#like girl. im sorry but pls tone it down like any notches? half a notch?

[jouster-ari]

:)

[worldwidemochiguy]

expectation ≠ reality (18+)

When you first met Jungkook, he was so kind, with wide eyes and a sweet smile, but soon enough he dragged you into a tumultuous marriage where you were barely allowed to draw breath on your own. But, when you meet Taehyung, the cute delivery boy with blond hair and a penchant for flirting, you start to wonder if you’ve found your second chance.

Masterlist

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, slight dub-con, graphic penetrative sex, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR pls im not tryna get arrested or anything

Word Count: 4K 

a/n: thanks to @gucieguciekook​ for requesting !! hope u enjoy lol <3

Expectation ≠ Reality

You have had enough.

From the moment you agreed to marry him, Jungkook had been getting steadily worse and worse. He had always been possessive to a fault, but you mistakenly saw it as a sign he truly cared and treasured you. You cooed over his obsession with littering hickeys all over your neck, blushed when he called you ‘Mine. Only mine.’ When he asked you to move in way too quickly, you thought it was a sign he was committed to your relationship.

How wrong you were.

Not that he isn’t committed, of course. God, if there was ever a word to describe Jeon Jungkook, it was committed. He is obsessed with you. He slowly started cutting you off from the outside world, persuading you to stay in when your friends invited you out, and convincing you they were terrible people when they inevitably stopped interacting with you. You had cut out everyone else in your life because of him. 

Your parents:

babe, they don’t approve of our relationship because they don’t want you to be happy with your own life, they want to control you and treat you like a kid. you don’t need them anyway, you have me. 

Your coworkers:

i called in sick for you today, babe. you don’t need to go there anymore, i have more than enough money for the both of us. 

Even your pet:

your cat? oh, i’m sorry baby, she got hit by a car. no, don’t cry, baby, now you can give all of your attention to me instead of that rancid furball. 

Jungkook had isolated you and exhausted you to the point where you agreed to marry him, convinced it could not make your life any worse. 

Again, you were wrong. 

With his ring on now your finger, Jungkook is even more assured of his ownership of you. You are no longer allowed to cook or go into the garden, both deemed as dangerous activities where you could somehow be harmed by a vegetable peeler, or maybe grass cuttings. You have no access to the internet, and the only books you are permitted to read are simple, dull books with no plot or dusty old historical text books, obviously the only things Jungkook is certain wouldn’t give you ‘silly ideas to confuse your pretty little head.’ 

~~~~

“Jungkook,” You murmur, voice muffled as he presses your face into the pillow.

“Yeah, baby, say my name just like that.” He grunts, attempting to tug off your skirt with one hand while the other is fisted in your hair. You roll your eyes and shift your weight so he can take it off properly. After he had separately ripped all your pants at some point in his haste to take them off you, you had realised it was simply easier to wear something less finicky.

As soon your lower half is bared for him, he starts running his large palms greedily over your skin, for his own benefit rather than yours.

“Fuck, look at you.” He mutters, before digging a thumb into a bruise he had left on your ass. You yelp and he chuckles lowly behind you. Just as you expect, he presses firmly on the bruise and you clench your teeth, burying your nails in your palms and refusing to make a noise. He waits for a second, but you remain stubbornly silent. 

“Huh,” he says, “I guess baby’s pain threshold has risen a bit, yeah?” He strokes a possessive hand between your shoulder blades and you repress a shiver, before he loops his arm around you and lifts you onto your hands and knees.

“I guess I’ll just have to fuck you harder then.” He resolves, before shoving himself into you roughly.

Jungkook is not small, putting it lightly, though you hate to afford any kind of praise to that bastard. He is long, and thick, and you really hadn’t been very turned on at all, just letting him do what he wanted so that he’d leave you alone, so you don’t blame yourself too much when a scream bursts out of your lips. You can barely hear his smug laugh behind you over the burning sensation in your core. He doesn’t give you any time at all to adjust, roughly pumping himself in and out as you try to hold in your whimpers.

“So fucking tight, baby.” He grunts in your ear, punctuating his words with harsh slaps against your thigh, “You sure you can handle my cock?” This is his offer: Admit that I’m hurting you, admit that you’re weak and at my mercy, and I’ll stop. That’s all you have to do.

You clench your teeth and press your face into the pillow again.

He sighs behind you, though you can tell he’s quietly pleased, before pulling out of you and walking away. Him yanking out and leaving you roughly stretched and exposed to the cold air is almost as painful as when he shoved into you in the first place, and when he returns you resent yourself for feeling the slightest hint of relief. 

He is carrying a bottle of lube, normally used for when he decides he wants to fuck your ass instead. You tense up, preparing to swallow your pride and beg him not to — it’s been a while and you’re not sure you can take the pain — but he senses your fear and smirks.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just gonna make it a bit easier for you.” As he speaks, he’s slicking up his cock and soon enough he’s getting back up on his knees and taking ahold of your hips, pushing himself in slightly gentler this time. 

The coolness of the gel soothes — but doesn’t eradicate — the burn and Jungkook has started to move in long, rolling strokes inside you that are almost pleasant. 

“See, baby?” Jungkook coos as his hands move around to stroke your stomach, “I don’t want to hurt you, you have to know that. I hate hurting you, but you never tell me to stop. You have to know your limits, baby girl. You’re just not strong enough.”

His words — though patronising, and awful, and the kind of thing that make you want to whack him in the neck with one of those massive historical tomes he provides you — are spoken in that soft, Jungkook tone that he used to make you fall in love with him. It reminds you of those days when he was just Kookie, your cute study partner with a bunny smile and a pretty singing voice and broad muscly shoulders that flushed along with the rest of his body when you complimented him.

The Jungkook that you know him as now — the one swiftly bringing you to a reluctant and resentful orgasm — is the opposite of soft. He is rough and impulsive and controlling and you honestly fear what would happen if you tried to ask him for a divorce. He wouldn’t let you go, probably. He’d just laugh at you, and then shove you down and fuck you to make you remember who you really belonged to, like he is doing now.

You try to contain your pants as Jungkook starts a series of staccato thrusts. You are sure Jungkook would hear you, even over the obscene sound of his hips slapping into the back of your thighs, and would be obnoxiously proud about it for the next month. He would already be smug enough having made you come, which you have given up trying to stave off because Jungkook — damn him — is really good at fucking you until you can’t remember your own name. 

He reaches around to pinch your clit harshly and you decide that now is as good a time as any to give up your last remaining vestiges of pride. You come with a piercing whine, clenching around him rhythmically until his hips stutter and you feel the unpleasant sensation of warmth spilling into you. He doesn’t stop, pumping every last drop into you and then dropping on top of you, pinning your body to the mattress. 

After a while he rearranges himself so that he is spooning you, arms wrapped stiflingly tight around your waist, and his now-flaccid cock still tucked inside you. You grimace. Jungkook had always fallen fast asleep after sex, but now you are wide awake, hyperaware as he snores behind you. You don’t know what you’ve become. You hate him. But sometimes he says things that make you wish he wasn’t a monster, that make you wish he was the boy with soft smiles and expressive eyes that you had fallen in love with. You live for the resurgences of that humanity, because it is the only thing you have to look forward to, apart from the eventual day when Jungkook finally snaps and kills you.

~~~~

“Jungkook,” you say over breakfast, and he looks up with his cheeks full of pancake.

“Yes, my angel?” He asks, eyes twinkling — he loves when you say his name — and your breath catches, and for a second everything is perfect and you are having breakfast across from a boy who loves you more than anything. And then you see the annoyed glint in his eye — you hadn’t immediately answered his question — and you come crashing back to bitter reality. 

“I-” You start, then stop, unsure of how to phrase the question into a compliment, that way Jungkook is more likely to give you what you want.

“Say what you want to say, baby. You know how I hate to be kept waiting…” He gives you a shark’s smile. 

“I… I really loved all the books you gave me.” You tell him, making sure your voice is exactly the correct tone of gushing admiration.

“Really?” He replies, a pleased expression on his face as he strokes your hair back gently.

“Yes, and I- I was wondering if maybe… I could have some more?” 

His hand drifts down to rest at the hollow of your throat. It curls slightly.

“N-not that I’m not grateful-” You stammer, “B-But… I liked them all so much I read them too quickly, and now I have nothing else to do with you’re gone.” You end the statement with a playful pout, and you feel your self-loathing level up a notch. 

“Baby, you have to remember to take your time with things like that.” Jungkook grinned, standing up and getting his briefcase. You move to the door where you are supposed to administer a farewell kiss before he goes to work, just like always. 

He smiles, satisfied, before looking sideways slightly so you can get up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He reaches around to squeeze your ass quickly, smirking when you squeak in shock.

“Don’t be greedy baby, take what you’re given.” He tosses a ‘Love you!’ over his shoulder as he goes, and when you call it back the words taste sour on your tongue. You wonder if you had ever uttered those words sincerely. 

~~~~

You had been thinking Jungkook had forgotten about your request for books, so when the doorbell rings at six o clock and you answer it to see a cute delivery boy with a bundle of books tucked under his arm, you are surprised to say the least. 

“D-Delivery for Jeon Jungkook?” He stutters, and you had been expecting him to have a slightly high, nervous voice so the deep, thick drawl shocks you in more ways than one. You can feel yourself melt just looking at him. His eyes are so… innocent, just like Jungkook’s when you first saw him. His nose cutely scrunches as his blond hair — longer than Jungkook’s — falls in soft clumps over his eyes. He huffs a lopsided breath and the light strands flutter about momentarily, before settling back just where they were. You think you’ve fallen in love.

You realise you’ve been staring at him this entire time, but to be fair, he has been staring right back, and you feel yourself become flustered.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. That’s my package.”

“Sorry ma’am,” He starts in his honey voice, before grinning. He seems to gain confidence due to your flustered state. “-but this package is addressed to a Mr Jeon Jungkook, and you certainly don’t look like a ‘Mr’.” He mutters as his eyes drag up and down your form. You are only in your nightie — Jungkook always likes it when you wear pretty, flimsy things — and this stranger’s gaze is making you blush in a way you know Jungkook wouldn’t be happy about.

“Yeah, that’s… uh, that’s my husband. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Your husband, huh?” The delivery boy does not seem put off by the mention of a husband, in fact, he seems almost spurred on by it. “And where is Mr Jeon Jungkook right now?”

“He’s working late. He would normally be back by now but he called and said he’s spending the night at the office.”

“Working late, huh?” The delivery boy repeats in that cocky drawl, and oddly enough, it reminds you of Jungkook. “You know, if I had a wife like you waiting for me to come home, I don’t know if I’d even make it out of bed long enough to go to work in the morning, let alone stay there overnight.” 

Your eyes widen as your cheeks darken, and his open, bright laughter is the nicest thing you’ve heard in months.

“What happened to the nervous delivery boy?” You spluttered indignantly, and his laughing slowed down, though his eyes were still twinkling. Just like Jungkook’s used to do.

“He relaxed when he realised you were just as affected by him as he was by you.”

“Who says I’m affected by you?” You ask boldly, and then immediately retreat a step when he moves towards you. 

“You’re giving yourself away, sweetheart.” He smirks, before advancing another step into your home. “You know… empty house… husband at work… it seems a waste not to use this opportunity.” He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you scoff, forcing him back with both hands until he is outside the door again. He lets you push him with a brow raised lazily.

“That sounded like a line from a bad porno, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook would literally kill me if he found out.” You fake a laugh, covering up your very real and valid fear that Jungkook would actually kill you.

“Jungkook’s the possessive type, huh?” 

Yes, you scream internally.

“Well, I’m pretty sure no husband would like delivery boys sleeping with their wives.”

“What about delivery boys visiting their wives during the day?”

You pause, hands floating in midair, about to take the parcel out of the delivery boy’s hands.

“Huh?”

“I could come around in the day while your husband’s at work-” He sped up when you raised your brows, “-not to do anything, or at least, anything that you’re uncomfortable with, but just to talk. I can tell you’re lonely.” You scoff and roll your eyes, ignoring the fact that he’s absolutely correct. You turn back to him, ready to decline his offer, when you see his puppy eyes. Your resolve crumbles.

“I don’t know,” You had no way of telling what punishments Jungkook would submit you to if he found out. He didn’t even let you talk to your parents, so you could hardly imagine he’d be pleased with you chatting to young, attractive men while alone at your house.

“Come on!” The delivery boy wheedled. “He’d never know. He’s practically asking for it, he leaves you alone day after day, all you have for company are these stupid books!” A dismissive gesture to the collection of Austen, Dickens and Shakespeare you are carrying. “Aren’t you bored? Don’t you want a little excitement?”

You tiredly fumble around for an excuse.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“My name’s Taehyung.” He introduces himself promptly. “I’d like to visit you tomorrow at lunch time, if that’s alright.”

“You sure you don’t have a delivery then?” You ask hopefully.

“I don’t.”

You release a weary sigh.

“You’re going to come no matter what I say, aren’t you?” He responds with a blinding grin.

“I love that we’re learning things about each other! You can already anticipate my actions,” He starts listing off ‘facts’ on his fingers, “you know my name, I know you’re trapped in an unsatisfying marriage-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Taehyung.” You shut the door firmly, cutting him off.

You hear a muffled ‘can’t wait!’ from the other side of the door and if you happen to blush and giggle like a lovesick schoolgirl it doesn’t matter because no one else is there and therefore it cannot be proved.

~~~~

Taehyung starts paying you regular visits. He keeps up his job obligations even when he’s off the clock, bringing you food that Jungkook wouldn’t let you eat, newspapers since Jungkook doesn’t let you know what was going on in the outside world, and even snapshots of his day. 

Taehyung is an aspiring photographer. He has a small apartment outside of the city and an obsession with strawberries and a dog called Yeontan. He has a life, a life that you are desperately beginning to yearn for. Taehyung tells you once that he wishes he could take a photo of you outside, because he knows this perfect spot — a field full of wildflowers and sunshine that would compliment your beauty perfectly — and you burst into tears. 

You tell him, as he rocks you gently in his arms, that you are trapped by Jungkook. That you hate your husband more than anything. That you can’t remember the last time you felt the sun on your skin. And so, quietly, carefully, the two of you begin to plot.

It is not as simple as calling the police. Jungkook has enough money that there is no crime he cannot buy his way out of, no officer he cannot bribe into submission. No, you have to disappear completely. You begin passing along your possessions to Taehyung so he can take them back to his place, gradually, so that Jungkook doesn’t notice you are withdrawing from his life one pair of shoes at a time. 

You daren’t risk taking any money of Jungkook, but Taehyung tells you it isn’t a problem, which is slightly strange since you know Taehyung must have quit his delivery boy job so that he could see you every day, and surely he could do with some extra cash. You tell yourself it’s sweet that he doesn’t care about material things, he just cares about you.

“What are these?” Jungkook asks one morning, when he is greeted not with eggs sunny side up and a kiss, but a stack of papers.

“A divorce contract.” You tell him, trying to ignore the waver in your voice. He only raises an eyebrow at you, and you blanch.

You had been expecting yelling, threats, maybe even violence. Taehyung had begged you to just leave without a trace, and abandon Jungkook to his own horrid life of loneliness, but you just can’t do that, even if it is the safer option. There is still a small, pathetic part of you that clings to the idea of Kookie, the boy with wire-rimmed glasses and carefree smiles who always accepted your help with questions he couldn’t answer. Even though you know that side of him is now long-dead, if it ever even existed in the first place.

However, Jungkook is currently subverting all of your expectations. He sits there calmly, leafing through the papers.

“These don’t make any sense.” He remarks. You attempt to snatch them back, but he holds them out of your reach.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t really expecting you to read them.” You reply, embarrassed. The fake contract had been your idea, a way of telling Jungkook you wanted a divorce without actually saying the words. Of course, you had expected him to fling them into the fire, or something equally as dramatic, not read through them carefully and snort at all the typos. 

“I understand.” He declares eventually. “You want my attention, so you’re pretending that you want to leave me. Very funny, baby.”

“That’s not true!” You burst out, cheeks burning. “I am leaving you, divorce contract or not.” 

“Hush, baby, you know I don’t like it when you lie.” Jungkook purrs, his eyes burning dangerously.

“I don’t care what you like anymore, Jungkook.” You respond, suddenly furious, “I’ve spent so many years as your wife, being terrified by you, being controlled and miserable. Now I’ve got Taehyung, and I’m finally happy! I love him, Jungkook, not you. I’m leaving.” 

You turn away and storm to the door, but hesitate when you hear Jungkook chuckle.

“If you think you are liberating yourself by going to Kim Taehyung… you are wrong, baby.” 

“H-How do you know his family name?” You ask, fear starting to invade your mind.

“I know a lot of things about Mr Kim,” Jungkook spits, and his anger starts to bleed through. “He is not who you think he is, baby. Are you sure you want to go?” His patronising tone is the last straw for you. 

“I’d rather die than stay here with you.”

“Who knows, baby, Mr Kim might just fulfil your wish.” You blanch again, hesitating with your hand on the lock, a breath away from freedom.

“Y-You’re just trying to scare me.” You stutter, and you hear him sigh behind you.

“No, baby, I’m trying to warn you, but you insist on being so, so dumb. I don’t like to see you hurt, remember? But, if this will teach you a lesson about how lucky you are to have me, I guess I’ll have to let you go. Just remember, baby, when you’re with him and it’s not all you expect it to be, I will be coming for you.” As he speaks, he rises from his seat and moves across the room until he is right behind you, his breath ghosting on the back of your neck as you stubbornly refuse to turn, hand still poised on the latch.

“I’m not coming back.” You whisper, and you feel a huff of laughter against your neck.

“No, baby, I’ll rescue you, and take you back. I promise, you’ll be counting the days until you’re in my arms again.”

~~~~

Jungkook watches from the window as your harried form disappears into the distance. Cursing softly to himself, he turns on his phone and pulls up a number he is loathe to possess. 

“So, she left you, huh?” A cocky voice drawls across the line.

“Shut it, Kim.” Jungkook snaps, “She’s still my wife, she still belongs to me.”

“Oh? You didn’t sign the divorce papers?”

“Yes, very funny by the way, Kim. ‘I hereby announce that Kim Taehyung has been our mother’s favourite from the moment of his conception.’ You should’ve become a comic instead of a criminal.” Jungkook reads a line from the fake files. 

“Well, I could say the same to you, baby brother, allowing your wife to leave you like this. It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years.”

“Half-brother.” Jungkook growls. “And she hasn’t left me.”

“The tracker I planted on her begs to differ.”

“She’s just…” Jungkook huffs, “Confused.”

“No, she’s just got good taste, obviously.”

“You really are pathetic, stealing your little brother’s toys like this, hyung.” Jungkook taunts. “Soon, very soon, I’m going to come and get her back. I better not find her too broken when I get there.” 

Jungkook hangs up, mutters a curse under his breath, and then starts planning the inevitable gang war he’s going to have to embroil himself in because his wife can’t keep her damn legs closed.