because that shit is straight-up unbelievable.

Each moment felt disjointed and surreal, a series of fragmented thoughts punctuated by Jungkook’s voice, smooth and calming yet laced with menace.

As he guided you back through the sleek hallways of the penthouse, the familiar opulence felt suffocating. The delicate decor, once a sign of luxury, now seemed to mock you. Jungkook’s hand rested on your lower back, a possessive gesture that sent chills down your spine.

"I hate you," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could rein them in.

Jungkook paused, the hand on your lower back tightening just enough to make you flinch. His gaze locked onto yours, those dark eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite decipher—was it anger, or something more akin to hurt? The sharp intake of breath that followed felt like a crack in his carefully crafted facade, and for a fleeting moment, the man behind the mask was revealed.

"No, you don’t. You don’t know what you feel," he replied, his voice low and steady, like the calm before a storm. The tightening grip on your back felt almost protective, but the intensity of his gaze was unnerving.

"I know enough. I know you’re trying to control every aspect of my life. You can’t keep me locked away forever."

"Locked away?" he echoed, the corner of his mouth twitching in a sardonic smile. "Is that how you see this? This is a sanctuary, a place where you’re safe. I’ve given you everything, Y/N."

"Everything?" you scoffed, your voice trembling with disbelief and rage. "You’ve taken everything from me, and now you added my dignity to the collection." The words hung heavy in the air between you, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something dangerous flickering in his eyes.

"Well fucking done, Jeon–"

"Well fucking done, YOU!" He interrupted with his voice laced with anger.

"How do you imagine me trusting you after the stunt you just pulled?!" He turned to face you abruptly, screaming those words into your face.

"You are one to talk, Jeon! That baby room upstairs speaks volumes, you fucker!" Jungkook’s face turned pale, his eyes widening with genuine surprise.

"You went into the baby room?" His voice was a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place—fear, perhaps?

"You hid the portfolio there, of course, I did."

"That room was supposed to be a surprise," he growled, stepping closer until you could feel his breath on your face.

"You had to ruin it."

"Surprise?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You can’t force a future on me that I don’t want, you moron!"

His hand shot out, gripping your arm tightly. "You think you have a choice in this?" he hissed. "You think you can just walk away and pretend none of this ever happened?"

"I know I can," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "And I will. You don’t own me."

Jungkook’s grip tightened, his face inches from yours. "You’re mine, Y/N. You always have been. And you always will be.”

"You’re insane," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. You saw the change in color in his eyes when you said those words. With a burst of adrenaline, you yanked your arm from Jungkook’s grip and bolted up the stairs, his furious shouts echoing behind you. Your feet barely touched the steps as you flew toward the recording room, heart pounding with fear. Bursting into the room, you slammed the door behind you, your eyes locking onto the recording booth.

Jungkook stormed in moments later, his face contorted with rage. "I’m gonna fucking teach you a lesson, you ungrateful brat!" he bellowed, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

You held perfectly still, watching as he moved closer to the recording booth. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing like a drum in your ears. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering around the room, before stepping into the booth.

As soon as he was inside, you sprang into action. You dashed towards the door, slamming it shut and locking it with trembling hands. Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock as he realized what had happened, and he lunged towards the door just as you secured the lock.

"What the fuck, Y/N!" he roared, pounding on the glass. "Let me out!"

Ignoring his furious shouts, you grabbed a nearby chair and wedged it under the doorknob, barricading the door. You took a step back, breathing hard, and met his furious gaze through the glass.

"This ends now."

You ran through the penthouse, desperate to escape before Jungkook could free himself.

As you reached the front door and yanked it open, you collided with a solid figure, stumbling back. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and intense eyes, his expression a mix of surprise and concern.

"Who the hell are you?" you snapped, your voice trembling with fear and adrenaline.

"Min Yoongi," he replied, his tone calm yet probing. "I’m a doctor. Jungkook called me—"

Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay composed. "We don’t need a doctor. Jungkook is sleeping anyway," you lied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"He must have forgotten he even called you—"

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed as he took in your disheveled state, your pajamas still not dry, and the raw fear in your eyes.

"You look terrified," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Your chest tightened, a wave of panic rising. You needed to get rid of him—fast.

"Really, Yoongi-doctor-whatever, it’s fine. I just need some rest—" You cut yourself off, realizing you were only digging yourself into a deeper hole. Yoongi looked unconvinced, his gaze piercing as he studied you.

Before you could finish, a loud crash echoed from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Your heart skipped a beat, and your mind raced, knowing Jungkook must have escaped the recording booth.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered towards the noise, his expression darkening with suspicion. "What was that?" he asked, his voice laced with concern and suspicion. Your mind raced, trying to think of an excuse, but you knew it was futile.

"It’s nothing," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Probably just some stuff falling ov—" that’s when an even louder crash sound echoed. Yes. He is totally out of there. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Fuck!" you muttered under your breath, closing your eyes as you listened to Jungkook’s heavy footsteps. You could sense the rage in every thud. The tension between you thickened, your body shaking as his furious footsteps grew closer from upstairs. You could hear him bellowing for you, rattling the doors in his rage. The time to make a run for it was slipping away.

"I need to get out of here. Please, you have to help me," you pleaded, turning to Yoongi.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked at you—his gaze unreadable, as if he was weighing something in his mind. After a beat, he spoke again, his voice clipped and cold.

"Don’t be like the others, Y/N."

You froze at his words, your blood running cold. "The others?" you whispered, barely able to comprehend what he was implying.

Yoongi didn’t elaborate, but the weight of his gaze told you everything you needed to know. The look in his eyes wasn’t one of compassion—it was something darker, more knowing.

Yoongi’s gaze was locked on you, but you couldn’t afford to stop, couldn’t afford to hesitate—not when Jungkook’s rage was closing in on you, his every step a reminder of how little time you had left. Without warning, you darted toward him, trying to push past him. Yoongi moved in response, stepping into your path, his cold gaze never leaving yours.

"You're not leaving," he repeated, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. His presence was like a wall, blocking every path of escape. You didn’t stop. You tried to shoulder past him, using every ounce of strength and fear-fueled desperation to break free, but his arm shot out, grabbing your wrist with an iron grip.

"Let go of me!" you hissed, thrashing in his hold.

Yoongi’s expression remained impassive, but you could see the subtle shift in his stance as he tightened his grip. He wasn’t letting go, not without a fight. You yanked your free hand back, driving it forward with all the force you could muster, slamming it into Yoongi’s chest.

"He said you’re a good girl, but all I see is a brat who needs to be tamed," he warned, his voice steady but sharp. You fought him again, but the door seemed impossibly far, and Jungkook was just moments away.

In that moment, all you could do was scream.

You slowly woke up, the soft hum of voices drifting into your awareness before the world around you even began to make sense. At first, there was nothing more than a distant buzz, the kind that lingers when you’re still trapped between sleep and reality. But as the fog in your mind began to lift, the sound of two familiar voices cut through the haze—Jungkook’s, low and impatient, and Yoongi’s, calm and cold.

You blinked slowly, your eyelids heavy as if you’d been drugged, though you couldn’t be sure. You tried to sit up, but your body felt sluggish, unwilling to obey. Everything seemed wrong. The weight on your chest. The thickness in your head.

"She’s still out of it?" Jungkook’s voice, sharp and worried, came from somewhere nearby.

You tried to focus, but the disorientation kept you from piecing together the words. Still, you could feel the presence of both men—close, but not yet in your line of sight.

"She's sleeping," Yoongi’s voice was colder than you remembered, a warning in its tone. You instinctively tried to move, but your limbs refused to cooperate. Panic threatened to claw its way to the surface, but you pushed it down, trying to stay composed. You couldn’t be weak. Not now.

"She’s stubborn," Jungkook murmured, frustration evident in his voice. "You know she’ll never accept it. If I show her the truth, she’ll run again."

Yoongi’s laughter was light, but there was no warmth in it. "You sound like Namjoon."

"How is Peaches?"

There was a pause, thick with unspoken tension, before Yoongi continued, his words measured but still carrying an undercurrent of something darker.

"Her recovery... is progressing very well. She’s strong. Stronger than we probably thought."

"That’s good to hear."

"You can mend the wounds, but the mind... that’s another matter. She won't be the same." You flinched at his words. What happened to the woman they are talking about?

"But that essentially works in Namjoon’s favor."

Jungkook’s voice grew quiet at Yoongi’s words, the weight of the implication settling between them like a heavy shroud.

"How so?" His tone held a mixture of confusion and curiosity, but there was an underlying edge, as if he didn’t fully trust where this conversation was heading.

"Namjoon... He’s always been good at seeing people as they are. He doesn’t need to force things. He knows how to manipulate the mind. To make someone want to comply."

Jungkook remained silent for a long moment. His breath was audible, shallow and strained, and you could almost feel his inner conflict.

"Well, I should stop by for a crash course ’cause apparently I cannot move this one," Jungkook huffed, frustrated. Yoongi’s laughter again, light but tinged with something darker this time.

"You need to claim her, make it official. Show the world that she’s yours." Your pulse quickened, and your mind started to get dizzy again.

"She’s already in your head. You think it’s the running that’s hurting you? No, Jungkook. It’s the fact that she’s living in your thoughts, in your every decision. You’ll bend over backward for her, but she’ll never respect you for it. She needs to see you take control. Then she’ll respect you. Then she’ll stay."

"How am I supposed to make her mine when she keeps running? My original plan is fucked; she saw the baby room, hyung."

"You’re overthinking it, Jungkook. She’s already seen it, so what? It’s not a crime to want a child, for fuck’s sake."

"She saw the future I was building for us, and she’s already rejecting it."

Yoongi let out a slow, calculated breath, his voice steady as he responded. "She’s rejecting it because you haven’t made her understand it yet. She doesn’t know what’s good for her. You’ve given her too many choices, Jungkook. You’ve let her think she has the power to decide. And look where that’s gotten you. She’s running, isn’t she?"

There was a pause. You could almost hear Jungkook’s thoughts racing as the truth of Yoongi’s words sunk in.

"You’ve got to take control of the situation, Jungkook. Make her see that there’s no running, no escaping, that there’s no reason to!--" he raised his voice an octave higher before he hushed it again when Jungkook motioned urgently to prevent from waking you up.

"Make her see that you’re the one who decides her future now. You’ve made all this for her—don’t let it slip away just because she’s scared."

"I don’t want her to be scared… I want her to want me." The weight of their expectations, of what Jungkook was being urged to do, twisted in your chest like a growing storm.

"Well, if this won’t work, we can think of something more—"

"Permanent."

The idea hit you like a punch to the gut. The thought of being pushed into a corner, with no choice but to accept the suffocating control, twisted your insides. This wasn’t love. This wasn’t a partnership. This was manipulation. But they didn’t care. They never did.

As you lay there, helpless and broken, the seeds of doubt and fear began to take root in your mind. Would you ever be able to escape? It was too much to listen to, and you don’t remember at what point in their conversation you fell back asleep.

"Sedate her, if you have to," Yoongi continued, his tone smooth but dangerous. "Keep her compliant. Keep her obedient. She can’t fight you if she doesn’t have the strength to."

"Once she’s fed up with all the side effects, she’ll do anything to stop it—"

"If she’s weakened, if she’s broken down enough, she’ll have no choice but to comply."

"What if she’s pregnant, hyung?" he asked, hope and worry evident in his tone. Yoongi rolled his eyes and sighed out of frustration.

"You boys should realize that pregnancy does not have to happen after you stick it in once, for fuck’s sake."

You woke up to the sound of running water, the steady rhythm of droplets hitting tile. Your head still felt thick, the remnants of whatever drugs they’d given you making it hard to fully shake off the fog. As you struggled to sit up, the door to the bathroom opened, and a cloud of steam billowed out. Jungkook emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair damp and tousled from the shower.

Your eyes instinctively scanned his body, taking in the intricate tattoos that decorated his arm. Each one seemed to tell a story, a piece of the puzzle that was Jeon Jungkook. He caught your gaze and threw a smirk your way as he began to dry his hair with another towel.

"You cooled down a little?" he asked, his tone light but with an underlying tension.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry. "What did you give me?" you managed to croak out.

"Just something to help you rest," he replied, stepping closer to the bed. "You were exhausted, and I needed you to stay put."

"Stay put?" you repeated, trying to muster some anger, but the drugs still held you in their grip. "You drugged me, Jungkook."

"To protect you," he said, his voice firm. "And to protect us. This running has to stop, love. There is no getting away and that’s final."

You tried to sit up straighter, but your body refused to cooperate. "How is this supposed to work between us?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You can’t just keep me here like this."

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "I know it’s not ideal, but I want to make this work. You just need to trust me."

"Trust you?" you scoffed, though it lacked the bite you intended.

"Yes, love, trust me." He moved closer, his presence overwhelming as he sat on the edge of the bed. You wanted to speak up, but he was faster.

"You are confused—"

"Confused?" you interrupted, your voice a weak protest. "I know exactly what’s going on."

"You think you do," he countered softly, "but you don’t see the full picture. You don’t see how much I care about you, how much I’m willing to sacrifice to keep you safe."

"Safe?" you echoed, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness.

"Yes, and before you think of snooping around the penthouse again, your portfolio is already in the hands of someone who can give you a very high-profile job." You stared at him, processing his words through the haze.

"I kept my promise," his eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. It was never here, and the file you thought your portfolio was in, was just scribbles of something incoherent. You made a mistake. You should have given up the portfolio and just built your career from the ground up again. Or you should have never met Jeon Jungkook. Never given him the chance to fall in love with you, lure you in, and lastly fuck you good. Way too good.

"At what cost, Jungkook? My independence?"

His expression softened slightly, though his resolve remained.

"You need to stop fighting me. You need to see that this is for the best—"

He climbed onto the bed, his towel barely clinging to his hips as he moved closer to you. His presence was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of fear and reluctant fascination. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I want you to succeed," he whispered. "But you need to stop running for that to happen and let me take care of you."

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a stark contrast to the confusion and fear swirling inside you, and for a moment, you found yourself melting into it.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. With that, he settled beside you, keeping you close and, as if it were a peace offering, he said:

"Friends is on the telly. Wanna watch?"

You stood under the shower, the warm water cascading over your body, trying to wash away the heaviness that clung to your every move. Despite the soothing temperature, you couldn't shake the lethargy that had settled deep in your bones. The antidepressants Jungkook insisted you take were doing their job, keeping you subdued, but they also left you feeling like a shell of yourself. You did not want to scream or argue. You had no strength to fight him; all you felt was a twisted, strange calmness.

The door was unlocked as there was nothing to lock them with, and he even insisted that wherever you are in the penthouse, the door will never be shut fully or you’ll lose the privilege to be alone even for a second. It was the aftermath of your little stunt in which you locked him in his recording booth and the state Jungkook left it in was not pleasant for the eye.

As you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at you seemed distant, a shadow of who you used to be. You had lost some weight, something Jungkook had noticed too, as his cooking became very carb- and protein-oriented.

In the kitchen, the smell of cooking filled the air. Jungkook was at the stove, focused on preparing breakfast while the stereo was on in the living room just like every morning. This time, he put the whole SWV album on repeat. You mentioned you liked girl groups. So now he plays girl groups in the mornings. The sight of him in his domestic element would have been comforting if not for the circumstances. Body covered by a large black shirt, his tattooed arm moved with precision, flipping whatever was on the pan and stirring a pot of something that smelled sweet.

"Morning," you said softly, your voice still raspy from sleep.

He turned, a smile spreading across his face. "Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?"

You nodded, though sleep had been fitful at best. "Yeah, better. Thanks."

In normal circumstances, you could imagine yourself sassing some nasty remark his way, but somehow that is not what your brain thinks of anymore.

"Good," he replied, his eyes flicking over you with an unreadable expression. "Breakfast will be ready soon. Take a seat, baby."

You moved to the table, your legs still unsteady. The medication made it hard to feel grounded, and you grasped the back of a chair to steady yourself. As you sat down, a memory flashed through your mind, a moment that made your stomach churn.

It had been a week ago, or maybe more. Time blurred under the constant influence of the drugs. You had missed a dose, intentionally, hoping for a moment of clarity. But Jungkook had noticed the difference in your demeanor almost immediately.

"Take it," he had ordered, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

You had refused, shaking your head, trying to stand your ground. But the look in his eyes had shifted from concern to something darker, more desperate.

Before you could react, he had grabbed you, forcing you down onto the bed. The pills were shoved into your mouth, and he held your nose, forcing you to swallow. Tears had streamed down your face, the bitter taste lingering long after the pills had gone down.

"Don’t make me do this again," he had whispered, his voice breaking with frustration. "Just take them Y/N."

Since then, you had complied, taking the pills under his watchful eye, the memory of that night a constant reminder of what defiance would bring.

Jungkook set a plate of pancakes in front of you, breaking your reverie. "Eat up," he said, his tone softer now. "You’ve lost some weight."

You picked up a fork, your hand trembling slightly. As you took a bite, he sat across from you, watching you closely. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension. This is so fucking awkward.

"I, um…" you began, hesitating. "I need something."

"What is it?" he asked, his gaze never leaving your face.

"I need some Tampax."

Jungkook's expression hardened at your request, his jaw tightening. The silence stretched uncomfortably as he processed your words. "Tampax," he repeated, his voice flat.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. "Yes. I..I got my period."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair.

"I thought you to be pregnant," he muttered, more to himself than to you. His frustration was palpable, the air thick with it.

"I'm sorry," you said automatically, though the apology felt hollow. What were you even apologizing for? For your body doing what it was supposed to do? For disappointing him? Why would you say that? Something flickered in his eyes when you said that, though.

"Can I go with you?" you asked carefully.

Jungkook's eyes shifted, darkening as he processed your question. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the air seemed to thicken with tension. He remained silent, staring at you as if weighing something in his mind. You haven’t been out in what seems like a month. You wouldn’t know; he took out every single thing that indicated time or date, just as he made all the doors lack the keys so you wouldn’t ever lock him or yourself somewhere. But you have been behaving, and looking at Manhattan through the thick glass windows was just not enough anymore. He did not even let you step on the balcony.

"Where?" he asked, his voice low and guarded.

You flinched, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "To the store. To get the...tampons."

"I can take care of it—"

"Kookie, please."

The softness in your voice seemed to catch him off guard. His expression faltered for a moment, a brief flicker of uncertainty flashing in his eyes before he composed himself. Jungkook's hand gripped the back of the chair as if fighting the urge to reach for you, to demand that you stay where you were.

"Please," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper now, trying to steady the trembling in your chest. "I just want to... feel normal, just for a moment. Please, Kookie."

His gaze shifted from you to the window, the silence between you thick and heavy, suffocating. The idea of letting you go outside, even though he would be right there, scared him, and it was evident in how reluctant he was whilst granting you this plea.

"I promise I’ll behave—" you added quickly, your voice barely audible as you tried to make him see that this wasn't about defiance, but about a small piece of normalcy that you so desperately needed.

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a fragile thread, ready to snap. He looked at you, eyes dark with something close to frustration, but there was a vulnerability too. You could see it in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his hands twitched, as though he was battling with himself.

Finally, he let out a slow breath, exhaling through his nose like a release of tension. "Fine," he muttered, the word falling between you like a reluctant concession.

"But you won’t get out of my sight." Jungkook continued, his voice hardening, as if the promise of letting you go outside came with an unspoken condition he couldn’t shake off.

You nodded, accepting his terms without argument. You didn’t have the strength to fight him on this, nor did you have the energy to explain that you weren’t asking for much.

A simple errand, just a quick trip.

"Let’s go, then," he said, his voice gruff.

You stood up, feeling the weakness in your legs from the antidepressants. They made you compliant, dulled your senses. Jungkook’s arm slid around your waist, his grip firm and possessive. You didn’t have the strength to resist.

Dressing was always a slow process for you, but this time for a different reason. While before you did not know what to choose to wear, now you just didn’t feel like dressing up. You chose simple clothes, if that word was ever even in your vocabulary – it is now. But when you looked upon your grey Max Mara coat with fur on the hem of its sleeves, you could not keep trying to hold on to some semblance of normalcy. You longed to be you again.

Jungkook’s eyes never left you. Not when you pulled on the last piece of clothing, not when you sat down to zip up your boots, and not when he put a warm scarf around your neck to keep you from the cold of December.

The car ride to the store was silent except for the radio that proudly played Christmas classics. You had to chuckle a little when you heard his voice playing from the radio of his reimagination of Oh Holy Night. It’s the time of the year, and you did not even realize how agonizingly slow time was in that penthouse. You stared out the window at the bustling streets of Manhattan, the snow-covered pavements, people all around. It was overwhelming, the normalcy of it all.

You walked into D'Agostino, and his hand never left yours while the other was pushing the trolley through the aisles. You looked at him, the sweater complimenting his build, his big brown coat on top of that.

You moved through the aisles, adding items to the cart under his watchful eye.

When you reached the health aisle, his grip tightened. You glanced up to see him slipping a box of pregnancy tests into the cart. Your heart sank, but you said nothing. That was what he was waiting for – to give him a reason to punish you in whatever way he pleased. But you wouldn’t give him that. Nonetheless, the implication was clear, and sooner or later you would have to fight him on that.

"Just in case," he mumbled.

As you turned the corner, you nearly collided with a couple that looked oddly familiar. They didn’t look normal, not in the way people usually did. There was something off about them, something familiar in a way that made your chest tighten. But you couldn’t put your finger on it.

"Jungkookie! Didn’t expect to see you here," the man said, his tone casual but with an underlying edge. His eyes lit up when he saw Jungkook, and it wasn’t hard to sense that they were far more than just friends. The man wore similar attire to Jungkook but in darker colors, his whole aura projecting wealth and power. She, on the other hand, was adorned in a striking red coat, her pregnant belly barely concealed beneath it. The red was too bright, too vivid, and you couldn’t ignore how much attention they drew, even in a crowd.

"Just running some errands. You know how it is." Jungkook’s voice and smile were thin, like something else was at play beneath his words. You could feel the tension in his body as he shifted slightly to face them. Was he scared of you misbehaving? Or acting up? Just what was going on in his head right now?

"Y/N, this is Jung Hoseok and his wife." There was a brief pause, his words heavy with something unspoken. Jung fucking Hoseok. You knew that name, knew the stories. The man was a businessman of the highest order, owning the distilleries producing the finest whiskey and brandy carrying the Jung’s and Kim’s name. He had nothing and everything at once with that fucking mullet.

"Hoseok, Princess - this is Y/N."

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than comfortable. His smile was smooth, disarming, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was a predator in the shape of a man.

"Nice to meet you, welcome to the family," he said smoothly, his tone warm, but his eyes glinted with something that made you feel as if he was evaluating you like a piece of merchandise. It was a greeting, but it didn’t feel like one. There was no warmth in it, no welcome. Not yet.

It was ownership, as if he was claiming you as kin before you even had a chance to understand what was happening. You could barely move, trapped in his gaze, in the suffocating air thick with tension. And then there was the mention of "family."

Family?

Your mind scrambled to understand the connection. What the hell did Hoseok have to do with Jungkook? Was this some business partner? Some associate? And then you remembered the stories—Jung Hoseok, the name whispered in the same breath as the Jung family distilleries, their illegal dealings. Alcohol, drugs, money, power... and whatever the hell was happening behind the scenes that you didn’t even begin to comprehend.

Jungkook’s hand clenched around yours, his body rigid as if daring you to question his actions. But you already knew—there was no room for questions here. No room for defiance. No room for anything other than what he allowed.

You felt a shiver race up your spine as Mrs. Jung—Princess—smiled sadly, her eyes flicking between you and Jungkook. She tilted her head, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to close in. Her eyes held something unsettling—empathy, maybe, but also something darker. She wasn’t looking at you with pity; it felt more like an understanding of the kind of life you were being thrust into. A life you couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

Her smile deepened, but the sadness never left her eyes.

"I hope you’re adjusting well," she said softly, her voice carrying an air of familiarity, but it was cold beneath the sweetness. "It’s a big change, isn’t it?"

Her words were innocent on the surface, but you knew better. They were a reminder of the power dynamic at play here, a subtle reaffirmation of your place in their world. You were still the outsider, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you were still under their watch, under their control. No freedom would ever be guaranteed.

Jungkook’s hand tightened around yours, the possessive pressure grounding you back in the moment. His gaze flicked from Mrs. Jung to Hoseok and then to you, an unreadable look passing across his face. He was silent for a moment, but the tension between the four of you was palpable, almost suffocating.

"Do you think you’ll make it to the Christmas gathering, Kook?" Hoseok asked, his voice smooth, his eyes glinting between you and him. As if he were asking whether you are ready to be part of the family.

His eyes darted to you, as if measuring whether or not you would speak, or even if you would understand what was actually happening.

"I’m not sure, Hyung," Jungkook finally answered, his voice colder than it had been moments ago. His grip on your hand remained firm, a silent warning that nothing about this encounter was casual, nor were any of you truly free.

"We’ll see."

Hoseok chuckled softly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as if the conversation were some kind of game to him—one where he already knew the outcome. The tension was suffocating. Every word, every gesture was an unspoken measure of who had the power and who had none.

"Well," Hoseok continued, "I’m sure we’ll all be expecting you there. It’s a family affair, after all. Wouldn’t want anyone to feel... excluded." He gave a small nod, and the implication wasn’t lost on you.

"Peaches wanted to talk to you for some time, Kook."

He visibly stiffened, his body language shifting into something more guarded. His fingers tightened around yours, the possessive grip now tinged with something darker, like a warning, a reminder of who he was and who you weren’t.

The mention of Peaches—and her connection to whatever the hell was going on—left you unsettled. Another piece of the puzzle that you didn’t understand, but felt creeping closer with every passing moment.

"Yeah, I know," was all Jungkook said. His tone brooked no argument. Who is she? What was her connection to Jungkook, and why did his entire demeanor shift the moment her name was mentioned?

Hoseok, watching the two of you closely, seemed to relish the silence that followed. He leaned in just slightly, eyes flicking between you and Jungkook, measuring something unseen. Just what is he trying to achieve?

His eyes never left Jungkook, but his words were directed at both of you. "She’s been wanting to have a chat for a while. About everything."

"Don’t worry about it, we’ll talk soon, Hyung," Jungkook finally muttered, his gaze turning toward you, softening for just a moment.

But the unease in his voice didn’t fool you. The more he avoided talking about Peaches, the more you knew there was something lurking beneath the surface. Something he was hiding. Something you weren’t meant to see. And it only made you feel more trapped.

Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightened so much that you winced, but you dared not say anything. His eyes flicked from Hoseok to Mrs. Jung, his expression unreadable. There was something cold in his gaze now, something sharp, but it was directed outward—at them.

The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken war fought with words, smiles, and a look that only people like them would understand. And then, just as quickly, the moment passed.

"Well, we won’t keep you," Hoseok said, his gaze lingering on you just a moment longer. His smile never faltered, but the weight of it made you feel small, insignificant.

"It was nice finally meeting you, Y/N."

Her name resonated in your head for a while before you gathered the courage to actually ask. There must be a reason why not one but two people had already talked to Jungkook about this Peaches. Who in the world names their child Peaches? Anyway, the way his demeanor shifted at the mention of her name left you with more questions than answers. You did not know why. This should not bother you at all.

Despite Jungkook’s attempts to reassure you that nothing was going to change, the nagging feeling of being kept in the dark gnawed at you. You had become part of his world, yet there were so many aspects of it that remained a mystery. Who exactly is Jeon Jungkook if not a popular heartthrob of this generation?

One evening, as you sat in the penthouse, the silence was interrupted by the soft strains of a piano melody drifting through the space. Jungkook was at the grand piano, his fingers gliding over the keys with a grace that belied the tension that seemed to have settled over him. You watched him for a moment, the music a temporary balm to the unease that had been building between you.

Taking a deep breath, you decided it was time to address the elephant in the room. "Jungkook," you called softly, walking over to where he sat. He looked up, his expression guarded but not unkind. You did not really express any affections towards him as of late. And apparently, he was giving you space to come to him yourself. How generous after what he has done to keep you here.

"Yeah, baby?"

You took a seat beside him on the piano bench, your fingers lightly brushing the keys. You sighed loudly because you couldn't believe you were actually going to ask him that.

"Who is Peaches?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. More from embarrassment than fear of his reaction. Jungkook’s expression shifted, a playful glint appearing in his eyes.

"Hm, someone sounds jealous?" he asked, his tone light and teasing. Obviously, that was the first thing he was going to ask.

You flushed, feeling your cheeks heat up at his question. "No, I’m not jealous," you retorted quickly, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Were you not?

Jungkook’s grin widened, and he leaned closer, his face just inches from yours. "Oh, really?" he murmured, his voice low and mischievous.

"Because it sounds like you might be a little bit jealous." You turned your head away, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up your neck, interplaying with frustration that was very much successfully toned down by the number of pills you’d taken this morning.

"I could not give a flying fuck, Jungkook, I’m just curious."

"A flying fuck, huh?" he repeated, his tone laced with amusement. Jungkook chuckled, the sound low and rich, his breath warm against your cheek.

He reached out and gently turned your face back to him, his fingers light on your chin.

"Peaches is Kim Namjoon’s fiancée," his tone softening but the amusement still present in his eyes. You could feel the tension in his fingers as he held your chin, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. And you could also not miss how the little ball of nerves you had in your chest suddenly evaporated.

You blinked, trying to process the information. "Namjoon’s fiancée?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. You knew Namjoon as the man next to Jungkook in the majority of the photographs he had hanging up, and you recall him talking about this Namjoon even before you got yourself into this situation. Jungkook looked up to Namjoon. The name carried weight, and you could see why Jungkook might be protective over such a significant part of his and his family’s life.

"I saved her life."

His words hung in the air, adding another layer to the mystery surrounding Jungkook and the world he was a part of.

"You saved her life?" you repeated, your voice softening. The weight of his words began to sink in, and you could see the depth of his connection to this woman named Peaches.

Jungkook nodded, his fingers still gently holding your chin. "Yeah, I did," he said quietly.

"H…how?" He seemed to be weighing his words carefully, the playful glint in his eyes dimming slightly. It was obvious. He wouldn’t tell you.

"I’m not sure you’re ready to know all of it at once," he said gently, his thumb brushing your skin. "But what you need to understand is that everything I’ve done, everything I’m doing, is for the good of the family."

"Are you like…Hoseok?" you asked, your voice wavering just slightly as you tried to make sense of everything. Jungkook leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he processed your question. He tilted his head, almost as if he were weighing your words. His fingers, which had been so tender on your chin, slowly slipped away, leaving a cool emptiness behind.

"Depends on who you think Hoseok is?" he replied, his voice light, but there was an underlying edge to it—a hint of something he wasn’t quite ready to share. You frowned, not fully understanding.

"Everybody knows who he is, Gguk." Jungkook’s lips curled into a small, amused smile at your bluntness. The nickname "Gguk" rolled off your tongue like it had been there all along, and for a brief moment, his usual playful demeanor flickered back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze softened just a little, but the weight of the conversation hung heavy between you.

"He’s mafio—"

"Yeah, I know what everyone thinks.." Jungkook’s lips quirked into that familiar smile, but this time it was tinged with something a little darker.

"You think Hoseok’s just some dangerous guy who gets his hands dirty, but it’s more than that. It’s about belonging."

"It’s not all suits and guns and power plays. There’s a whole other side to it—" he continued. You tilted your head, not sure if you were entirely following what he was saying.

"Jungkook, I thought you were a goddamn heart-crushing pop-star." He laughed.

"I’ve been everything the world thinks I am, but that’s not all."

"But… you’re not like Hoseok, though, right?" you asked, needing reassurance that he wasn’t too far gone. Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his fingers now tracing small patterns on the back of your hand.

"No, I’m just a heart-crushing popstar," he said finally, his voice amused.

"I am still very much part of the family though,—"

"You’re part of it now too. Whether you like it or not. And I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you’re safe."

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. But the weight of the world he was offering you was far heavier than you had imagined.

"That’s how we roll."

His fingers continued their slow, deliberate tracing on your hand, a reminder that he had all the control here. You pulled your hand away from his, shaking your head, your chest tightening as you tried to keep your emotions in check. He looked confused for a moment and undoubtedly started to question whether you’d taken your medication or found a way to sneak past his watchful eye.

"You’ll understand why eventually," he murmured, his voice low and sure, as if he were speaking a truth you weren’t yet ready to hear.

And then, before you could say another word, his lips were on yours again—slow, but with a possessiveness that sent a shiver through you. It was suffocating in its intensity, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, trapped in the haze of his touch, the drug in your system, the desperate need to find some kind of relief. To feel something else rather than the empty numbness of your brain.

The medication, the constant monitoring, the suffocating feeling of being trapped in your own mind—it all faded into the background as Jungkook's kiss deepened, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips, sending sparks of sensation through your numbness. You felt yourself getting lost in the intensity of the moment, your hands rising to grasp his shoulders, pulling him closer as if trying to anchor yourself to something, anything, that felt real.

The possessiveness in his kiss was almost palpable, a reminder that he was in control, and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to care, too caught up in the desperation to feel something, anything, that wasn't the dull, hollow ache of your own emptiness.

Your thighs spread wide as you settled onto his lap, the hardness of his erection pressing against your core, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

You did not stay in this state of mind for too long though.

"I don’t want this Jungkook."

Jungkook's kiss paused for a fraction of a second, the softness in his movements turning sharper, as if the words you spoke were a challenge, one he wasn’t ready to hear. His breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling with the rapid rhythm of his pulse. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense, like he was searching for something—an answer, an explanation, perhaps even your submission.

"You don’t want this?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying sharpness to it, a hint of disbelief. His thumb brushed lightly across your bottom lip, his touch almost possessive, as if claiming that too.

"I…I don’t know." The confusion in your words only seemed to fuel something inside him—a deepening desire, a need to pull you even closer, to make you feel as though you were already lost to him.

His hands roamed, shifting to your back, pulling you against him with a force that made your heart race, your breath hitch. He was strong, too strong, and as much as you wanted to push him away, your body—distant, clouded by the drugs, the numbness—reacted to him, betraying the words that your mind screamed.

"You can fight this all you want," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shudder through your body. "But you know you're mine, Y/N. I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever."

You tried to focus on your words, the ones that should matter. "I don’t want this, Jungkook," you repeated, your voice weak, and yet, something in your chest tightened. The longing for freedom, for a way out, collided with the dull pull of your body’s response to him. It felt as though you were suffocating between two opposing forces—one part of you screaming to break free, the other part craving the warmth he was offering, even if it was twisted.

"Hey, look at me, baby," Jungkook’s gaze softened, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The heat in them was still there, darker, more intense, as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

The drugs were fogging your mind, the reality of what was happening slipping away like sand through your fingers. You felt his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer, the pressure building between you both, and yet, a small voice in the back of your mind screamed no. It screamed that this wasn’t right, that you were more than this moment, but the drugs and his kiss drowned it out, and all you could do was let yourself be consumed by him.

"This is happening. This is us." His voice was firm, steady, and with each word, the finality of his claim echoed between you both.

You wanted to push him away. You wanted to tell him to stop, to make him understand how wrong this was, but your body betrayed you, too caught in the haze of his touch, his kiss, the overwhelming pull of his presence. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the sensations, trying to escape into the numbness that you had once sought.

But Jungkook wouldn’t let you. His fingers slid to your jaw, guiding your face back to his as his lips found yours once more. This kiss was different—it was hungry, possessive, the kind that felt like a demand rather than a plea. You could feel him pressing against you, his desire unmistakable in the hardness of his body, and it was suffocating, consuming you in ways you didn’t know you could be consumed.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, his chest still rising and falling beneath yours. "You don’t want this now, but you will," he said softly, his voice full of certainty. "You’ll see. You’ll understand at the end,—I’ll make you understand."

The intensity of his gaze held you captive, the world outside this moment blurring into insignificance.

"Jungkook…" you whispered, your voice trembling. The fear, the confusion, the longing—they all mingled into a desperate plea for something you couldn’t quite name.

His eyes softened, but the possessiveness never left. "You’re mine," he repeated, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe. But you have to trust me, Y/N–"

"You have to let me in."

You looked down at your mug, swirling the mulled wine as you gathered your thoughts. "I... I think I’m ready to go back to work," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The change in Jungkook’s demeanor was immediate. The warmth in his eyes flickered out, replaced by something harder, colder. He set his mug down on the counter with a soft clink, his posture stiffening.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm, but you could hear the edge beneath it. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

"I’ve been good, haven’t I?"

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you, the tension between you palpable. He took a step closer, his presence imposing. "You have," he admitted, his voice low and measured. "But that doesn’t mean you’re ready to go back out there."

You felt a pang of frustration, but you tried to keep your voice steady. "I need to feel normal again, Jungkook. I need to get out of here, to do something meaningful."

His jaw tightened, and he reached out, gently but firmly taking the mug from your hands and setting it aside. His fingers lingered on your wrist for a moment, his touch both comforting and possessive. "This is meaningful," he said, his voice softening just a fraction as he looked into your eyes. "Us, here, together. This is your life now, Y/N."

"But..but you promised." Jungkook's expression flickered, a brief moment of conflict passing through his eyes before his gaze hardened again. He took a deep breath, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly as he processed your words.

"I promised to keep you safe," he said, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite identify—fear, perhaps, or desperation. "And letting you go back to work... it's not safe for you now, Y/N."

You pulled your wrist free, taking a step back to create some distance. "I can’t stay cooped up in here forever, Jungkook," you said, your voice trembling but determined. "I need to feel like myself again. I need to be around people, to do something other than just exist in this penthouse."

He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch gentle but his eyes intense. "You are my life now," he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. "And I can’t lose you. Not to anything or anyone." You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch despite the turmoil inside you. Jungkook’s thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Freedom comes with risks, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of love and possessiveness. "And I’m not sure I can handle those risks."

"I promise I am not plotting, Gguk—" you began, but Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly.

"Are you not?" he cut in, his voice low and dangerous. The hint of desperation from before was now replaced with a cold, steely resolve.

"Just give me a chance to prove—" His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

"I don’t know if I can trust that, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with an unsettling mix of love and possessiveness. He was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tight with tension. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his grip on your face softening.

"We have the family dinner coming up. It’s important, and everyone will be there. If you can behave, show that you can handle yourself around my family, then maybe... just maybe, we can talk about you going back to work."

The implication of his words settled over you like a weight. This wasn’t just about proving yourself to him; it was about proving yourself to his entire family. The thought was daunting, but you knew this might be your only chance. To get away from his grasp.

"I’ll do my best," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of determination and anxiety. "I promise."

A small, almost tender smile tugged at the corners of Jungkook’s lips. "Good," he said softly.

You swallowed hard, the pressure of the upcoming dinner weighing heavily on you. "Who will be there?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Everyone," he said simply. "My parents, all of my Hyungs... among whom someone can offer you a position if you make a good impression."

This was your chance, and you had to take it.

"I’ll be on my best behaviour," you promised, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

You stood there in Jungkook’s arms, the Christmas lights twinkling softly around you, you resolved to do whatever it took to reclaim a part of your life.

"Now, show me how good you can warm my cock this Christmas."

His murmured words were low and commanding. You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to process what he was asking of you. This wasn’t the first time he implied that he wanted you to drop down there. He was obsessed with your body and how obedient it became when you had the right amount of pills and alcohol in your system. You both could deal with detox once you realized that there was no different route in your life but him. That was his plan all along.

You could smell the mulled wine on his breath, and it only added to the sense of unease growing inside you. He reached out a hand and gently stroked your cheek, his touch sending a wave of revulsion through your body.

As the flames danced in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room, Jungkook's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with a fierce intensity. He reached out and gently stroked your hair, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he guided you to your knees, his eyes never leaving yours. Quick flashbacks ran through your mind from the last time he did that. Normally, fear would take you down or push you to protest. Not anymore. He made you his doll. At least partially.

As his hands closed around yours, he gently guided them to his sweatpants, his eyes locked onto yours with a spark of excitement. You felt a rush of anticipation as your hands made contact with the soft fabric, and Jungkook's eyes seemed to gleam with a knowing light.

He urged your hands to explore, to delve beneath the waistband and discover the secrets that lay hidden beneath. Your fingers trembled slightly as you complied, slipping beneath the fabric to find the warm, smooth skin. Jungkook's eyes fluttered closed, and a low, husky moan escaped his lips as your hands made contact with his flesh. His hips seemed to arch into your touch.

Your fingers wrapped around him, feeling the warmth and the hardness.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open, and he gazed at you with a fierce intensity, his pupils dilated with desire. "Yes," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing. "Like that. Just like that."

You could imagine that this was your high school boyfriend. You for sure loved him back then. Because now you have to suck and fuck that man like you mean it if you want out.

Your lips made contact with the warm, smooth skin of his cock, and Jungkook's eyes fluttered closed, a low, husky moan escaping his lips. You began to suck, your mouth wrapping around him like a warm, wet glove. Jungkook slightly moved his hips against you, inviting you to take more, to suck him deeper.

You felt his hands tangling in your hair, holding you in place as you worked to please him. The sound of his breathing, the feel of his heat, and the taste of his skin is nothing new for you anymore, and you desperately wish you never got the taste of him.

Jungkook's moans grew louder, and his hips began to move, thrusting gently into your mouth. You felt him growing closer and closer to the edge, and you knew that you were driving him wild. Your mouth moved up and down, sucking and licking, as Jungkook's cock grew harder and thicker. You felt his precum dripping onto your tongue, and you knew that he was close to coming.

Jungkook's hands tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he began to thrust faster, his hips moving in a rapid, piston-like motion. You felt his cock hitting the back of your throat. His body tensed when he pulled your wet mouth from his cock just in time, his cock still throbbing with desire. His chest heaved with exertion, his breathing ragged as he gazed at you with a hungry look in his eyes.

Without a word, Jungkook reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet. He spun you around, pressing your back against the wall next to the Christmas tree as he loomed over you.

You felt his hot breath on your skin, his lips inches from yours as he whispered, "I'm not done with you yet." His hands roamed over your body, stripping away your clothes with a fierce urgency.

Jungkook's eyes devoured you, his gaze lingering on every curve and contour of your body. You felt his hot breath on your skin, his lips inches from yours, as he whispered, "Mhm, I’m gonna fuck you so hard and nice—" his hands continued to strip away your clothes, leaving you naked and exposed before him.

Jungkook's hands grasped your hips, lifting you up as he slammed you against the wall. But instead of thrusting into you, he paused, his eyes locked on yours as he whispered,

"I want to savor you, to taste every inch of your skin."

Jungkook's lips crashed down on yours, his tongue invading your mouth as he kissed you with a fierce, possessive passion. You felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, your body responding to his touch as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth.

As he kissed you, Jungkook's hands began to roam over your body, touching, caressing, and claiming you as his own. His fingers trailed down your neck, over your shoulders, and down to your breasts, where he cupped them in his hands, his thumbs tracing circles around your nipples.

His lips left yours, and he trailed kisses down your neck, over your shoulders, and down to your breasts, where he sucked your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them in a sensual dance. His fingers continued tracing down your stomach, over your hips, and down to your thighs, where he parted them with his hands, his fingers brushing against your entrance, spreading your lips wide and finding very little of wetness.

His brows furrowed in concern, and he lifted his head from your breasts, his eyes locking onto yours with a questioning gaze.

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his chest heaving with exertion, his lips still wet from kissing your breasts. Then, his face softened, and he whispered, "Do you want me to stop?" His voice was low and husky, but laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Was he testing you?

The Christmas tree lights twinkled in the background, casting a warm glow over the scene. The soft hum of the lights and the quiet beat of Jungkook's chest rising and falling with each breath were the only sounds in the room.

What are you going to do now?

It was not uncommon for someone on such medication as yours to have trouble with dampness down there. Even when the excitement might be there, waterfalls weren’t.

"It's just the medication…" Jungkook's expression turned serious, and he kissed your forehead tenderly.

"I know, baby," he said softly. "We'll go slow. We don't have to rush anything."

He shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he could hold you more comfortably. As Jungkook held you, his hands moved slowly, caressing your back and sides with a gentle touch. How? Why? Where is the Jungkook who forced you down on your knees and fucked your throat until you cried?

The contrast between the Jungkook who was now so gentle and the one who had been so forceful left you bewildered. His tenderness felt alien, almost as if he were a different person. You couldn't help but wonder if this was just another side of his complex personality, a side he was showing now to keep you close, to make you feel safe.

"Why are you being so gentle with me?" you whispered, unable to keep the question to yourself any longer.

Jungkook paused, his eyes searching yours. "Because I love you," he said simply, as if that explained everything. "I want you to feel safe with me, Y/N. I want you to trust me."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the words catching you off guard. Trust. It was such a fragile thing, something that had been shattered and mended too many times. Could you really trust him? This could simply be another foul play.

Jungkook's gaze softened, and he cupped your face in his hands. "I know I've been rough with you, baby. I know I've scared you. But I need you to understand that everything I do, I do because I can't bear the thought of losing you. You're my everything, Y/N."

"I need to feel like I can breathe." You whispered, bare and vulnerable.

"I can give you that," he said, his voice steady. "But you have to promise me something."

"What is it?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"Promise me that you won’t leave me, baby," he said, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

"I won’t," you replied, your voice trembling at the thought. But your answer was rather enigmatic, and his brain opted to process it the way he wanted and not the way you meant it. You won’t. You won’t promise that.

Slowly, his grip on your face relaxed, and he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "Good," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. "Because I can’t live without you."

He kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours, and you responded as best you could, trying to convey the mix of emotions swirling inside you. It was almost disorienting, this gentleness from a man who had shown you such brutality.

"I want you," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I want to be inside you, to feel you wrapped around me." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "But I don't want to hurt you. I want to make it good for you."

"Just like the last time." He smirked, recalling all your dirty juice on his body and bed once you came undone the first time he claimed you as his.

He took a step back, his eyes still locked on yours, and nodded to himself. "I'll be right back," he said, turning and walking away.

You watched him go, wondering what he was doing. But then you heard him rummaging through a drawer, and you realized what he was looking for. He returned with a small bottle of lube, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I want to make sure you're ready for me," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I want to make sure you can take my big cock into your tiny hole." He moaned at the thought of being inside you again.

"I can’t hold back, baby. I'm going to fuck you good until you can’t walk."

He poured some lube onto his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours as he climbed on top of you. You felt him touch you, his fingers slipping between your lower lips, spreading them with his two fingers apart and caressing each side, making you breathe loudly. You gasped, feeling a spark of pleasure ignite within you, just a little. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to coax your body into a state of complete surrender.

The warmth of his hands seeped into your skin, spreading a comforting heat that eased the tension from your muscles. Every stroke, every caress, was a reminder of his dominance, yet also of his desire to please you.

His fingers moved with a rhythm, slow and deliberate, exploring every inch of your sensitive flesh. He started with light, teasing touches, barely grazing your skin, before gradually increasing the pressure. You felt a fluttering sensation in your lower abdomen, a mix of anticipation and need. Your breath hitched, and you let out a soft moan, encouraging him to continue.

You were feeling something after such a long time of numbness. He made you forget about how sore your muscles were every morning, how tired you woke up even though you slept for more than eight hours, and how you emptied your stomach now and then because the drugs made you nauseous.

He whispered soothing words, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against your skin. "That's it, baby," he said, his breath warm against your ear. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

His fingers moved with an intimate knowledge of your body, finding all the right spots inside you to make you gasp and writhe beneath him. He took his time, not rushing, making sure you were fully prepared, fully aware of every sensation.

His lips hovered over yours, eyes locked onto yours. Slowly, his lips descended, brushing against yours in a gentle, teasing caress.

"You are such a good girl for me." His fingers continued to move, stroking and teasing, building the tension inside you. You felt his hands moving, positioning you the way he wanted when an idea struck your brain. This is it. He will think that you’re finally falling in line, that you are content living by his side, and eventually showing him some love he is forcing from you. You decided to use this moment to your advantage, to make him believe you were giving in, that you were starting to accept your place by his side.

You clung to him, as if seeking more of his touch, more of his warmth.

"Jungkook," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of genuine arousal and calculated submission.

"I wanna ride you."

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by a dark, eager gleam. You would pay to see that micro-mimic again. He smiled, a slow, predatory smile that made your heart race.

"Oh, do you now, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with anticipation.

You nodded, maintaining eye contact, letting him see the sincerity in your gaze.

"Yes, please."

Without another word, Jungkook shifted, guiding you to straddle his lap. His hands moved to your hips, his grip firm but not painful, holding you steady as you settled yourself over him. The feel of his erection pressing against you sent a shiver of anticipation through your body.

"Take your time," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I want to feel every inch of you."

You bit your lip, lowering yourself slowly, savoring the feeling of him filling you. He let out a low groan, his fingers tightening on your hips as you took him in, inch by inch. The connection between you felt almost electric, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

Once you were fully seated, you paused, giving yourself a moment to adjust. He felt even bigger now that your arousal was half artificial. Jungkook's eyes were dark with desire, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. "You feel so good."

You began to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles. Jungkook's hands roamed your body, caressing your back, your breasts, your thighs, as if he couldn't get enough of touching you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "So fucking perfect."

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. His lips were soft yet demanding, moving against yours with a fervor that matched the rhythm of your hips. You could taste the lingering sweetness of mulled wine on his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, exploring and claiming.

As you bounced on him, your movements became more urgent, driven by the growing need that coursed through your veins. You were getting riled up. You knew you wouldn't cum. At least not like before.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your forehead resting against his. "Jungkook," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. "I need you."

Jungkook's hands moved to your hips, guiding you, urging you to move faster, harder. The friction between you was exquisite, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. His kisses grew more desperate, more demanding.

"I'm right here, baby," he groaned, his hands tightening on your hips, his own need evident in the way his body moved against yours. "You're doing so well. Keep going."

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the rhythm, the sensation of his body against yours. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the soft hum of the Christmas lights, and the quiet creak of the couch under you.

You glanced down where your pussy swallowed his cock, noticing the bulge in your belly growing each time you slumped down on his cock.

"Cum for me, baby," Jungkook whispered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "I want to feel you."

You shook your head slightly, the frustration and the numbness from the medication making it difficult to reach the peak you both desired. "I... I can't," you gasped, feeling the tears of frustration prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"Yeah, you do, baby. I know you can." Jungkook's voice was firm but encouraging, his hands guiding your hips as he increased the intensity of his movements.

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. His thumb found your clit, rubbing gentle but insistent circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. The combination of his relentless thrusts and the skilled motion of his thumb began to break through the fog of numbness.

"Just focus on me," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Feel every touch, every movement. You're so close, baby. I can feel it."

You let out a soft whimper, your body responding despite the numbness. The tension inside you began to build again, each touch, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Jungkook's presence, his voice, his touch, all combined to draw you closer to the edge.

"Come on, baby," he urged, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so beautiful like this, so perfect. Let go for me. I know you can."

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sensations, on the heat of his body against yours, the rhythm of his movements. The frustration began to ebb away, replaced by a growing need, a desire to reach that peak, to give him what he wanted.

"That's it," Jungkook whispered, his voice a mix of encouragement and command.

You could feel the tension coiling inside you, tighter and tighter, until it was almost unbearable. But the finish line not close at all. You could feel the pleasure building, but it was like reaching for something just out of your grasp.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. A little drop of sweat rolling down your forehead. You knew you had to come somehow or this wouldn't stop. He wouldn't let you go, he would know if you faked it right away.

You forced yourself to concentrate on his touch, on the rhythm of his movements, on the sound of his voice. You felt the tension coiling tighter inside you, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Jungkook's relentless pace, the way he filled you so completely, the firm circles his thumb traced over your sensitive spot.

"Jungkook," you gasped, your voice trembling with need and desperation. He leaned in to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his thumb moving faster against your clit, his thrusts deep and steady. You bit your lip, trying to channel all your focus into the sensations he was creating.

With a final, desperate cry, you felt the coil inside you snap. Your body convulsed around him, your muscles clenching and releasing in a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. Jungkook held you through it, his movements never faltering as he guided you through your release.

The aftershocks of your orgasm slowly receded; after all, it felt like you only edged hard instead of cumming but that was good enough for you to moan his name and shake for him to be sated.

You collapsed against him, your body spent, your mind hazy. Jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. He held you close, his breath warm against your neck, his heart beating in time with yours.

"You did so well," he murmured, his voice filled with pride and affection. "So perfect for me."

For now, that was enough.

Enough for him to give him hope that you are his and he is yours.

The church bells rang out a somber melody as you and Jungkook stepped inside the grand cathedral. The last time you were here was when you told your parents you didn't get accepted to MIT for neuroscience as they wanted. Instead, you had announced your desire to pursue a career in the fashion industry. You still remembered their horrified faces.

Jungkook’s grip on your hand was firm but gentle as he guided you to a seat near the front. Garlands of evergreen and red ribbons decorated the aisles, reflecting the deep religious commitment of Jungkook’s family. Yours believed in science, and if you went to church, it was only for the image it gave your parents. But Jungkook insisted that you, as in you and him, cannot skip the service. It’s a no-no in the family.

Seeing Jungkook in something so not hipster or at least, fuck boy like, made you re-think just how much he had grown as a person without you ever noticing. The crisp white shirt tucked neatly into his tailored black slacks, a perfect striped suit jacket on top, tie underneath, all Bloomingdale, you took a mental note. The hint of cologne that wafted every time he moved made him look almost unrecognizable compared to the tattooed, oversized-hoodie-wearing Jungkook you first met and it made you wonder when did you start seeing him as a helpless heartthrob. Gone was the boy and instead there was this stand-up guy holding your hand.

You settled into the wooden pew once the priest began the service with a deep, resonant voice. You tried to focus on the words, on the serenity of the moment, but your mind kept drifting to the upcoming dinner. This had to be the performance of your lifetime. But you have to try to endure words that have no meaning to you or your soul while you wait for the innocent naivety of distant future’s mothers and fathers, lawyers and doctors, or good people and vigilantes, in the form of a child choir, to start singing.

You spotted Hoseok and what looked like Kim Namjoon with, you assumed, Peaches, nearing your seats. Jungkook's grip tightened slightly, a silent signal that he was aware of their approach. He was scared you’d run away, that you’d ruin everything. He was right to be scared. To ruin their family Christmas might be on your Grinch wishlist, but you would be the most obedient woman on the planet if you had to. Because that meant, you had a chance of getting out of that ugly block of a tall building more than once a month when you begged for it. How you’d get rid of your "boyfriend," that was a story for another day.

While the service continued, you felt a hand slip into yours, warm and reassuring. You looked up to see Peaches smiling gently at you, her curly blonde hair framing her full face, and her eyes filled with quiet strength. She was wearing Versaci’s black slit medallion dress that you thought there is no way to get after the 94’ movie showgirls. But she has them, and a what seemed to be a very nice fur coat draped over her shoulders.

She was quite the beauty, and your brain immediately imagined her on a runway. Although she was rather petite next to a man like Kim Namjoon. She squeezed your hand lightly, a silent gesture of support. It was comforting, and for a moment, you felt a small spark of hope.

"Hi," she said quietly, and at that moment, you couldn’t hate her like you hated the rest of them.

"Hi," you whispered back, offering a small, tentative smile. Her presence was unexpectedly soothing, a reminder that there might be allies or at least people who sympathized. But mere sympathy wouldn’t help you get out of this arrangement.

Jungkook noticed the exchange, his eyes softening slightly, though his grip on your hand remained firm. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re doing great," he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. "Just a little longer."

Hymns filled the air, and the congregation joined in with reverence. You tried to let the music and the surroundings wash over you, to find some peace in the chaos of your mind. Peaches’ hand in yours was a constant source of comfort, a silent promise that you weren’t completely alone in this.

The service drew to a close. The priest offered a final blessing, and the congregation began to disperse. Jungkook helped you to your feet, his hand never leaving yours.

"Good to see you both," Hoseok greeted, his smile genuine but his eyes sharp. "Are you ready for the dinner tonight?"

Jungkook nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Yeah, we’ll be there. But we’re stopping by my parents’ house first."

Namjoon glanced at Peaches, whose movements showed pain once she stood up. Nonetheless, she gave you a reassuring smile.

"We’ll see you there," he said, his voice calm and composed.

As you walked out of the cathedral, Peaches leaned in and whispered, "Don’t let them get into your head."

Her words resonated with you as you made your way to the car. Jungkook’s parents' house was your next destination, and you knew you had to maintain your composure. This was your chance to prove yourself and eventually free yourself.

Jungkook’s family home was grand and imposing, decorated lavishly for the holiday season.

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of the car, Jungkook by your side. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before leading you to the front door.

The door swung open before you could even knock, revealing Jungkook’s mother, her face lighting up with excitement. She was a petite woman with a warm smile, but her eyes were sharp and assessing.

"Jungkook, darling!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug before turning her attention to you. "And this must be Y/N!"

She reached out and took your hands in hers, her grip surprisingly strong. "It’s so lovely to finally meet you," she said, her eyes flicking down to your fingers for a good moment before she realized that what she was looking for was not there. Her smile faltered slightly but she recovered rather quickly when she saw your confused mimics.

You forced a smile, feeling a bit overwhelmed by her forwardness. "It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Jeon."

"Aish, that’s how the staff calls me," she said with a light chuckle, waving her hand dismissively. "You call me eomma, honey."

Before you could respond, her gaze had already shifted, and she was inspecting you more closely, her hands suddenly on your shoulders, then your arms, and finally your stomach.

"You will be so pretty with a—" she began, her tone filled with genuine admiration, but her hands still firmly on your midsection.

"Eomma!" Jungkook interrupted abruptly, his voice firmer than usual. He gently but decisively moved her hands away from you. "Ya, is that a sponge cake I’m smelling?"

Mrs. Jeon blinked, momentarily thrown off, before breaking into a warm smile. "Oh, yes! I made your favorite, Ggukie-ah!" she said, her enthusiasm shifting to the mention of the cake.

The dining room was filled with people, all of whom seemed to know each other well. You felt like an outsider, but you kept a polite smile on your face, determined to make a good impression. This house, or rather mansion, was overwhelming. Tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers loomed overhead, and the mansion was beautifully decorated, with twinkling lights and elegant ornaments adorning every corner. A massive Christmas tree stood in the center of the hall you passed on your way, its branches heavy with decorations and presents piled high underneath. It seems that the Jungs or maybe this whole family is rather obsessed just as much with crystal as it is with kidnapping women.

Jungkook introduced you to everyone you didn’t know, his grip on your hand never faltering. As you sat down at the long, elegant table, you noticed a blonde man watching you from across the room. His name was Park Jimin, and you knew exactly who he was.

A goddamn chairman of Dior looking at you and your little black dress Jungkook insisted you will wear. It was a gift, from whom he did not say. And your heart could not reject such a fine piece. 1947 Christian Dior, a classic embodiment of the fifties shape. You loved them, and your selfishness could not choose to not wear them. Jungkook was not bluffing when he said someone who could give you the job would be here after all.

The shocked look Jungkook noticed on your face when he introduced you to Jimin was much more evident than you intended it to be. He gave you a reassuring nod, and you took a deep breath, ready to face whatever came next.

"So, Y/N, how did you and Jungkook meet?" Hoseok’s voice raised above the murmur of conversation once the tightest circle settled around the table. Among what they refer to them as the elders. Parents, and other relatives. The previous generation you may call them, and judging by the greyness of some of their hair, even the one before. Jungkook did lend you to them to answer some, rather, traditional remarks that you tried not to let rot in your brain.

Oh dear, what a beauty you are, surely your children will be as beautiful. You look like a perfect match. You have such a kind face, dear. I'm sure you'll make a wonderful wife and mother.

Among which is the how you and Jungkook met.

This question was no different in the message it was sending.

His question was casual, but you sensed the curiosity behind it. His wife was sitting next to him and on the other side, none other than Namjoon and Peaches, followed by Seokjin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jimin. It looked almost biblical, this kind of hierarchy.

You smiled, trying to appear as natural as possible. You know he knew, every single person in this room knew that he knew but he asked anyway. His wife nudged him gently to stop prying, but he did not pay her more mind than putting his palm on her swollen belly.

"We met through work on Klein’s campaign," you began, your voice steady despite the pressure. They were waiting for you to slip up so they could eat you alive like hungry wolves.

Peaches smiled warmly, her hand resting on Namjoon's. You arched your brows at her demeanor as you could not quite place the state of her mind when it comes to, you know, all this.

Jungkook squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with pride.

"Ah, the Klein campaign," Seokjin said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "That was quite a project, wasn't it? Jungkook mentioned how pivotal your role was."

Kim Seokjin is a lawyer. And a goddamn good one. The man would get you out of the death penalty and that’s maybe why Hoseok is keeping him close. At least, that’s what you heard. Each and one of them is somehow valuable to the infrastructure you don’t have the right to glimpse into, just yet. But how Jungkook falls into this scheme remains unknown.

You nodded, maintaining your composure. Breathing in and trying to ignore what his words were suggesting.

"Yes, it was a significant project. We both put a lot of effort into it."

"Effort, indeed," Yoongi chimed in, his voice low and smooth. You could not overlook the undertone. Jungkook narrowed his eyes at his oldest Hyungs, not quite understanding what they were trying to do. And here you thought he asked them to test you. You felt your cheeks heat up, the scrutiny intensifying.

Hoseok's wife, sensing the tension, tried to steer the conversation into something more—

"I loved the collection. Gguk is one hot motherfucker, cannot lie with that one."

You would not know how to call this kind of linguistic expression but, it seems, it worked.

Laughter erupted around the table, the tension easing slightly. Jungkook blushed at her comment, scratching the back of his head.

"Thanks, noona," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed but also grateful for the lighter mood.

Namjoon, ever the diplomat, leaned forward with a curious expression. "Y/N, what was the most challenging part of the Klein campaign for you?"

And now this started to seem like an interview. But for what? The job you were hunting for let's see if you can handle this family interview. You are trying to convince yourself that someone like Kim Namjoon cannot be this incredibly dull because he’s only testing how you’re going to behave. How do you know your way with words as this family needs to keep appearances.

You heard bits and pieces that you are now able to connect, at least a little. Jungkook was not in your imaginary map of this empire that people talk about in hushed voices. You were never that interested; you just wanted to keep doing what you love and have a roof over your head. Now you gotta do a lot more than just mind your business if you wanna stay in the line of your work.

Why?

Because you bloody want to.

You bloody want to reach the toppiest top of tops in the fashion industry as a designer. Even after all of this. You still want that; otherwise, you’d perish already. This dream of yours proved to be a conflict of interest not only in your head but also in this family.

To be or not to be, that is the question.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of all eyes on you.

"Jeon Jungkook."

You said that with a somewhat strange lightness in your voice. Jungkook choked a little on his wine and Taehyung, who sat opposite him, gave him an exclusive view of his mischief grin, his tongue darting out to touch his upper teeth.

Another set of laughter erupted around the table. Jungkook, still recovering from his mini-choking incident, chuckled and squeezed your hand. And it was in that moment, amidst the laughter and warmth of this, let’s say, unconventional family, that you felt a sense of belonging you had never experienced before. Growing up, warmth and familial affection were foreign concepts, mere figments of your imagination. But here, with Jungkook and his family, you were starting to understand what it meant to be part of something bigger, something warm and real, and you certainly didn’t know how to feel.

People call them greedy but they prefer ambitious. Ambition, after all, is what drives us forward. Isn’t it? They weren't just a family; they were a well-oiled machine, each cog turning in perfect synchrony. Each person at the table had a role to play, a purpose that intertwined with the others.

The room seemed to close in as you sank deeper into your thoughts. The warm glow of the chandelier overhead, the laughter that felt like a distant hum in your ears, the rich aroma of food in the air—it all became background noise and your head was reeling with questions you wanted answers to.

What is it that changed within you?

The evening wore on, and it seemed Jungkook was more than pleased with you today, judging by how extremely happy he looked talking to his Hyungs. But your attention was on one person only now.

Jimin approached you during a lull in the conversation. "Can we talk for a moment?" he asked quietly. You turned your face back to Jungkook. You knew better, so you opted to ask for permission to be excused for a moment. You met Jungkook’s eyes, his expression softening slightly as he saw the silent request in yours. His gaze lingered for a moment before he gave a subtle nod, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if assuring you it was okay.

You stood up, excusing yourself politely to the group, and followed Jimin, your heart picking up its pace with every step. The air between you felt charged, as if there were unspoken words waiting to be voiced.

Once you were out of earshot from the others, Jimin led you to a quieter corner of the house, the low hum of the gathering fading into the background. His eyes met yours, and you could sense a mix of nervousness and something deeper behind them.

"I see you’ve received my gift." You glance down at the dress, fingers brushing the soft fabric.

"Thank you, Jungkook have to insist I wear them–" A small smile tugs at his lips, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The held a quiet intensity, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something far more serious. The atmosphere around you seemed to change as he spoke, his words carrying weight.

"It’s good you’re focused on Jungkook—" his hands were paying attention to the crystal glasses he was pouring Kim’s brandy into.

"Well, it’s not like I had a choice." You stumbled awkwardly. You cannot mess this up, Y/N. You just can’t. You kept repeating to yourself that you had to, or otherwise, you’d do something Jungkook would not fancy at all.

Jimin didn’t seem to notice your discomfort as he handed you a glass of brandy, his gaze still fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. "You’ve always got a choice in this family," he said, his voice low, almost too calm for the conversation you were having.

"It’s up to you if you choose wrong or right."

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy, as Jimin’s gaze finally met yours. You took a slow breath, trying to steady the racing thoughts inside your mind. The glass of brandy in your hand suddenly felt like a weight you weren’t prepared to carry.

"What do you mean?" the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them.

"Jungkook might not be in the center of all this—" he gestured to the lavish room you were in. This was a private office, and from what you gathered with your wandering eyes, it was Hoseok’s office.

"But he is still part of the family just like I am—" His posture relaxed, but his eyes betrayed an undercurrent of something deeper. You listened to him, gulping every word he said. "Just like you ought to be."

"He’s not just the charming guy you think he is. He’s tied to a world you don’t understand yet, and it’s not a world you can just walk away from if things go south."

For a moment, you couldn’t find your voice.

"Why are you telling me this now?" He took a long sip of his brandy, his gaze flicking briefly to the door before locking onto yours again.

"Because I need you to understand you are going nowhere if I offer you the position." The air between you thickened, and your pulse quickened as Jimin’s words sank in. You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice faltered. Jimin let out a soft sigh, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly as he leaned in, his voice lowering, now more direct.

"I need you to know that this is a goddamn privilege—" But the look in his eyes told you it wasn’t that simple.

"Women in this family do not work, they don’t have to." His voice was low and measured, but there was no mistaking the command behind his words. You slightly flinched at such an old stereotypical remark but remained silent. You can’t slip away.

The room felt smaller suddenly, the space between you shrinking with each word he spoke. You tried to steady yourself, to push past the shock and confusion that was flooding your mind, but it was difficult. And suddenly, you did not know whether you actually wanted this.

"Gguk seems to think that this will bring you two closer." His tone shifted ever so slightly, a faint edge of something you couldn’t quite name creeping into it. He wasn’t just making an observation, he was planting a seed, subtly drawing attention to something you hadn’t yet fully realized.

"So pardon me for ensuring that it fucking will."

You stood there, the glass of brandy suddenly feeling like it might slip from your hand, the weight of his words crashing over you. He leaned back slightly, his posture shifting to one that seemed more confident, more relaxed—like he was watching a show unfold and you were its central character.

"Hoseok was not pleased altogether, let me tell you that—" The silence that followed was deafening. Your mind raced, trying to process everything that had been said. Where is this leading to?

"—but if this helps you to know your place here, so be it."

"Jungkook’s not immune to the politics of this family. And neither are you," Jimin continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took another sip of brandy.

"So what is it you want from me?" Your voice came out stronger than you expected, but your heart was still pounding. You needed to know what he was after, what his angle was in all of this.

Jimin’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"There you go." He mused, laughing softly.

"You can have it all,—" he said, his voice soft but cutting.

"—only if you’re willing to make the right choice."

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourself standing by the Christmas tree with Jungkook. Back at the penthouse, the lights twinkled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of possessiveness and affection.

"You did well tonight," he murmured, his hand gently cupping your face. "I’m very proud of you."

You smiled up at him, feeling a strange mix of emotions. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek, pulling you closer.

"Let’s get ready for bed, or Santa won’t come and eat his cookies–" he said, his voice husky with emotion.

You smiled a little at his goofiness and nodded. He took your hand, leading you to the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the moonlight casting silvery shadows on the floor. You could hear the distant hum of the city below. Not even on Christmas can the never-ending busyness of Manhattan be stopped.

Jungkook started undressing, his movements slow and deliberate. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled muscles of his chest and the tattoos that adorned his skin. You couldn’t help but admire the way the light played over his body, highlighting every contour and shadow.

As he turned to head to the bathroom, you slipped into the walk-in closet, needing a moment alone. The closet was a treasure trove of designer clothes, including your own designs for Klein. The scent of expensive fabrics and faint traces of perfume filled the air.

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Your heart raced, and your breaths came in shallow gasps. Panic gripped you, the pressure of the family’s scrutiny and the reality of your relationship with Jungkook closing in. So how are you going to stop them from getting into your head if they already planted the seeds?

You sank to the floor, surrounded by the clothes that represented your dreams and ambitions. The panic intensified, and tears welled up in your eyes. You closed them tightly, trying to calm yourself.

Breathe, Y/N. Just breathe.

You focused on your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, trying to ground yourself. Slowly, the panic began to subside, replaced by a sense of resolve. You couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now.

"Baby, you coming?"

Jungkook's voice filtered through the closed door, warm and concerned.

He had stood by you. The whole evening. The whole time, actually. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his… love.

You wiped your eyes quickly, taking another deep breath before standing up. The panic had subsided, leaving you with a fragile sense of calm.

You took a moment to compose yourself, looking around at the clothes that symbolized both your dreams and the immense pressure you felt. You reminded yourself why you were here, why you endured the scrutiny and the stress: because you had a vision, a goal to reach the pinnacle of the fashion industry. And now, Jungkook was a part of that journey, whether you had planned it or not.

"I want my life back," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.

Opening the closet door, you stepped back into the dimly lit bedroom. Jungkook was waiting by the bathroom door, his concern evident in the way he studied your face. His shirtless form was suddenly a comforting sight, his presence grounding you in the reality that he was here, supporting you.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly, closing the distance between you with a few strides.

"Yeah," you replied, forcing a smile. "Just a bit overwhelmed."

Jungkook nodded, accepting your answer but not entirely convinced. His bare skin glowed, every muscle defined and accentuated by the dim light, an embodiment of raw beauty.

"Want to wash it away?"

He took your hand, leading you into the bathroom. The steam from the shower had filled the room, creating a warm, misty atmosphere that was both soothing and intimate.

You undressed slowly, Jungkook’s eyes never leaving you. The way he looked at you, with a mix of desire and affection, made your heart race for an entirely different reason. You stepped into the shower together, the hot water cascading over your bodies, washing away the remnants of the evening’s tension.

Jungkook pulled you close, his hands gliding over your wet skin. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The sensation of his strong arms around you, his body solid and warm, was a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

"You were amazing tonight," he murmured against your hair, his lips brushing your forehead. "I know it wasn’t easy, and I want you to know that I’m gonna keep my promise."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. But as you looked deeper, something shifted. The lenses through which you saw Jeon Jungkook began to tint with a soft, rosy hue. His face, so familiar yet infinitely captivating, seemed to glow with a newfound warmth. The world around you faded, and in that moment, the colors of your life transformed, blending into shades of pink and gold, painting a picture of something…something you never quite felt yet.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "It means so much to me, Jungkook."

He smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made your heart flutter.

"I love you, baby."

The hot water cascaded over you both, creating a steamy haze that made everything feel surreal. Jungkook’s hands moved gently, tenderly, as if he was afraid you might break. You felt safe, cherished, and for a moment, all your fears and doubts melted away.

You did not flinch anymore when he ran his slender fingers over your perky nipples, not when his other hand slipped down the small of your back to grip your naked ass cheek. Instead, you leaned into his touch and asked yourself the same question you did hours ago.

What is it that changed within you?

The first light of Christmas Day filtered through the heavy drapes of the penthouse, casting a soft glow over the room. The world outside was quiet, blanketed in a gentle layer of snow that muffled the usual city sounds. You woke up to the warmth of Jungkook's arms wrapped around you, his breath steady and calm against your neck.

Jungkook stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open. He smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, his voice husky from sleep.

"Merry Christmas," you replied, your voice still groggy. The scent of pine from the Christmas tree in the living room mingled with the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. It felt like a picture-perfect morning, almost too serene for the turmoil that often lingered beneath the surface of your life with Jungkook.

He got up and wrapped himself in a robe before heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. You took a moment to collect yourself, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the ever-present tension. As you joined him in the kitchen, you noticed the table set beautifully, with a spread of breakfast items that looked straight out of a holiday magazine. There was bits of this and that on the tray and after a long time, you had an appetite to eat it all.

"Are we feeding an army or just trying to impress a really hungry ghost of Christmas past, Ebenezer?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the lavish display.

Jungkook chuckled, a light-hearted sound that momentarily eased your nerves. "I thought we could indulge a little. It’s Christmas, after all."

You nodded, taking a seat at the table. The food was delicious, and the effort Jungkook had put into making this morning special was evident. For a moment, you allowed yourself to enjoy it, to pretend that everything was normal.

After breakfast, Jungkook led you to the living room where the Christmas tree stood, twinkling with lights and adorned with ornaments.

"Jungkook—" you began when you noticed the little beautifully wrapped box being tucked in the branches of the tree.

"I know, I know you said no gifts, but this is something for the both of us." His voice was gentle, almost pleading.

You sighed, but nodded, stepping closer to the tree. Jungkook reached for the box, carefully removing it from the branches. He turned to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart pound.

He handed you the box, his fingers brushing against yours. "Open it, baby," he urged softly.

Part of you wanted to freeze the moment, not because you wanted to remember this part of your life, but because you wished to not know what was coming your way. You had to decide now, and the tingly feeling inside of you, remembering Jimin’s words from last night, had never been clearer.

You can have it all, only if you’re willing to make the right choice.

Your hands trembled slightly as you unwrapped the box, revealing a small velvet case. You glanced up at Jungkook, your heart racing, but he simply nodded, encouraging you to continue.

You didn’t need to say it out loud for everyone to know what was inside. Yet, it still took your breath away. Not that you expected any less from Jeon Jungkook.

The ring commanded attention, with its centerpiece—a large, marquise-cut diamond. Set in a band of lustrous yellow gold, the setting featured intricate, filigree-style detailing that adorned each side of the diamond, evoking the elegance of a bygone era. Delicate, smaller accent diamonds were carefully embedded within the gold framework, amplifying the ring's dazzle and enhancing its vintage charm.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up from the ring at Jungkook, who had dropped to one knee before you.

"Will you marry me?"

I N T E R L O G U E

Yoongi leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed in thought. "You know, Jungkook, the mind is a fragile thing—"

"We've seen how the actual medication isn't helping her as much as we'd hoped. It's making her numb, Hyung. She's still spiraling. We need to try something different, something that might break through her—"

Yoongi crossed his arms, contemplating Jungkook's words. "And you think this is the way? To trick her into thinking she's taking the medication?"

"Sometimes," Jungkook replied softly, "a little deception can lead to the truth."

The end of part two - side B

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy (was unable to tag) - @mylyus-blog (was unable to tag) - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim - @doulcha - @sexytholland - @minyngrl-blog - @mizuumii (was unable to tag) @ali99eel - @loomipee @jkslvsnella - @tearykth - @iveivory - @lachimolalajeon - @mother2monsters - @junecat18 - @mayvalentine33 - @ttanniett - @elle0604 - @mageprincess7 - @laylasbunbunny - @ashthetic7 - @00frenchfries00 - @weareatthebadlands (was unable to tag) - @annafarrr -

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! Only love please! ♥

see ya soon, love, p.

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bighitfics · 4 months ago

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recent jungkook fanfics that you should read for your own sanity.

(a recommendation for all the girlies who miss him like crazy!)

one rule by @/jasminefanfics on youtube

— dark romance, mean and morally ambiguous jungkook, hostage au, enemies to lovers, smut, love triangle (but it’s just a deranged schizophrenic being the ‘bone in a kebab’ for the gorgeous couple)

— this is ART. this is true unleashed YEARNING. dark ROMANCE done right, literally the perfect read for winter! this is my absolute fav read of this year 🫦

bonded by @borathae

— werewolves au, forced marriage au, childhood besties to lovers, angst, romance, smut.

— will this queen ever stop producing art after art? she’s not capable of doing that, god this was such a good read, I’m still not over this, THIS IS MY SHEYLA FR! (iyykyk) they’re everything to me gawd 🥺

mon révé by @sweetcarrotsandroses97

— archdeacon jungkook, forbidden love, age gap, romani character reader, dark romance.

— I’ve never read something so beautifully, perfectly executed, every scene she wrote is plastered into my brain, the amount of times i think about this fic is not normal, I’m desperately awaiting the new chapters 😔✋🏼

the love prognosis by @awrkive

— friends to lovers (the og), medical au, unrequited love, roommates trope.

— nobody gets them like I do fr! my precious ship! 🥺😻🤲🏼 i loved how down bad he was for her from the beginning, we love a man who worships the ground his woman walks on LIKE AHHHH the author executed the one sided pining from jungkook so well! THE ANGST IS DELICIOUS IN THIS.

christmas & chill series by @girlygguk & @lovieku

— special xmas edition, jungkook and reader.

— the way I’m about to eat this up. u guys aren’t ready for the obnoxious amount of times I’m gonna be crying ab this whole series on my blog, oh lord have mercy on me, this is so brilliant oh how i wanna kiss their hands for this, SUCH DIVAS BOTH OF THEM 🫦

infrunami by @kooktrash

— friends to lovers, mutual pinning, smut, angst.

— boom shakalaka yes gawd! after I completed reading this fic, i took a moment to myself, clapped and took a lap around my bedroom, then I also did a 7 min standing ovation, this deserves more hype ngl.

burning hour by @jungqkook

— established relationship, smut, exhibitionism.

— the amount of times i’ve re read this is embarrassing but it is that LEVEL of good, oh god when is it my turn to experience something like this?

catch twenty-two by @miraclemaven on wattpad

— forbidden romance, age gap, smut, older reader & younger jungkook, angst.

— im so hooked into this story, even though i haven’t started reading properly, this is a promising one, with really good writing.

chained up by @jikookie17

— obsessed addicted jungkook (my jam), smut, angst, fluff.

— reading this made me feel like im watching a melodramatic story of two idiots who literally can’t live without each other, its a cute lighthearted read, 100% recommend!

THE END OF TODAY’S LIST.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ hope the girlies like it ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

2K notes · View notes

rpwprpwprpwprw · 2 months ago

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jeon jungkook fanfics: weekly recommendations edition 💌

hey this is my… new long… very long.. list of recently readings! let me know what you guys think cause this took forever to organize 😭 💋 (also is the letters too small?

jungkook masterlist

🌟 swipe right by @ppersonna (genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers | completed)

summary: after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

my review

🌟 stuck with you by @aajjks (genre: crack, 18+) | ongoing (?)

summary: Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

my review

🌟 what’s your name again? by @solarhysm (smut, oneshot) | completed

summary: jungkook met you at a costume party for the new year eve. you're bold, drunk and horny.

my review

🌟 teach me how to love by @kookooluvr (genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments) | pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers | ongoing

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

my review

🌟 webbed heartstrings by @focusonkayjay (genre/Tags: spiderman/ campus heartthrob! jungkook, college student! reader, friends (but not exactly) to lovers, i think they're in a situationship, spiderman au, spiderkook au, angst, fluff) | ongoing

my review

🌟 fuck me up by @jungkoode (genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut with plot, fuck buddies) | ongoing

summary: When your search for affordable NYC housing leads you to apartment 6B, you think you've hit the jackpot. That is, until you realize your new roommate is the guy from that one wild night on January - the one who ruined you for anyone else. Now you're stuck sharing walls with the living embodiment of your worst mistake, and the sexual tension is thick enough to choke on. Between his emotional damage and your trust issues, this arrangement is a disaster waiting to happen. But hey, at least the hate sex is phenomenal.

my review: my review my review

🌟 letting fear run the show by @focusonkayjay (genre/tags: fuckbuddy! jungkook, secret friends with benefits to lovers, angst, fluff, smut) | completed

my review:

🌟 playing the part by @goldenchimmy (genre: smut) | older!jk x reader, age gap | completed

summary: needing money for college, you come across an ad for a female escort. You didn't expect the person posting the ad to be a rich, older man.

my review

🌟 mutt by @letsbangts (genre: smut, angst, friends with benefits au) | fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk | completed

summary: when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks

🌟 answer your phone by @letsbangts (genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends with benefits au) | fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk | completed

summary: when the consequences of his actions come calling

🌟 the jorts by @gukslut (genre: Established Relationship/fluff/smut) | completed

my review

🌟 back and forth by @gukslut (genre: smut/fluff) | completed

my review

🌟 the speedo by @gukslut (genre: fluff/smut) | completed

summary: JK has fallen in love. Too bad the object of his affections thinks he’s a fuckboy who gets blowjobs in women’s locker rooms. How did Jungkook convince his future wife to give him a chance when none of his usual tricks work?

my review

🌟 freak - quency by @gukslut (genre: Smut/fluff, Sub!JK, Rockstar!JK AU, PWP) | completed

🌟 beyond the job by @kooggukk (genre: ?) | girl dad!jk x reader | ongoing

summary: babysitting the cutest angel on earth is the perfect job. (except when her father is fucking hot and wants all of you)

🌟 vampire boy by @smartkookiee (genre: smut/supernatural) | vampire!Jungkook x human!Reader | ongoing

summary: So your boyfriend is a vampire…It’s actually not too different than having a human boyfriend. He is kind and caring and genuinely loves you. He’s just a touch afraid of garlic and he’s kind of cold. Other than that everything is the same and you couldn’t ask for anyone better. You cannot imagine spending your life with anyone else, except… it would be only your life going on. which wasn’t a problem… right

my review

🌟 true love by @lovieku (fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l) | tattoo artist!jk x reader | ongoing?

summary: when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

my review

🌟 get him back by @inthelow (genre: fake relationships trope, kinda growing up womanhood thing, female rage (a LOT of female rage), funny but cringe in the same way, a lot of drama - in a comedy way but also very shitty things - a lot of bad jokes and some angst ) | f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook | ongoing

summary: after a hard breakup with who you thought would be the one, the only thing in your mind was a sad playlist of Taylor Swift songs and red wine. But, what happens when your neighbour- who is done of hearing you cry at 2 am in the morning - puts the idea in your head of getting your ex back? but with a good and sweet revenge… of course everything will be easier if you didn’t have any feelings for your ex and if your neighbour wasn’t a superstar idol who doesn’t have a problem at pretending to be your boyfriend to piss off that ex - who also happens to be his ex best friend -. What a mess, right?

my review

🌟 motive by @luvismenu (genre: smut, written) | brother's best friend , e2l , childhood friends

suqmmary: jungkook is your brother’s best friend, someone you’ve grown up with. the two of you have a knack for clashing, always throwing attitude and finding ways to piss each other off. yet, there’s a connection neither of you can ignore.

my review

🌟 sthings attached (to my heart) by @jungkoode (genre: smut, superhero, spider-man au) | spiderkook x reader | ongoing

summary: You were a journalist at Yonsei University when you started noticing the strange coincidences between your favorite bumbling freshman and Seoul's newest superhero. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when flustered. You tell yourself it's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.

my review

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girlygguk · 4 months ago

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NEEDY | JJK (Part 2)

summary hiding his feelings when you didn’t even know his name was hard. hiding his neediness and obsession when you finally did know his name and you were his fucking girlfriend? impossible. well, then it's a good thing you like him needy.

pairing nerd!jk x cheerleader!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni

genre established relationship; smut, fluff, angst

word count 11.5k

content jk 18 | oc 18, a blast to the past, mentions of oc's ex bf & baddie bff, their first time (actually) meeting, clichés, simpy ass couple my god, heavy pet name use, dramatic, a moment of insecurity from jk but oc clears that up quick n snappy, kissing, dry humping, whiny subby koo, lowkey soft dommy oc, oral (both rec), quick orgasms bc they're inexperienced cuties, brief protected p in v penetration, virginity loss, young love, they are both the sweetest angels i would actually die for them

note!!! the fic ends quite abruptly before they fully get into the Penetration, and if you'd like to know why, pls read the extended author's note. but there's still a bunchh of smut and fluff tho 🤞 this rlly is just 2 cute lil virgins exploring love! ENJOOOY 🤍 siri play i like me better by lauv

needy pt 1 [🐇] masterlist [📣] banner by

SOME TIME AGO

You and Jungkook have been official for a month now, and in that time, you’ve done your fair share of… stuff.

Every kiss, every touch, every moment between you has felt brand new, like you’re learning each other piece by piece. You were both each other’s firsts in so many things.

You’d had a boyfriend before — Christopher Bahng, the textbook-perfect pairing of the head cheerleader and football captain. Chris was a good guy, still a part of your friend group, always easy to be around. Your parents liked him, you shared classes, friends, group study sessions. It was convenient. Comfortable.

But it was never… well, it was never like this.

With Chris, something had always been missing, though neither of you could quite put it into words. A few months in, you both realized you were better as friends. You’d fooled around a little — awkward, aimless fumbling — but you’d never gone all the way. And, god, were you grateful for that.

Because you knew exactly who you wanted to go all the way with.

And right now, you were sitting on top of him, your hands tangled in his soft hair, lips locked as you swallowed every shaky breath he let out.

“Mmph—” Jungkook moaned into your mouth, needy and breathless. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft skin above your hips like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. The slight tremble in his touch gave him away. He was trying to keep himself together, but his body was practically vibrating beneath you.

“You okay, bunny?” you murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to look at him. His lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed pink, his big, glassy eyes wide with that expression he always wore around you — like he still couldn’t believe this was real, like he was still processing that you were his.

“Y-yeah, lovie,” he breathed, his voice shaking as he nodded a little too quickly. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths, and you couldn’t help the sly smile that tugged at your lips as you traced a finger along his jaw.

“You sure?” you teased softly, your lips brushing his as your hips shifted ever so slightly against his lap. The reaction was instant — a broken whine spilled from his mouth as his cock pressed harder against you, straining beneath the tight denim of his jeans.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched on your hips, his grip tightening as you reached up and gently slipped his glasses off. He was sort-sighted, so it was okay, and he nodded when you paused to make sure he was fine. He blinked a few times as you leaned over, setting the frames carefully on your bedside table. The movement brought your chest close to his face, the neckline of your crop top dipping low, and you weren’t even surprised when he instinctively pressed his face into the curve of your cleavage.

The noise he made — somewhere between a groan and a whimper — shot straight to your core. His hands slid up your waist as his lips brushed against your skin, and for a moment, all you could hear was his ragged breathing.

“Bunny,” you cooed, threading your fingers into his hair, tilting your chest just enough to give him better access. His only response was a needy whine as his hips bucked up beneath you, seeking any sort of relief from the unbearable ache between his legs.

His mouth latched onto the curve of your side boob, wet tongue tongue dragging against the delicate skin. Your breath hitched as he sucked lightly, then harder, his groan throaty and desperate as his hands fiddled with the hem of your top.

“Baby,” you gasped, your voice catching as his tongue darted across your skin. “Pull them out. Suck on them properly.”

It was like something snapped inside him. Jungkook let out a broken whimper, his hands moving to tug the fabric of your crop top down, and he froze for a second, just staring as your breasts spilled free.

“Fffuck, baby,” he breathed, his voice shaky and full of awe, his lips parting as if he didn’t know where to start. “Thank you. Thank you, baby. T-thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” you murmured, your fingers curling into his hair, pulling him closer. “They’re yours.”

The sound he made was so intense — a guttural, deep groan as he buried his face in your chest, his mouth latching onto your nipple with zero hesitation. His mouth was desperate, tongue wet and wide as he lapped over the entire areola, sucking, pulling, groaning like he was savoring the sweetest candy in South Korea. And in a way, he was.

Your back arched instinctively, your fingers tightening in his hair as he sucked harder, his lips pulling and nibbling at the soft flesh. His hips jerked beneath you, his cock pressing hard against your core, and you rolled your hips down in response, the friction making both of you gasp.

“Yess, my love,” you whispered breathlessly, your hand cradling his head as he worshiped you. “So good, bunny. Always so good.”

His whine was muffled, his mouth too full of you to respond properly. But his hands said enough — the way they gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself deeper into your chest, desperate to show you just how much he wanted you. How much he needed you.

The praise shattered him. His hips jerked up, grinding into you with an urgency that was raw, unfiltered. Each soft thrust, each shaky breath, was a testament to how much he needed you. And god, did he. It was like your words were oxygen, filling his lungs, fueling him. Without them, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. Was that pathetic? Sure. Did he care? Not in the slightest.

His tongue flicked over your nipple, one hand cupping the soft swell of your boob, kneading it tenderly while his mouth moved with desperateness. The other hand trailed to your other bud, his long fingers rolling it between them, sparking a fresh wave of heat that spread straight to your cunt.

He looked fucking wrecked — eyes squeezed shut, lips swollen from his frantic licks, his face flushed as he moaned against you. Every sound you made, every twitch of your body, had him falling deeper under your spell. It was overwhelming — he was overwhelmed. All he knew, all he felt, all that existed for him at that moment was you.

The steady rhythm of your hips grinding down onto his lap synced with his movements, the friction pulling soft, breathy pants from his lips. His cock twitched beneath the fabric of his pants, hard and aching, the damp spot already forming there a sign of how close he was to losing it.

“Kookie,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing as your warm breath fanned against his cheek. “Baby, do you want to… do more?”

His body jerked, a visible tremor rippling through him as your words registered. His big, doe eyes snapped open, locking with yours, wide and full of need. His lips stayed latched around your nipple, trembling as a muffled whine escaped him. When you ground down again, harder this time, his nod was frantic, shaky, his mouth refusing to let go of your boob even as his body begged for relief.

“Okay, my baby,” you whispered, your voice soothing as you gently pulled your breast from his mouth. He whimpered at the loss, a pitiful sound that tugged at your heart, his lips chasing after you like he needed it back. But his frown melted away the moment you pressed your mouth to his, your tongue sweeping past his lips.

He crumbled under your kiss. The second your tongue found his, his entire body softened, tension flowing out of him as if you’d cast another spell. Your hands slid up to cradle his neck, your thumbs brushing over his flushed skin as his own hands trailed lower. They slipped beneath the hem of your cheer skirt, his fingers gripping the curve of your ass, squeezing with a soft but possessive need that sent a satisfied thrill straight through you.

Jungkook groaned when you moaned into his mouth, his lips parting further to let you take control, his brows furrowing in pleasure. His hips bucked instinctively, pressing his cock harder into you, and you ground down to meet him, your movements growing slicker with every roll of your hips.

His gasp was sharp when you sucked his tongue fully into your mouth, your head bobbing slightly as you pulled him deeper, savoring his taste. You could still pick up the faint sweetness of the strawberry poptarts you’d shared earlier, and the thought made you smile against his lips.

The sound he made was ruined, somewhere between a moan and a sob, his body jerking beneath you as his cock twitched. He tried to pull back, overwhelmed by the way your hips pressed down harder, but you didn’t let him.

“Ahh…-aybee,” he whined, his voice cracking as you suckled harder on his tongue. His hands gripped your ass tighter, desperate to steady himself, but it was useless. You were relentless. You were everywhere. His cock throbbed under you, his hips snapping up as he let out a choked, muffled moan.

“Mm-abyy—” His attempt at your name was cut off when your fingers trailed down, brushing over his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. That was it.

His head fell back, his eyes rolling shut as his entire body seized. “Ahh, c-cum!” His cry was broken, raw, his hips jerking up as his cock pulsed. He came hard, shaking beneath you as his release soaked through his jeans, his breath hitching with every tremor that wracked his body.

But you didn’t stop. You kept rolling your hips over him, slow and deliberate, your movements dragging every last ounce of pleasure from his overstimulated frame. His face was flushed, his lips parted as gasps and soft whimpers spilled from him, his hands gripping you like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Good jobbb, bunny,” you murmured sweetly, your lips brushing against his temple as you ground down one final time, a little playful wiggle of your hips drawing another broken moan from him.

His eyes were glazed, his breath shaky as he clung to you, trembling in your arms. You smiled, brushing his damp hair from his forehead as his body melted into yours. He looked utterly wrecked, but the dazed, drunk smile tugging at his lips told you he was more than okay.

Your continuous whispers of praise made his body shudder, a tiny, broken breath escaping his lips as you kept wiggling against him, teasing him through the aftershocks of his release. He looked up at you, wide-eyed and flushed, his chest heaving beneath your hands.

“Lovie, I-I’m so sorr—”

“Why are you apologizing, bunny?” you frowned, cutting him off softly. Your hands were already in motion, sweeping back the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. You hated when he apologized for something as beautiful as coming quickly. The way he lost control for you, because of you, was intoxicating. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jungkookie. You were so good for me.”

Your words hit him like a lifeline. He melted into your touch, his lips parting as a soft keening sound escaped him. His eyes fluttered shut as your fingers carded gently through his hair, his breath coming in slow, shaky waves.

“I love you so much it fucking hurts, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice raw.

“Hey,” you whispered, your tone softening as your hands stilled. His words were raw, almost jagged, and you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips.

It was gentle, unhurried, and your lips curved into a small smile as he breathed all his little sounds into you. When you pulled back, your voice was warm. “I know exactly how you feel, baby,” you murmured, your tone laced with affection. You pressed another kiss to his pouty lips, your movements so soft that his eyes stayed closed. “I’ve been in love with you the longest, after all, hm.”

His eyes snapped open at that, wide and glistening, his lips parting in protest. The pout he gave you was undeniably adorable. “No, you have not,” he mumbled, his tone brattily defiant. His eyes flicked downward, catching sight of your bare chest, and his cheek rested instinctively against your softness.

You hummed as he settled into you, his head pillowed against your boobs. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you a little higher up his torso, and he let out a contented sigh, his eyes slipping shut again.

Your hands drifted into his hair, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp. The soft noises he made in response drew a fond smile from you, but you pouted slightly as you thought back on his words. “What do you mean?” you teased gently. “I followed you everywhere, bunny. Even if I didn’t know it was love back then—”

“I knew,” he interrupted, his voice muffled against your skin but certain. The warmth of his breath fanned over your chest, sending a shiver through you. His arms tightened their hold, pulling you impossibly closer. “Always knew, lovie.”

“Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants,” you said with a soft laugh, narrowing your eyes at the cheeky smile spreading across his face. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your skin, his quiet acceptance of the nickname only making you smile more. “And how are you so sure that when you realized you were in love with me, I wasn’t already—”

“Because you didn’t even know my name yet,” he cut you off again, lifting his head to meet your gaze. There was a shy confidence in his big, round eyes, and his statement left you momentarily speechless.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out, your expression shifting to one of surprise. He smiled cutely, the tips of his ears flushing pink as if embarrassed by his own boldness. Before you could process it fully, he leaned forward, pressing two quick kisses to your lips, leaving you even more stunned.

Without giving you the chance to respond, Jungkook shifted back against the headboard, his hands finding the hem of your cheer shirt. He leaned in, planting soft kisses on your nipples, his lips warm and reverent before he carefully tugged the fabric back over your chest. His touch drifted lower, settling on your thighs, his big palms warm against your skin.

You’d asked earlier if he wanted to do more, and god, he didn’t know how to put into words all the things he wanted to fucking do. He wanted to lie flat on his back, to feel you slide up, your soft thighs clamped around his head while you—

“Bunny, do you really mean that?” you whispered, your tone curious and a little hesitant, breaking him out of his thoughts. His wide eyes snapped up to yours, startled by the furrow in your brow.

“Wh-yes, baby,” he stammered, panic flickering in his chest. “I—I, of course, I mean it. I’d never lie to you… Should I not have said that?” His voice grew quieter, worry creeping in. He thought he could tell you anything; you said he could tell you anyth—

“No, baby,” you reassured him quickly, the warmth in your tone soothing his nerves. “You can tell me anything. I just didn’t know.” You slid off his lap to settle beside him, curling against his chest. “That’s so interesting, bun. Can you tell me more about it?”

His arm looped around you instinctively, the other hand brushing over your thigh. When you shifted, draping a leg over his waist, he stroked your skin softly, his fingers tracing absent patterns.

“Of course, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “But… can I—wanna make you come first, baby.” His gaze flickered to your thigh, a shy pout forming as he spoke.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Such a sweetie,” you murmured. “Tell me first, please? I’m curious.”

Jungkook licked his lips, nodding before tilting his head down to kiss you gently. “Okay, lovie,” he whispered against your lips, giving you one more soft peck before leaning back, letting you snuggle into him again. “The first time I saw you was… in the hall, freshman year.”

‹ ‹ ‹

Jungkook hit send on a text to Taehyung, confirming their after-school plans for Rocket League, and slipped his phone into his pocket. He was methodically stacking his textbooks from his locker, his mind already wandering to potential team strategies, when a voice cut through the low hum of hallway chatter.

“No thanks, Gyu's parties aren’t really my thing,” you hummed lightly as you closed your locker, your arms full of heavy textbooks. “You go have fun, though, babe. We’ll see each other tomorrow at practice.”

Jungkook’s hand froze on his books, his fingers stilling as he looked up, just in time to see the most beautiful girl he's ever seen in his life glance at who he's assuming is her boyfriend with an easy smile.

He watched quietly as the guy leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, a quick, practiced gesture. Your boyfriend blew you a cheesy kiss as he walked backward, heading down the hall with his teammates.

Jungkook’s breath hitched as you stood there alone, your cheerleading uniform hugging your figure in a way that made his heart pound painfully in his chest. You were perfect — practically glowing, like you’d just walked straight out of a nerd's wet fucking dream. His wet fucking dream.

His throat felt dry. He turned back to his locker, trying to ground himself in the action of grabbing his things, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw you adjust the weight of your textbooks in your arms. The heavy stack wobbled, and before you could react, one slipped free, tumbling to the floor and taking the rest with it.

��Shit,” you muttered, dropping into a crouch to gather them, but Jungkook was already moving. His textbooks clattered back into his locker as he shut the door in a rush, crossing the space to reach you.

“L-let me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands worked quickly, gathering the fallen books with care, his long fingers stacking them neatly before he rose to his feet.

“Oh, thank you so much.”

Your voice was sweet, warm, and when Jungkook finally looked up, his heart almost stopped. You were smiling softly at him and it was like the world around him blurred into nothing. His grip on the books faltered for half a second, but he recovered, handing them back to you with a little bow of his head, his cheeks blazing red.

The tardy bell rang, its shrill tone slicing through the moment, but Jungkook couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the floor, his gaze fixed on you as you shifted the books in your arms, muttering a soft curse under your breath.

“Shit, I gotta run! Mr. Min will kill me if I’m late again,” you squeaked, already dashing down the hall. But before you disappeared around the corner, you turned back, tossing him a quick, “Thank you!” with a smile that left him breathless.

The corridor felt eerily quiet after you were gone, the sound of your voice still echoing in his head. Jungkook stood there for a long moment, his arms limp at his sides, staring blankly at the spot where you’d been.

He finally shook himself free from the haze, his hands moving mechanically as he organized his books. Late for the first time in his life, Jungkook snapped back to reality and sprinted down the hall, heart pounding as he followed your path right to Mr. Min’s class.

› › ›

“No way you fell in love with me then, bunny! We barely even spoke,” you gasped, your finger darting out to poke his stomach. Jungkook’s lips parted with a giggle, his nose scrunching adorably as he squirmed under your touch.

“No, lovie, not then,” he murmured, cheeks flushing as your hand slipped beneath his band tee. Your fingers scratched lightly over his stomach, the gentle touch making him shiver. “But… I-I mean, it wasn’t long after,” he admitted, his voice soft. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his wide eyes meet yours, catching the way your brows lift with curiosity. You blinked up at him, waiting, patient and eager for him to continue.

‹ ‹ ‹

It had only been a week since Jungkook first saw you in the hallway, but it might as well have been a lifetime. You were everywhere — in his thoughts, his dreams, and in every single fucking non-AP class he attended. English history, algebra.

You were in them all.

Jungkook, always the first to arrive, would settle into his front-row seat, his books neatly arranged and his notes ready to go. He liked being prepared. But lately, his meticulous routine had a new highlight. The moment you walked in.

Sometimes you were with a friend, chatting and laughing as you strolled through the door. Other times, your boyfriend tagged along, his hand slung casually over your shoulder like he was flaunting a trophy. Jungkook told himself it didn’t bother him — not outwardly, at least — but the ache in his chest said otherwise. Still, he kept his head down, his crush buried deep where no one could see it. Someone like you would never look twice at someone like him.

But today, as always, he let himself dream.

You entered English with your friend Amara, your cheer uniform perfectly fitted, your smile lighting up the dull classroom. Jungkook’s eyes followed you despite himself, trailing after you as you took your usual spot at the back of the room. He strained to catch snippets of your conversation as he faced the front, his ears practically twitching when your voice softened.

“I don’t know, Mara,” you sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you set your book down. “It’s just, like, nothing special, you know?” Your voice softened as you gave a discreet glance around, checking for any of your boyfriend’s teammates who might overhear. “I’m not expecting something straight out of the movies, like the world stopping every time we’re together or anything… but I just think there could be… more? I don’t know,” you sighed again, flipping open your textbook with a hint of frustration.

The slight frown tugging at your tone had Jungkook’s own chest tightening. His pencil hovered over his notebook, forgotten, as Amara leaned into your shoulder with a sympathetic hum.

“I get it, honey,” she said, rubbing your arm soothingly. “You’re not asking for too much. Sure, this could be it,” she offered with a small shrug, “but maybe it’s not? You’ve only had one piece of candy, babe. Don’t toss the whole bag — there’s probably like six other flavors in there!”

You let out a quiet snort, pressing a kiss to her cheek in thanks as you shook your head, flipping through your textbook with a small smile.

Jungkook didn’t hear Mrs. Lee’s greeting when she entered. His thoughts were stuck on your words, his pencil idly sketching patterns across the margins of his notes as he wondered what kind of candy you did like.

The rest of class passed in a blur. Jungkook answered every question on the pop quiz mechanically, his pen moving on autopilot. When the bell rang and Mrs. Lee dismissed everyone a few minutes early, he packed up his things, following the stream of students. Somehow, he found himself just a few steps behind you and Amara, your scent filling the air as he tried — and failed — not to look at you.

He told himself it wasn’t intentional. His locker just happened to be near yours, that's all.

But before he could get too close, your voice snapped through the air, and it was nothing like the sweet tone he was used to hearing.

“What are you doing, you freak?”

Jungkook’s heart jumped as he rounded the corner, his brows furrowing at the scene before him. You stood by a locker, your arms crossed and eyes blazing as you glared down a football jock. His hands were raised in mock surrender, but the smirk on his face suggested he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“C’mon, Y/N… it’s just a joke.”

“Do you actually think that's funny, Minho? Like, that brings you amusement?” You spat as you ripped a piece of paper off a locker and scrunched it up, throwing it right at his chest.

Minho’s grin faltered, his gaze darting nervously to Amara, who stood beside you, arms crossed and brow raised in silent judgment.

“It’s just Kim Taehyung. The guy’s a dork—”

“Okay? And you’re a brainless jackass. But I’m not out here writing that on your locker, am I?” You scoffed, bending to snatch the crumpled paper off the ground, shooting him a venomous look. “Scram, freak. Or I’ll tell Chris to have your ass benched for the rest of the season.”

Minho swallowed hard, his demeanor crumbling under your glare. He muttered a half-hearted apology before turning and slinking down the hall, his shoulders hunched.

You rolled your eyes and turned to your locker, shoving your books inside and snapping it shut. Linking arms with Amara, you tossed the paper into the bin as you passed by, vanishing around the corner with her.

Jungkook's heart thundered in his chest as he approached the trash can. He glanced around, then reached in, pulling out the paper. Flattening it against his palm, his lips turned down as he took in the cruel scribbles defacing his best friend’s school photo.

“Virgin.” “Loser.” “Geek.”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on the corner you’d disappeared around before he refolded the paper and tucked it carefully into his pocket. He walked back to his locker, the whole scene replaying in his mind as he punched in his combination.

Fuck sakes, he sighed to himself, slamming his locker shut with more force than necessary.

Whenever he thought you couldn’t get more perfect, you proved him wrong. Every fucking time.

› › ›

“I didn’t know you were there,” you mumbled softly, your fingers stilling against his stomach as you blinked up at him.

“I know,” Jungkook murmured in reply, his voice tender. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, his gaze so soft it made your chest ache. “That’s what made me fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught, your brows knitting together as you stared at him, every part of you focused on the honesty in his expression. “Really?” you whispered, your voice small, your eyes stinging faintly as you took in the unguarded look on his pretty face.

“Yes, baby.” His nod was slow but sure, his usual nervous stammer absent as he watched you. “I knew you were funny from the jokes I’d hear you tell Amara and Jimin in class. I knew you were beautiful because, well...” he paused, his lips curling into a cheeky little smirk, “I have eyes.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, your lips curving into a grin as you leaned up to press a kiss to his mouth. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he kissed you back, stealing one more when you pulled away.

“But seeing how fiercely kind you are,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, his lisp softening his tone. “When you had nothing to gain from it, maybe even had something to lose…” His fingers traced slow patterns on your thigh, his gaze searching yours with quiet admiration. “That was it for me, baby. Knew I loved you in that moment, as… creepy as it sounds.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as warmth flooded your chest, adoration pouring out of you as you beamed at him. “My god, bunny,” you breathed, a mix of affection and pure horniness swirling in your veins.

Sitting up, you straddled his lap again, his big hands instantly sliding down to gently grip your bum as you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as his body melted beneath you, his lips parting to welcome your tongue, soft little sighs slipping from him as you deepened the kiss. When you finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, you murmured against his lips, “How did I land someone like you, huh?”

Jungkook’s response was a flustered sound, his lips parting as his eyes blinked open. “I’m the lucky one, not you,” he mumbled, his tone laced with that bratty insistence that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

You smirked, pulling back with a teasing glint in your eyes. “No,” you said with a giggle, your voice full of playful defiance. “I’m the lucky one.”

Jungkook’s pout deepened, his brows pulling together as his lips formed a soft, reluctant line. He didn’t like disagreeing with you, but there was no way he was letting you think anything less than the truth. “Baby, you could ask literally anyone in the entire school, and they’d all say—”

Your smile pursed into a soft frown, your fingers trailing along his jaw as your tone shifted. “Jungkook, I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks about us. They don’t know us. It’s just you and me, bunny.”

His lips parted slightly, his eyes wide as he looked at you, completely undone. Words failed him, leaving him silent as he took you in. Un-fucking-real, you were.

“Now admit I’m the lucky one,” you whispered, leaning in close as your hips rolled forward against his lap. His fingers tightened on your ass instinctively, his breath hitching at your movements.

“Lovie, n-no, you can’t do that—” His voice broke, his cock twitching against you.

“Yes, I can,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “Say it, bunny.” You pressed back into his hands, your hips grinding harder, the slow, deliberate rhythm making his head tip back against the headboard. His chest rose and fell in shallow pants, soft whimpers escaping his lips.

“Oh, g-god,” he choked out, his voice shaky as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your pace quickened, your barely covered cunt pressing just right against his bulge, drawing a breathy moan from you.

“Say it,” you urged, your voice dipping lower as your hands gripped his shoulders for leverage. You ground down harder, letting your soaked panties slide over his length.

His head shook weakly, his eyes clenching shut as his body trembled beneath you, his sticky covered-cock stiffening even more with every grind of your hips. “N-no, no—”

“Yes,” you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you picked up speed, your clit pulsing from the friction as your hips rolled fluidly over him. “I’m the lucky one, bunny. Say it.”

His body jerked beneath you, his cock twitching furiously as you moved. “I—” His voice faltered, another choked moan slipping out.

“Say it,” you commanded, your voice firm but laced with sweetness as your hips ground down harder. His moan was guttural, his whole body trembling as he edged closer to breaking.

“Uh, f-fuck, baby, please,” Jungkook pleaded, his voice high and trembling as his fingers sank deeper into the plush flesh of your ass. His grip tightened instinctively, desperate, as his hips snapped up in rhythm with your thrusts. “Please.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you insisted, your voice rising, each word punctuated by the purposeful grind of your hips. Your breath caught, a sharp gasp escaping when the tip of his cock pressed just right against you with a particularly rough roll. “Say it, bunny! I’m the lucky—”

“You’re the lucky one!” Jungkook cried out, his voice breaking as his hips jerked up, his cock throbbing painfully beneath the damp fabric of his boxers. Tears stung behind his closed eyelids, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge again, so close it was unbearable. “You’re the fucking lucky one, baby. You’re the lucky one… y-you’re t-the lucky one!”

The desperate confession sent a surge through your body, your fingers sliding up to cradle the sides of his neck. You squeezed lightly as your body tensed, the heat pooling in your core snapping all at once. Your orgasm crashed over you, a sharp gasp spilling from your lips as you shuddered above him.

Jungkook whimpered softly, his hips bucking up to meet yours instinctively, his hands gripping your asscheeks tighter to guide you through it. His head fell back against the headboard, his lips parted as he watched you ride out your high. His eyes were dazed, his heart pounding as he felt every tremble of your soft body against his.

“God, baby,” you panted, your voice breathless and raw as you collapsed forward. Jungkook caught you instantly, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you buried your face into his neck. His breath was shaky as he tilted his head to give you space, pressing his lips softly to your temple.

He kept moving beneath you, gentle, shallow thrusts that made you moan quietly into his neck. His own jaw went slack when he felt a little drool slip from your parted lips onto his skin, a faint whimper slipping from his throat. Your body was so relaxed, so pliant against him, that it felt like you might melt into him entirely.

Only when he felt your thighs begin to quiver from oversensitivity did he finally slow his movements, adjusting your shaky legs around his waist. He held you closer, snug against his chest, his big arms cradling you.

“So good, my sweetheart. Thank you,” you murmured weakly, your voice soft against his skin.

Jungkook shivered at the nickname, keening under you as you nuzzled deeper into his neck. “Of course, lovie,” he whispered back, fingers toying with the frills of your skirt. His heart swelled as he thought about the way those frills bounced when you were excited, how they flicked in the air when you ran up and jumped into his arms to greet him when he met you at the gym after practice.

He would never understand how someone like you chose to love him so openly, so unapologetically. You wore your love for him like a badge, proud to show the world that you were his, and it knocked the fucking air out of him every time.

He remembered the shock on everyone’s faces when the two of you first got together. Your classmates, your clique — even your best friend Amara, who was always very kind to him, couldn’t hide her surprise. The social gap between you was obvious, and Jungkook never blamed anyone for questioning it.

Even Taehyung, his own best friend, had laughed so hard he cried when Jungkook told him the news, punching his arm repeatedly in disbelief.

But you didn’t care. You let people take their time adjusting, sure, but if they didn’t? You made it clear they had no choice. His fierce, confident angel — always ready to defend him, to fight for him.

Jungkook was completely smitten. Utterly, irrevocably in love. He didn’t think he could possibly be any happier.

“Bunny, I really want to have sex.”

Huh. Never fucking mind.

“Y-yes,” he breathed instantly.

You smiled into his neck, a light laugh slipping from your lips as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Yes?”

“Yes, please?”

Your grin widened as you sat up, your fingers slipping into the soft hair at the back of his head. His arms remained locked around your waist, holding you tightly against him as he blinked up at you, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

“Yeah?” you teased, your voice gentle but laced with amusement. “You want to, baby?”

His nod was immediate, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I-I want everything with you,” he whispered, his tone so certain.

“Babyyy,” you cooed, your nose scrunching as you took in how fucking adorable he was. Leaning down, you peppered his pout with a dozen soft kisses, each one pulling the faintest smile to his lips before you leaned back. “I’m so excited, bunny,” you beamed, practically buzzing with giddiness as you pressed a quick peck to the side of his neck.

Gently, you began untangling his arms from around your waist, earning a quiet little pout as he reluctantly let you go. His wide, curious eyes stayed glued to you, watching as you stood on shaky legs and walked toward your desk.

His ears turned pink the second you bent down, his stomach flipping when he caught the full view of your very wet panties — as if he hadn’t just been grinding against you like a desperate puppy until you came two fucking minutes ago.

You hummed softly to yourself, rifling through a bag on the floor before pulling something out. Turning back, you padded toward him across the fluffy pink rug with a pretty grin.

Jungkook’s stomach dropped as his eyes locked on the object in your hand.

“I didn’t know what actual size you were, bunny, but you're big,” you giggled, holding up a box of condoms. An opened box of condoms. “So these should work.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as his wide eyes flicked between you and the box.

Jealousy wasn’t something Jungkook had ever really felt before. An only child, top of every one of his classes, and with no ex-girlfriends or siblings to contend with, he’d never had much of a reason.

But… well, things could certainly change.

You were about to climb back onto the bed when you caught your boyfriend’s expression, and the unease on his face was impossible to ignore. He obviously tried to mask it, but he was terrible at that, and the moment you saw it, your brows furrowed.

You gently placed the box next to his glasses on your bedside table, your focus shifting entirely to him. “Hello?” you asked gently, stepping closer and cupping his face with both hands.

“Hello,” he echoed softly, his voice wavering as he forced a small, unconvincing smile.

Your frown deepened. The confusion swirling in your eyes only grew as your fingers traced over his pink cheeks, trying to draw his gaze to yours. But he didn’t meet your eyes. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze fixed somewhere behind you. You caught the faintest glint of unshed tears, and your chest clenched painfully.

“Jungkookie,” you whispered, your voice soft but full of concern. You dropped your hands to the bed and climbed back into his lap, settling against him as you took his trembling arms in your hands.

His body felt tense beneath yours, and you searched his face, desperate to understand. “Baby, what’s wrong? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Oh god, did I pressure you into this?” Your words came out in a rush, your heart racing at the thought. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I would never—”

“No, n-no, lovie,” Jungkook cut you off, his voice shaking as his head snapped up to meet your worried gaze. His nose was red, the way it always got when he was holding back tears, and your heart twisted further.

You leaned in without hesitation, pressing soft, reassuring kisses to his cheeks as his breath stuttered. His sniffle was quiet but unmistakable, and your frown deepened as you stroked his arms.

“Never force me,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. “You’d never… could never.” The break in his voice made your chest ache. “M’sorry, lovie,” he whispered. “T-this is so embarrassing. I… I can leave—”

The moment your hands slipped away from his arms, Jungkook felt his chest clench like it was collapsing in on itself. His vision blurred as he blinked up at you, only to find you leaning back, your face etched with hurt. The sight made him wish he hadn’t looked at all.

“You’re embarrassed?” you asked quietly. Your gaze dropped, shoulders slumped as you swallowed thickly.

Jungkook’s heart splintered.

“I-in front of me?”

And just like that, he thought he might die.

Jungkook had never heard you stammer. You’d never hesitated or questioned yourself in all the time he’d known you. From the moment you first started growing close, you’d been so open, so you. Sharing every part of yourself with him so effortlessly, so willingly.

Emotionally, physically, everything.

You’d always encouraged Jungkook to do the same. And even though he was naturally more timid, careful with who he opened up to, with you, it was easy. Automatic. He found himself wanting to tell you everything. Wanting to show you every piece of himself, no matter how small or unpolished. It was like he got high off it — off knowing you wanted to know him as much as he wanted to know you.

The day you asked him to be official was the single best day of his entire life. Honestly, every day with you had felt like that. You were so bright, so beautiful, so confident, so contagious. Pulling him out of his shell with such love and ease in the way only you could. Like you were born to love him, and he was born to love you.

But now, here he was, making you doubt yourself — maybe even your relationship. The two things that felt like the only substantial evidence that could ever convince Jungkook of a higher power. All because he was a jealous fucking crybaby.

There was just no fucking way.

“N-no, baby,” he choked out, his voice trembling as his hands darted forward, catching yours before you could move away. He gripped them tightly, his panic bubbling over as he shook his head frantically, his damp bangs swaying with the motion. “No, lovie, no, please.” You looked so fucking sad. He did that? He made you sad? What in the fuck.

“Lovie, t-the condoms,” he blurted out, his voice cracking as his grip on your hands tightened, like letting go might make everything fall apart.

You blinked down at him, confused. “Yeah? What about them, bun?” you asked softly, shifting back into his lap, your hands resting gently on his thighs. “Do you not want to use them?”

Jungkook swallowed when you tilted your head, your lips curving into the smallest pout. “I’m not on the pill or anything, baby,” you added, your hands drifting up to graze over his stomach. “If you trust yourself to pull out, we can try that... But we’re still stopping by the drugstore before my parents get home for Plan B,” you teased, your fingers brushing over his soft abs. “I’m not ready for a little mini valedictorian running around my—”

“Open.”

The word tumbled out of Jungkook’s mouth before he could stop it, rushed and breathless, cutting you off mid-sentence. His lashes fluttered nervously, and his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as he realized what you’d just implied.

Kids. With him?

His cock twitched at the thought, a pulse of heat surging through him that left him slightly dazed. But the panic wasn’t gone yet.

“The condoms,” he stammered, his voice thick as he swallowed hard. “T-they’re open.”

Your head tilted further, confusion clouding your expression as your fingers continued their slow, absentminded trail over his skin. “Huh?” you hummed, glancing over at the bedside table.

Reaching for the box, you leaned away just long enough to grab it before settling back onto his lap. Jungkook watched, his wide eyes glued to you as you straddled him once more.

You pressed a soft kiss to his trembling lips, silencing the shaky noise that escaped him. His hands instinctively found your hips as your fingers skimmed over the box, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Oh,” you hummed, holding it up between you, your tone light and casual. “I opened them earlier to check if they’d fit you, baby. The guy at the store last week wouldn’t let me test them there,” you added with an eye rol as you thought back to the interaction. “But he said they stretch, so if you’re really as big as I said you were, these should be fine.”

Jungkook’s ears burned, his gaze fixed on the box as your words sank in. Your confidence left his mind spinning. His chest swelled with a confusing mix of pride and embarrassment, and for a second, he didn’t know which was stronger.

But you didn’t seem to notice his spiraling thoughts. Tossing the box back onto the bedside table, you giggled softly, your fingers trailing up his neck to his flushed neck. “I don’t think he believed me,” you added, your lips curving into a playful grin. “But he also looked really uncomfortable the whole time. So I just grabbed these and came home.”

Your laugh filled the room, soft and sweet, and Jungkook wanted to record it and listen to it on repeat while he studied. He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips parting to say something, anything, but his brain felt like it was shortcircuiting. You do that to him a lot.

Then your head tilted, your thumbs pressing gentle circles into his tense shoulders. “You okay, bunny?” you asked softly.

Jungkook blinked up at you, his throat dry and his cheeks burning. “Y-yeah,” he managed, his voice cracking faintly as his ears flushed pink. “I’m good, lovie.”

You hummed softly, the sound gently skeptical, as if you didn’t quite believe him but weren’t going to push just yet. Your hands drifted lower, tracing soothing patterns over his arms, and Jungkook felt some of the tension in his chest begin to ease.

But then your eyes caught his, glinting with that familiar mischief, and as you leaned in to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, Jungkook knew he was doomed.

“Good,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft and deliberate as you pressed your mouth to his in a slow kiss.

His breath stuttered, his grip on your hips tightening as your lips moved against his, stealing the tiny gasp that slipped out of him. When you pulled back, it was only slightly, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Did you think I used some already, my love?”

Jungkook froze, his wide, doe-like eyes snapping to yours. You felt him swallow hard, his brows knitting together as pink flooded his ears. Slowly, he gave you the smallest, saddest nod, his gaze dropping to where your hands rested on his shoulders.

“I-I didn’t know,” he stammered, his voice barely audible, the words shaky and unsure. “I'm sorry baby, I thought maybe you already…”

“Oh, my baby,” you cooed, shaking your head gently as you cupped his face. Your thumbs brushed over his cheeks as you tilted his chin back up, forcing him to meet your eyes. The moment his gaze locked with yours, you leaned in, pressing another kiss to his pout.

His breath hitched, his hands trembling as they clutched at your waist. He let out the softest little whimper when your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly. When you pulled back, you pressed a sweet kiss to his nose, smiling when his eyelids lowered in content.

“I’m still a virgin, bunny,” you whispered, against his mouth. "We already talked about this. We’re going to be each other’s first… we promised.”

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut at your words, his chest heaving as he let out a shaky breath. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, and you could practically see the wave of relief wash over him.

You pressed another kiss to his swollen lips, your fingers threading back through his hair. “I meant that, Kookie."

His response was a quiet whimper as his hands slid up from your hips to clutch your waist. “I-I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “So much, baby.”

Then he was kissing you again, and it was different this time — more urgent, more desperate, his lips moving against yours with a need that was just so him.

You hummed into his mouth, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you let him take control. His kisses grew more open-mouthed, sloppier, each one punctuated by the quietest little whimpers.

“I love you too, my baby,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. Your fingers slid through his hair, gently tugging as he leaned forward, chasing your lips. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, baby,” he stammered, his big eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “With everything. Always.”

Jungkook’s lips didn’t falter, moving to your neck when you smiled happily at his words. Your breathing picked up as his lips pressed and sucked at your pulse point. His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin, and your hips ground against him instinctively, drawing a muffled whine from his throat.

It was so messy now, your slick soaking through your panties and smearing over the fabric. Every slow roll of your hips had his cock throbbing, straining against the damp cotton of his briefs and damp denim of his jeans, the friction making you both shudder.

“Baby, hold on,” you gasped, your voice breathy as your fingers found their way back to his hair,.

“Mm, n-no, please,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice slurred like he was drunk. He nuzzled deeper into the crook of your neck, his hands squeezing your boobs, his fingers trembling slightly as they grazed your bare skin. “Don’t wanna stop.”

“We won't, bunny,” you murmured, your words catching in your throat as his hips jerked up, grinding against you. You gripped his wrists, pulling his hands from your chest, and he blinked up at you cutely.

“Wh—” he started, the protest dying on his lips the second you were tugging your crop top off and tossing it aside. His gaze snapped to your chest, his bunny teeth pulling his bottom lip into his mouth in impatience.

“Babyy,” he breathed, his voice cracking. His head shook softly as his throat tightened in hunger. He leaned forward, diving toward you, but you stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. “Hold on, bun,” you said softly, reaching down for the hem of his band tee.

Jungkook caught on instantly, his hands rushing to tug the shirt off, yanking it over his head and tossing it somewhere to the side. He was back on you immediately, his warm chest pressing against yours as his lips found yours again.

You melted into it, slow and lingering, savoring the way his lips dissolved against yours. When he pulled back, his chest heaved, his voice shaky as he stammered, “How—what do you—uh, should I—”

“Mm,” you murmured, your hands cupping his face. His cheeks were hot under your palms, and his wide eyes blinked up at you. “Should we try with me on top, bunny? Do you feel more comfortable on your back?”

He furrowed his brows immediately, his lips parting like he was offended you’d even suggest prioritizing his comfort over yours. “Lovie,” he said, his voice soft but determined, “what’s more comfortable for you? Are your legs hurting? Come on, let’s—”

Before you could respond, he was moving. His arms slid around you, and he gently flipped you onto your back, his body hovering over yours.

You blinked up at him, surprised but amused, your hands brushing his shoulders. “Okay, this is more comfy, bunny. I like it.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed, his lips twitching into a shy smile. “Good,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it. His hands slid over your hips as he shifted to kneel on the bed.

“I-I'll grab the condom,” he said, his voice cracking faintly as he reached for the box on your bedside table. His hands shook as he fumbled with the box, and you tilted your head, watching him with a soft smile.

“Kookie,” you said gently, your hand brushing over his thigh. His eyes snapped to yours, wide and nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, nodding quickly, but his breath was shallow, and his cheeks were a fiery red. “I’m just—I’m so excited...”

Your heart swelled, and you sat up slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Me too,” you giggled. “Can I do it?”

He nodded instantly, his gaze fixed on you as you took the condom from his hands, his chest heaving as you sat up fully, your knees brushing his.

As you were tearing it open, Jungkook hastily clambered off the bed. His cheeks were pink as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, tugging the fabric down his legs.

You watched as he stepped out of the denim, his thighs flexing with the motion, leaving him in just his black briefs. He hesitated for a second, glancing at you shyly, but your pleased smile eased the tension in his tummy.

“Yummy,” you hummed, your voice giddy as you patted the spot in front of you on the bed.

Jungkook nibbled back a smile, climbing back onto your mattress and kneeling in front of you again.

“So pretty, bun,” you praised softly as you dug your hand into your boyfriend's boxers, your warm hand wrapping around his sticky length to pull it out fully.

Jungkook’s breath hitched the moment he felt the contact on his bare cock, his lips trembling as he tried to respond. But all that came out was a shaky moan, his head tipping back as his hands gripped your waist for balance. His reddened cock twitched in your hand, and your thumb grazed the fresh, slick bead of precum pooling at the tip.

You glanced down at his length, then at his shirt beside you on the bed, biting your lip softly. “Baby?” you asked gently, your voice pulling his attention back to you.

His brows furrowed in pleasure as he blinked down at you, his chest heaving. “Y-yeah, baby?” he stammered, his voice breathless.

“I want to clean you up, s'that okay?” you murmured, your tone sweet as your fingers stroked him softly.

He nodded immediately, a faint whine slipping from his lips. “Of course, lovie. Use, uh, m-my shirt, yeah?” His hands fluttered slightly like he wasn’t sure where to put them, but his gaze stayed fixed on you.

Your brows knitted together in thought, and you glanced at the shirt again, the corner of your lip pulling between your teeth. “But then you won’t have anything to wear later,” you mused, tilting your head as you pictured him walking out of your house half-naked. Your parents were very open and sex-positive, and they loved your adorable boyfriend. But some things were just for the two of you.

You pushed the thought away, your grip on his cock shifting slightly as another idea sparked. “Baby,” you said again, your voice quieter this time, and his eyes darted back to yours.

“Yes, lovie?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly, the furrow in his brow deepening at the soft tone of your voice.

“I’m going to clean you up.” You repeated, your lips curving into a reassuring smile as you stroked him lightly, your thumb circling the leaky head.

He nodded again, his breathing shallow. “Y-yeah, of course,” he stammered. “I-I can get some tissues if you want—”

“With my mouth,” you whispered, tilting your head as you glanced up at him.

Jungkook’s body went still for a beat. His eyes closed instantly as he swallowed harshly. “Lovie, I can, uh—I can grab some paper towels or—”

You pouted slightly. “You don’t want me to?” you murmured, your lips curling down just a little as your hand paused around his length. “Didn’t you like it last time?”

His eyes snapped open immediately, panic flashing across his face as he scrambled to respond. “I loved it, baby,” he blurted. “Wh-what the heck, no, it’s just that you don’t have to—”

“Baby,” you interrupted, your frown deepening a little as your hand squeezed lightly around his wet, reddened cock. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his pout. “Anything I offer to do for you, I really wanna... Please, bunny?”

Jungkook’s breath hitched at your words, his wide eyes flickering over your face like he was trying to internally screenshot the moment. “O-of course, baby,” he stammered. “Yes. You can do anything to me.”

You smiled at him sweetly, letting go of him gently to shuffle back. You sat up and slipped your fingers under the hem of your cheer skirt, Jungkook’s eyes widening as you lifted your hips, peeling the fabric off and tossing it aside.

His gaze dropped instantly to the pink panties that clung to you, a dark patch of slick soaking through the fabric where it met your pussy. The curve of your asscheeks swallowed the edges, and Jungkook swore he heard his cock cry in response.

He choked on his breath, his head tipping back briefly before snapping forward again, his eyes fixed on you like he couldn’t bear to look away. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and shaky.

“Don’t curse, bunny,” you teased softly, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you knelt in front of him. Your hand wrapped around his length again, your other hand resting lightly on his thigh as you leaned down.

He trembled the moment your tongue flicked out, licking delicately at the sticky head of his cock. “Oh god,” he whimpered, his thighs tensing under your touch as his hips jerked up.

“Mm,” you hummed softly, your tongue dragging over the sensitive tip before licking a slow, long stripe along the length, cleaning him up thoroughly. Jungkook gasped, his head tipping back as his hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to grip the bed or your hair.

Your lips closed around the head, and the sound he made was devastating — a soft, broken whimper as his cock twitched against your tongue. You took him deeper, your hand sliding along the base as you hollowed your cheeks, and Jungkook practically crumpled in on himself.

“B-baby,” he stammered, his voice cracking as his hips jerked up involuntarily. “S-so warm—ah, fuck—”

Your fingers dug lightly into his thigh as you steadied him, a soft hum vibrating around his length. His hands found their way to your hair, trembling as they cradled your head, his breathing ragged as he gasped out your name between stuttering moans.

You hummed around him again, the vibration pulling a soft cry from his lips as his long fingers gripped your shoulders. He was already shaking, already on the edge again, his cock throbbing against your tongue as you took him a little deeper.

Pulling back slightly, you let your tongue swirl over the head one more time before trailing lower, licking along the length and then past it. Jungkook’s breath hitched, his thighs tensing as you nudged at his balls with your tongue, taking one into your mouth gently.

“Ah—baby,” he gasped, his voice high and breathy, his hands flying to your hair to ground himself.

You hummed softly, your hand continuing to stroke his cock as you sucked lightly, your tongue lapping at the soft skin of his balls. His thighs trembled against your arms, his hips jerking slightly with each flick of your tongue.

“Oh my god, lovie,” he whined, his voice shaking as his head tipped back, exposing the flushed column of his throat. “You’re—ahh—so g-good at this.”

You pulled back for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to his other ball before licking a wet stripe back up his length, your lips curling into a smile at the way his whole body shuddered. “I don’t even know what I’m doing, bunny, I just know I want to eat you,” you giggled before taking him back into your mouth.

The scent of his body wash mixed with a hint of sweat wafting from his skin, combined with the sound of his whimpers, made your head fucking spin. You moaned softly around his cock, the sound reverberating against him and pulling a loud, choky cry from his lips.

Jungkook’s breathing was ragged, his moans spilling freely as his hands clenched and unclenched against you. “Baby,” he whined, his voice high and broken, “I-I can’t, t-too much, I’m, oh, baby—”

You pulled back slowly, your tongue flicking over the sensitive cock-head one last time. His entire body shuddered, his head tipping back as his damp hair brushed his flushed shoulders.

“Ah,” he huffed, his bunny smile blooming across his face as he blinked down at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “T-thank you, baby.”

Your heart squeezed at the sight of him — so pink, so happy, so ridiculously pretty. You licked your lips and smiled up at him, reaching for the condom you had placed on the sheet next to you. His gaze stayed locked on you, lips parted as he breathed through his nose, his body still trembling slightly as you slid the condom down his cock.

The moment it was on, Jungkook shuddered, a pathetic whimper slipping from his lips. You beamed at him, your hands smoothing over his thick thighs as you leaned back into the pillows. “C'mere, bunny,” you urged, reaching up to pull him down toward you.

He was there in an instant, his body folding easily over yours as he settled against you, his arms bracketing your head. Your hands looped around his neck, pulling him into a quick kiss. His lips hummed against yours, and you could feel the faintest smile spreading as he sighed softly into the kiss.

“Okay, baby,” you whispered, brushing your lips over his, your voice teasing. “Take me.”

Jungkook giggled under his breath, his face so pink it almost matched the tips of his ears. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and breathy as he leaned back slightly, his hands finding their way to your thighs.

His thumbs stroked the soft flesh there, his touch slow and amazed. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the dark, damp patch between your legs. His breathing stuttered, wide eyes locked on the sight before him as his fingers twitched slightly against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he dipped his slender fingers under the hem of your panties. He glanced up at you, his lashes fluttering as his lips parted. “G-gonna take these… take these off.”

You nodded, biting your lip, and Jungkook swallowed hard as he hooked his fingers around the fabric. Slowly, carefully, he began dragging them down, his tongue twitching as the pink cloth clung to your sticky lips before peeling away.

“God,” he breathed out, his voice scratchy as he pulled the panties free, tossing them next to his discarded t-shirt. His gaze flicked back up to you for a moment, a little shy and a lot hungry, before dropping back down.

“C-can I…” he started, his voice small and hesitant as his fingers flexed against your thighs. “Can I lick it?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you nodded. “Yeah, baby,” you whispered, “can do whatever you want, my love.”

Jungkook’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he didn’t waste another second. He shifted lower, his head dipping between your thighs as his hands pushed them gently apart. His breath was warm against your slick folds, and the first swipe of his tongue pulled a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Shit, baby,” you gasped, your voice trembling as his tongue licked a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Jungkook let out the softest whimper, already addicted to the taste, the smell of you lingering in his nose. He wanted more. Needed more.

Your boyfriend's hands slid up to grip your thighs as his lips wrapped around your clit with vigor. He suckled greedily, his tongue flicking over the slick bud, and the strangled sound you made pulled a loud moan from his throat.

He was ravenous, going at it like he hadn’t shared a big lunch with you during your free period at school or scarfed down three strawberry pop-tarts the second you got back to your house. His tongue licked and lapped with sloppy desperation, his muffled whines vibrating against your pussy as he buried his face deeper. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you open as the nose you always called angelic brushed against your clit devilishly. Every shaky breath he took rode right through you as he nuzzled his face in deeper.

“Kookie,” you choked, your hands flying to his hair, threading through the growing strands as your hips jerked up involuntarily. “S-so good, baby. You’re so good. What the fuckk.”

The praise drew another whimper from him. His tongue dipped lower, teasing your entrance before sliding in, his face pressing as close as he could get. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but if there was anything your boyfriend excelled at, it was learning fast.

Groaning into you, the vibration sent sparks racing up your spine, and your back arched off the bed as a loud cry spilled from your lips. Jungkook was lost, consumed, his tongue working over you with messy hunger. Every sound you made spurred him on, his moans growing louder, more desperate as he tried not to press into the mattress and put pressure on his throbbing cock. He was worried even that wouldn’t be enough, though, afraid that the scent of your pussy alone was enough to make him cum.

“L-love it, baby, thank you,” he whimpered into you, his voice muffled as he refused to pull away, his big tongue immediately going back to circling and lapping over your clit.

You could barely respond, your throat raw from your little cries as his movements grew sloppier, needier. His whines were constant, muffled by your pussy lips.

He was relentless, his lips and tongue moving with an urgency that had your thighs trembling around his head. The room felt so warm, the wet, lewd sounds of his mouth against your cunt filling the air, each slick movement sending you higher and higher.

“Kookie,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. His body jerked at the touch, a muffled groan vibrating against your folds. Your hand in his hair pushed his head just a little until he— oh, there.

“Shitt! I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna cum, baby. F-fuck, bunny, let’s do it.”

He whimpered in response but didn’t stop immediately, his tongue slipping over your clit a few more times. His nose brushed against you as he took a deep breath, savoring the smell, before finally pulling back. Panting softly, his lips and chin shone with your slick as he blinked up at you, drunk and breathless.

Jungkook’s body trembled as he crawled back up, his hands bracketing your waist until he was fully resting over you. For a moment, neither of you moved, both staring into each other’s flushed, panting faces.

Then your lips curled into a grin, the tension in your chest breaking, and Jungkook couldn’t help but follow. His bunny smile spread wide across his pink face, his eyes soft and adoring.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He melted into you immediately, his lips soft and sticky against yours, his body pressing into you like he was trying to become part of you.

“Love you so much, baby,” he whispered into your mouth.

“I love you more, bunny,” you murmured back, your fingers brushing over the back of his neck as you pressed another soft kiss to his pout. His lips lingered against yours for a moment before you pulled back, your gaze excited as you watched him catch his breath.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his gaze flickering down to your body beneath him. Slowly, his hand moved to wrap around his cock, the sight making your breath hitch. He was so focused, his lips parted slightly, his bunny teeth worrying at his bottom lip as his brows furrowed in concentration.

He lined himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds as you both looked down, watching the moment. His chest rumbled with a quiet, shaky whine, his whole body bracing itself for a quick death as he pushed forward slightly, the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

Your breath caught, the stretch foreign but not unpleasant — a sharp heat that quickly melted into something deeper and so much fuller. “Kookie,” you sighed out, your fingers scratching softly at the nape of his neck in encouragement.

Jungkook’s breath stuttered, his gaze darting up to meet yours, searching for reassurance that you were okay. You read the look instantly, nodding softly. “I'm good, baby. So good. Keep going, bunny.”

His lips trembled as he nodded, his hand tightening around the base of his cock as he slowly pushed in further. The wet heat of your walls enveloped him, and his head tipped forward, a broken moan spilling from his lips as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

“O-oh my god, l-lovie,” he stammered, his voice cracking as his body shuddered against yours. He fed another inch of his cock deeper, the sensation causing his free hand next to your head to curl into a fist.

a/n if you're gobsmacked at the sudden ending, that's what u get for not reading the author's note :P sorry guys dklsdfskl LOVE U and so sorry this was shite oop 🩷 good night

perm taglist: @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @vantaebearr @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @jungshook-v @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater @myjungkookthighs @nikidream24 @whothefuckisthishoe @4noirre @gaebestie @uzum-uzum @lllucere @dragonflygurl4 @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw

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sanshinesante · 8 months ago

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄|𝐉𝐉𝐊

Cut your good girl act

Paring- stalker!jk- “good girl”!reader

Warnings- stalking, unsolicited pictures, obsession, masturbating, cum eating, protected sex for 2 sentences, unprotected sex (sigh), rough sex, choking, biting gagging, spitting, cumming inside

Word count- 1.6k

A/N; This is a repost, cause I hated it (it’s literally the same)

Not edited (sigh again)

☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆

Jungkook sits on the ridge of the facility across your home. His fist tightened at the scenery of you solely in your towel.

The Sheer white curtains do not show any privacy from this point of view. He sits gazing at you the bulge in his pants tinting his jeans.

He rolls his hand over his dick aching at the discomfort. He grabs his camera snapping a few pictures of you. You stand stripped in front of the mirror darting at yourself running your hands past your thighs.

Skimming up the waist as you drag on your underwear. The tiny purple Lacey thong. You veer around a bit and Jungkook sees a full sight of your ass.

He fumbles his camera to take a picture but you had already shifted out of his view. He poses there in defeat and with a raging hard-on. Jungkook darts at you through the window. He moves back a bit and unbuttons his pants.

He sticks his hand in his jeans and starts to move up and down on his hard cock. The very little wind hits his smooth skin. He gasps wondering how disgusted you’d be if you caught him jerking himself off in front of your house.

But he stares at you as you put on the matching purple bra. He pants as he grips his cock tighter and moves faster his body warming up. He closes his eyes mouthing to himself “Fuck fuck fuck” he goes hard and fast his arms jolt from the friction and he is almost there.

The white euphoric feeling presses at him “Please baby come, come please” he pleads to himself moving around your room.

You lying on your bed that sits in front of the window. You lay Diagonal so jungkook sees your side. You lay on the bed with your underwear on bend your left knee and open up your legs.

Your hands brush your waist as you trail your hand down to your underwear you rub yourself and jungkook stops realizing what you’re doing.

He continues to move up and down on his cock. You touch yourself getting lost in your pleasure. Your back arches and you moan at the sensation of your body tingling from the white heat you're providing for yourself.

Jungkook stares in awe, thinking about all the things he could do to you. How he could break into your house and make you his.

Have you begged for his touch, his hands exploring every inch of your body? Learning you and what turns you on. How your friends would react to sweet innocent Y/N touching herself wearing the sexiest underwear?

His hands pump himself fast the warmth climbing up his abdomen, and he’s almost there. He fists faster his eye blurring at the movements. He comes his cum hitting him in the face under his nose and cheeks. He stares up at you.

You coming off your high. Two fingers dug deep into yourself and the other hand pinching your nipple. You shake at your orgasm your back arching so far off the bed.

Jungkook smiles and he places his cock back in his pants. Taking his camera taking one finally shot of you pulling your fingers out your warmth and sucking your fluids off your fingers. Jungkook does the same licking his cum coated fingers.

“Y/N” you hear his voice, you're also staring at the very explicit pictures that you received in your school mailbox.

You had thrown them away, planning to forget about them.

You look up and Jungkook who stands in front of you. A wide grin on his face. His eyes are big and shiny.

“How did you get these?” Jungkook hums. Standing next to you. He has a black bag in his hand. Pulling out a black thick folder.

It can’t be

“I took them, I told you I was interested in you” he throws the folder on the table. He opens it. The first picture is one of you masturbating on your bed. Your fingers are deep inside of you. Your mouth agape, you stare at him.

You close the folder. Snatching it off the table and onto your lap.

Your eyes are watering, your are embarrassed. You look around at the not-so-busy coffee shop.

“So you decide the stalk me and take naked pictures of me?” you look at him. His eyes bore into yours.

He nods “They are just so beautiful” he smooths a hand over yours. He tries to take the folder in your lap. You grip the folder as if your life depended on it.

It does actually, if those pictures get out your reputation will be ruined. You’ll be the laughingstock of campus.

You take a deep breath.

“So what do you gain in this?” jungkook laughs on the other side of the table.

“I know your secret, that you are a sick slut that chokes and fingers herself to get by. The list goes on. You wouldn't want your friends the find out huh?” you shake your head.

“Then, all you have to do is be my girlfriend” You stare at him, cursing his big innocent eyes that make him look so soft.

“ Okay,” you say in a calm matter. Jungkook wipes your tears. He kisses the side of your face. You let your tears fall and Jungkook just smiles

“Jungkook please” You pant under him but he continues his sloppy thrust into your dripping cunt. Your knees are pressed down to your chest, jungkooks body weight holding them down.

Both of your hands are held above your head where you can’t even savor the touch of jungkook skin

“Please let me-“ jungkooks lips land on your lips, shutting you up. His lips moved against your soft lips taking your last breath, drinking away all of your pleadings.

He pounds into you harder, your cunt probably bruised from the force.

“You like this baby” he pants

“You like it hard, I know you do. You fucking minx” you whimper at the name.

“Go faster…please” Jungkook laughs at your remark giving you what you want. He flips you over. “Ass up” he pushes your head into the pillows. Place a warm kiss on your back.

He grabs onto your hair. Thrusting into you heavy and fast the bed frame slamming against the wall. jungkook smacks your ass.

“Say it, baby” You don’t answer fast enough from him. He stops his movements

“No please” You move back trying to fuck yourself on his cock. But you feel your high wash away.

You groan “What the heck” You look back at him.

“Say it?” He looks at you gripping your ass. “We are having sex right now”

He laughs, “Use your big girl words” he half thrusts into you once. “Fu-“ you say.

For the last few weeks, you’ve getting used to Jungkook. It’s been about 5 months. You’ve warmed up to him. Everything has fallen into place.

Jungkook saw you talking to your friend on the phone ( through the many cameras he placed in your dorm) he heard you talking about how you want to take control during sex.

Jungkook considered that. He wants to break you down so bad he wants you the be vulgar and nasty. He wants you to tell him to fuck you harder.

Cut your, good girl act

You grow impatient. The heat washes away. You lift yourself leaning back causing Jungkook to sit on his knees as you ride him. The mirror in the corner of the room catches.

Your cord has snapped, you are tired of Jungkook at his controlling ways. The switch has flipped and this is what he wanted. For you to break your good girl act and show him what you are.

A nasty slut

You fuck him rough and hard not stopping your legs burning like crazy. You turn to face him riding him regularly without letting him slip out. You jump on him

Grabbing his face. Jungkook smiles “There she is” you slap him. Grabbing his face again opening his mouth pushing your thumb on his tongue. Your fingers dig into his face. The frustration eating you alive.

Jungkooks face burns with the slap but it makes him harder. He sucks and bites on your finger. As you stare at him. Your eyes are dark, your pupil’s burning.

“You want me to fuck you like this,” you say, riding him to his end, and Jungkook moans and grunts. He’s close to coming.

“I want you cum inside of me” you whisper in his ear. The condom on his dick is the only thing separating you from that.

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook says with a smirk. You slap him again but harder. You suck on his neck marking him.

“Want you to fill me with your cum, so you can eat it out of me later” That almost sends Jungkook over the edge.

“Take it off” Jungkook pants, you smile. Letting him slip out of you. Yanking the condom off his cock slipping him back into your sopping cunt.

“I’m not going to last” Jungkook pants. “I’ll just keep fucking you then,” you say as you push him flat on the bed

You ride him hard. The bed in the verge of breaking. You grind and pounce on him.

Jungkook grabs your hips and you shove your fingers down his throat. He gags, and you lean down to spit a glob of Saliva down his throat.

Jungkook has never been out of control in bed. He doesn't mind it though. Since it’s you, he’ll enjoy it from time to time.

“I’m gonna come” Jungkook moves his hips at the same pace as you.

“Yeah, cum inside of me”

“Of course, baby” Jungkook looks at you deadpan in your eyes

“Gunna fill me up so good” Jungkook nods, pushing your chest closer to his.

“Make me yours, I’m your Jungkook all yours” Jungkoosk's heart races

“Forever?” He questions, this is what Jungkooks has been waiting for. For you to be his, to never leave him. He can own you and do whatever he wants to you

“Ye- yeah, yeah, I’m forever yours” Jungkook comes and he shoots the long ropes of cum into your cunt.

You moan as you feel the white thick liquid in your Cunt Splattering all over your walls. You chase your Orgasm. You also fall off the hill

Your body shakes on top of jungkooks. He sits up and holds you free. Hugging you, looking at him kissing you deeper and raw. He stays inside of you for a while longer. To make sure his cum doesn't seep out.

Cause you are his and his only.

“I love you,” Jungkook says as he slips out of you.

“You are forever mine”

2K notes · View notes

ririkookiemonster · 6 months ago

Text

no textbooks here — JJK

Summary: being a model in the art class was common for you, but this time, you gave a chance to be the female model in biology class. it was for educational purposes anyway, how far could it go?

Pairing: male model jungkook x female model oc

Genre: Smut

Warnings: human sexuality/ biology class au, university au, voyeurism, unprotected sex (DO NOTTT unless you wanna be a mama) public sex, sex ed au, nipple stimulation, cock stimulation, kissing, multiple orgasm f, missionary, riding, cumming inside, no use of contraceptives specified, shy jk at first, they both are so cute at the end.

Word count: 5k+

Writer: riri🪵

Writer’s note: omg its finally here! i was thinking to write smth ab this ever since i read a voyeurism smut ab sex ed and i hadddd to write one. i love how cute jk is. i love the scenes where they well… get passionate. too cute ahhh. lemme know if you liked it. to be added in the taglist, fill the google form given below or leave a comment!

MASTERLIST

🖇️click here to be added in the taglist🖇️

You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before nervously pushing open the classroom door. The soft creak of the hinges seemed louder in the stillness, amplifying your unease. As you stepped inside, your eyes immediately scanned the room. It was as you expected—empty, save for one person seated at the front: Mr. Jung, the lecturer you had been told about. His presence was commanding but gentle, his smile warm and welcoming, like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day.

“Come in, come in!” he called out with a bright tone, his gaze locking onto you as you hovered awkwardly in the doorway. His voice had a way of cutting through the silence, easing some of the tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying. You stepped forward, your footsteps quiet but deliberate as you made your way to his desk, each step a small victory over your nerves.

“It’s great to meet you,” Mr. Jung said with a friendly nod, his voice smooth and calm. His smile lingered, putting you at ease, if only slightly. He pushed a sheet of paper across the desk in your direction, his movements unhurried. “I just need you to fill out this liability waiver.”

The words were said so casually, but the simple task still felt like a small hurdle. You stood across from him, fingers lightly brushing the paper as you picked it up, your heart still racing just a bit, though his calm demeanor had begun to settle the unease that had gripped you since you walked in.

“Just the standard agreement,” Mr. Jung continued with a calm, practiced tone. “You’ll be paid at the end of the class. And... you’re aware that this is a practical demonstration, meaning you’ll be fully naked?”

“Yes... Of c-course,” you stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly. You reached for a pen from the stand, trying to ignore the sudden wave of nervousness. Your eyes skimmed over the document—standard terms, conditions, rules, payment details, and all that. You’d done this sort of thing before for life drawing classes in the art department, so the nudity didn’t bother you as much as it used to. Still, this was the biology department, and that made it feel... different. Without much thought, you roughly scribbled ‘Y/N’ at the bottom of the page, the pen shaking just a little in your hand.

As you set the pen down, your gaze drifted around the room once more, and that’s when you noticed something or rather, someone you hadn’t before. Sitting off to the side, near the blackboard, was a guy you hadn’t seen when you first walked in. He was quiet, almost too still, which explained why he had escaped your attention earlier.

He looked up, and your breath hitched for a moment. His piercings were the first thing you noticed. his lips, eyebrow, and ears all adorned with silver hoops and studs that caught the light. Despite his edgy appearance, his eyes were surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his sharp jawline and the strength in his build. Even beneath the loose, black T-shirt he wore, you could tell he was well-muscled, his broad shoulders and solid frame evident.

Your gaze continued downward, noticing his dark blue jeans tucked into chunky, black combat boots. His medium-length curly hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame his face. Everything about him radiated a kind of effortless cool. And, if you were being honest, this man was HOT.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you realized just how much this guy's presence added to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

He glanced at you for just a fraction of a second, barely acknowledging your presence before averting his gaze, his expression unreadable. It was almost as if he didn’t want to make eye contact. “This is Jungkook, third-year, and the male model for today’s demonstration,” Mr. Jung explained, nodding toward the guy. “Please, take a seat next to him.”

You gave a quick nod and made your way over, sitting down in the chair beside him. Jungkook’s hands rested in his lap, fingers nervously intertwined. It surprised you to see that, beneath his tough, bad-boy exterior, he seemed just as anxious as you were. Sure, he was undeniably attractive—more than that, really. but the way he fidgeted made him look kind of... cute. You couldn't help but wonder how someone who appeared so effortlessly cool could be just as nervous about this as you were.

And then it hit you: you were both about to be naked. Fully.

But, of course, it was purely for educational purposes—nothing more than a biology lesson where the two of you were simply models helping students learn. Still, the thought had your stomach doing somersaults.

You cleared your throat, hoping to ease the tension between you two. “Hey…are you nervous?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him, trying to break the ice.

Before Jungkook could respond, the door swung open with a loud bang, and a flood of students poured in, filling the once-quiet room with laughter and chatter. You watched as they settled into their individual seats, each equipped with small, built-in desks, their attention mostly focused on their own conversations rather than the two of you.

Whatever nervous conversation you had hoped to start was quickly drowned out by the buzz of the classroom coming to life. You stole another glance at Jungkook, catching him briefly biting his lip before his gaze returned to his lap. It was clear neither of you was prepared for what was about to happen, but there wasn’t much time to dwell on that now.

Once the room settled and Mr. Jung began the lesson, you couldn't help but scan the students seated before you. Their eyes were on you-curious, almost probing. You were relieved that they were all first years, strangers whose names and faces you didn't know. It made things a little easier. Still, a few boys in the crowd kept sneaking glances in your direction, and you swore you caught some of them smirking, making your nerves spike even more.

After about five minutes of introductory remarks, Professor Jung's voice called both you and Jungkook to the front of the room. Your stomach twisted as you slowly stood up, feeling Jungkook rise just behind you. The two of you walked forward in unison, the students' gazes growing heavier with every step.

"Good morning, everyone," Mr. Jung addressed the class. "Meet Y/N Y/L/N and Jeon Jungkook. They'll be the models for today's lesson." His voice carried easily through the room, formal yet calm, as though what was about to happen was routine.

Then he turned to face both of you. "If you could both remove your clothes, please," he said, his tone polite but firm. You felt a sharp wave of mixture of excitement and anxiety rise within you, knowing the moment had finally come. and you two began two began to undress in front of the class.

You always enjoyed the thrill you got from being naked in front of the art classes you had modeled in. You like being a muse. You liked the feeling of all their eyes on your body and you expected this to be no different. You pulled off your white sweater over your head, followed by your tank top. You slowly began to unbutton your baggy jeans and slipped them down to the floor, pulling off each leg in turn until you were just in the simple baby pink underwear you had chosen to wear today.

You glanced next to you, where Jungkook was also down to his Calvin Klein underpants. You glanced over as he pulled them down and almost gasped out loud. His cock, although soft, was massive. You could see its outline from the white underwear he was wearing. It hung down limply between his legs, framed by a thin patch of newly grown hair, as if shaved recently.

You hastily turned your eyes back to the class and unhooked your bra, exposing your firm breasts. Then you removed the final item of your clothing, your panties, slipping them down your knees, revealing your own trimmed bush to the watching eyes. Not gonna lie, you were kinda embarrassed. You could have shaved or waxed. But you were here as a model anyway. You just wanted your paycheck for the day.

Your eyes scanned through the crowd. Some of the students looked embarrassed, red in the face, others looked excited. One boy right at the front was watching both of you with curious eyes, a big grin on his mouth. You and Jungkook stood there, upright and completely naked, as Professor Jung walked back and forth in front of you both, talking about various parts of anatomy and pointing at them by his telescopic pointer.

"Here we see,the female nipples are not yet aroused. The areola are widened and flat and the nipples themselves are not yet hard." Mr Jung explained, the end of the pointer hovering an inch from one of your nipples.

"And below," he continued, moving the pointer to indicate the area between your legs, "Is the Vulva. Not to be confused with the Vagina, of course, which is the interior part we can't see at the moment. In this, as you can see, the subject has chosen only to trim and not remove her pubic hair."

Some of the students nodded, while others just kept gaping at you. You were enjoying them all looking yourself naked, especially the guy in the front with a strange twinkle in his eyes. You felt yourself getting a bit aroused, your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

Mr Jung then moved on to Jungkook, pointing out at his much smaller nipples than his penis and testicles. The pointer then moved to his dick and balls, as the professor went on about the anatomy of a male’s cock. It was unusual that he made no mention of the fact that Jungkook’s cock was well…. big.

"Okay," Mr Jung said, striding back in front of you. "Y/N, if you could lie on the desk please? Yes, like that, lift your legs up. Perfect.”

You followed Mr Jung’s instructions and laid on the desk, your feet facing the students. Under his direction, you opened your legs up and put your feet on the desk so that your opening was all on display of the students now. You felt a strange feeling of thrill arising in your chest yet again, but you couldn’t see the reactions of the crowd, as you were looking up at the ceiling.

Soon after, Professor Jung began indicating parts of your vulva with his pointer.

"This outer area here is the labia majora," he explained, the cold metal of the pointer touching your lower petals, making your lips slightly open because of the sensation.

"The vaginal opening, and above the labia minora. This subject has fairly small labia minora but it's not uncommon for them to be much bigger and extend beyond the labia majora." Mr Jung continued, the pointer gently kept touching you, as if almost being teased. You felt yourself getting wet from the sensation and kept praying that it wouldn’t be visible.

"This is the urethral opening where urine is excreted from and also female ejaculate, we'll cover that in week five. And finally, the clitoris, also called the clit. Boys take careful note exactly where that is." He joked as the pointer came to rest on my clit, nestled under its hood. The class tittered dutifully.

"Thank you Y/N, you can stand up again," Mr Jung asked. Once again, You both stood naked and motionless before the class as he continued to drone on about the concept, that was arousal now. Soon again, Mr Jung turned to both of you again.

"Now, remember how we saw that the subject was not showing any signs of arousal…?"

There were a few nods from the class, and Mr Jung smiled. "Jungkook, can you rub or suck Y/N’s nipples please? We need you to stimulate them, and we’ll see what outcome we get from that.”

Jungkook glanced at you nervously, and then made his way to you until he was facing you. He lifted one hand up to your breast and cupped it gently, then very carefully he rubbed your nipple with his thumb. It felt nice and you felt a burst of pleasure rush through you.

"Look!" Professor Jung said, his voice was getting excited. “as we expect, the areola has tightened and contracted and the nipple has hardened as blood has rushed into it..”You were enjoying the stimulation Jungkook was providing you by using your tits as stress balls that you felt your breathing was getting deeper. Thats when you heard Mr Jung’s voice again.

"See how the subject's breathing has also changed. Jungkook, give the other one a suck, see how much you can stimulate it."

Jungkook bent down and took your other sensitive peak into his mouth, his tongue, warm and wet, lapping against your skin as if trying to explore the most of it. He started sucking more effectively, his teeth gently grazing on your nub, making you feel hot and bothered. You let out an involuntary gasp, which seemed to please the professor to heights as he gestured excitedly to the class.

"Okay, that's enough," He said as Jungkook returned to his original position beside you. The professor indicated your saliva glistened nipple with the pointer, and flicked it back and forth with the end, making you gasp again.

"Look, it's very hard and so much larger now. That's the result of the extra stimulation we saw. There are other signs of arousal we can look at on the female in a moment, but first let's have a look at arousal on the male. Is there anyone who can tell me the most obvious signs of arousal in the male of the species?"

There was a slight hesitation evident in the class which was quite expected and understandable. After a few seconds, a girl in the left wearing yellow shirt cautiously put hand up.

"Erection?" she asked, biting her lip in nervousness and embarrassment.

"Exactly!"Mr Jung chirped. "Increased heart rate, change in breathing, even hardened nipples are some signs when a male is sexually aroused, but the most obvious sign will be the enlargement in penis size as the blood rushes through the Male genitalia, also called erection."

Mr Jung turned back to you, "Y/N, can you get on your knees and stimulate Jungkook’s penis with your mouth please?”

You almost got a heart attack as you heard that. Yes, you were here just for a biology lesson but the thought of sucking Jungkook’s huge cock in front of the whole class sent a bolt of lightning straight to your cunt. The professor reached behind the desk and handed you a cushion, that you put on the floor in front of Jungkook’s feet and knelt on it, your knees buried in it for support. Jungkook’s cock was inches from your face. It was still soft, but long. You gingerly reached up and held it, your hand surrounding all the way round his girth.

You felt the warm member twitch in your hand, as you wrapped your other hand around it too. Its bulbous head was red and there were three prominent veins visible on it. You took a dee breath before leaning in and putting his thick shaft in your mouth and you knew that now, it was Jungkook’s turn to start breathing heavily.

As your tongue played with the head of his cock, you swore you heard an ‘ah’ leave his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you felt it pulsing and swelling. You bobbed your head back and forth, only getting a couple of inches in your mouth, but using your hands to jerk his shaft too.

The class was absolutely silent and they watched in rapt attention as you continued to work on him. You could feel their stares on both of you. You felt kinda excited and thrilled doing this in front of so many people that the weird pleasure caused your cunt get more wet with your slick, aching with need. You took his cock out of your mouth and looked up at it, still holding it in both hands. It was fully erect now, warm and slick with your saliva.

"Perfect!" Mr Jung exclaimed, "And quite an impressive specimen as you can see. Notice how the veins in the penis have become more prominent and also how the scrotum has become tense and doesn't hang down so low. Thank you Y/N, I think you can let go now." he said, causing a ripple of nervous laughter around the class and lightening the tension.

You stood up and came back to your original position, wiping the wetness around your mouth and chin with the back of your hand. Jungkook meanwhile, turned back to face the front, his big cock still pointing straight upwards in salute.

"Now, I mentioned there were other signs of female arousal. Let's see if any have presented themselves. Y/N, if you could turn around and bend over the desk for us please?”

You did as he asked, soon following his next instruction to spread your lips with your hands.

You were bent over the desk now, your hands on your cheeks spreading them apart to give the audience a view of your asshole and cunt wide open. You felt the cold metal of the telescopic pointer against your ass when you heard professor Jung again.

"So, who can tell me what signs of arousal we can see here?”

You couldn’t see who was talking, but a guy with a deep voice cleared his throat and spoke up, "She's wet professor,"

"Good," said the professor, "The vagina has produced some fluid to aid in lubrication, and you can see it's practically dripping out in this case. The act of stimulating her partner has clearly caused her to become quite aroused. Anything else?"

There was silence from the class. "Come on," he encouraged.

After a few more moments, a nervous female voice said "Labia are engorged?"

"Yes! You can see that is quite obvious here," the pointer touched your lips. "In fact, the whole vulva is slightly swollen and engorged with blood now. Her clitoris also looks a lot bigger and redder now." You just stood there, bent over the desk, your nipples pressed against the cool wood as everyone stared at your swollen hole.

“On to the next part of the demonstration. Y/N, can you come round the side of the desk please, yes bend over the desk again. That's right, so they can see you from the side. And Jeon, come behind her and penetrate her."

You instantly felt your heart racing at thousand miles per hour as soon as you heard the professor say that. This man, with a HUGE dick was going to what, fuck you in front of literally everyone? Considering your state right now, you desperately wanted him to fuck you, as you could feel your pussy throb for him, but in front of the class? It was kinda… interesting but it sure was a turn on for you.

You felt Jungkook approach you from behind, his hands lightly rubbing the flesh of my ass cheeks, his hardness pressed against your opening. You could feel his head teasing your folds when he slid himself inside your pussy in one swift movement. You cried out at the feeling of being stretched and opened by him, even though you were wet as fuck. Being filled up by his cock let pleasure rushed through your body and you felt every part of yourself tingling with energy.

You were bent over the desk, your head turned to the class. You could see their faces watching You as Jungkook started thrust inside you, your cunt gripping him tighter after another thrust.

“Ah fuck, so tight!” Jungkook moaned out, his pace quite rough as his one hand was on your cheek, spreading them apart so he could see your asshole and pussy clenching around him, swallowing every inch of him. Your loud cry with every thrust only fueled his arousal as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

The professor was pacing up and down, still talking to the class, occasionally gesturing towards both as he explained something. Either of you both couldn't understand what he was saying, your whole attention was taken up by the relentless pleasure. You felt a pit in your stomach as you felt a tingling sensation of climax rising inside you, which made you slightly anxious; you felt it would be embarrassing to lose control and orgasm in front of the class.

Suddenly, professor Jung’s voice interrupted, "Stop right there then Jungkook, that's great."

Jungkook breathed out, and pulled out, as you let out a whispered whine and glanced around. He held his hard cock in one hand and it was covered in your essence. You felt empty and open, as if something you needed had been taken away from you and left you incomplete. The professor was pointing out the creamy wetness on Jungkook’s cock.

"Okay, I think it would be interesting to demonstrate a couple of other key sexual positions." Mr Jung continued. "Y/N, would you mind getting on your back on the desk so we can demonstrate the missionary position?”

You nodded and laid on the hard desk before professor Jung passed you the cushion to put under your head. Luckily, it was a sturdy, old fashioned oak desk, and it hardly moved as Jungkook added his weight to it, climbing on top of you between your legs.

"Now, we saw in the previous position that the penis can stimulate the g-spot, but the clitoris would need manual stimulation. In the missionary position however, the male's pubic bone can provide some clitoral stimulation." He then continued to say something about it being the most common position, but at that point, Jungkook’s huge cock entered you again and you completely switched off.

Our gaze locked together, Jungkook began to fuck you hard again, both of you breathing heavily as his one hand groped your right breast. You loved the feeling of him inside you, fucking you as deep as he could go, and you felt the same feeling rising up in you again.”

"Jungkook, please. Can we demonstrate some kissing, let's try to make it slightly realistic for the class." professor Jung told him, before going back to talking to the class about how the vaginal canal lengthens during arousal.

Jungkook leaned over, his lips grazing over yours as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue grazing between them as if seeing permission to enter your mouth, and in the next moment, you felt his tongue inside your mouth as you both let out a shaky moan. He was warm, and tasted of mint. His loosened locks from the ponytail hair hung down over your face.

The combined sensation of the passionate kiss with hard thrusting into your core suddenly spiraled you out of control and you felt myself go over the edge. An intense orgasm washed over you, consuming your whole body. You screamed and dug your fingers into Jungkook’s back as you rode wave after wave of pleasure that coursed through you, your pussy convulsing violently.

“oh my god!” you breathed out, throwing your head back in pleasure.

Jungkook slowed, and kissed you again as you came down from your high. Mr Jung was continuing to talk to the class, "So, we weren't going to do the female orgasm until week three, but never mind. As our subjects have accidentally demonstrated already, it's interesting to note that only around 25% of females can climax from penetration alone."

Jungkook was slowly moving his cock in and out of your soaking cunt now, giving you a break after your orgasm, but it felt amazing. You were already hoping that you’d be able to meet up with him privately for a more intimate sex session. And he was a great kisser.

"Fantastic," said the professor, "But we're running out of time, so let's move on to the male orgasm." You heard a groan, this time from Jungkook almost like a whine as he pulled out from you, and got off from the table, helping you do the same.

Mr Jung fetched a chair and placed it in front of the class. "Jungkook, please on the chair. and Y/N, if you mount him. Let's make sure everyone can see properly." Jungkook followed, sitting on the chair, facing the crowd as you walked over to where Jungkook was sitting on the chair, your legs weak and shaking from the orgasm. You could feel your juices running down your thighs. You glanced at the crowd once and saw they were squirming in their seats looking all hot and bothered.

You turned my back on the class and straddled Jungkook, sinking down onto his cock, feeling him filling you once again. “Oh my god, Y/N.” Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back from the sensation.

Professor Jung was behind you pointing out the details of the penetration and how your lips gripped his penis and-all-that. He pointed to your exposed asshole, "We'll cover anal sex in week four.”

You started to ride Jungkook, wrapping your arms around him as you rode him on the chair. You wanted the sensations to last forever, the thought of thirty pairs of eyes watching your lips wrapped around his cock only spurred you on even more. You started fucking Jungkook as hard as you could, leaning in to thrust your tongue in his mouth.

"Okay Jungkook, when you're ready you can climax inside her." Mr Jung said, folding his arms and stepping back slightly to allow the class a good view. Jungkook hands grabbed your ass and he spread your ass with his fingers as you rode him.

“Oh yes, fuck! yes” You moaned out as you felt yourself coming again. You cried out as your whole body shook and your cunt contracted around his swollen meat. His fingers gripped your ass tightly, and he let out a low groan as you felt him unload his hot ropes of cum inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing.

You held each other tightly as you took heavy breaths. You saw how worn out he was, how his big doe eyes were staring into your, and how his bottom lip twitched slightly as he lets out ragged breaths. You could see his mole under his bottom lip and a scar on his left cheek from the first time up this close.

He was beautiful.

You couldn’t help yourself, as you grabbed his face in your hands and kissed him sensually, to which he immediately responded to, kissing you back gently, as he felt you thumb caressing his scarred cheek. Even the professor was momentarily speechless. There was not a sound from anyone in the class.

Finally, You pulled off, breathing heavily and lifted yourself off his cock and floods of cum poured out of you, covering Jungkook’s cock and thighs with your slick and his release. Both of you were in quite a state, covered in sweat and cum.

Mr Jung quickly regained his composure, his signature smile back in his face. "An excellent demonstration from our two models." he began, "Please give them a round of applause."There was a smattering of clapping from the class for a while before he continued.

"The semen in this position is leaking out of the female. If they were having sex for breeding purposes, the missionary position would be better."

The bell for the end of the lesson rang and he raised his voice over the sounds of the rest of the class getting to their feet and packing up their things. "The homework for this week, please try to engage in the sexual act yourself with as many partners as possible, but please ensure to use protection and get tested for HIV with your partner. Better be safer than sorry. Also, I'd like two thousand words on your experiences, due in before the lesson next week."

The class filed out and Jungkook and you retrieved your clothes and hastily got dressed. The professor came up to us with a smile.

"Not too bad for a first attempt," he said, "Same time next week. you’ll get your pay by 6 in the evening.” He smiled as he exited the classroom, leaving both of you alone in the classroom. You sighed as started you started to walk up to the door to leave before you heard Jungkook’s voice behind you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey… Y/N?” He took some calculated steps towards you, his hand shoved in his pocket as he continued,

“I had well… fun in today’s lesson.”

You bit your lips nervously, nodding slightly, “I did too. You were amazing.”

Your words caused Jungkook to chuckle a little, as he walked close to you, looking down at you. “I’d want to experience everything with you again. Not in lesson’s though….”

You nodded, before he continued.

“You wanna go get coffee to celebrate our demonstration with me after you get cleaned up? I’ll wait for you outside the locker room’s bathroom. You can take as much time as you want.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, you were definitely flustered.

“I’d love too….”

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