tranquilreign - Tumblr blog

tranquilreign · 7 days ago

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HYYYPPPEEEEEDDD

THE ART OF PRETENDING - JJK | epilogue

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, so much tooth-rotting fluff, kissing

word count: 2.6k

notes: I'M BACK WITH MY TAOP BABIES!!! reading back on it, i don’t think it’s my best work unfortunately, but i already teased it so here it is :3 likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are so so appreciated! enjoy reading my sweet angels <33

⤷ epilogue — butterfly

"will you stay by my side? / will you promise me?”

The world is quieter under a sky like this.

Not just quiet in the literal sense — though there is no hum of traffic or voices drifting in from somewhere you’re not — but quiet in the way your thoughts stop running so fast.

You’re lying on your back, fingers curled loosely in the fabric of the blanket beneath you, the smell of grass and cool earth wrapping around. Jungkook is beside you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting between you, his warm fingers entangled with yours.

Above you, the sky is a black canvas painted with dots of light. They’re different to the ones you squint to see in the city, fighting for their place among streetlamps and neon signs. These ones are whole constellations, spilling across the dark.

And you’re here. You're actually here, with the love of your life, ticking off the last thing on the bucket list you once thought would forever remain unfinished.

It was something the two of you made years ago, back when love was still new. You’d found it again by accident, tucked into the pages of an old notebook on your bookshelf, the paper creased from time and the pink ink slightly faded but every line still legible.

You’d laughed when you saw it, thinking about the two of you on that night that seems so long ago now, sprawled across your bed with snacks balanced dangerously close to falling, tossing out dreams between fits of giggles neither of you could contain.

Some of them you’d already done without even trying. Others had taken planning. And then, there were the ones that had sat there untouched, waiting patiently to be completed.

When you’d shown Jungkook the list, you hadn’t expected what came next.

“Let’s finish it,” he’d said simply, like it wasn’t years overdue and there hadn’t been a time you’d thought you’d never even speak again.

So you did. Day by day, one by one.

Sunrise hikes. Cooking something neither of you could pronounce. Getting caught in the rain on purpose. Swimming in that ridiculous, freezing river at midnight. Each checkmark felt like stitching something back together, a thread pulled through the fabric of you until the holes didn’t gape so wide.

This was the final one on the list; stargaze in the middle of nowhere.

And here you are, lying under a sky so wide it makes you feel small in the best way, next to the man you once thought you’d lost for good.

You glance over at him. He’s looking up, jawline cut sharp by the pale wash of starlight, his lashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks. You run your thumb over the soft skin of his hand, and he turns his head to meet your gaze.

"What?" he says, the sound more of a laugh than an actual question.

“Nothing.” You shrug, but your lips curl anyway. “Just making sure you’re real.”

A grin stretches across his features. “You think you hallucinated me driving us out to the middle of nowhere with a blanket and a thermos?”

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest dream I’ve had.” You squeeze his hand lightly. “Although in my dreams, you’re usually shirtless.”

He laughs and the warm sound rolls through the quiet night. “We can make that happen.”

You roll your eyes, though you’re fighting a smile. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“This is the moment.” He tugs your joined hands to his chest and leaves them there, over the steady thump of his heart. “Besides, you’re looking at me like you’re trying to figure out how to paint me.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“You’re dramatic,” he counters, eyes glinting. “You always have been.”

You huff, but your thumb is still moving over the back of his hand, tracing idle circles. “I was just thinking… we actually finished it.”

His gaze softens instantly, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just looks at you like he’s storing you away the same way you’re storing him.

“Yeah. We did," he whispers.

You turn back to the sky before you melt into a puddle. “Remember the sunrise hike? When you swore the view would ‘change our lives’ and it was just fog?”

“That fog was majestic,” he protests.

“That fog almost made me push you off the mountain. So much walking for nothing."

He laughs again, and the sound is so easy, so familiar, that you can feel it slotting into the spaces where hurt used to live. “At least I made it up to you with pancakes.”

“Burnt pancakes.”

“Shhh, it's the thought that counts.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself.

Jungkook shifts, rolling onto his side to face you more fully. The stars are behind him now, but their light still seems to catch in his eyes. “You know,” he murmurs, “I think this one might be my favourite.”

You raise a brow. “Even more than swimming in that freezing river?”

"God," he groans, shuddering. "That was torture. This is by far a million times better."

You can’t argue with that. Lying here with him — his fingers tangled with yours, the sky endless above — does feel perfect.

A breeze sweeps over the clearing, carrying the scent of something faintly sweet — wildflowers, maybe — and Jungkook’s hair shifts against his forehead. You resist the urge to reach out and fix it because you don't want to let go of his hand.

He’s watching you, the weight of his attention soft but obvious.

“What?” you ask, turning to meet his gaze.

“Nothing,” he says, and there’s a hint of your earlier smile in his voice. “Just making sure you’re real.”

You snort. “You’re such a copycat.”

“I’m serious.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “There were nights I didn’t think we’d get here.” His eyes flick up toward the stars, then back to you. “And now we are.”

Your chest tightens, and you push lightly at his shoulder because that’s easier than falling apart. “Stop getting sappy, Jeon. You’re ruining your tough guy image.”

He laughs. “You think I have a tough guy image?”

“You try to have one.” You grin. “But then you make heart-shaped pancakes and sing along to cheesy 90s ballads in the car, so…”

“That’s just called range,” he says, mock-offended.

“Mhm. Sure.”

He squeezes your hand once more before settling back onto his back, eyes drifting skyward again. You follow his gaze.

From here, the constellations look close enough to touch, and with his palm pressed to yours, you can almost believe you could reach them.

“We should make another list," he says.

You glance at him. “Already trying to one-up this one?”

“No,” he says, smiling faintly. “Just something new. More things we can look back on and say, yeah, we did that, or something.”

The word lingers in your mind.

We.

Not just a passing plural or a convenience for conversation.

It feels like forever, and it’s strange how that doesn’t scare you anymore.

You used to think forever was a dangerous word. Heavy. Claustrophobic. A promise made too early could only ever crack under the weight of real life. It's part of the reason you used to rave on about not staying in this country, because you couldn't understand how someone could stay in one place forever.

But now, forever doesn't feel like a trap. Maybe you're just lucky, but now, it feels like home.

“Another list, huh?” you murmur.

He glances over, a smirk pulling at his mouth. “Yeah. Why not? Gives us more excuses to go on ridiculous adventures.”

“You’re just looking for reasons to make me suffer again. Next thing you know, we’ll be swimming in another frozen river.”

“That was your idea, actually. And I'm never doing that again." A pause. "Unless you really want to," he adds in a murmur.

You shake your head, but your smile gives you away. “I’m serious, though. I like the idea of another list.”

“Then we’ll start tomorrow.”

“You’re eager," you say, laughing softly.

“There’s a lot I still want to do with you,” he says, and this time there’s no teasing in it.

Your chest tightens again, but not in the way it used to — not with hurt. Sure it’s a bit silly, but you don’t just want to make a new list with him. You want every list, every plan, every unexpected detour life throws at you to have him in it.

You want forever.

You bite your lip, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks, but you don’t look away. “Good,” you say. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Something flickers in his eyes and his hand tightens around yours. He swallows, looking like he’s about to speak, then stops himself, gaze flicking toward the blanket, the sky, anywhere but your face for a moment.

You know that look. You’ve seen it before, in other moments when he’s had something to say but wanted to line up every word just right.

When he looks back at you, his smile is softer, but there’s something pulling at the edges of it. “Close your eyes for a second.”

Your brows knit. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” he says, his voice low. It makes your heart do something it shouldn’t be able to do while you’re lying still.

You hesitate, searching his face for a clue, but all you find is that quiet determination that’s so entirely him. So you do as he asks, letting the dark behind your eyelids take over, the night air cool against your skin.

Somewhere to your right, you hear the faint rustle of fabric, the shift of weight on the blanket.

“Don’t peek,” he says, and there’s a nervous edge under the warmth of his tone.

“If this is a bug, I swear—”

“It’s not a bug.” His laugh is shaky. “Though that would’ve been funny.”

You hear him move again, the sound of something small shifting, and your pulse kicks up.

“Okay,” he says, voice closer now. “Open.”

You blink your eyes open, the blur of stars coming into focus, but not before you see him first.

He’s sitting up, knees bent toward you, holding a small, open box. Inside, the ring catches the starlight in a way that feels almost unfair — too perfect, too much like the kind of scene you thought only happened in other people’s lives.

You stare at it for a moment, then at him. “You’re— are you serious right now?”

His mouth lifts at one corner, but his eyes stay steady on yours. “Completely.”

His hands are shaking ever so slightly and you sit up onto your knees.

“Kook…” You trail off, unable to find words as your eyes flickers from him to the box, then back up again.

“We made a list when we didn’t know what the future would look like. And we still did it. Every single thing. So I figured maybe it’s time to start the next list.” He glances down at the ring briefly, then back at you. “Only this one’s just one thing.”

You swallow, your throat tight. “What’s that?”

He exhales, and the faintest smile curves his mouth. “Spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your chest squeezes so tightly you almost forget how to breathe. Your eyes sting before you can stop them.

Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You’ve been my best friend, my safe place, my favourite part of every day. Even when things were hard— when I was scared we’d never find our way back— you were still the only person I wanted to tell everything to. You’re the one I think about when I hear a dumb song, or see something funny, or when I just… need to feel okay again.”

Your vision blurs, and you blink rapidly, a watery laugh escaping. “Stop, you’re gonna make me—”

He shakes his head, smiling through his own nerves. “No, I’m not stopping. Cause I need you to know this. I need you to know that there’s no version of my life I want without you in it. I want the quiet mornings when you’re still half-asleep and grumpy. I want the road trips where we get lost and argue over dumb things. I want every messy, beautiful, ordinary day with you.”

You bite your lip, but it’s no use — tears slip hot down your cheeks anyway.

“I know forever used to sound scary,” he says softly, “but it doesn’t scare me if it’s with you. You make the idea of growing old actually sound good. Like something to look forward to. Because if I get to watch you laugh for the rest of my life, I’ll have everything I could ever need.”

Your laugh comes out as more of a sob, and you press a hand over your mouth. He reaches for it, gently pulling it away so you can’t hide.

“So,” he says, his own eyes glassy now, “will you let me love you for all the days we’ve got left?" He blinks a few times, letting out a shaky breath. "Y/n, will you marry me?”

The ring glints between you, but it’s his face — hopeful, and so stupidly in love — that has you nodding before you can even find your voice.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it’s the easiest answer you’ve ever given.

Jungkook lets out a breath that sounds like relief and disbelief all at once, his smile breaking wide and unrestrained.

“You said yes,” he says, almost like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.

You laugh, still sniffling, brushing at your cheeks with the back of your free hand. “Of course I said yes. What did you think I was gonna say?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, “but hearing you actually say it…” He shakes his head, the grin not going anywhere. “It feels like my heart’s too big for my chest.”

You roll your watery eyes at the cheesiness, but it only makes you cry harder. “God, you’re so corny.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he murmurs. “You love me.”

Your laugh comes out as a hiccup. “Unfortunately for me, yeah.”

He chuckles softly, sliding the ring from its box. His fingers are gentle as he slips it onto yours, like he’s afraid it might shatter if he moves too fast.

You stare down at your hand, the ring catching the starlight just enough to look like it was made for this exact moment. For a second, you can’t even bring yourself to speak. You just turn your palm slightly, watching the way it glimmers, the weight of it settling over you in a way that’s more comforting than overwhelming.

When you finally look back at him, his eyes are still on you, carefully memorising every inch of your face.

Your hand instinctively wrap around the sides of his neck and you pull him in, pressing your lips to his.

Your thumbs brush at his jaw and Jungkook exhales softly against your mouth, like he’s been holding his breath since the moment he asked. You can taste the salty tang of your tears, but you don't care — not when his hands are on your waist and his tender lips are against yours.

Eventually, when you pull back, both of you can't help but smile like idiots.

“I love you,” you whisper, still close enough to feel his breath.

“I love you more.”

You shake your head, grinning through the lingering tears. “Not possible.”

He laughs quietly, pressing the quickest, sweetest kiss to the tip of your nose. “Guess we’ll have forever to argue about it.”

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tranquilreign · 12 days ago

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ahhhh! so excited will read lateeerr!! <3 <3

NO MERCY | 03

𖥔 Summary: You are the heir to a clan that has been deposed. His name is on her death list. To avenge your parents' deaths, you play a game with the devil in an expensive suit. Use it - that's your plan. But what do you do when the enemy knows your every move... and your every fear? But there is a fine line between calculation and passion. And in this world, where betrayal is an everyday currency, the most dangerous thing is to lose control.

𖥔 Couple: Jeon Jungkook x The Reader, Jungkook x Y/N

𖥔 Age restrictions: 18+

𖥔 Size: mini series (ongoing)

𖥔 Tags: enemies to lovers, mafia au, domJungkook/subReader, stockholm syndrome, dark romance, kidnapping, emotional tension, obsession, possessive behaviour, dangerous love, protectiveness, forced proximity, broken characters, betrayal, manipulation, slow burn, angst with a hint of love, toxic romance, redemption arc, intense connection, forbidden feelings, survival, rough tenderness, detailed smut, sex, unprotected sex, throat strangulation, mention of death, death of minor characters, weapons, possessiveness, defiance

𖥔 From author: Hello ❤️‍🔥 Okay, as they say, not even two months have passed, and I'm back with a new chapter 😃 But I’ve finally come to the point where I can to write and publish it 😵‍💫 You can't even imagine how many times I rewrote this chapter, and I really hope it will be the last chapter I've worked on for so long 😁 So, a lot of time has passed, so if you've forgotten what happened in the previous chapters, read them 🙏🏻❤️‍🔥 Oh, and as always, let me know if you liked it? 🥺❤️‍🔥 Next, I will try to update this story sooner 💜 Thank you, my dearest Army, for supporting me and loving what I write 🥺💞 Even if this chapter only gets 10 likes, I will be the happiest person in the world 🥺💖 I hug you tightly 🫂

𖥔 A big request; The Army those who will read and at some point you don't like my fanfic, or it seems illogical, not interesting or too fictional - just pass by. Respect the effort, time and resources I have spent for those people who will really appreciate my efforts.

𖥔 Dedication: I want to dedicate this work to you my BIGGEST LOVE @curse-of-art 🖤 For your support, endless love, faith in me, in the love of my version of JK 🤭 I love you with all my big heart ❤️‍🔥

𖥔 Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooklovee, @kookiesncreamri, @kooko009, @bhonbhon, @smokinghotstargirl, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @indigomoonchild09, @goldenboysmuse, @hisdecalcomania17, @ggingerismm, @tranquilreign, @asyr97, @mar-lo-pap, @vantelover1306, @namjoonbaby17-blog, @diame93 @kash98, @mellyyyyyyx, @bts-ruu, @drwonderbread (If you want to be in the tag list for this story, just let me know)

𖥔 Warning: This story contains dark themes that may be triggering for some readers like mention of death, strangulation, holding by the throat, possessiveness, defiance/bratty behavior, stockholm syndrome. Please read with caution. If you are under 18, please refrain from reading this story. Also, English is not my first language, so you may notice some grammar mistakes or awkward sentence structures. I appreciate your understanding and kindness 🙂‍↕️

The debt must be paid

Seoul. A few days before the visit to Shanghai.

The deafening roar of the black Geländewagen cut through the evening air. Cars on the road involuntarily parted, as if they understood that he was the boss here.

Jungkook sat in the back seat, leaning back relaxed, his hand on the armrest. His face was reflected in the window—calm, focused. But there was a hint of a smirk in the corners of his eyes. A spark that revealed he was up to something.

As always, his mind was racing. Contracts. New connections. Accounts waiting to be settled. An investigation he had been conducting for years. But now most of his thoughts were occupied with you and the problem you had created — the conflict with Lotus. He solved the problem with the clan in a matter of days. For Jungkook, there were no unresolved issues, but this incident had taken away what he valued most — time.

You have been at the center of almost every thought he has had for a long time. You, who so brazenly challenged him. You, who let him taste your skin... and then shamelessly ran away. You, who stole the project and smiled as if it were a simple game. You, whom he remembered as defiant, with a sharp tongue and a sparkle in your eyes that made him want to kiss you... or lock you up.

And maybe he'll do both.

Jungkook had a plan. Clear, logical, consistent. He didn't act randomly. Every word he said had power and meaning. Each of his actions was a carefully calculated step. All of this was about you.

Your actions on the eve provoked him to take swift action. Not only because he had to protect you, because he had given his word to your father and had to pay him back, but also because you had become a kind of obsession for him.

When he finally had you, he realized that it was no longer enough to play with you from a distance. Now he wanted to have you all the time. And claim his rights to you. Make you his and not give anyone else even the slightest chance to feel your warmth. Everything had to go to him.

A luxurious black car, reflecting the night lights of Seoul, parked at a distance that offered a perfect view of H&D Technologies. The successful company looked as if it was a place where ideas that change the world are born. But in reality, it was just a mask.

Behind the facade of a high-tech cybersecurity company specializing in the protection of government and private data lies one of the most dangerous groups in East Asia — the Purple Dragons.

"President, we're here," said the driver.

Jungkook nodded and slowly got out of the car. He adjusted his jacket, but not because he was nervous. He was just used to everything being neat and tidy. Every detail had to be in its place.

Jungkook was confident, but he felt a slight excitement about the reason he was here. His face was calm, even a little playful.

He crossed the lobby without being invited. The security guards and company staff froze, greeted him briefly, and didn't even bother to escort him; everyone knew where he was going. Jungkook came alone, without any security, and even this simple gesture showed his power over everyone. He didn't need a squad of armed guards to instill fear.

Everyone knew who he was. And every step he took echoed in the minds of the employees, who were afraid to even look in his direction.

He took the elevator to the top floor without pressing the button — the escort had already been turned off. Someone inside had given permission. Someone who didn't want any trouble.

Jungkook smiled to himself. In this world, everything is simple: either you control fear, or you are destroyed by it. And he didn't just learn to survive — he made fear his ally.

When the elevator doors opened, Ho Sin-chul, your uncle and the current head of the Purple Dragons, was already waiting for him.

"President Jeon..." With feigned sincerity and an overly broad smile, he came out to meet him. "I wasn't expecting your visit. But of course, it's an honor for me!"

Jungkook smiled slightly, but it was not a friendly smile. Rather, it was a mocking one. Seeing this man feign sincerity amused him. Jungkook knew Ho Sinchol well, having watched him for years. He knew his true nature — mean, greedy, and cunning. A piece of shit that masquerades well like exemplary businessman. But he was for now... an ally. For now.

"I decided to visit, Ho Sinchol-nim. Long time no see," Jungkook said calmly, shaking his hand. He noticed that your uncle was sweating a little. He was nervous. But he pretended that everything was fine.

Jungkook let go of Sinchol's hand, and he gestured for him to sit down on the chairs by the office window, which offered a stunning view of Seoul. Jungkook sat down and unbuttoned his jacket to feel more comfortable.

"Coffee, tea... or perhaps whiskey?" asked Sinchol.

"Coffee," replied Jungkook briefly. Your uncle stood up and walked over to the table, pressed the button, and ordered two cups of espresso. Then he turned to his guest and asked seriously, sitting down next to him.

"To what do I owe your visit, President Jeon? My manager mentioned your conflict with Silver Lotus a few days ago. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Jungkook held his gaze on the man in front of him, making him feel even more tense, then raised his eyebrow slightly, and something flashed in his eyes... something playful and dangerous.

"To be honest, I'm a little upset that your offer has only come now," his voice was even, but his gaze was sharp. "Especially considering that this problem is the work of your niece."

Sinchol tried not to react, but his eyes flashed for a moment.

"Oh, Y/N?" he asked quietly, as if he couldn't believe that Jungkook was actually referring to you. "Is it her?"

Jungkook smiled wider.

"You probably know that this isn't her first prank. But she has surpassed even herself. She stole a project I had been working on with Japanese partners for several years," Jungkook shook his head, remembering how it all happened, admitting that you were so convincing that even he didn't notice the trick, "She did it very skillfully, I have to give her credit for that."

Sinchol took a deep breath. He looked away at the window, then turned back to Jungkook.

"I... didn't know she had caused you so many problems, honestly. In recent weeks, I've been busy negotiating with the Korean government — a contract to supply a new cybersecurity system. It's a critical deal for cover... I mean, for the company. But I assure you — I will personally resolve the situation with the Japanese project and return the rights to it to you. And if you need support in the Silver Lotus case, I am ready to provide all the resources. People, transport, connections — everything you need to make the conflict work in your favor."

Jungkook was pleased that your uncle was willing to go out of his way to cover own ass. Because obviously, as the head of the clan and your immediate relative, he has to take responsibility for you. However, Jungkook did not need his promises and attempts to improve the situation. Jungkook came here with a specific statement.

At that moment, a young woman entered the office. She placed two cups of coffee on the table in front of the men. Sinchol thanked her, and the woman left. Your uncle handed Jungkook a cup of coffee, and he bowed gratefully as he accepted it.

Jungkook took a sip of the strong drink, and it seemed to restore his clear mind. The bitterness of the coffee felt pleasant on his tongue. Without looking away, he took another sip of coffee and said calmly.

"Don't worry. I've already dealt with Lotus. The only strange thing is that you, the leader of the group, don't keep track of what your niece is doing." His voice became softer, almost sly. "She is very talented. Cunning, clever. And, it must be said, extremely beautiful. But even the most beautiful women should not test my patience. She crossed the line, and now I have to act."

Sinchol froze. His hand trembled as he placed the coffee cup on the table. And his forehead was covered with a light layer of sweat.

"President Jeon, I sincerely apologize for her behavior. I will talk to her. She will never be a problem for you again."

Jungkook silently took another sip. He looked out the window at the evening view of Seoul, then slowly turned back to Sinchol.

"You're right. She won't be a problem anymore," he put the cup on the table, leaned forward slightly, and calmly added, "Because from now on, I will personally keep an eye on her. I'm going to marry your niece."

Silence fell suddenly. Sinchol didn't immediately understand what he had heard.

"You... want to... get married?"

"That's right," Jungkook nodded. "I think marriage is the best way to resolve the situation. And, you must agree, it's much more profitable than war."

The room fell silent, so thick that it seemed to weigh on his chest. Sinchol leaned back in his chair, cowering as if from a blow.

"But you know what she's like. She... hates you. She won't agree. You understand, don't you?" he asked, a slight tension in his voice.

"I don't care what she wants. You don't quite understand, Sinchol-nim. This isn't a proposal," Jungkook said seriously and somewhat imperiously, "It's a statement. I must also remind you that you have debts," Jungkook did not raise his voice, but there was a hint of steel in his tone. "I saved your company from bankruptcy. I invested millions when the banks turned their backs on you. And you remember well who destroyed the evidence when the prosecutor's office was already preparing an arrest warrant for you." Jungkook stood up. His figure seemed to fill the entire space. Your uncle stood up after him, and Jungkook noticed a shadow of irritation on his face. "I don't care how you arrange it. I'm already giving my people orders to prepare for the wedding."

"President Jeon," Sinchol said nervously, "I am sincerely glad that you have decided to accept payment for my debts in such a simple way, but Y/N is a very complicated girl. And her dislike of you makes this situation difficult. If you don't mind, I can offer you my other niece, Harin. She has admired you for a long time and would be more than willing to marry you."

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. He doesn't want anyone else. Only you. Because you have been desirable to him for too long, and no one but you can make his soul burn. And after that night with you, he doesn't even know if there has ever been another woman in his life who aroused him as much as you do.

"I am flattered that your other niece admires me. But I want Y/N. And that is not up for discussion." Jungkook buttoned his jacket and, taking one last look at your uncle, left. He had already reached the door, touched the handle, and stopped, turning halfway around. "I'm waiting for an invitation to dinner, where you will officially announce engagement."

Jungkook left without waiting for an answer. A few minutes later, he was already sitting in his car, and it was moving. Jungkook unlocked his phone and dialed Jimin's number.

"So what's the news? Did you find her?" He stared at the road ahead of him.

"Yes," his friend said cheerfully, "she's in Shanghai. Presidential suite in the heart of Pudong."

"Get everything ready for departure. I want to be there the day after tomorrow evening. I'll finish up here and go to my fiancée."

Jimin laughed mockingly into the phone.

"So, the old rat agreed after all?"

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, even though he knew Jimin couldn't see it.

"Do you think he's in a position to refuse me?"

Jimin chuckled again, obviously realizing the absurdity of his question.

"Exactly. He has no choice. And that piece of shit will now be even more in our sights."

"That's right. By the way, did you check the documents I sent you? Was it really him?"

Jimin fell silent for a moment. There was some muffled noise in the background.

"Yes, I checked. It was really Ho Sinchol. He signed a contract disguised as a 'strategic partnership'. But there is a clause about the transfer of a controlling stake after a 'change of management'. 51% of the shares, which he has to transfer through a shell company," replied Jimin. Jungkook exhaled heavily.

"So it was him after all..." Jungkook said, more to himself than to Jimin.

"Yes, my friend, it is confirmed that this is his doing. If he was not afraid to eliminate his own brother for the sake of power over the Purple Dragons, then it would be nothing for him to eliminate his nieces. They are the last obstacle to complete control," Jimin concluded.

Jungkook understood this perfectly well. That's why marrying you wasn't just a strategic decision. He had to protect you because he made a promise. He also has to take care of your sister. But first — you. Because you are more deeply involved in the clan's affairs.

"Okay, Jimin, let's proceed according to our plan. Book me a ticket and order everything to be prepared for the wedding, and I'll take care of the other issues for now."

"Okay. I'll contact the hotel manager. What about security, should I send someone with you?" asked Jimin.

"I'll come alone. By the way... would you like to accompany me?" Jungkook's voice became playful, but with his characteristic bitter undertone, which Jimin could recognize instantly.

"And what would I do there? Listen to your arguments with that crazy girl?" Jimin snorted. "Or... maybe witness your next fuck?"

Jungkook smiled slightly.

"Hmm... as an option," Jungkook said, "Only if you can hold the camera steady. So that your hands don't shake more than her legs do after me."

"You damn pervert," Jimin laughed. "She'll kill you when she finds out what you're up to. Make a will before you leave. And leave me your whiskey collection."

"She won't do anything. She wants me. All this 'I hate you,' 'take your hands off me,' 'never again' stuff is classic. I'd even say... foreplay."

"Foreplay to your murder. You always underestimate her, and she makes you look like a fool," Jimin muttered. "But... something tells me that you're even looking forward to her next challenge."

Jungkook lazily shifted his gaze from the windshield to the side window.

"I wonder how she'll behave when she sees me at her doorstep. If she's going to hit me, she'd better do it in her underwear. Or better yet, without it," he replied dryly. "You know, taking her clothes off and resolving the conflict horizontally sounds very effective."

"Oh my God," Jimin couldn't help but laugh. "With phrases like that, you could definitely host a sex podcast. And call it 'How to Tame a Bitch.'"

"Ha, with your laughter as the intro," added Jungkook. "Okay, end of discussion. Get everything ready for my flight to Shanghai. And I'm really going to need you there. So now it's not an offer,".

"You just ruined all my plans," muttered Jimin. "But okay. I'll get everything ready."

Jungkook leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. His pulse quickened at the thought that he would see you again the day after tomorrow. Jungkook imagined your face—defiant, with that trademark half-smile that always pushed him to the limit. He imagined you looking at him defiantly, as if you could win this game.

But no, princess, not this time.

Seoul. A few days after the events in Shanghai.

Seoul greeted you with irritating rain and even more irritating thoughts. Throughout the flight, you couldn't get Jungkook's face out of your head — too calm, too confident, as always. And that last look he gave you before leaving your hotel room in Shanghai...

He said there was a surprise waiting for you when you got back. And you couldn't help but be nervous about it. A surprise from Jungkook was a global disaster waiting to happen. But what exactly he meant was still a mystery.

You asked your sister to find out anything she could, and carefully hinted to Donmin, your assistant, to find out what was going on around Jungkook. But everything was suspiciously quiet. And it was this silence that was driving you crazy.

Considering what you did last time you were in Korea, you could expect anything from Jungkook. You exhaled heavily and forced yourself to shift your focus to work.

You must to kill your security. Physically destroy everyone who let him pass. But you behaved restrainedly. What happened between you andJungkook in your room, and his words about a "surprise" confused you, so you didn't say anything to the chief security guard. You had been silent for the past few days, but inside you were boiling — and now you decided to let off some steam.

"You're doing a bad job," you said in the car, glancing coldly at the driver in the rearview mirror, who was the head of your security. "He walked right past you, as if you weren't there. This is your last mistake. If you miss a threat again, I'll fucking fire you."

The bodyguard remained silent. That's what you wanted — right now, even the sound of human breathing annoyed you.

Now, in the elevator, you clench the strap of your bag tightly in your fingers. Jungkook, like an annoying fly, fills your thoughts again. A scene pops into your head that you should have erased from your memory, not replayed every night.

Your back against the cold wall. His body—hot, hungry, powerful. His voice in your ear. His fingers. His mouth. His "You'll never escape again."

You didn't like the fact that you gave in to him so easily. You regretted whispering those damn words, "I'm yours." But you reassured yourself that you would use him as a tool for revenge and at the same time take back everything he had shamelessly appropriated for himself. Your plans were grandiose, and you didn't doubt their success for a second.

The elevator doors opened and your manager greeted you. You glanced at him briefly and walked away without even saying hello.

"Good morning, Y/N-nim," Donmin greeted you cautiously, knowing that you were angry. He was used to recognizing your emotions before you even voiced them.

You entered the office and sat down at your desk. The assistant stood on another side of the desk right in front of you, and you looked up at him. He looked at you without hiding his greedy gaze. Since you had fucked him several times, he allowed himself to look at you like that all the time. You didn't give him any hope for anything more, he was just a way to satisfy your needs.

His gaze annoyed you. Everything annoyed you today because Jungkook had kept you in suspense, waiting for his surprise.

"What's on the schedule for today?" you asked flatly. Donmin cleared his throat and opened his tablet.

"In the afternoon, a meeting with representatives of S-Net Group. At 5 p.m., we'll check the leak protocol for the Orion servers. And..." He paused. "Jungkook-nim... resolved the conflict with Silver Lotus."

You remained silent. Of course he did. He always resolves everything. And you just... watch him how he do it.

Your phone rang. You looked at the screen. It was your uncle calling. You hadn't seen him since you stole the project from the Japanese. And his call after so long time, when you did that, meant one thing — he doesn't know anything. His call intrigued you, and you hurried to pick up the phone.

"Yes, Samchon*," you said.

"Hello, daughter," his voice was soft, and you felt your shoulders relax.

"Hi."

"Are you in company?" he asked.

"Yes. I just arrived at the office," you replied.

"Come to my office, I want to see you," Sinchol asked.

"Is it urgent?" you asked cautiously. You suspected that he didn't want to see you because he missed you.

"Yes. I'll be waiting for you," he replied without changing his tone and hung up. You felt tension throughout your body again. You feel that something might happen.

You got up from your chair, clutching the phone in your hands.

"Samchon asked me come to him. While I'm there, prepare the files on the Orion deal and find out who was the last person to access the confidential Black Hydra project registry."

Your voice was steady, but Donmin froze for a moment, sensing that you were not preparing for a normal conversation.

"Yes,Y/N-nim," he nodded and hurried to carry out your instructions.

You left the office, and every step in the hallway seemed louder than usual. Your fingers mechanically checked your email, messengers, private channels — nothing. Silence. The kind that usually comes before a storm.

Your uncle's office door was ajar. You knocked on the frame without entering.

"Come in," his voice said.

You entered.

Ho Sinchol's office had always remained impeccable—dark wood, large panoramic windows, not a speck of dust on the desk. He sat in his chair, calm and confident. When he saw you, he stood up and warmly embraced you.

"My beautiful girl. How are you?" he asked, pulling you close.

You let yourself touch him with your cheek, just for a second. He was like a father to you, and he always treated you with special tenderness. He also loved your sister like his own daughter, but because you were always around your uncle, your bond was special. You were silent for a second, then lied briefly:

"Everything's fine, Samchon. How are you?"

He leaned back and smiled fatherly as he looked at your face.

"I'm fine too," he said, letting go of you and taking a step back.

"What have you been doing all this time?" he asked. You froze for a moment. His voice was too even. Too controlled. It wasn't a random question — he knew something. But it was better not to show it.

"Nothing special..." you replied, trying to remain calm. There was no point in coming up with something more specific. An ironic smile appeared on his lips and he looked you straight in the eye.

"Nothing special... except that you managed to mess with the most influential man in the criminal world?"

You barely moved your eyebrow, but didn't show him your emotions. So he knows. You expected that sooner or later he would find out about the Japanese project. But it was unclear how much he knew and why he had remained silent until now.

"Oh, Samchon... I acted solely within the bounds of diplomacy," you say sarcastically.

"This isn't funny," he interrupted, returning to the table. "I asked you to treat Jungkook with respect. He has put up with your antics for a long time... But the project with the Japanese could have been the last straw. Be glad he swallowed it this time."

You snorted nervously. Anger flashed in your eyes. You walked over to the armchairs, sat down on one of them, and crossed your arms over your chest.

"I'm taking back what belongs to our family. What belonged to my father before he was taken away," you replied with protest in your voice. "Maybe you should have done that too, instead of... befriending the enemy."

Your uncle was silent for a few seconds, staring at you, and then said calmly:

"Jungkook is not an enemy. He is a strategic ally. And he is much more useful in this role than as an enemy. Even I cannot afford to openly oppose him. And you..." He shook his head. "You must remember that you are no match for him. And stop trying to measure yourself against him. It's dangerous."

"But he's just arrogant. And not as scary as he seems. Believe me, all I have to do is snap my fingers and he'll do whatever I say," you said coldly.

"You're walking on the edge of a precipice, niece. A deep precipice..." He paused for a moment, his face becoming serious. "If you interfere in his affairs again, or set him up, I will be forced to take drastic measures. And I don't want to do that. I love you. You and your sister. And if, in order to save you from Jungkook's wrath, I have to lock you in your room, I will do so."

You smiled sadly, even though inside you were seething with protest. You exhaled slowly.

"Okay, I'll try not to do anything... reckless. But I can't promise to hundred percentage."

Your uncle froze, then shook his head.

"You're as stubborn as your father," he muttered and smiled slightly.

"And proud of it," you replied. Silence fell between you. You were the first to break it. "Is that why you called me here?"

Your uncle put his palms on the table and interlaced them together. He cleared his throat, and for a split second, you thought he was nervous.

"Yes, for that. To tell you that you need to calm your talents and not provoke Jungkook. Also, we're all having dinner together tonight. You and your sister are to be at my estate at eight o'clock."

You grimaced.

"Samchon," you said doomed, "You know how much I 'love' these dinners. Can I not come?"

"Yes, I know," your uncle smiled. "But that's not up for discussion."

"I'll see if I have any free time," you sighed. You already got up and headed for the door to leave. Your mood was completely ruined.

"Y/N!" Sinchol said your name sternly.

You stopped at the door and smiled slyly.

"Okay, okay... I'll be there."

And as you were leaving the office, you thought:

"Again, I'll have to put up with his arrogant wife, who thinks the whole world revolves around her, and his idiot son, who will talk about how influential and cool he is, but is actually as dumb as a stump, and a pathetic parody of his idol, Jungkook."

You had a bad relationship with your uncle's family and never considered them close. Your uncle's wife was not a mother to you because she was condescending and always reminded you that you were a stranger. She could smile in front of others, but behind closed doors, her gaze became icy. She spoke to you in a tone usually reserved for throwing out the trash and always had something to say about your origins — especially about your deceased parents.

Your uncle never took sides, but his silence hit you harder than any words could.

You walked to your office with fire in your chest. This dinner would be yet another attempt to play "happy family"... and it was terribly annoying. You had enough things to spend your energy on, and you didn't want to waste it on hypocrisy that made no sense. Your pulse raced with anger, though your face remained emotionless.

You were tired of everyone around you telling you what you could and couldn't do. That Jungkook was too powerful. That you'd better keep quiet. That you should be grateful you hadn't been removed yet.

But you knew the truth.

This world no belongs to men who think they can control you.

Your uncle's estate glowed like a museum — tall columns, golden lamps, the rich scent of roses and the smell of rain. The pompousness of his estate irritated you to some extent because you didn't understand why needed make the place where live so ostentatious. But your uncle had different views on where and when to show off his status.

You got out of the car first, your sister followed you. Both of you were wearing dark coats that exuded power. You were like two sides of the same coin: you were decisive, she was cold.

"Maybe today will be drama-free?" your sister muttered as she walked beside you.

"If that bitch behaves herself," you shrugged, hinting at your uncle's wife, "then maybe."

The guard opened the door, and you entered the spacious living room, where light instrumental music was playing.

The maids took your coats, and you felt the familiar chill from these walls. Everything here made you uncomfortable: the perfection, the smell of the furniture, even the paintings that had hung in the same places since your childhood.

"Ma'am, Ho Sinchol is waiting for you in the dining room," said one of the servants.

You nodded and moved forward, not feeling the carpet under your feet. Your uncle was already sitting at the head of the table, smiling, satisfied. His wife was like a porcelain statue. And their son... the same talentless cockerel in a Brioni suit.

"Y/N!" exclaimed your cousin, approaching you with a fake smile that always made you want to poke his eyes out with a fork. He hugged you for a moment — insincerely, holding his hands on your waist longer than he should have.

"You look... just sinfully delicious," he whispered in your ear, and you literally felt nauseous.

You took a step back, smiling coldly, so professionally that it could have passed for a genuine reaction. But your sister saw how tense you were and snorted under her breath. She knew you were already counting how many glasses of wine you would need to make it to dessert.

Ho Sinchol got up from the table and approached you. His hugs were always genuine. He hugged you first, then your sister, kissing each of you on the temple like a father.

"My girls. I'm glad to see you," and you allowed yourself to smile for a second.

And then there she was — your uncle's wife.

Cold and dissatisfied, as always. Her smile was thin and completely lifeless. She took a step toward you and your sister.

"Good evening, girls. I'm glad you made it."

She wasn't happy to see you, just as they weren't happy to see her. You copied her smile and bowed slightly. There were no feelings between you except hypocrisy.

"Good evening, Chageun Omma*, we are also glad to be here," you barely restrained yourself from adding something more cutting to show her that you saw right through her hypocrisy. Your uncle's wife gave you both a look of contempt and went to the table.

You and your sister exchanged glances. Oh, this dinner promised to be wonderful.

You sat down. You took a glass of wine and took a long sip. No, that wasn't enough. The wine burned your throat, but it dulled your irritation for a moment. Your sister immediately reached for her glass too, imitating you.

The table was set impeccably, with appetizers already on it, but you were too nervous to eat. Maybe the wine would whet your appetite. So, listening to your uncle, you took another sip of wine. The conversation was dull, and you just wanted to tune out.

"So I didn't invite you here just to eat. This won't be a simple dinner. Our guest will be arriving soon," your uncle announced.

You slowly turned your head toward him, squinting:

"You said it would be a family dinner. Why is someone else coming?"

But you didn't get to hear the answer to your question. The door to the room opened and you met the gaze of a man you never expected to see here. For a split second, all sound disappeared. Even your pulse. Even your thoughts.

Jungkook was looking only at you. It seemed like an eternity before he looked away and bowed in respect to those present.

"Good evening," he greeted everyone. Your uncle stood up and hurried over. He shook Jungkook's hand and invited him to the table. You couldn't take your eyes off Jong-guk. Your glass froze in midair, not reaching your lips. Your whole body tensed, as if preparing for a blow.

Jungkook approached the seat directly opposite you. His posture was impeccable, his movements calm and confident. He was wearing a dark suit that fit him like a second skin. And there was a slight smile on his lips. The kind that always foreshadowed trouble.

Your uncle's wife stood up and nodded to Jungkook with feigned politeness:

"Jeon Jungkook-nim, we are glad to see you in our home."

He bowed briefly, just enough not to break etiquette, and immediately looked at her:

"Mrs. Ho, it is an honor to be here."

His cousin also stood up and bowed. You knew how he imitated Jungkook, and it made you hate your brother even more.

Jungkook finally sat down at the table and immediately looked at you. He smiled at you with a sly smile. The one you liked and hated at the same time. And at that moment, you realized — here it was, your "surprise."

Dinner began tensely, and you were on edge. Your uncle, brother, and Jungkook started a conversation, and you just watched silently. They talked about business, about the latest H&D Technologies project. You tried to understand the reason for Jungkook's presence at this family dinner.

You took a sip of wine without touching the food on your plate and met another glance from Jungkook. While your uncle was distracted by the maid who brought more dishes, Jungkook leaned across the table and spoke.

"How are you, princess?"

"Was better until you showed up," you said honestly. You noticed your sister sitting next to you watching your conversation. She was as tense as you were, because she knew perfectly well what was going on between you and Jungkook.

"You're always so straightforward," he said quietly. "I like that."

You wanted to say something, but at that moment your uncle turned around and cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. He raised his glass and waited for everyone else to do the same:

"Let's drink to this meeting and to the new opportunities that future alliance will bring."

Everyone drank, and you were the last to do so. Anger raged inside you. Could it be that your uncle wants to make a bossiness deal with Jungkook? Is that why he's here?

Your thoughts became chaotic as you tried to understand what exactly your uncle and Jungkook were up to.

"I didn't just gather you here for dinner," he began. "And Jungkook's presence here is no accident. It is part of our new strategic alliance." Your heart beat faster in your chest. "I have decided that the time has come to form an alliance that will strengthen our position not only in business but also in the future of our family."

He looked directly at you, and there was not a hint of doubt in his eyes.

"Y/N, you will marry Jeon Jungkook."

The silence at the table was deafening. Your sister froze with a glass to her lips. Your cousin pretended to look at his plate, but a malicious gleam in his eyes. Your uncle's wife clutched her fork as if she were about to break it.

You slowly put your glass down on the table. Inside, everything was burning. Your gaze met Jungkook's again, and he... just looked at you. Calm. Almost playful. As if it were just a game of chess.

"Excuse me?" Your voice was quiet, but there was ice in it. "Is this a joke?"

"No, Y/N," your uncle replied calmly. "It's a decision. It's best for you. For all of us. Jungkook-nim asked for your hand, and I have already given my consent."

You felt something break inside you, and a cold mask froze on your face. Your heart was racing, but your voice remained calm and sharp:

"You didn't ask for my opinion. Are we in the Middle Ages or something?" you snapped, turning to your uncle. "What makes you think I would agree to this union?"

Your anger knew no bounds. Everyone looked at you as if their eyes were sharp blades, ready to tear any sign of disobedience to pieces. You felt the pressure in the room rise to the limit, and the coldness in your chest turned into a flame that could not be extinguished.

Your uncle did not look away. His voice was quiet but firm:

"Daughter, this decision was made for the good of our business. And as part of it, you must put your emotions aside and understand what is strategically important," he tried to convince you, pressing you with your responsibilities. You were ready to give your all so that what your father had created and once brought to the top would return to where it belonged. But marrying Jungkook? He is your enemy, what could be worse?

You couldn't even imagine that he would do such a thing. Marriage to Jungkook was not a new opportunity for you, it was the end of all your plans.

You got up from the table, feeling every gaze on you, but one felt almost physical. Jungkook's gaze was direct, he was smiling, and you noticed that he hadn't said a word. He looked as if the decision had been made, as if he had won, but you did not agree to this marriage. And no one would force you to marry him.

"There will be no wedding," you said, looking directly into Jungkook's eyes. Not a single muscle on his face moved. You turned and walked away from the table.

You walked quickly toward the exit of the house. Your indignation knew no bounds. Why did your uncle decide that he could sell you to your enemy for the "duty to the clan"?

You had almost left the hallway when you were grabbed by the arm. You saw your uncle, who had a confused and angry look on his face.

"What are you doing? Marrying Jungkook is the best decision for our clan,"

You pulled your hand away and took a step back.

"Samchon, are you listening to yourself?" Your voice broke into hysterics, "What marriage? What best decision? He's my enemy! The best decision for our clan would be for him to disappear from the face of the earth," you almost shouted.

"Calm down," your uncle asked, raising both hands, "Don't shout. Someone might hear you. Let's go to my office and talk normally..." You took another step back.

"I don't care if they hear me," you said louder, "I'm not marrying him, and I'm not a thing that can be given to any man."

Your uncle couldn't take it anymore and grabbed you by the elbow and pushed you into the nearest room, which was close to the hallway. You found yourself in a small library. You were suffocating with anger and injustice. And your uncle, ignoring your anger, closed the door and stood in front of you like a guard in front of a cage.

"Do you think I don't understand how it sounds?" he said, lowering his voice. "Do you think I don't know that it's unfair? That you don't want this marriage? But we don't live in a world where we can afford the luxury of own pleasure, Y/N!"

"What kind of world do we live in then?" you said colorlessly, crossing your arms over your chest. "A world where I can be traded for influence, like a chip on a game board?"

His jaw tensed, but his voice remained even:

"This is the only way to save the Purple Dragons. Your marriage to Jungkook will settle our debts to him and the other clans. He will pay everything off — but in return, he wants you."

"He... wants me?" You barely uttered the words, feeling disgust mixed with fear and anger. "And you decided that I would agree?"

"Think about it, niece. This marriage is a strategy," he said harshly. "If you become his wife, our clan will gain access to most external markets, protection from attacks, and an alliance with the Black Swan. Doors that have been closed since your father's death will open for us. This is a chance to revive the empire he created."

"It's not fair..." you cried, your voice breaking. "You want to sell me for stability. You want me to give myself to a man I hate..."

"He wants you," your uncle interrupted, his voice as cold as ice water. "And I can't refuse him because I owe him a debt that I have to pay. You will marry him. And when you settle into your new position, if everything is stable, you can divorce him. But now... you have to agree... There is no choice..."

You turned away. Your body was tense with anger. Thoughts were tearing your head apart. Your uncle came closer. His gaze finally softened.

"Your father created the Purple Dragons. He made us great. But now... only you can preserve his legacy. If you don't do this, everything he built could fall apart... We are going through difficult times, and I am doing everything in my power, but Y/N..." He exhaled heavily. "I am asking you not as the head of the clan. But as family. As your father's younger brother..." He hugged you — tightly, almost desperately.

And you stood there, frozen, not responding to his touch. One thought raged in your head: he brought the clan to ruin, and now he wants you to save him.

Something dark ignited inside you. Yes, you were angry. Yes, you hated this choice. But... if you agreed, you would be close to Jungkook. And maybe you would finally learn the truth about your parents' death. About his role in it. And then...

You would take revenge.

You took a deep breath and carefully moved away from your uncle.

"Okay…I need some time. I don't want to go back for dinner right now. I'll stay in the garden."

Your uncle nodded silently, and you left the room.

The air outside was cool and damp. There was a faint scent of roses in the garden. You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself, trying to hide from the wind and calm yourself at the same time. But the news that you were being forced to marry Jungkook finally broke you.

There it was, the real "surprise" he had prepared for you.

You had already opened your mouth to scold him when you heard footsteps behind you.

He was walking straight towards you — his hands in his pockets, his unbuttoned jacket fluttering in the wind, and a smug smile playing on his lips, which you wanted to wipe off with your fist. As soon as he approached, you laughed — loudly and bitterly.

"You've even surpassed me in the art of surprises..." you said ironically. Jungkook stopped a step away from you. He lowered his head, looking at you from his height, "Marriage in exchange for debt repayment?"

His hoarse chuckle showed that your almost hysterical tone did not affect him.

"Your uncle really owes me a considerable amount of money," he said. "And the only way he can repay me is to marry you to me."

You were silent. Your eyes burned with anger. And at the same time... you couldn't understand why his presence made you feel weak. You hated him — but for some reason, you secretly enjoyed his company.

"Do you need the Purple Dragons?" you asked bluntly. Jungkook laughed, sincerely, almost contemptuously. It was funny that you thought that. Because all he wanted was for you to be around, he didn't care about your clan.

"Are you serious? Do you think if I wanted to take your father's assets, I would need marriage?" There was a hint of mockery in his voice. "I could have done it long ago." He noticed you hold your breath, but you didn't say anything.

Suddenly, he touched your face — brushing a strand of hair that had fallen on your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. You restrained yourself from flinching and felt an electric shock run through your skin.

"You're a smart girl, princess. You know I can get the Dragons without a strategic marriage."

You tried to burn him with your gaze, but his touch and closeness made it difficult to concentrate.

"Then why this marriage?" you asked, unable to control your tone.

Jungkook withdrew his hand and straightened up. He put his hands back in his pockets and replied slowly.

"There are many reasons, to be honest. Take, for example, the fact that you have declared yourself mine. And if you are mine, then you must be mine forever."

You raised your eyebrows for a moment when you heard his words, then spread them and looked at him mockingly.

"I said that while I was having an orgasm. It doesn't count."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly.

"What you say during an orgasm doesn't count?"

"Yes, it doesn't," you confirmed, lifting your chin. Jungkook couldn't help but laugh. Then he leaned a little closer.

"You felt so good when I was fucking your tight little pussy that you didn't know what you were saying?" His voice vibrated across your skin, echoing somewhere in your chest. Your legs throbbed at the memory of your last sex in Shanghai. "But you told me that twice. In case you forgot."

Your eyes fell treacherously on his lips, and you were overcome with a wave of desire to touch them.

"I forgot," you said defiantly, "I forgot everything that happened between us. Because it means nothing."

You tried to sound firm, feigning cold indifference. You forced yourself not to blink, not to reveal how wildly your heart was beating. But he saw everything. He always saw everything.

Jungkook nodded, the smile on his lips becoming thinner.

"Then I'll remind you," he whispered, "of everything you're trying to forget. How your body reacted when I entered you. What your voice sounded like when you asked for more..." Jungkook leaned even closer, and you felt the air between you become hot and tense. "You can say you've forgotten, but we both know what a liar you are, princess,"

"Shut up..." you hissed, "Our casual sex means nothing. We're enemies."

His lips almost touched yours. His breath burned your lips.

"No, princess. We're not enemies, we're fiancés who will soon become husband and wife."

"I'm not going to be anything but a thorn in your side. I won't be your wife, it will only be a strategic move to pay off debts," you said sharply. Jungkook straightened up without taking his eyes off you. He was silent for a few long seconds, then took a small package out of his pocket. He opened it and took out a ring. It was not made of ordinary gold, but black. The metal was matte, but when light fell on it, it shimmered purple. In the center was an exceptional purple diamond. The stone matched the color of the Purple Dragons' flag perfectly.

Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled it to his chest. You wanted to pull your hand away, but he held you tight.

"Wear it and don't take it off," he said and put it on your ring finger. You felt the cold metal touch your skin. "Wife,"

He let go of your hand. You looked at him with dissatisfaction and hid your hand behind your back, feeling the weight of the ring.

"While your uncle was dragging his feet with the engagement, the wedding preparations are almost complete. In a few days, we'll go pick out a dress for you..." He didn't get to finish because you interrupted him.

"Everything is almost ready? Were you so sure I would agree to this marriage?" you asked in surprise.

"Yes, I was sure," Jungkook replied matter-of-factly. You grimaced, unable to hide your irritation.

"Why do you need to go dress shopping with me? I can do it myself..."

Jungkook smiled slightly, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"You will choose. But where I'm taking you. With me."

You sighed tensely, trying not to show how much that phrase hurt you inside. Something in his voice, in his calmness, made you feel not just cornered, but as if you had been there for a long time, only you hadn't noticed.

"What if I refuse?" you said coldly. "What if I disappear?"

"You know I'll find you anywhere," Jungkook replied simply, "But next time, the difference will be that I won't offer you a ring. I'll come for what's mine without asking permission."

He took a step closer, and you backed away, but your foot hit the edge of the flower bed. The space was closing in, and he didn't even try to hide his delight at your reaction.

"You can keep fighting, princess," he said. "I even respect that. But deep down, you already made your choice that night in my hotel room."

Jungkook moved closer until there was no space left between you. His presence was intrusive, almost suffocating, and yet your body betrayed you, reacting to him as something familiar, dangerous, but desirable.

His fingers touched the edge of your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, eyes that pulled you into an abyss from which there was no return.

"You are mine," he said as if it were a fact beyond appeal. He looked into your angry eyes for a moment, then smiled slightly. He let you go and left behind a faint scent of musk.

You came out of the fitting room and walked wearily to the large mirror in the center of the room. Your gaze was indifferent, slightly irritated. The dress, although expensive and perfectly tailored, still evoked nothing but fatigue. You looked over your shoulder—Jungkook was sitting in a soft armchair, relaxed as always. His leg was crossed over the other, a phone in one hand, his eyes fixed on you the whole time.

You waited for him to finish his conversation. Only when he put down the phone did you sigh briefly.

"I'm tired. I don't like anything." Your voice was dry, almost indifferent. "We'll choose another time. Maybe."

This fitting had been going on for over two hours, and you were frankly annoyed. By the dresses. By the situation. By him.

Jungkook literally dragged you out of the office, not even letting you finish your meeting with your advisors. He burst into the conference room, silently took your things, and ordered you had to go with him. He said that some people were already waiting for you. You tried to argue, to explain that you were busy. He didn't listen. And in the end, you gave in — just to get rid of his intrusive presence.

But Jungkook seemed to be enjoying every moment. He greedily devoured you with his eyes, as if every curve of your body in wedding dresses ignited something animalistic in him. Especially when you weren't wearing a bra and your nipples were visible through the fabric of the dresses. He didn't even hide how he was watching you. You knew that look. The same one he had in Shanghai when his hands squeezed your thighs...

He stood up slowly, but there was a sense of power in his every movement. Jungkook walked along the rows of wedding dresses, examining them. His fingers freeze front one of the dresses, and he, barely touching the fabric, glanced briefly at the consultant.

"Take this dress off. She'll try it on,"

You rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue softly.

"I've already tried on a dozen. That's enough for today," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jungkook came closer, with a barely noticeable smile, confident and maddeningly messing.

"This is the last one," he said softly, "And if you don’t like it either, I’ll buy this salon and shut it down for good. Because its staff failed to please my fiancée."

You froze and then glanced quickly at the girl holding the dress Jungkook had chosen. She paled at his words.

"Are you crazy?" You grimaced as you took the wedding dress from the salon employee's hands. "The salon is fine, it's just that none of this is to my taste,"

You didn't let him answer, just turned around and headed back to the fitting room. You drew the curtain and leaned your back against the wall, sighing. Fatigue settled in your body, pulsing, heavy. Your hands slid down, removing the previous dress. Your skin was burning, your body was slightly damp, and your head was a complete mess. Irritation. Fatigue. And... Jungkook.

When you put on the new dress, the curtain behind you rustled quietly. In the mirror, you saw his reflection. Jungkook was standing right behind you.

"Are you dressed it?" he asked evenly.

"Yes, I just need to button up..." You wanted to tell him to call the assistant to do it, but he took a step and came inside, closing the curtain.

"I'll do it," said Jungkook, stopping behind you. His fingers touched your back. "I need to know how to handle it... on our wedding night," his voice lowered slightly and sounded seductive. But you raised your eyebrow in surprise.

"Do you really think we'll have a wedding night?" you asked mockingly. You met Jungkook's gaze in the mirror and expected some confident or defiant answer, but he remained silent.

His fingers skillfully but slowly fastened with each button on the corset of the dress.

"By the way, did you know that seeing the bride in her wedding dress before the wedding is a bad omen?" you broke the silence between you. Jungkook chuckled slightly.

"Bad for those who believe in it," Jungkook replied briefly, fastening the last button.

You turned to him, standing close to him. His dark eyes were calm. It was as if you were in a normal situation, not trying on a dress for a forced wedding. It was as if you weren't enemies. You stared into his eyes, trying to understand who he really was. But the longer you looked, the more questions arose.

"Why do you want this marriage?" you asked insistently, wanting to know his true intentions.

Jungkook smiled.

"To keep you close. And to prevent you from harming my business," he replied, without looking away.

You smiled back, glancing briefly at his lips. And you felt that this answer might be partly true.

"Haven't you thought that if I'm around, I could do even more damage? To you and everything you're building?"

"Then I won't have to chase you around Seoul or all of Asia. I can punish you... right in our bedroom," Jungkook took a step forward, forcing you to take a step back. Your smile disappeared and your face turned icy.

"You're not going to touch me anymore, you bastard," you hissed, looking him in the eyes. The cold mirror touched your shoulder blades. Jungkook just smiled and leaned his hand against the mirror, leaning so close to you that you could steal each other's breath.

"Playing indifferent again," he said quietly in your ear. "But I know how your body betrays you. I can touch you right here. In this locker room. And you'll cum on my fingertips in minutes."

You felt him touch your thigh. His palm easily and nimbly slipped under your skirt. You caught his hand and stopped him, but Jongkook didn't respond to your attempts. He touches your pussy through the fabric at first, making you freeze, and a moment later he pushes the fabric aside and his fingers find your throbbing clit. You bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud.

Jungkook leans away from your ear. His nose touches yours and he speaks directly into your lips.

"Or you prefer my tongue?"

Jungkook kisses you, and you immediately let his tongue into your mouth. The kiss is slow but deep. So sweet, so dizzying. You moan softly into his lips, unaware that it is killing Jungkook's control.

For a moment, you think about the staff and panic that someone might walk in on you. But you're more than sure that the staff saw Jungkook come into your fitting room. So the likelihood of being interrupted is very low.

His fingers caress you slowly, skillfully, gently, sometimes entering your passage. You feel an orgasm coming in less than half a minute. Your legs go weak.

Each of his touches sent a wave through your whole body. You squeezed his wrist, as if you could still stop him — but the pressure of your fingers was weak. Your resistance was almost symbolic.

"You're... disgusting," you whispered into his lips, angry but trembling.

"And you're beautiful when you're angry," he replied, and you felt his lips touch your neck. You wanted to hit him. You really wanted to. But your hands wouldn't obey you.

His touches became deeper, more confident. He knew your body as if it were his own. And even though you hated the way he treated you, your body betrayed you, burning with desire with his every movement.

You closed your eyes.

"Don't even think that it means anything..." you whispered, barely suppressing a moan.

"Then let me mean nothing for another minute," his voice was soft, hoarse, but controlled. As always.

You opened your eyes. Jungkook stared at you with a look full of desire, but calm and determined. Your eyes met, and without looking away, he knelt down.

You froze.

"Not this. Not here. Not..." you begged silently.

But the silk fabric of the dress was already sliding up your thighs. His hands spread your legs with such confidence that you wanted to scream — from desire or shame, you no longer knew.

Jungkook touched the inside of your thigh with his lips. Your breath caught in your chest. You leaned against the mirror, trying to maintain control.

His lips kissed your thighs right next to your pussy. He took off your underwear, and it fell to the floor. Jungkook grabbed your buttocks and pushed your thighs closer to his face.

You were ready to curse yourself for giving in to this temptation. But his kisses were so slow and teasing, so gentle, that his tongue made your heart beat faster. You almost whispered his name... almost. But you swallowed the sound just in time.

Jungkook's tongue swirled smoothly around your swollen, sensitive clitoris. You held his shoulders, barely understanding what was happening. His nose sometimes touched your folds and you felt his breath on them.

"Fuck, that scent... so delicious," he muttered, enjoying every millimeter of your pussy, every drop of your juices.

His hands held you tightly, but not roughly. Your legs began to buckle, and you leaned back against the mirror again.

When you finally grabbed his hair, your fingers were trembling. Your body was no longer obeying you. And before the wave of final release washed over you, you looked down... at the man you were supposed to hate.

And you didn't see an enemy there. You saw someone who knew you better than anyone else. He knew your deepest desires, but you knew nothing about him as a person, and that scared you.

Jungkook felt your clitoris twitch on his tongue. He held his tongue on your pussy until you came. Jungkook moved away, raising his eyes to meet your half-open gaze. He smiled triumphantly, having brought you to orgasm. His chin glistened with your juices, but he paid no attention to it.

Jungkook grabbed your white lace thong and pulled it back on. He got up from his knees and the skirt fell, covering your underwear.

You followed Jungkook's movements, breathing deeply and quickly. When he stood up to his full height, you tilted your head back slightly, and at that moment he kissed you again and you could feel yourself on his tongue.

Jungkook parted his lips and finally let you go. He looked at his crotch, and you looked there too. His bulge was very noticeable. Jungkook caught your gaze and smiled slyly.

"Want to help?" he asked. You looked down again, as if deciding, but in reality you had already decided.

You grabbed Jungkook by the belt of his black classic pants and pulled him toward you. Your hands confidently but slightly tremblingly unfastened his belt and button.

Jungkook helped you by pulling his boxers down to his lower thighs. His heavy, erect cock was already in your hands. You masturbated him, wanting to bring him to orgasm just as he had brought you a moment ago. Jungkook kissed you, but his greedy, passionate kiss threw you off rhythm. You stopped occasionally, and then Jungkook placed his hand over yours, preventing you from getting distracted.

You moved your palm along its length, thinking about how large it was and how well it filled your walls. You wanted him to penetrate you, but it was risky to remain in the locker room for so long.

Jungkook leaned his elbow against the wall. His face was close to yours, burning your cheek. He was breathing heavily and quietly, and that breathing aroused you again.

"So damn… good..." he whispered.

You felt his cock harden. He was about to cum right then and there. He stopped your hand and leaned back, leaving a small distance between your faces.

"Will you take it in your mouth? Or are we going to have to explain where the cum came from?" Jungkook asked with a smile. You could feel his cock pulsing in your hand.

You knelt down, not even considering how to explain where the semen in the locker room came from. You took him into your mouth and Jungkook exhaled tremulously. You ran your mouth around his cock and now it seemed even bigger to you.

You gave blowjobs to Taehyung nd Donmin, but they didn't feel that big in your mouth. Jungkook held your jaw, moving his hips forward. Fortunately, he came quickly because he was already on the verge. You felt the saltiness of his semen and, breathing deeply, swallowed everything Jungkook had poured into you.

Finally, when his cock went soft and stopped twitching in your mouth, you let him go. You got up from your knees, wiping away the remains of semen, but when you met Jungkook's gaze, you saw absolute satisfaction.

He put on his boxers and zipped up his pants. The smile never left his lips, and you felt embarrassment flood your face from his attentive and daring gaze.

"I think we'll take this dress because you look amazing in it, princess."

You looked away, and Jungkook gently touched your chin so you would look at him and winked at you. He left the dressing room and told the staff that he would buy the last dress you tried on.

You took off the wedding dress, and feelings of shame and anger burned somewhere in your chest.

The warm autumn evening air washed over your face as you left the salon. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungkook take a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, light one, and inhale deeply. He tilted his chin up and exhaled. The smoke rose slowly. You froze, mesmerized by the scene.

Damn him. He was so handsome... you had to admit it. And he was as devilish as he was handsome.

Your jaw tensed, the memories from the fitting room still lingering, their traces remaining on your lips, between your thighs, in your throat.

"Where do you want me to take you?" he asked without further ado, turning back to you.

"To the office," you replied briefly. Your voice sounded even, cold. The coldness in your voice was almost demonstrative. You walked to the car pretending nothing had happened. But the scene kept spinning in your head: the mirror, his tongue, his fingers, his satisfied smile, your stifled moan.

Jungkook opened the car door for you, and you were about to get in when his hand gently but firmly stopped you. You looked up.

"What?" you asked irritably. You wanted to roll your eyes, but you held back.

He stared at you, holding your gaze a little longer than necessary. His eyes slid over your cheekbones, lips, neck, and you felt something stir in your chest. He took half a step back, but didn't remove his hand.

"Are you very busy tonight, princess?" Jungkook asked. You snorted.

"Even if I had a completely free evening... I'm busy for you," you replied, dryly and decisively.

He smiled with the corners of his lips. That smile you hated. Confident and teasing.

"Too bad. Because I have business. To you,"

"What business?" You thought you tried to sound disinterested.

"It's... about your father,"

You froze when you heard Jungkook mention your father. As if in slow motion, you saw Jungkook raise his eyes above your head, and then he grabbed you. He spun you around sharply, and you heard the sound of a gunshot. Sharp, hollow. You didn't have time to react before Jungkook literally pushed you onto the car, covering you with his body.

Your back hit the door, and his body fell on top of you with a muffled groan. Another shot. And another. Jungkook's security guards opened fire to protect their boss.

"Jungkook!" Your voice trembled. You moved back a few inches and saw him clench his jaw. His shoulders shook, his breathing became ragged. Then... warmth. Something hot on your forearm. "You... you're hurt!" Your voice became more hysterical, your hands frantically searching for where to press, how to help.

☰ Index: Ⅰ // Ⅱ // Ⅲ // Ⅳ // Ⅴ // Ⅵ // Ⅶ // Ⅷ // Ⅸ // Ⅹ

* Samchon - uncle on the paternal side (father's younger or older brother)

* Chageun Omma - father's younger brother's wife (paternal side aunt)

209 notes · View notes

tranquilreign · 19 days ago

Text

AHHH SO EXCITEEEEDDD WILL READ LATERRR!!! <3

04 | BOUND BY VOWS ⭒ JJK

your world crumbles when you're forced into a marriage with jeon jungkook, a man whose commanding presence terrifies you, reminding you of your father's cruelty. Yet beneath his coldness, jungkook’s unexpected kindness stirs a spark of hope, making you question everything you fear. Your life together starts—an emotional journey of two hearts seeking comfort, healing and a chance at love.

pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

genre — arranged marriage au, forced marriage, marriage of convenience, age gap, reader is of age, forbidden love, forced proximity, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, rich ceo!jungkook, shy!reader, virgin!reader, poor!reader, obsession and possessive love, pining, slow burn, contrast of worlds, romance, drama, lots of angst, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, protective!jungkook, angry!jungkook, trauma, trust issues, several crying scenes, detailed violence, jungkook beats up her father finally yass, mental health struggles, fear and distress, solo masturbation, sexual fantasies, rough making out, drinking alcohol and smoking as coping mechanism, isolation, power dynamics, anger, guilt, self-blame, argument, miscommunication, confrontation

wc — 8.9k

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

It had been exactly seven days since that stormy night, the one where thunder shook the mansion and your heart.

And jungkook sat by your bed in a chair, dark eyes watching you with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

You could still picture him there, his hair loose from his usual man bun, wearing simple clothes and just looking so… human.

He'd stayed awake all night keeping his promise of safety and you knew he did because when you woke up in the morning after having the best sleep of your life.

He was still there looking at you.

Bags under his eyes from not sleeping

His deep voice soothed your panic with words you hadn’t wanted to hear but couldn’t forget.

“You’re safe here.”

That night had cracked something in you and now as you lay in bed in the dim morning light, you couldn’t shake the confusion it left behind.

It made you question everything you believed about him.

And that uncertainty scared you.

You didn’t wanna feel any warmth towards him and didn’t want to see him as anything other than the monster you’d thought him to be.

It was easier to hate him.

To hold onto the fear that had kept you safe all these years, the fear that had kept men at a distance.

Your father's cruelty had taught you that men were dangerous, that love was a trap and jungkook with his wealth and power seemed the embodiment of that danger.

But what if you were wrong?

You breathed shakily.

You didn’t wanna think about it.

You stood, bare feet hitting the floor and dressed for the day with the new collection of clothes you had.

Provided by jungkook, of course.

Today you decided you would visit your mother.

You needed to see her, to hold her hand, to remind yourself why you were enduring this nightmare.

You grabbed the new phone he'd given you and headed downstairs, your heart pounding with every step.

mrs. kim was in the kitchen as she prepared breakfast. Her face lit up when she saw you.

Her smile warm and maternal.

“Good morning, dear.” she said.

“The driver’s ready whenever you are. He is waiting outside.”

You nodded, throat tight with emotion since you’ve already told her you’re going out.

mrs. kim had become a small comfort in this strange new life, her kindness constantly reminding you of your mother.

You didn’t wanna talk, didn’t wanna linger in this house that felt like a prison so you murmured a quick thank you and stepped outside.

The black mercedes waited for you outside, one of the few many cars jungkook owned. The driver opened the door for you, his expression professional but not unkind.

You slid into the back seat and stared out the window as the car pulled away.

Your mother was your everything, the only one who had dreamed of a better life for you.

The thought of her in that hospital bed, her face almost lifeless made your chest ache.

You prayed she was still fighting.

You needed her to wake up, needed her to tell you it would be okay.

Needed her to free you from this marriage

But deep down you knew she couldn’t and the truth hurt.

۶ৎ

The hospital was filled with the scent of antiseptic as you navigated the familiar corridors, passing doctors and patients.

You always hated visiting hospitals since you were a kid, it was a place of life and death and you felt like you were walking between the two.

Your mother's room was quiet.

The only sound was the beep of the heart monitor. She lay in the bed, her face pale, her hair—so like yours but with greyness from her age—spread across the pillow.

You held her hand in yours and you could still feel the warmth.

That she was there.

That she didn’t leave you.

Several memories flooded back—her reading you bedtime stories, her promises of a future where you could be anything you wanted.

“I’m here, mom.” you whisper.

Tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m doing this for you. Please don’t leave me.”

You sat there for what felt like hours, your heart heavy until the nurse entered. She was a kind woman and she usually took care of your mother.

She looked at you, eyes soft with empathy.

She checked the chart and offered you a small smile.

“She’s stable.” she nods.

“No changes but she’s holding on. And don’t worry about the bills—they’ve been paid including advances for the next few months.”

The words hit you, your breath catching in your throat as you stared at her.

“What?” you whisper.

Trembling with confusion.

“Who paid? I didn’t…”

The nurse hesitated, eyes flickering with uncertainty as if she wasn’t sure how much to reveal.

“He didn’t give his name.” she said cautiously.

“But he was tall and intimidating and wore a suit. Came in a few days ago and took care of everything—paid in full, no questions asked.”

Your heart stopped.

jungkook.

It could only be him.

The description was unmistakable—that authority he always had that made people shrink in his presence.

Your father would never pay in advance and would never care enough to ensure your mother's care was secure for months.

You'd heard this before the first time you'd called the hospital and you'd assumed it was your father, perhaps using the money he'd gained from your marriage.

But this—this was a deliberate move far beyond your father that it could only be jungkook.

Your hands trembled, fingers digging into your palms as hot anger surged through you at the audacity of him.

You didn’t need his pity.

Didn’t need his money.

He was involving himself in your life and in your mother's life without your consent or permission as if you were incapable of handling it yourself.

Your vision blurred with tears of rage.

He thought he could control you, thought he could act like he was some god and make you grateful.

This was a limit crossing.

You didn’t say anything when he was giving you things under his house but now he went as far as to assert his wealth on your mother.

Your personal life.

You weren’t some helpless girl who needed his money to survive.

You were here for your mother, not because you wanted his help, not because you needed him.

The idea that he saw you as weak, as someone to be pitied made your blood boil.

You stood, your legs shaky.

“Thank you.”

You thanked the nurse, voice taut with barely contained emotion and she nodded, sensing your distress but not pressing further.

You kissed your mother's forehead and whispered.

“I’ll be back soon, mom. I promise.”

Then you left the room, heart racing with anger that led you forward.

You walked back to the car.

You didn’t need jungkook to swoop in and fix your life.

You were capable and had always been capable with your part time job at the bookstore, saving every penny for your mother's care.

You'd endured your father's abuse, your mother's illness and the loss of your dreams, all without anyone's help.

And now jungkook thought he could buy your gratitude.

Thought he could throw his money around.

It felt like a power play, a way to keep you tethered to him, to make you feel like you owed him.

The thought of his smugness, his belief that he was doing you a favor made you want to scream.

He wasn’t your savior.

He wasn’t your hero.

He was the man who'd married you without your consent, who trapped you in his life and now he was trying to manipulate you, lull you to him with his wealth.

You'd find a way to pay for her care yourself even if it meant working yourself to the bone.

You didn’t need his false kindness.

۶ৎ

The mansion came into view and you stepped out of the car.

You heard noises from inside jungkook's study—a low rasp and the clink of glass.

He was home and you weren’t going to hold back.

You were done being the scared, quiet girl who let men control her life.

You stormed toward the study, ready to confront the man who thought he could buy you.

Without hesitation you gripped the handle, fingers shaking with adrenaline and threw the door open with such force that it banged against the wall.

The room was simple but luxurious, lined with bookshelves, with a massive desk in the center and a single window casting afternoon light across the space.

jungkook sat behind the desk, a king in his territory, posture relaxed but commanding.

He held a glass of whiskey in his hand, eyes fixed on his laptop.

He was in a black suit and the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest and his hair in a man bun with a few strands escaping it.

His rugged look made your heart stutter despite your anger.

His dark eyes snapped to you the moment the door crashed open, widening in surprise before narrowing into a piercing gaze that seemed to see straight through you.

The intensity of his stare made your breath catch but you refused to back down even though his presence always stirred fear.

He set the whiskey glass down with a clink and leaned back in his chair.

The movement was slow but you could see the tension in his jaw and the slight tightening of his lips as if he was bracing himself for what was to come.

This was the first time you'd sought him out since the stormy night a week ago when he'd sat by your bed.

The memory of his gentleness then clashed with the fury you felt now, overwhelming you with emotions.

“What do you want from me?” you demanded.

Your voice trembling.

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, your small frame almost tiny compared to his towering frame as he rose from his chair.

He was so tall, so imposing, his broad shoulders filling the same space, his eyes never leaving yours.

The air between you crackled with tension.

Your anger meeting his unreadable calm.

“Why are you doing this? paying for my mother's bills, giving me all these things? w—what do you think you're proving, huh? that you’re some hero and I should be grateful?”

jungkook's jaw tightened, eyes flashing with anger and something deeper.

Something that looked almost like hurt.

He stepped around the desk, stopping a few feet from you, his hands at his sides, curling slightly as he stopped the urge to clench them.

“I’m doing what needs to be done.” he says lowly.

But there was an edge to it and the words were measured.

They only fueled your anger, sounding like an excuse.

A justification for his invasion.

You laughed harshly as you looked at him barely react.

“What needs to be done?” you spat

Your voice rising as you gestured wildly at him.

“You think you can just throw your money to fix everything? you think I need your pity? I don't need you, jungkook! I don’t need your money, your clothes, your phone or your house!”

You pause, taking a shaky breath.

“I’m only here because of my mother because I have no choice but you—you act like you’re doing me a favor like you can save me! you're not! you’re just like him!”

The accusation hung in the air, your chest heaving as you glared at him.

You’d never spoken to anyone like this, never unleashed the full force of anger but you’ve had enough.

All your emotions were bursting out now.

Not holding back.

jungkook's eyes darkened, his expression shifting to something dangerous as he stepped closer, knuckles whitening.

“You think I’m like him?”

He almost growls.

“You think I want to control you? to hurt you? you don’t know a damn thing about me, y/n.”

You didn’t back down though your heart pounded with the intensity of the moment.

You stepped forward, closing the gap until you were standing right in front of him, your head tucked back to meet his gaze.

His towering body causing goosebumps all over your skin.

“Then why are you doing this?” you shouted.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Why are you paying for my mother’s bills? why are you giving me all these things I didn’t ask for? you think you can buy me and make me forget that you forced me into this marriage?”

A sob left you.

“You didn’t even care about what I wanted and now you’re here acting like this. What exactly do you want, jungkook? to make me accept you as my husband because I'll never, never! you're just waiting for the right moment to show who you really are!”

Your words came out unstoppable, each one a release of pain and fear you'd carried for years.

Now directed at the man before you.

Your voice shook, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Your hands balled into fists, bottom lip quivering.

You'd never stood up to a man, especially not one as intimidating as jungkook but the betrayal was too much.

You saw your father in every gesture, every act of kindness, convinced it was a lie.

A manipulation to trap you further.

jungkook's patience and the cold, quiet demeanor he'd maintained since the wedding shattered.

His eyes blazed and you could see a muscle twitching in his jaw.

He moved towards you, his steps slow but purposeful.

Like a predator closing in on its prey.

You backed away instinctively, heart thudding as fear overcame your senses.

Your back hitting the wall.

His large frame covered everything else until all you could see was him, his hands slammed against the wall on either side of your head.

Caging you in.

The sound of his palms was sharp and the movement made you gasp, your body bracing for something.

Pain or a strike you didn’t know.

But the raw emotion in his eyes said something else.

“Do you think I wanted this?” he grunts.

His face inches away from yours, eyes boring into you, his breath warm and tinged with whiskey brushing against your lips.

The proximity was too much, his scent—smoke, cologne and something uniquely him—filling your senses.

Making it hard to think.

“Do you think I knew you didn’t want this marriage?”

His voice trembled not with weakness but with a fury that matched your own.

Catching you off guard.

You opened your mouth to respond, to hurl another accusation but his closeness stole your words.

Your lips parted as his gaze held yours.

His hands pressed harder against the wall, the muscles in his arms tensing under his shirt.

His body so close you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Your father came to me.” he continued.

“He sent me that damn letter that said that you wanted this. I saw you that day at your house, y/n and he told me you agreed that you were ready for this marriage. I thought—fuck I thought you wanted me too.”

He looks away before meeting your eyes again, his breaths harsh.

“Do you have any idea what that felt like? to find out you were forced? that you hate me?”

Your eyes widened as his words sank in, each one barely registering to your mind.

He didn’t know.

He hadn’t known your father had lied and had forced you.

Had sold you like a property.

The realization hits you, your anger faltering replaced by shock and guilt.

Your tears falling fast, chest heaving with pants as you processed the truth.

“You… you didn’t know?” you whisper brokenly.

“No, I didn’t fucking know!” he snapped.

You flinch as you press your lips together to hold in a sob.

His hands stayed on the wall but his body leaned closer, his face so near you could see the depths of his dark eyes, the pain etched into every line of his face.

“And you never gave me a chance to explain, did you? you assumed I was just like your father. You think I don’t feel anything? that I don’t care?”

“I married you, y/n because I wanted you, because you made me feel something for the first time in years. I wanted to protect you, to give you everything and now I'm the one paying for your father's lies.”

Each of his words tearing down the walls you'd built around your heart with hatred.

He was hurt just like you.

Trapped in this marriage by deception.

You shook your head as you cried and pushed against his chest, your fists weak against his solid, strong frame.

“Then why don’t you let me go?” you hiccuped.

Your punches landing without force on his chest, a desperate release of your misery.

“Stop pitying me! stop paying for my mother, stop giving me things and stop acting like you care! I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

Your fists pounded against him.

Your sobs are loud and broken, body shaking with a mix of anger and sadness.

“Why are you doing this? why are you keeping me here when you know I hate you?!”

You were lost in your emotions.

Your hands gripping his suit, bunching the fabric as you hit him, not even realizing what you were doing.

Driven by the chaos inside you.

jungkook's restraint faded completely.

He grabbed your wrists, his grip firm but not painful, stopping your small hits and pulled you impossibly close, other hand wrapping around your waist as your body pressed against his.

You squeaked, your hands fisting his suit to steady yourself.

Both your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

His face was so close, lips almost brushing yours, his eyes burning with anger and something else that made your heart race, making your body heat in a way you didn’t understand.

“Because I fucking love.” he growls.

The words tore from him like a confession he hadn’t meant to make.

“That’s why.”

The word stopped.

You shuddered as his words echoed in your mind.

Love.

He loved you.

You couldn’t process it.

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was angry, desperate and consuming.

It wasn’t a gentle peck like the wedding day, it was… a release of everything you both held back

His mouth was hungry and tongue demanding, coaxing whimpers and moans from you as you struggled to keep up.

Your hands gripped his suit, his hair pulling him closer, body betraying your mind as you kissed him back.

Your lips moving against his with a desperation you didn’t recognize.

You forgot about everything except him and this kiss.

His tongue explored your mouth, tasting the salt of your tears and the sweetness of your lip balm.

And he hissed the primal sound vibrating through you.

Making your knees weak.

Your breasts pressed against his chest, the friction making your nipples harden until they ached.

You felt his bulge hard and insistent against your hip.

Feeling his desire as a shiver runs down your spine.

The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue, a clash of anger and need.

You couldn’t stop.

Didn’t want to.

Even as your mind screamed this was wrong.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands and he groaned into your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist, your hips, wherever he could reach.

As if he couldn’t let go.

The kiss went on for long minutes, time losing meaning, your breaths ragged and lips swollen from the intensity.

You pulled back finally, gasping for air.

Your body trembling in his arms.

Your lips tingled, cheeks wet with fresh tears and you clung to him, your body still pressed onto him, his grip on your waist not loosening.

He looked at you, eyes dark with desire and hurt, his breaths uneven.

His thumb brushing your cheek, wiping away a tear that has fallen.

“Don’t cry.”

The words a plea.

“I can’t stand it.”

You stared at him.

The kiss, his confession, the truth about your father—it was all too much.

Too overwhelming.

“I’m sorry.” he rasps finally.

His eyes searching yours for something you couldn’t give.

He didn’t know if he was apologizing for kissing you or for all the pain you’ve gone through since he came into your life.

He stepped back, his hands falling away leaving a coldness behind that you didn’t expect.

He turned to leave, not saying anything else, the door closing behind him.

You stood there, your body shaking, lips still tingling.

Your heart jumping out of your chest as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Your legs were still weak but you didn’t think twice and fled to the guest room.

Your safe place.

And leaned against the door, letting out a choked sob as you were being undone.

From his words.

His kiss.

And the despair you both shared.

۶ৎ

jungkook stood by the window, broad shoulders hunched, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

The bottle on the nightstand was nearly empty.

jungkook was a man accustomed to controlling his life, crafted from strength and precision but tonight that control was slipping.

With the memory of your tears, your words and that kiss in his study.

The argument replayed in his mind relentlessly.

Your accusation—that he was just like your abusive and cruel father—had cut deeper than he'd ever admit.

He'd known you disliked him and had felt the weight of your hatred since the wedding night but hearing it again had shattered something inside him.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, his brows furrowed as he blew out the smoke harshly.

He loved you.

The confession had slipped out in a moment of vulnerability, a truth he'd buried deep, hoping to shield it from your rejection.

He never experienced it or believed in it but since the day you came into his life, he couldn’t stop himself.

He felt for you what he never felt for anyone.

And having you live under his protection in his house, especially with the moments spent with you has only made him sure of what his heart wanted.

Saying it aloud though, had been a mistake, one that left him exposed and raw.

Your response—the kiss, hungry and desperate—had ignited a fire in him he couldn’t ignore.

He could still feel your lips soft and quivering, the taste of your lips mingling with the sweetness of your mouth.

Your body pressed against his, hands clutching at his chest, your soft needy noises—he'd wanted to consume you, to lose himself in you and to take more.

But he held back.

Knowing you weren’t ready, knowing you might never be.

The way his erection pressed against you made his jaw clench with anger and shame at himself.

Along with a need he couldn’t deny.

He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, setting down the glass and ran a hand through his loose hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

The whiskey burned his throat as he took another sip, the alcohol doing little to dull the ache in his chest.

He paced the room, his mind filled with thoughts and conflicting emotions.

He wanted to protect you, to erase every scar your father had left but he was also a part of everything you went through.

He'd been selfish.

He should've known and asked himself if you wanted him before the marriage and now it's too late.

You hate him and think he trapped you in a way you'll never escape.

The room felt too small, too confining and he moved to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

He stripped off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the counter and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the muscles honed by years of work.

His body tense with unspent energy.

He turned on the shower, the water hissing as it hit the tiles, steam rising and fogging the mirror.

Stepping under the spray, he let the hot water cascade over him, soaking his hair, the strands clinging to his neck and shoulders.

The heat was a small comfort, easing the tension in his muscles but doing nothing to quiet his mind.

He leaned his forehead against the cool tile, his hands braced against the wall, water streaming down his broad back, tracing the lines of his muscles.

He felt broken.

Undone by a girl who hated him but who'd kissed him with a desperation that matched his own.

His eyes drifted downward and he cursed under his breath.

His cock was hard, throbbing and refused to relent.

The evidence of his desire undeniable.

He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to give in to the need that confused him but the memory of you was too vivid.

Your lips swollen from his kiss, the soft curve of your breasts, the way you'd gasped into his mouth.

It was driving him wild.

He fisted his cock, his grip tight, a low groan escaping his lips as the sensation hit him.

The water poured over him hotly, amplifying every touch, every stroke.

He pumped slowly at first, hand sliding along his length, the precum mixing with the water, slicking his movements.

His mind making up images of you automatically—your flushed face, lips trembling, the way you'd looked that day you'd bumped into him wet and wrapped in a towel.

Your cleavage exposed, skin glistening.

He hated himself for it, for wanting you but he couldn’t stop.

His strokes grew faster, his grip tightening, breaths coming in short, ragged pants.

He thought of the kiss, the way you'd kissed him back, your hands in his hair, body molding into his.

He imagined what it would be like to have you here under the water with him, legs wrapped around his waist, taking his cock, your shy moans echoing in the bathroom.

“Fuck.” he mutters roughly.

His hips started thrusting into his hand as the pleasure builds, his cock twitching, the head swollen and sensitive.

He pictured you on your knees, your lips around him, eyes looking up at him with something other than hatred—desire, trust.

Love…

The fantasy pushed him closer, his hands moving frantically now, pumping himself, the sound of the strokes lost in the rush of water.

He snarls, his head tilting back, the water streaming over his face as his hips buck, chasing the release.

Needing it.

Hating it.

Your name slipped from his lips in a breathless whisper as he came.

Hot spurts of his release landed on the tile in front of him, spilling over his hand, washed away by the water and leaving him trembling.

His chest rising and falling quickly.

He stood there, the water still pouring over him, his hand braced against the wall, body spent but his mind no clearer.

The orgasm had been intense but it left him hollow, the guilt and shame even heavier now and he couldn’t shake it off.

He'd violated your image and used it to sate his desire.

And it made him feel like every bit of the monster you believed him to be.

He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself roughly.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror—hair wet and disheveled, eyes red rimmed, jaw tight with self loathing.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, his cock finally soft but still half hard.

The ache in his chest unrelenting.

He returned to the bedroom, the whiskey bottle calling to him but he ignored it, sinking onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

The kiss had changed everything and nothing.

You were still his wife, still here without your willingness and he was still the man who loved you.

Knowing you might never love him back.

He thought of your tears, the way you'd sobbed in his study and his heart clenched.

He hated your pain and hated that he'd caused it.

Even unintentionally.

If he could take it all away, he would even if it meant erasing himself from your life.

The thought was a new kind of unexpected pain but he pushed it down, focusing on his resolve to protect you.

To make things right.

He lit another cigarette and exhaled, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling. He took another drag and thought of your father.

The man who'd broken you, who'd lied to him.

Anger flared hot and consuming, his free hand clenching into a fist.

He stood pacing again, the cigarette dangling from his lips. He couldn’t stay still, couldn’t let the anger fester.

He needed to act—to do something, anything to make this right.

The idea of confronting your father got to him, he'd find him and make him pay for what he'd done.

For every tear you'd shed, every scar he'd left.

The thought was reckless and unsafe but it gave him purpose, a way to unleash the rage and guilt that threatened to fully get to him.

He grabbed his phone.

His fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to call his driver and to head to your home now in the middle of the night.

But he stopped himself, knowing it would only hurt you more, knowing you needed him to be steady, not a man driven by vengeance.

He set the phone down, his hand shaking and poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a sip instead.

He'd wait, bide his time but he wouldn't forget.

Your father would answer for his sins and jungkook would make sure of it.

The night stretched on.

He didn’t sleep.

He couldn’t.

The bed was too empty, too cold without you even though the sarcasm made him chuckle bitterly because all his life no one slept beside him.

No one was important enough to him.

But your presence in his life suddenly showed how lonely he was.

He stood by the window, the whiskey bottle now empty and watched the sky.

Your taste and kiss still clinging in his mouth.

The cigarette fell from his fingers, falling on the floor and he didn’t move to pick it up, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

His face hardening.

He'd face your father, face the truth and he'd do it for you, for the girl who'd cracked his stone heart.

Because you deserved it.

۶ৎ

The days following the explosive confrontation in jungkook's study were suffocating. It was so silent inside the room and your thoughts were too loud.

You woke up each morning with a heaviness in your chest, the memory of jungkook's confession and the rough kiss that followed were etched into your brain like a brand.

You were afraid of the girl who had kissed him back, who had clung to him in a moment of weakness.

Her anger and fear crumbling under his emotions.

You stayed in the guest room as much as possible, emerging only for necessities—meals and going to the library.

And brief moments with bam whose warm presence was the only thing that kept you grounded, comforting you as he followed you from room to room.

His eyes watched you with a loyalty like he watched jungkook, though you refused to acknowledge it.

You'd sit on the bed, bam resting his head on your lap and run your fingers through his fur, his soft whines a balm to your constricting heart.

You talked to him, voice low and trembling, confessing fears you couldn’t say aloud to anyone else.

Fears of jungkook.

Of yourself.

Of the life you were in.

mrs. kim was a constant as well. She moved through the mansion and every morning she'd knock softly on your door, her voice gentle as she announced breakfast, lunch or dinner.

The dining room table was always set with care—meals according to your tastes as if someone had studied your preferences with attention.

You knew it was jungkook's doing, though mrs. kim never said so.

“It’s no trouble, dear.” she’d say warmly.

“You need to eat.”

You'd nod, throat tight and force yourself to take a few bites, the food tasting like nothing despite its deliciousness and quality.

You ate because you had to.

You saw how hard she worked and you always made sure to thank her genuinely for everything she did for you.

“You’re too kind.” you’d say.

Your cheeks flushing as she waved off your gratitude.

“It’s my job, dear.” she replied.

But there was a warmth in her eyes that made you feel seen.

You always saw questions in her gaze though, even though she never pried or asked anything about you and jungkook.

The quiet hope in her gaze that things might change after everything she told you about him that day, about what kind of man he was and what he did for her family.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth—that you were biding your time waiting for your mother to recover so you could leave.

That you could never see jungkook as a husband even if his actions suggested otherwise

You stopped resisting the things that appeared daily for you.

The books were the hardest to ignore because they made you believe that he remembered when you told him that you liked reading.

The day when he first came to see you in your house

And you had no idea of the purpose of his visit.

They were there waiting on the shelf in the guest room, calling for you. You'd read late into the night, bam curled beside you, the words in the book a temporary escape from overthinking.

You'd trace the covers of the book, wondering if jungkook had held them, if he'd thought of you as he selected them.

The thought made your heart ache with something soft… you didn’t know what.

You avoided jungkook at all costs, your heart racing at the thought of seeing him. He was barely there in his own home.

His presence felt but rarely seen.

You'd hear the faint sound of his car pulling into the driveway at night, sometimes occasional murmurs of his deep voice.

But he never approached you, never forced his way into your space.

It was as if he'd drawn an invisible line after that kiss, respecting your need for distance.

His absence was both a relief and a source of unease.

You wondered what he was thinking, if he was angry and whether the kiss had changed him as it had changed you.

Apart from visiting the library for your work, you also visited your mother since she makes you feel less alone.

Talking to her takes a burden off your chest and you whisper promises to her that you aren’t sure you can keep.

The driver would wait outside, his reports going back to jungkook though you didn’t know it.

jungkook tracked all your movements, not out of control but out of a need to ensure your safety, a need he couldn’t explain even to himself.

He'd sit in his office late at night listening to the driver's updates, his heart heavy with the knowledge that you were still hurting.

If he could, he'd take away all the pain caused by the illness of your mother.

But he couldn’t.

All he could provide was his support and money, ensuring that she gets well soon and that sadness from deep within your soul goes away.

You'd sit awake late at night in bed, not being able to sleep, thinking of jungkook, of his dark eyes and of the pain that was etched in his features that day.

And pushed the thoughts away.

You didn’t want to feel for him and didn’t want him as anything but the man who’d taken away your freedom.

But that argument—him also being betrayed like you—the books, the food, the care that came even after he kn.ew that you despised him.

Was cracking your resolve

You'd cry sometimes into the pillow, your heart twisting at the realization that you might have misjudged him.

That he might not be the monster you feared.

But you couldn’t let go of your anger, couldn’t forgive the marriage.

And most importantly.

Couldn’t ignore the small warmth and the flush of your cheeks every time you thought of him.

۶ৎ

jungkook's anger has been simmering for days mostly from your tears, your pain and your father's lies.

Even though he didn’t approach you every night, he'd hear your sobs from the closed room.

The way you isolated yourself.

He could do nothing but just listen, feeling like a sorry excuse of a man when he wanted to wipe your tears away himself.

Give you all the happiness the world has to offer.

But he couldn’t break another line, especially after that kiss in his study.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t take it anymore today and couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering because of a man who’d hurt you long before jungkook came into the picture.

He drove to your old home himself, the decaying, almost breaking apart apartment.

The air was thick with the smell of stale beer and neglect.

jungkook walked to the door, his hands already bruised from the hours at the gym.

Punching bags was a habit he used to take his anger out but tonight that anger had a target.

He pounded on the door loudly.

Your father opened it after a moment, his frame swaying, eyes bloodshot from the drugs he was probably snorting, from the money he got after he sold his daughter.

The man's face paled at the sight of jungkook towering over him, his dark eyes wild and blinded with fury.

“M—Mr. Jeon.”

Your father stammered.

His voice slurred as he gripped the doorframe.

“What are you doing here?”

jungkook didn’t answer, his fist connecting to your father’s jaw in a quick, brutal motion as the older man stumbled back.

Crashing into a table, bottles of alcohol clattering to the floor.

“You lied to me.” jungkook growled lowly.

A dangerous rumble that seemed to shiver the entire room along with the pathetic man in front of him.

He stepped inside, closing the door with a loud slam, his presence dominating the cramped space.

“You told me she wanted this marriage, that she agreed. You forced her, you bastard and you broke her.”

Your father scrambled to his feet, blood trickling from his split lip, his eyes wide with fear.

“S—She’s just a girl.” he spat.

His voice shaking with fear.

“You got what you wanted, didn’t you? a pretty little thing to warm your bed. Use her up, she’s nothing anyways.”

jungkook's vision went red, his control snapping. He grabbed your father by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

The wall cracking under the force.

“Don’t you fucking speak about her like that!” he roared.

His fists striking your father's face again and again, blood splattering everywhere.

“She’s everything, you hear me?”

jungkook grabbed his face, squeezing hard, making sure he listened.

“She deserves love, respect and everything you never gave her. You don’t get to speak her name, you don’t even get to get near her life anymore. I'll give her what you couldn't and I'll make sure not even your shadow falls on her again.”

Your father coughed out blood, his face a mess of blood and bruises.

His body slumping.

“You can’t do this.” he gasped weakly.

“She’s my daughter—”

Your father wasn’t scared of losing you but he was scared of losing the money he’d get from your marriage and that angered jungkook even more.

His hands twitching to take his life this instant.

“She’s mine to protect.” jungkook rasps.

His voice cold and final.

jungkook punched again, his head snapping back, eyes rolling.

“She and her mother—they’re my responsibility now, not yours. You stay the fuck away from them. If you contact her and... if you breathe a word of this to anyone”

jungkook makes direct eye contact with him, his jaw ticking.

“I’ll come back and I’ll kill you myself. Slowly. You’ll feel every moment of the pain you caused her and her mother all these years.”

He dropped your father, letting him collapse in his own heap of blood.

jungkook stood over him.

His chest heaving, his fists clenched and blood dripped from his knuckles.

He wanted to keep going, to unleash every ounce of rage for what this man had done to you but he stopped himself.

For the sake of you.

He turned and left, the door slamming behind him.

He drove back to the mansion, his hands gripping the steering wheel, mind full of anger and guilt.

He'd done what he had to.

But he knew he could never tell you.

He could never let you see this side of him.

He didn’t want your hatred and didn’t want you to fear him more than you already did.

But he'd protect you no matter the cost, even if it meant carrying this secret alone.

۶ৎ

You sat on the plush leather couch, downstairs in the living room, small frame curled into itself, legs tucked beneath you.

bam slept beside you, head resting on his paws, his soft snores anchoring you in the quiet late night.

You hadn’t been able to sleep, your thoughts all over the place.

The front door suddenly opened with a heavy thud, the sound making you sit upright.

bam lifted his head, ears perked, a low growl rumbling in his throat before he relaxed, recognizing his owner.

jungkook stepped inside, his suit rumpled as if he'd been through a battle and his hair messy with several strands escaping from his signature man bun.

His hands that were usually so steady were bruised and bloodied.

The sight sends a jolt of shock through you.

He paused in the doorway, his gaze locking onto you and for a moment the world seemed to fade.

Leaving just the two of you, unspoken words in the air.

“It’s late, why haven’t you slept?” he asked.

But you could sense that behind his words he was carrying something else that he held back.

You swallowed, your throat tight, eyes drawn to his bruised knuckles.

The sight brought back memories—the argument in his study, the kiss that had shaken you to the core, the hurt in his eyes when you'd accused him of being like your father.

For the first time you felt a pang of concern, a need to know he was okay.

Though you didn’t understand why.

“Are you okay?” you asked

Your voice small and unsure.

The words foreign on your tongue, it was the first time you'd shown him any care and the tenderness of it made your cheeks burn.

jungkook's eyes widened slightly before his expression hardened again, guarding whatever he felt.

“I’m fine.”

His tone clipped, offering no explanation for the blood on his hands and the bruises.

You knew he was hiding something but the thought of pushing him and risking his anger made your stomach twist.

He didn’t want you to know what he’d done and didn’t want to deepen the distance between you.

He stood there, tall frame imposing yet strangely hesitant, his gaze searching yours as if trying to figure out the shift in you.

The silence went on, both your eyes locked heavily, charged with something electric.

You could see the fatigue in him, the way his shoulders were hunched slightly.

He broke the silence first.

“How are you feeling y/n and what do you want? be honest with me.”

He asked, almost pleading.

You looked down, fingers twisting nervously in your lap, his question pressing on you.

Your heart pounded with fear and grief for the life you’d never wanted.

No matter what, you didn’t want this.

You wanted freedom.

You still do.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself and met his dark eyes, your voice trembling.

“I don’t want this marriage.” you breathe.

You paused, your heart squeezing painfully and added softer, almost to yourself.

“I want a divorce.”

The words hung in the air and it seemed to suck all the light that was present, only leaving behind tension.

jungkook's face remained stoic but his eyes betrayed him—raw agony in their depths, a flicker of them beneath his cold exterior.

His jaw clenched and for a moment you remained still, fearing his reaction.

That he might react badly.

But he didn’t.

He stood there, hands still at his sides, his bruised knuckles fisted from whatever he'd done tonight.

Inside he was breaking, your words a knife to his heart that he'd only recently discovered he had after having you.

He loved you.

Had admitted that in a moment of weakness and now you were asking to leave him, to break the bond he'd vowed to keep.

Your happiness was his priority more than his own.

“I’ll give you whatever you want.” he says finally.

“That’s my promise.”

He paused, his eyes searching yours and added.

“But I have one condition.”

Your heart raced, mind jumping to the worst—a control, force the kind of demands your father would have made.

You braced yourself, hands clenching on the couch waiting for the trap you were sure was coming.

“What?” you whispered, barely audible..

Your eyes wide.

“You stay here in my house until your mother recovers.”

His gaze not leaving yours.

“I’ll pay for her treatment to ensure she gets the best care. You won't go back to your father, you won't face his abuse again. Once she's well, you can take any decision you want—divorce, leaving, anything. But until then, you stay here where you’re safe.”

The words stunned you, breath catching in your throat.

You'd expected control manipulation but this—this was protection offered without strings, without the expectation of anything in return.

Tears welled in your eyes, unstoppable, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes.

You wanted to refuse, to assert your independence, to prove you didn’t need him.

“I can manage.” you shook.

Tears spilling down your cheeks

“I can stay somewhere else, jungkook. I can't repay you… not with that much money”

His expression softened a bit but still carried a quiet intensity that made you pause.

“You can repay me by staying.”

His eyes locked on yours, willing you to understand.

“Let me do this, y/n. Your father made your life hell and I—I married you without your consent. In your eyes I’m no better than him, am I?”

A broken whimper leaves you at his words.

“I know I fucked up but let me make this right. Let me protect you and your mother. You don’t owe me anything.”

The tears came faster now, your chest heaving as his words sank in.

He saw himself like the cause of your pain.

As guilty as your father.

You wanted to scream that it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t known but the words were stuck in your throat, choked by your own emotions.

You looked into his eyes, feeling your own heart crack.

Why was he doing this? what would he get by doing this?

Nothing other than heartbreak and his own loss.

Yet he was willing to do it for you.

He wasn’t your father, not even close but the fear you’d carried for so long held you back and kept you from admitting it.

“I don’t wanna be a burden.”

Your hands tremble in your lap.

“I—I don’t want to owe you my life.”

“You’re not a burden.”

He says fiercely.

“You’re my wife, y/n whether you want to be or not. I made vows to you, to protect you and to cherish you and I meant every word. Even if you hate me even if you walk away, I'll keep those vows. You and your mother are my responsibility now not because I pity you but because I—”

He stopped, his voice catching, jaw tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

“Because I care. Let me do this. Let me keep you safe.”

You stared at him, a sob leaving your lips, your heart tangled with guilt.

You wanted to fight him to push him away but his words, his sincerity made it hard for you to breathe.

You nodded slowly, your voice gone, agreeing to stay not because you wanted to but because you saw the truth in his eyes.

He wasn’t doing this to control you but to protect you.

To right a wrong he felt responsible for.

Even though he shouldn’t

jungkook exhaled, relief in his face, his shoulders sagging slightly.

He took a step back, his bruised hands flexing, the wedding ring on his finger catching the light, reminding you of your own wedding ring that you hadn’t worn since the wedding and kept tucked away in a drawer.

Like it was trash.

But the sight of his ring on him sent a pang through you.

He turned to leave but paused at the doorway, his back to you.

“You should never fear me.”

His voice low, each word a promise.

“I’m not him, y/n. I’ll never be him. This is your home now and I'll keep you safe even if it's from a distance. I won’t touch you and won’t do anything without your consent.”

His eyes met yours.

“But I need you to know that I married you and I’ll fulfill my duty as a husband.”

Your lips parted, your hands clutching the fabric of your shirt, heart breaking into small pieces.

Duty. Responsibility. Care.

They were foreign concepts your father had never understood and you took in a shuddery breath.

“jungkook.” you started.

But he shook his head, cutting you off.

“Go to bed.” he says gently.

The commanding tone present.

“It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

He didn’t wait for a response, his footsteps echoing as he walked away, leaving you alone in the living room.

You sat there frozen, your breaths shaky, tears falling silently.

bam stirred, nuzzling your hand and you clung to him, your fingers burying in his fur as sobs broke free.

The wedding ring on jungkook's finger haunted you, a symbol of a bond and relationship you'd never accepted but he still honored.

Still wore that ring, never took it off as if it was something precious.

Even though it was meaningless to you.

You hadn’t ever worn your ring, never claimed it just as you hadn’t accepted him as your husband.

But his words, his promises, his love—they shattered the image you'd built of him.

You thought of him as a monster, a manipulator, a man like your father but he was none of those things.

He was a man carrying his own scars and yet trying to protect you in a way no one ever had.

You cried, your sobs muffled into bam's fur.

You'd been wrong about him.

So wrong

And the realization had you gasping for breath.

He wasn't manipulating you, wasn’t using his money to control you or keep you trapped.

He was trying to give you what no man in your life ever gave you.

What your own father failed to give you.

Safety, care and a life free from pain.

The marriage, the kiss, the argument, his confession of love—they all swirled in your mind, leaving you lost.

You didn’t know what you felt.

Didn’t know what came next.

But one thing was clear: jungkook wasn’t the enemy you’d made him out to be.

And that truth changed everything.

────

taglist: @wintaemoonjen @minewlove @chaelvrx @nanisblogg @slutology00 @kelsyx33 @furioustrashlover @jjeonjjk7 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @asyr97 @ttanniett @bratzdaull @yunhoswrldddd @jeonzll @endlesslysassy @elmarimochi9513 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lisax-30 @moodytangerine @taetaecatboy @katwiththatrat @yikes-ukiyo @minimoninini @lachimolalajeon @flutterguk @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @universallywizardkoala @kookxin @mageprincess7 @satisfied18 @existentialzaddy @strawberryberrygirl @tranquilreign @honeybearmin @melooooosusupp @thvflowr @granataepfelchen @cherricherryy @tatamicc @minghaosimp @kooko009 @clrwonuu @withmuchluv-tannie

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tranquilreign · 20 days ago

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omg no I can't with angst rn D: will ready later!! <3

MOVED ON | JJK

summary. in which it’s been two years since you left, but jungkook’s aching heart still can’t grasp the fact that you’ve moved on

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: exes au, angst

word count: 3.8k

warnings: break-ups, jungkook’s kinda the problem, alcohol consumption, smoking, this entire fic is a warning atp, written in jk's pov

note: can you tell that writing is how i cope lol. anyways this is dedicated to everyone who’s never moved on from anything in their lives. i love you <3 likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are very appreciated!!! enjoy (?) reading my angels, mwah <3

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist.

October 4th.

Jungkook can never forget that day.

He doesn’t mark it on calendars anymore — hasn’t for the past two years — but it still lives in the back of his mind, like a splinter he can't dig out. The kind of memory that shows up uninvited, every single year.

The day he lost you.

The sky is painted in shades of dull grey that make it hard to tell if it's morning or evening. Somewhere between smog and rain, but not enough of either to matter. He sits on the edge of the roof, one leg hanging over, the other bent against his chest. A beer balances against his knee, half-warm.

He takes a drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke slip past his lips slowly. The taste is sharp, a little bitter as it clings to the back of his throat.

He doesn’t even really like smoking. Not anymore. He just does it when he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands, or when the silence gets loud enough to make him feel like he's drowning in it.

The wind isn't even cold yet, but he pulls his hoodie tighter. The sleeves are frayed at the cuffs, a seam near the wrist unravelling. It's the one you used to wear all the time. You’d always complain it was too big, but you wore it anyway, sleeves bunched up past your fists.

He can still see you in it. Sitting cross-legged on floor of your once shared apartment, laughing at something dumb he says. Tossing popcorn at him with absolutely zero aim and giggling when he somehow manages to catch them in his mouth anyway.

That version of you — his version — only exists up here now. Four floors above a rust-stained alley and a busted intercom. In the one place he can still breathe without someone asking if he's okay.

Because he isn't. He's the farthest thing from okay.

He wakes up every day pretending otherwise, going through the motions like it means something. He smiles when he has to, talks when it's expected. But it's all noise. All static.

No one really sees the hollowed-out parts — the places your absence carved open.

He takes another sip. The beer has gone flat, but he drinks it anyway.

There's something about being tipsy on rooftops at night that makes it easier to admit shit. Not out loud, but to himself. Maybe it's the distance; from the street, from people, from expectations. From the version of himself he keeps pretending to be.

Jungkook tilts his head back and stares up at the clouds. No stars tonight. Not that he expects any.

You once told him you hated the city sky. “Feels empty,” you said.

Back then, he’d told you about how once he made it big enough, he’d buy a place by the countryside so that you could gaze at the stars as much as you wanted.

Ha. Well, at least now, he doesn’t have to move to the countryside anymore, right? There’s nothing to do there without you anyway.

The rooftop doesn’t have a railing. It probably should, but no one in this building cares enough to file a complaint. The landlord barely fixes leaks, and Jungkook figures that if someone falls, it’ll just get swept under the next rent increase.

He’s not up here for the view — a sea of brown rooftops and blinking neon signs in the distance isn't exactly the prettiest thing on the planet. But it’s quiet, and that’s something.

He stubs the cigarette out on the concrete, the ash sticking to his fingers before the wind catches it. He watches it drift off the edge and disappear.

It’s always around this time of year that things start slipping. He goes about his days, mostly fine — half-awake, work, gym, studio — but then something hits. A scent, a song, the way someone laughs on the street.

It isn’t dramatic. That’s what people never understand. He doesn’t collapse in the middle of the sidewalk or scream into pillows or punch walls. It’s just this dull, gnawing thing inside him that starts clawing at his aching heart every once in a while.

There have been girls since you. One-nighters, mostly. A few who stay long enough to learn how he takes his coffee or where he keeps the scissors. But none of them ask real questions. None of them know how to be still with him.

He can’t blame them — he’s not really present anyway. He's not sure if he even knows how to be anymore.

You used to sit with him in silence and never make it feel like absence, running your fingers through his hair or humming under your breath. That’s something he’s never found again.

His phone buzzes in his hoodie pocket. He ignores it. Probably Taehyung, maybe Yoongi. Both have this unspoken rotation of checking in when the weather starts to change. They know what October means. They never say your name, though.

No one does. It's like an unspoken rule between all of his friends, and he still doesn't know if he hates it or if he's grateful.

There was a time when he thought he’d find you again. That maybe you were just giving each other space. Maybe you’d show up at one of the smaller shows he does, or finally call. Maybe you’d send one of those weird videos you used to make when you were bored at work.

You didn’t. You never reached out. And it took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to finally accept that you meant it when you left.

That he just wasn’t someone people came back to.

His lighter clicks once, then again, before the flame catches. Another cigarette.

He didn’t even smoke when you were around. Said he didn’t like the smell on his clothes. You hated it, too. You used to wrinkle your nose and wave your hand in front of your face like he was committing a crime.

He used to laugh when you did that.

He hasn’t laughed like that in a while.

The wind picks up, now beginning to bite into his skin. And when he blinks, suddenly it’s not the rooftop under him anymore. It’s pavement. A streetlight. The sound of his car engine idling.

The day he started to lose you. The beginning of the end, if you will.

He was late — again. You’d been waiting outside his place for nearly half an hour. Still in your work clothes, shoes pinching your feet, bag slipping off your shoulder. He remembers because when he finally pulled up, your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

You still kissed him, though. Still laced your fingers through his when you got in the car, and said, “Hi, baby,” with a smile on your face, like nothing was wrong.

He didn't say sorry. Not properly, at least. He'd just mumbled something about the traffic being shit, and you nodded and looked out the window.

The restaurant was noisy. Some dim-lit spot you picked out weeks ago. You had to mention it three times before he remembered to make the reservation. He didn’t really taste the food that night. Can’t even remember what he ordered. All he can remember is how quiet you were on the ride home.

Not angry quiet or visibly sulking. But he could tell you were tired, and guilt had wrapped its tendrils around him immediately.

He kissed you in the elevator, arms around your waist, his mouth against your neck. You let him. Even leaned into it.

But when you got inside, you went straight to the bathroom and closed the door.

He waited for ten minutes. Maybe twelve.

By the time you came out, your makeup was off and your eyes were red.

He didn’t ask, and you didn’t say.

That was the problem.

He flicks ash off the edge of the roof and watches it spiral down. It’s strange how light it looks — how effortless. It makes him think of the way you used to pull away from arguments.

You were never one to slam doors or yell. You simply apologised the moment things started escalating, even if was blatantly Jungkook's fault, and he let it be instead of figuring things out properly.

He regrets that now. He regrets a lot of things now.

The shift didn’t happen all at once, though he knows it started that day. It crept in as missed dinners and late replies. As days where he chose the studio over your anniversary and thought you’d understand, because you always had before.

You always understood.

And maybe that’s why he took you for granted.

He came home to cold food on the stove and your side of the bed already turned down. You never stopped waiting — you just stopped expecting. There’s a difference that he didn't notice it until long after it mattered.

One night, you left a note on the fridge.

i can’t keep doing this, kook

He didn’t read it right away. He found it after a long session, around three in the morning, and he stared at it under the dim light of the kitchen, heart thudding somewhere in his throat.

He didn’t text you. Didn’t call.

Instead, he showered — he still remembers crying as water ran over his head, finally knowing what it felt like to have your whole world crumble in on you — and got into bed, telling himself he’d talk to you tomorrow.

He didn't.

You didn’t come home.

The next morning, your keys were still on the hook.

Jungkook remembers staring at them for the longest time, because they felt like a puzzle missing half the pieces. It didn't make sense.

You didn’t come back, but you didn’t take them either.

A part of him thought, maybe you just needed air. Maybe you'd come back after work, and he'd make dinner that night, say the right thing, and this wouldn't turn into something bigger than it had to be.

But, he stayed late at the studio that night again. Half by accident, half on purpose. There was something safer about being there — surrounded by sound, by people who didn’t ask how he’s really doing. He could hide behind headphones and half-written lyrics and not think too hard.

When he got home, it was almost midnight. Your shoes weren't by the door.

Everything looked more or less the same, but it felt different. The towel you always used was missing from the rack. The shampoo he teased you for hoarding was still lined up on the shelf, but the scent of it had already started fading.

He didn't sleep much that night. Just lied on his back, staring at the ceiling. He kept his phone in his hand, checking it every minute even when he knew there weren't any new notifications.

At some point, around three or four, he started drafting a text.

Kook: Are you okay? Kook: Can we talk? Kook: I’m sorry. Please come home.

He deleted them all.

Not because he didn't mean it, but because none of it felt like enough. For the first time, he wasn't sure you’d answer.

Two days later, you met him at that café on your street.

It was cold that day. Not winter cold, but chilly enough that the wind creeps in through the fabric of your clothes and settles in your bones. You were already there when he arrived, hands wrapped around a paper cup, half-empty. You didn’t look up right away.

He stood there for a second, unsure if he should sit. Unsure if he deserved to.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, like it might set you off. Like he’s afraid of breaking what little is left between you.

“Hey.” Yours was quieter.

He settled across from you. No hug or reaching for your hand. There was a time he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but in that moment, even breathing felt like a misstep.

You didn't draw it out or ask him to explain. You’d waited enough. Months of waiting, actually. For late texts and last-minute cancellations. For him to show up and just be there.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” you said, eyes on the table. “I can’t, Kook. I’m tired of feeling like I’m always the one holding on.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but there was nothing in him that could make it better. Nothing he could say that wasn't too late.

“I know,” is all he managed.

Because he did know. You didn’t have to list every dinner he missed, or every birthday you spent alone. He remembered. Maybe not in the moment, but all of it caught up to him as he sat in front of you in that fucking café.

“What happened to us?” he asked, even though he didn’t deserve the answer.

It took a few seconds for you to respond.

“You forgot to show up. Over and over again. Until I stopped expecting you to.”

You said it so gently, Jungkook was sure it would've hurt less if you had just screamed at him.

He nodded, eyes settling on the table as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He was chasing everything — albums, rehearsals, deadlines. You asked for space in a way that didn’t even sound like asking. You were never demanding. Never loud about what you needed. You just waited.

And waited.

Until you couldn’t anymore.

“I kept thinking you’d notice,” you said, looking out the window now. “That one day you’d come home and just see it. See me.”

“I saw you,” he said, almost a whisper.

You turned back to him then, sad eyes finally meeting his.

“No, Jungkook. You didn’t.”

With that, you stood slowly, wrapping your coat tighter. The chair scraped quietly against the floor. For a second, he thought you might hug him. Say something else. Give him something to hold onto.

But you just said, “Take care of yourself, okay?”

And with a soft click of the café door closing behind you, you were gone.

The cigarette burns out between his fingers.

He doesn’t even notice it’s finished. Just sits there, letting the filter smolder until it singes his skin. He drops it. Rubs at the mark with his thumb, but the sting stays.

Jungkook digs his phone out of his hoodie pocket.

He stares at the screen like it might stop him. Like the weight of it might snap him out of this, but it doesn’t.

He scrolls past unread messages and missed calls from two days ago. Past people who wouldn’t understand, until he finally stops on a familiar name.

Jimin-ssi.

He hits call.

“Hey,” Jimin answers, his voice groggy. Jungkook can hear the faint sound of his sheets rustling and a fan humming in the background.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He simply lets the sound of someone on the other end calm the shake in his fingers.

When he does eventually speak, his voice is hoarse. “Hyung…”

A pause. Then Jimin, sounding more alert now, “Yeah?”

“Should I call her?”

The words come out before he can organise them.

“I mean— not like, call call. I don’t know. Maybe just text.” He exhales, the cold catching in his throat. “Just to say sorry. Or that I’ve been thinking about her. Or— fuck, I don’t know.”

Another pause. Jimin doesn’t interrupt.

“I’m kind of drunk,” Jungkook adds. “Not wasted, but enough that if I regret it tomorrow, I can just blame it on that, you know?”

He’s rambling. He knows he’s rambling.

“But I mean it. That’s the thing. I really mean it. I just— I keep thinking about all the shit I didn’t say and didn’t do. And it’s been two years, hyung. Two fucking years and I still remember her birthday before I remember to pay my fucking water bill.”

Jimin sighs gently through the speaker.

“I just wanna tell her I’m sorry. And that I hope she’s okay. And that if she ever wondered whether I cared, I did. I do. I would— I would never treat her like that again.”

His voice cracks, barely audible now. “And I hope she’s happy. Because if anyone deserves that... it’s her.”

The line goes quiet.

Jungkook stares out at the rooftops across the street. A neon sign flickers off and on, the “O” in MOTEL stuttering.

“Kook,” Jimin finally says softly. “Look— if you need to text her, I’m not gonna stop you.”

He pauses.

“But she’s doing good now. She’s happy. She’s where she’s supposed to be. She’s already moved on.”

Jungkook doesn’t move.

Doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t speak.

He sits there, phone still warm in his hand, the words looping in his mind endlessly.

She’s already moved on.

He lets out a breath through his nose.

The realisation doesn’t come with a dramatic crash. It's more of a quiet collapse. Something folding inward, something final. He’d told himself he knew, had even said it out loud once or twice, but some part of him was always holding onto the idea that maybe, in some small, fragile way, you were holding onto him too.

Now he sees it for what it really is — hope clinging to memory, not reality. He’s been carrying the weight of a door that’s been closed for years, waiting for a knock that was never coming.

He feels stupid for taking so long to finally understand.

“I figured,” he says eventually. Voice flat, but not bitter. He’s not mad. Not at Jimin. Not at you.

Not even at himself, really.

He’s spent enough nights picking apart the past like there’s still something to salvage from it. Enough early mornings staring at the ceiling, playing conversations that never happened, apologies he never gave. None of it changes where you are now.

Where he is now.

He tucks the phone under his chin and leans forward, elbows on his knees. The wind tugs at the frayed edge of his hoodie sleeve again. He watches it flutter, then still. Then flutter again.

“I think part of me just wanted to hear someone say it,” he says, more to himself than to Jimin. “Like I knew. Of course I knew. But it’s different when someone else confirms it. Makes it real.” He lets out a dry chuckle.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jimin says. “Still here.”

“Cool.” He nods, swallowing. “I don’t think I’m gonna text her.”

“Okay.”

“I wanted to.” He presses his thumb into his palm like he can ground himself with the pressure. “I really fucking wanted to. But I think I’d just be doing it for me. Not for her.”

The words taste like something between clarity and defeat.

“I don’t wanna drag her back into my mess just because I’m feeling sorry for myself on a rooftop with a shitty beer.”

“You’re not a mess,” Jimin says.

Jungkook gives a humourless laugh. “I’m not exactly a blueprint for stability either.”

There’s quiet on the other end again.

Jungkook looks back out across the city. Nothing has changed. Same cracked skyline. Same humming traffic four stories below. But for the first time in two years, something in his chest has settled.

“Thanks for picking up, hyung,” he says.

“Always,” Jimin says. “Get some rest, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He ends the call.

The moment the call disconnects, the silence comes back colder. He doesn’t notice it until it presses into the sides of his head, dull and dense.

He sets the phone down beside him on the rooftop, screen down this time.

His shoulders curl in.

For a few minutes, he just sits there — body folded, arms hugging his knees like he’s trying to take up less space in a world that’s already decided it doesn’t have room for him in yours.

She’s already moved on.

He closes his eyes. The words feel different now. They’re not just a sentence anymore. They have mass. A shape. They carve themselves out between his ribs and make room where hope used to sit.

It’s not the fact that you’re happy. He wants that for you. Truly, he does.

It’s the fact that you’re happy without him. That your life keeps going when his stays stuck in that final moment — your coat, your chair scraping, the soft click of the café door as you left.

You didn’t look back that day. Not once.

A car horn echoes in the distance. Laughter from the street below follows it.

His mouth feels dry. He reaches for the beer can behind him, only to realise it has tipped over, the last of it soaking into the rooftop gravel.

Just his luck.

He sits back, arms stretched behind him for support, fingers gripping the edge like it might keep him grounded. He doesn’t trust himself to stand.

Because the truth is that he’s not okay.

And hearing that you are — somewhere out there, maybe in a new apartment, maybe with someone who remembers the little things without needing to be reminded — feels like the world has moved on without telling him.

He thinks about what you might be doing right now. Asleep, probably. Or on the phone with someone who asks about your day and actually listens. Maybe you’ve already forgotten what his voice sounds like.

He kind of hopes you have.

Because if you still remember him, it would hurt even more to know you don’t want to come back.

He stays there until the rooftop turns dim with early morning, that bleak hour where the city looks washed out and unreal.

His fingers have gone numb. Not from the wind, but from stillness and the weight of everything he hasn’t let himself feel until tonight.

He’s no longer part of your story. Your name still lives in his mouth while his has long since left yours. You get to outgrow the version of yourself he broke, and he has to live with the one he ruined. You stopped looking for him in crowded rooms a long time ago.

And fuck, does admitting it to himself hurt.

The city below starts waking. Lights blinking on in apartment windows, buses sighing at curbs, a dog barking somewhere far off.

Eventually, he gets to his feet a little stiffly. Every part of him feels heavier now, like his body has caught up to the grief he kept stuffing down all this time.

His phone buzzes once in his pocket. He doesn’t check it.

There’s no one he wants to hear from. No one who can say anything that will make it feel less like loss and more like something survivable.

He looks out across the rooftops one last time, taking in the rising sun before forcing his gaze away.

He makes his way to the stairwell door, pushes it open, and disappears into the hollow echo of a building that has seen too many goodbyes.

The rooftop behind him stays quiet; the wind doesn’t carry his name.

And he walks back down into a life he can’t undo, carrying a love that will never come home.

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist.

#bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jk #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #read later

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tranquilreign · 26 days ago

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Ahhh so excited will read later!!!!!!

07 | SHADOWS OF OBSESSION ⭒ JJK

a criminal's obsession with a shy medical student starts a passionate mix of desire and darkness. As their worlds collide, secrets get exposed and possession turns into love. In a world filled with betrayal and the weight of their own pasts, can they find a way to survive together? or will their twisted bond ultimately destroy them both?

pairing — criminal dom!jungkook x student sub!femreader

genre — criminal au, dark romance, forbidden attraction, enemies to lovers, murderer!jungkook, stalker!jungkook, innocent shy!reader, virgin!reader, medical student!reader, violence, stalking and obsession, contrast of worlds, crime, thriller, smut, lots of angst, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, grief, intense heartbreak and longing, loss of a loved one, abandonment and betrayal, detailed violence, descriptions of physical fights, mentions of blood and injury, obsession and possessiveness, he gets several tattoos for her as a symbol of his love, destroying several things, delusion, self-harm, binge drinking alcohol and smoking as a coping mechanism, isolation, tears and vulnerability, trauma, sexual fantasies, mentions of masturbation (not detailed), sexual longing and desperation, boxing, near death experience

wc — 6.3k

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

The morning crept into jungkooks cabin, warm light casting across the bed where he lay, his body heavy with warmth.

His arm reached out, expecting your bare body beside him but his fingers brushed against the other side and only found cold empty space.

The absence of your naked body—soft and pliant along with the scent of your arousal—hit him almost too hard, his heart lurching.

His breath caught sharply as his eyes snapped open, panic in them.

The room still carried your presence along with your scent, but you were gone.

He sat up, chest heaving, the tattoo of your name over his heart seemed to burn.

The silence was too loud, devoid of your soft sleepy hums and your gentle breaths.

His gaze darted frantically, taking in his surroundings—some of your plush toys that had softened his brutal existence were missing from the shelf.

Some of your books the ones you usually read late at night while laying on his chest were no longer there, along with some of your products that were in the nightstand.

“No.” he whispers.

His voice a low rasp trembling with disbelief.

He stumbled from the bed, bare feet hitting the floor.

His hands tore through the room searching for any trace of you.

The drawer where you kept your clothes along with the nighties that he loved so much—those flimsy, sheer ones that clung to your curves—was gone.

One of his hoodies that you wear almost always was gone.

His own despair felt too much.

“Where are you?” he growls.

His voice rose in a plea in the empty air.

Rage erupted very soon as he felt the fire in his veins, forgetting every rational thought in that moment.

He roared, an animalistic sound that shook the cabin's walls.

“No!” he bellowed.

His words came out in a sob that he refused to acknowledge.

He couldn’t control himself.

Anger overtaking him

His hands destroying everything in his path, any pieces of you that you left behind—he grabbed the mug you loved, shattering it against the wall.

The fairy lights he'd strung above the bed because he knew you loved them, their glow holding too many memories of you were ripped down, snapping them.

The brown teddy bear, his latest gift to you that you left behind, only taking his first ever gifted pink bear with you, stared at him with its lifeless eyes as he tore out its stuffing.

He turned to the mirror, his reflection a crazy man—eyes black with fury, hair wild as his sweaty chest heaved.

He smashed his fist right into it.

The glass breaks and shards cut his knuckles as blood dripped onto the floor.

“Why did you leave me?” he screams.

The words tore from his chest in anguish.

He punched the wall again and again.

The pain nothing, a fleeting sting compared to the one in his chest at the knowledge that you'd chosen to leave.

To rip yourself from his world.

His knuckles bled, even more blood pooling on the ground.

His hands were going numb now but he didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

The cabin was a mess, every broken object that belonged to you was torn but they barely dimmed his anger.

Everything was a reminder of you.

Because you were in his very soul.

“Why?”

He roars again.

Sinking to his knees, his bloodied hands grip his hair, pulling until his scalp burned, breaths coming out harshly.

You were his petal, his girl, the only softness in a world that had turned him into a criminal.

You'd cracked open his stone heart and made him feel something for the first time.

And now you'd taken it with you, leaving him empty, bleeding and ruined.

The betrayal of it tightened his chest with every heartbeat and he clawed at his chest as if he could pull out the pain.

His voice broke into a sound of misery and he pressed his forehead to the floor.

His gut churned, a sick uncertainty settling in—you were gone for good, your choice now done and final.

He saw you in his mind still from last night when he had you in his arms when you were his—your eyes wide, body trembling under him as your lips quivered, your pussy clenching around his cock.

Your moans he'd never hear again.

The thought twisting his wound deeper and he screamed once more, voice shattering as he felt his heart breaking into pieces.

He stumbled to his feet, blood dripping, his emotions a mix of rage and hurt.

“I’ll find you, petal. I’ll tear the world apart.”

“You’re mine and I’ll never let you go.”

He swore, voice venomous.

The promise would forever bind him to you and he stepped outside, bloodied fists clenched, his need would be there until he had you back.

Or until it consumed him entirely.

۶ৎ

His eyes once sharp with predatory focus, were wild now as he moved through the city, darting to every corner searching for a trace of you.

He reached your apartment.

He used the key and stepped inside.

The air hits him first—your warm floral scent that had grounded him once was gone, replaced by abandonment.

His heart ached, it seemed as if you'd taken his soul with you.

The couch where you'd once curled up with a book, while he watched you read, feeling peace in doing that was empty and then when he moved to the bedroom, he almost broke.

It was filled with too many memories spent together, with the ones when their relationship was just building, the days when he'd stalk you.

The day he made you his in that very bed, took your virginity.

Became the first man to touch you.

He growled.

“Where the fuck are you?!”

He grabbed the small table by your bed in haste where you'd kept your journals and hurled it against the wall.

The lamp followed next, its glass shattering.

He sank on the bed, his hand shaking as he lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke, his hand still dripping with blood that he didn’t bother to check on.

“Please… I need you.” he whispered.

The word was foreign to a man who'd never begged for anything.

“You don’t get to leave me.”

His face hardened, he didn’t want to waste a single second before he began his hunt and he knew the city well—anything could be a potential clue.

Each face a suspect.

He called every contact.

“Find her.”

He snarled into the phone, his grip so tight the device creaked.

“I don’t care who you have to kill. Find her or you're dead.”

The man on the other end stammered, promising things but jungkook hung up, his patience barely there.

He stormed to find every lowlife that he thought knew something, his knife pressed to throats, eyes blazing with anger.

“Where is she?” he rasps.

“Speak or I’ll fucking kill you.”

But no one knew.

No one had seen you and it felt like slowly as time went by, you were slipping through his fingers even more.

His fists were in constant use, breaking noses by punching them, the sound of the crunch of bones a satisfaction to him.

He pinned a man to the wall, choking him enough to turn his face purple.

“You know something.” he hissed lowly.

His cigarette smoke blowing into the mans face.

“You’ve seen her or something. Tell me.”

The man choked as he shook his head and jungkook's knife plunged into his stomach, a scream tearing from his throat.

“Nothing?”

jungkook spat, twisting the knife deeper.

“Then you’re useless.”

He left the man slumped alive but broken.

The nights turned into days.

He stood on a rooftop looking down at the city below, its lights not giving away any places where you could be.

He lit another cigarette, body trembling from barely eating or drinking these past few days.

He was having mixed feelings—anger at you for leaving him, for breaking him and at himself for letting you become his weakness.

All his life he'd been betrayed, but this one hurt him so much it felt like he was bleeding every day.

He just wanted to desperately see you, touch you and hear your voice.

Hearing those sweet giggles would be enough to light up his day.

He was going crazy with all his assumptions that you were gone forever, that his gut was right and nothing could bring you back.

That you left him.

Just like everyone in his life.

“I’ll find you.” he murmurs.

He promised, eyes burning with tears he refused to shed.

“And when I do, you’ll never leave me again.”

He turned into the night after that, his heart shattering, thinking that he was just chasing a ghost that he will never get.

۶ৎ

A week had passed since you'd vanished, each day cutting into him deeper.

He was no longer a man.

But a beast.

Full of rage and torment.

jungkook's hands were raw, the skin split and oozing from countless punches and they throbbed with every clench of his fists, which he barely registered.

He smoked incessantly.

Each drag burned his throat but it did nothing to fill the void or the empty place in his heart where you once and forever will reside.

Your hair tie, a black one with a small pink bow was around his wrist, its delicate texture helping him.

Anchoring him in order to find you along with the ones that were in his apartment.

He'd sometimes run his calloused fingers over it—the faint scent of your shampoo still clinging to it enough to keep him grounded.

He moved constantly, his eyes intense, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.

In every corner, resided the screams of men who knew nothing of you and were killed by him or his knife.

Each cut a question, each scream an answer he didn’t want.

One night he was in a bar drinking away desperately that’s when he saw a man that he didn’t even know, but he had lost his mind.

Nothing made sense other than finding you.

Getting you back.

jungkook cornered him, pinning him to the wall.

He growled, his breath smelling of the alcohol he'd been drinking, eyes burning with a madness that even made the man tremble.

“Speak.”

The man sobbed, voice a whine for mercy.

“I don’t know! I swear!”

jungkook laughed, the sound hollow and crushed his head against the wall hard enough to crack it.

“Wrong answer.” jungkook scoffs.

The blood splattered all over the wall and jungkook in the process but it felt like a fleeting comfort against his anger.

His kills were not for pleasure but for survival, each death an attempt to fill the space you'd left.

He alone would take a group of three men, their brave facade crumbling under his gaze.

“You took her.”

He accused, voice dripping with anger.

They denied it, their voice trembling but it was already gone under jungkook's fists and knives.

The metallic scent of blood always there.

Like it was his own smell now.

“Petal…” he breathes.

His muscles taut, heart pounding with ache. He could barely sleep, sometimes taking sleeping pills, hoping that once he slept his mind would erase your thoughts.

But even dreams were haunted by you—your soft smile, the way your pussy clenched around his fingers, his cock like you were made for him.

He'd wake up with a hard on, his chest tight and sometimes he'd scream.

“Why did you leave me?”

He barely felt alive anymore.

He couldn’t do this, couldn’t live without you.

“Come back to me, baby. I’m nothing without you.”

He shook as he fisted one of your dresses in his hands that you didn’t take with you.

He'd shut all his windows and doors, hoping that your smell wouldn’t leave his place, obsessively trying to keep all parts of you inside.

He knew he was going crazy.

He was a monster, but without you he was a monster without cause.

His rage would soon devour him whole, leaving nothing behind.

Because no matter how much he killed or shed blood, it offered no answers, no traces of you and with each passing day, his hope was fading.

And his heart blackened further.

۶ৎ

The new city you now lived in was very different, with busy streets.

Your small apartment was in a quiet corner of this unfamiliar world.

As you attempted for a fresh start.

You lived with a roommate and the air inside the apartment carried a faint scent of her perfume, a stark contrast to the cigarettes and musk that you were once used to.

Your roommate was a gentle girl and she was kind, easygoing and most importantly, she respected your privacy.

Never asked questions about the sadness in your eyes and you were grateful, though her warmth only deepened the ache for the man you'd left behind.

You worked part time at a hospital where you assisted doctors with the patients and occasional practice.

The work was grounding.

It was tethering to your dream of becoming a doctor though your studies remained on hold, your textbooks gathering dust on the box you kept under your bed.

Being busy with work drowned out your thoughts—almost.

At lunch you'd sit in the break room, not being able to eat, your eyes distant as you imagined jungkook's dark gaze across from you, his smirk there.

Stalking you, keeping an eye on you just like the old times.

But that’s when the reality hits you hard and you realize that you left everything behind.

The nights were your undoing.

When everything was quiet and your roommates soft snores drifted to you from the other room.

You were alone with your longing and pain.

Your bedsheets tangled from your restless tossing, not being able to sleep.

You'd curl into yourself, clutching jungkooks hoodie that you wore around yourself, his scent now faded from it no matter how much you tried to hold onto it.

You'd bury your face in it, inhaling deeply, only smelling the salt of your own tears and nothing of him.

You missed him with a ferocity that felt like someone was hurting you physically.

The pain unbearable.

You hoped he moved on that he'd returned to his life of no weakness.

But you knew you never would.

jungkook was the only man, the only one who ever saw you, ever made you feel alive and despite everything,

You loved him so much.

You'd lie awake, body trembling with need, your mind replaying every moment with him—the way his calloused fingers traced your skin, the heat of his mouth, the way he claimed you in a way that felt like worship.

You missed his voice, rough and commanding yet gentle for you, calling you sweet nicknames, whispering “petal”

You missed his tattoos, especially the one with your name over his heart, a vow you'd never forget.

Every memory hurt and you'd sob, tears soaking into the fabric, your body shaking.

As you fought the urge to run back to him, to fall into his arms and let his darkness consume you once again.

You couldn’t look at pink roses anymore, avoiding them in flower shops, always reminding you of his gifts, his obsession.

You'd see them sometimes in vases at the hospital and your heart would lurch, eyes burning as you turned away.

You knew you'd never move on.

Never let go.

jungkook was a part of your heart that you'd carry forever.

You loved him in the darkest way, a love that destroyed and you'd live with the pain and longing because it was all you had left of him.

Every night you'd cry, body aching for him, his touch.

Your heart whispering his name.

For a man that can never be yours.

۶ৎ

A month without you had turned him into someone unrecognizable.

A man who'd once held you, claimed you and loved you in his twisted way.

His cabin, once softened by you was now nothing like it.

He was more muscular now, his body sculpted from endless hours of lifting weights, punching bags and fighting, where blood and pain were his only companions.

His hair was longer, rugged and falling into his eyes and his body had scars all over—some fresh and some old—each one from his fights and kills that he had done to forget his pain.

But none could touch the wound in his heart.

His body now also adorned with several new tattoos. On his left arm he got a small rose that showed the beauty of the pain you'd left behind, some thorns he'd gotten around his wrist were a reminder that loving you was misery itself.

On his chest beside the tattoo of your name, a petal unfurled, symbolizing the innocence you'd brought into his world and the way his heart was incomplete without you.

The ink was fresh, the skin still tender and the pain of the needle was a sweet distraction from you.

Each tattoo was a mark that you were still his even if you fled, even if you'd shattered him.

He was just surviving.

Cigarette butts piled up just like his regrets, he'd lie awake at night imagining your body beside him as he watches you sleep.

He fought in illegal rings sometimes.

He tried to not kill after going almost crazy with violence after you left because soon he remembered you'd begged him to stop and that you'd left him for this very reason.

And he didn’t want to lose himself in it once again.

Even though the urge to kill clawed at his insides, he honored your wish.

By getting more tattoos, hoping the pain would distract him and constant hard workouts that left him trembling.

He wanted to be better.

A man who you could love without fear but the effort was a tough task and he tried always but he realized how it's now too late.

You're gone forever.

He kept some of your belongings that he didn’t destroy in a fury, keeping them like his precious belongings.

He once found a single pink rose in your apartment, its petal brittle but intact from one of the nights he'd left them for you and you kept it safely in the drawer of your study desk.

A note you'd written for him—'don't forget to eat jungkook'—was folded in his wallet, the ink smudged from his thumb tracing the words.

Like your handwriting could bring you back.

He'd sit in the dark, the rose in one hand, the note in the other, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Your memories were a torment and they were so vivid in his eyes. He saw you in your pretty dresses and skirts that you'd wear, the fabric clinging to your curves, your full breasts straining, nipples hard.

The curve of your ass a temptation he'd barely resisted.

He remembered you in his hoodies, the fabric swallowing your frame, your shy smile as you tugged at the sleeves, your scent mixing with his.

Your eyes always wide, looking at him with trust and need.

And he hated himself because he took it all away.

He missed your soft and tentative voice calling his name, your gasps when he kissed you and your laughter when he surprised you with a gift.

He craved your touch, your small fingers on his scars, lips kissing them as you made him feel human.

Wanted, loved.

But he was angry, so damn angry at you.

He thought of finding you, locking you in his cabin, chaining you to him and wrecking your cunt until you begged for mercy until you were his forever.

He imagined filling you, getting you pregnant and tying you to him with a child so that you could never leave him.

The twisted fantasy made his cock throb.

The nights when he would fist his cock, thinking of you, his groans loud and broken, chest heaving while his tears fell.

The release he got felt dull, the memories of you burning brighter than the pleasure ever could.

Guilt and longing in his heart.

The fantasies would soon be gone, replaced with the need to be a man you could return to without fear.

He wanted to be gentle, to love you softly, to give you the world without blood.

Without violence.

But the ache of your absence kept dragging him back into the darkness but he tried controlling himself because he promised.

That he'd be worthy even if it killed him.

“I’m trying, petal. I’m trying so fucking hard for you...”

His voice trembled as he closed his eyes, your face the only thing keeping him alive.

He went to places that felt alien to him.

Job interviews were his battle now, his tattoos hidden under his formal clothing, a button up shirt that felt itchy against his scarred skin.

He sat across from hiring managers, his voice low, forcing it into a gentleness.

“I’m reliable,” he’d say.

His jaw tight but his eyes betrayed him—wild, haunted, searching for you in every face.

The scent of the office choked him because he wasn’t used to it at all.

His hands, rough from fights, still injured, fidgeted in his lap, itching to break something to feel the familiar crunch of bone instead of this suffocating normalcy.

One interview for a loading job annoyed him to his limits.

The manager made jungkook want to smash his face against the table.

“Do you have any experience?”

He asked.

“Yeah.”

He mutters, trying to keep the growl at bay.

“I’ve carried heavier things than boxes.”

The man raised an eyebrow in amusement, and jungkook's rage surged so fast that he couldn’t contain it.

He stood up, fisting the man's collar as his smirk faded, a look of horror taking its place.

jungkook grits his teeth, his hands shaking with the urge to twist his neck but he didn’t, instead pushing him off.

He left with his fists aching to hit someone.

Another attempt.

“Reliable?” he laughed bitterly.

“I’d burn this city to find her and you’re asking if I can stock screws?”

He looked in the eye of the man as he leaned forward, his breaths harsh.

“No? then don’t waste my fucking time.”

He kicked the desk along with the man sitting across from him, not caring about it at all and the security guards needed to come to drag him out.

Each attempt of his at normal jobs were failing.

He felt helpless because he couldn’t do it.

It felt like he was failing you.

His diary was a new habit born from a memory of you perched on his couch.

“Writing your feelings helps.”

You said with bright eyes and he smirked, amused by the cliche, his lips curling as he lit a cigarette.

“Sure, petal.”

He'd teased but your words had gotten to him deep now in the lonely nights when his anger and tears soaked the pages.

The diary was worn at the edges from his tight grip and some pages were stained with the alcohol he'd drink.

He wrote everything he had in his heart.

'I fucking hate this. You're gone and I'm breaking petal. I never cried—not when my parents left, not when I starved or almost bled to death. But you—you ruined me. I love you, oh god I love you. I didn't believe in it, I thought it was for the weak people but you made it real. Every day without you, I'm dying baby. I'm trying to be better, to be the man you'd want but it's hard. I want to kill to break but I don’t because you asked me not to. I see you everywhere. I'd crawl on my knees, beg and bleed for you—anything to have you back. You’re my everything and I’m nothing without you…'

'Gave another interview today baby, and another failure. They don’t get it like you do. They talk about schedules and obedience like any of it matters when you're not here. I wanted to smash their faces and make them feel this pain but I walked away. For you. I have your hairband around my wrist. I touch it when I want to break. It smells like you or maybe I'm imagining it but it's all I have. I love you so much it hurts… I'd trade my life for one more day with you, one more night to hold you. I'm sorry I scared you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t enough and couldn’t be the man you wanted. I’m sorry I was so fucking selfish to my sweet girl.'

'Saw a man today buying his girlfriend roses, pink like the ones you loved and I broke. I can't look at them without seeing you, your small hands holding them, your cheeks pink when I left them for you. I'm trying to be good petal, I promise but it's killing me. I haven’t killed because you wanted me to. But the urge is there always and I fight it for you. I'd live for you and give you every damn thing you want. Just come back.. please.. please'

Writing helped him even for a bit, and he'd clutch the diary, tears falling.

“I love you, petal.”

He lets out a shaky exhale, the words unreal to him but true—a confession he'd never spoken until you.

“You changed me, you made me feel it but now I’ve lost you.”

He'd scream into the night, drunk after drinking nonstop.

“I love you! do you hear me? I fucking love you!” he screams.

His words reduced to a broken cry.

The words felt like they belonged to you, like you were meant to hear them and he clung to the hope that somewhere you felt them too.

He kept your incomplete bucket list, some of them completed by him when you were still his.

He completed it obsessively now, buying rare books, the unique snacks you’ve wanted but couldn’t afford to buy and some dresses you wanted.

He stored them in his cabin having joy in the delusion that you'd return, that you'd walk through the door, your happy giggles filling the silence.

“It’s for you my baby.”

He'd murmur, arranging the items on the shelf, his fingers lingering.

“All of it. I’ll keep it safe until you’re back.”

He'd fall to his knees, his head bowed.

He wasn’t a man who was scared of anything, not even death.

But he's terrified of living without you.

His love was madness.

He poured it into every act, every word and every breath of his.

He was a monster, a criminal but for you he will be anything—a gentleman, a lover.

Yet he was failing every day.

۶ৎ

The air was filled with the smell of sweat and blood, clinging to jungkooks skin as he stood in the underground boxing ring.

The arena was dark yet full of chaos from the audience, their shouts a chant.

jungkook's upper body was bare and sweaty, his knuckles wrapped in blood stained tape and his hair falling messily over his eyes.

Matted with sweat and the weight of a month without you.

More than a month.

More than thirty days of agony.

He was unrecognizable with muscles, new tattoos and from smoking all day, not caring about his health, his fists bruised from punching walls, bags and anything that could absorb his rage.

Without killing.

The offer to fight had come like a lifeline, a chance to get his pain out into something useful.

The payment would be good enough to complete more of your bucket list—everything you ever dreamed of or thought of.

None of it was for him, every cent was a prayer for your return, a way to keep you alive in his world.

Even though he was getting more delusional as days passed by.

He'd agreed without hesitation, itching for violence, the fight was a chance to prove he could still feel something other than the ache of your absence.

His opponent was a hulk, his face a map of scars, eyes cold.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the fight.

jungkook moved with ease, his fists a blur, each punch releasing the fury that had consumed him since you left.

The crowd roared but he heard nothing and saw nothing.

His opponent suddenly landed a sharp blow to his jaw and blood filled jungkooks mouth but he didn’t even flinch.

He welcomed the pain, let it ground him and let it remind him that he was still alive and fighting.

“Get up, you bastard!” the opponent snarled.

As he circled jungkook, his fists raised.

“Or are you too busy crying over that little bitch you lost?”

jungkook's vision went red, a primal rage surging through him.

He lunged, his fist connecting with the mans nose. Blood sprayed as the crowd cheered louder but jungkook's mind was elsewhere.

This man had the audacity to talk about you.

He wanted to kill him.

No.

Torture him to death.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her.” he growls.

“You don’t even get to say her name!”

The fight was brutal.

jungkook's muscles strained, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

He was winning, his skill unmatched to the man and his opponent was staggering under the force of his punches.

But then suddenly it hit him—a wave of despair so quick that it stole his breath.

You were gone, truly gone.

No amount of blood, no amount of pain would bring you back, no matter how many fights he won.

You deserved better—a gentle man, a kind one not a monster who'd cage you like him, who'd ruin you like he ruined his life.

It was a good thing you were gone far away from him.

The thought tightened around his heart and his arms faltered, dropping to his sides.

“Giving up already, huh?” the man sneered.

His fists slammed into jungkook's cheek, the impact almost blurring his vision.

Blood trickled down his face, pooling at his collarbone but jungkook didn’t move, didn’t fight back.

He stood there, his body willingly taking all the hits.

He deserved each of it for failing you, for letting you slip away.

The crowd screamed louder but he only saw you in his mind—his pretty girl, his innocent little petal whom he ruined so badly.

“Baby…” he rasps.

His voice lost in the chaos.

Another punch, this time to his ribs and he staggered, his knees buckling. The hit burned with pain but was distant.

“You’re pathetic.”

The man spat, laughing mockingly.

His fist connecting into jungkook's head, blood spraying everywhere. the world tilting.

jungkook fell down, his body giving up.

He could’ve gotten up, could’ve won but he didn’t want to.

He wanted this and needed to drown in this. His opponent loomed over him, fists nonstop, each blow felt like it was breaking his very bones.

His soul.

Blood pooled beneath him.

His vision blurring, a sick bloody grin curved in his lips, your name a whisper on his lips.

Maybe this is it, he thought.

Maybe he’ll finally be free.

The world was spinning, the crowd's screams distant, his body limp and his chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.

He blacked out.

His last thought of you—your smile, your warmth, the love he'd never believed in but felt with every fiber of his being.

And let it consume him.

His smile lingered even as the darkness claimed him.

Maybe finally he'd find peace.

۶ৎ

You were in the hospital.

Walking through the corridors, the exhaustion of a long shift pressing on your shoulders.

You gripped a clipboard from the last patient's chart and talked with another surgeon.

The day had been relentless and tiring but suddenly a noise interrupted your words with the doctor.

Nurses shouted and a voice barked.

“Male, late twenties, critical. He’s bleeding a lot, pulse barely there!”

Your heart thudded as your stomach knotted with dread.

You didn’t know why but your feet moved before your mind could catch up, running to the scene.

The emergency bay was filled with doctors barking orders and nurses as you pushed through the crowd, your breaths shaky.

And then you saw him.

jungkook.

He lay on the stretcher and all you saw was a broken man covered in blood and injuries.

His chest barely rose, each breath he was taking felt shallow as if the life itself was slipping away.

Blood soaked the sheets beneath him from the gashes on his face, his arms and his torso.

His skin was pale and his face swollen, bruised. His lips split, blood crusting at the corner.

One eye was swollen shut, the other half open, unseeing. The gaze that you'd once lost yourself in was now numb with pain and near death.

His rough, calloused hands that had touched you with tenderness now lay limp.

You froze, your clipboard slipping from your hands and clattering to the floor with a loud thud.

The loud pounding of your heart was the only sound you could hear, the chaos and the shouts of the doctors fading.

A sob made its way up your throat, raw and unstoppable.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as your bottom lip quivered.

Your knees buckled and you gripped the edge of a nearby table, knuckles whitening as you prevented yourself from collapsing.

“jungkook.” you whispered brokenly.

You couldn’t speak yet that one word carried thousands of unsaid words.

Your eyes roamed his body, looking at every wound.

His chest stuttered, the rise and fall almost not there and you choked on a scream.

Your hand flying to your mouth trying to stifle the sound.

He was dying—your jungkook, the man who claimed and loved you in his obsessive way, was slipping away.

And you were just standing watching him unravel.

You stumbled forward, hands reaching for him, not caring about the nurses shouting at you or trying to move you away.

“No, no, no.” you wailed.

Your voice rising, cracking with desperation

“You can’t leave me, jungkook. Not like this please, please!”

You shouted as the nurses glanced at you with pity in their eyes but you didn’t care. You leaned over him, your tears falling onto his chest.

Your fingers hovering over his face, afraid to touch.

Afraid to hurt him more.

His skin was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth he always held and you gasped.

“I’m here.”

Your voice was shaking as you spoke to him, hoping he could hear.

“I’m right here, jungkook. I’m right here.” you whimpered.

You looked at the changes in his body, his new tattoos and how broken he looked.

All because of you.

You hated yourself.

You cried harder, body shaking, your hands finally setting on his arm, careful of his wounds.

“I—I’m so sorry.” you gasped.

Your vision blurring from your tears.

“It’s all my fault. You fought for me and I ran, please… I need you!”

He couldn’t leave you.

This time he'll go where you couldn’t follow.

No no, he couldn’t.

The monitors beeped and you hiccuped, your eyes snapping to the screen. His pulse was fading, weakening and the doctors surged forward, pushing you back, making you thrash as you choked on a sob.

“We’re losing him.” one shouted.

And you screamed a sound so raw it ached your throat, your hands clawing at the air as a nurse held you back, her grip tight.

“No!” you panted.

You chanted his name continuously along with pleas, shouting with every ounce of your being as if you could drag him back.

Your body shook, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst.

The doctors worked needles piercing his skin but you saw only him—his broken body, his life fading, the man who'd both terrified you and saved you.

You sank to your knees.

Your hands covering your face, your sobs wracking your body.

“I love you.” you whisper like a mantra.

Wanting him to listen, wanting him to hold his strength for the sake of you.

Fight when he wanted to give up the life he lived with you.

“I love you, jungkook. Come back to me!”

The monitors faltered, the beep slowing and you looked up, your breath catching as your heart stopped.

His chest stilled, the line on the screen flattening and you wailed again as the doctors fought, their voices desperate.

You felt numb, your ears ringing.

The room spun, everything blurring as you felt your consciousness slipping.

You clung to the hope that was barely there, that fragile hope that he could hear you, that he'd fight, that he'd live.

For you.

For the love you both nearly lost.

But all you saw was his life disappearing before your eyes.

Taking yours away along with it.

────

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tranquilreign · 30 days ago

Text

AHHH IM SO READY GIMMMEEEEE 💜💜💜

A secret spun in silk: II | jjk

⤷ loving Jungkook was easy, he was the shy and nerdy guy no one really noticed, and that was fine for him. however, everything changed when a radioactive spider bite turned him into the city’s mysterious new hero. as a detective, you were quick to notice the shift. then, his mentor, Kang Sangmin, died in front of you. now, you’re hunting a killer and uncovering the truth about the man you thought you knew.

— pairing: spidey!jungkook x detective!fem. reader

— genre: established relationship, murder au, mystery au, spiderman au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 7,582

— warnings: mention of crying, mention of death, crying, mention of nightmares, mention of murder, gun, strong language, swearing, frustration, and mention of sex

— author’s note: finally the second chapter is out!! 🥳 i’m so sorry it took this long but life has been a bit chaotic lately and i couldn’t find the time to sit down and post it… the chapter has been ready for quite some time now, maybe more than a week, but it’s finally here!! also i want to mention that oc doesn’t know jk is spiderman so keep it in mind when reading her pov. hope you’ll enjoy this chapter 🩵

Chapter II: i hate him

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook

To his surprise, he received a summons from Sangmin’s lawyer for the reading of his will. He’s in no case related to him, except for the fact that he’s his father's best friend and his mentor. He’s no heir and has no rights to his legacy. At least, that’s what he believes. But everybody knows that Sangmin saw him as his true and legitimate heir.

As he enters the room, he finds his father, Seungmin, and Sangmin’s siblings. He isn’t really surprised to see all these people, but some of them are startled when Jungkook makes his way inside. Your lover takes a seat next to his father.

“Hi, son,” he offers his son a smile.

“Hi, dad,” he smiles back at his father.

His dad holds his hand, squeezing it in a comforting way. He’s grateful his dad is present. He’s not sure he’d be able to stand here. It’s been very hard to live without Sangmin.

He constantly calls him to hear his voice on the voicemail, even if he doesn’t pick up. He’s also been watching tons of videos he has of him. He always ends up crying, but it’s the only way to remove the image that hunts him. Sangmin dying in his arms.

“Hi, everybody,” the lawyer says, his eyes looking at every present person. “It seems everybody is here.”

The man starts reading Sangmin’s last will. He begins by explaining what Sangmin leaves to his only son. He basically leaves the Kang empire to him, except for the pharmaceutical company. He also inherits the main mansion.

Seojoon, Jungkook’s father, inherits a significant portion of his wealth, including shares in every company he owns. His words were that he wants his best friend to remain his associate until his last breath.

To his siblings, he gives them houses and money. He always loved them so much, and he wanted to give them a good life even after his passing. He wanted to ensure his siblings would never lack anything.

And finally, to Jungkook, he hands over the keys to the pharmaceutical company, the crown jewel of the Kang Empire. He also gives him a house, though Jungkook knows that it’s not just a house. It’s his private lab.

Seungmin looks at Seojoon’s son with daggering eyes. He clearly wanted to be the one owning the biggest company in the Kang Empire. He wanted to own the company that started this entire empire.

For Jungkook, this is a shock. Sangmin knew how much Jungkook hated running a company. He knew he’d prefer remaining hidden behind a lab. He’s way too shy to deal with people. He’s not comfortable with that.

Sangmin also left a letter to each of them. The lawyer handed them before they left the room. Jungkook walked straight to his car to read it by himself.

“My Jungkook,

By now, you must be wondering why I left the company to you. The answer is quite easy. You’ll keep my legacy alive. You’ll keep the purpose of the company intact. Even though I love my son, he’s a businessman at heart. He’ll prioritize profits, not the company’s purpose, which is to help people. To give treatments to people in need.

You don’t have to worry about managing the company. Since I only gave you my shares, you can maintain all the current directors. They’ll manage the daily operations for you, but whenever big decisions need to be made, you’ll have to step in. But please never forget why I created this company.

My only request is that you work there. Not to control it, but to stay connected, to see what’s going on, and it will facilitate your life whenever you have to step in.

Then, for my lab, it was an evident and natural choice to give it to you. You grew up there. It’s the place where I taught you everything. It has always been yours. Live above it or not; it’s your choice.

I may be gone now, but please, take care of yourself. And keep loving yn. She has such a beautiful heart and soul. You shine brighter when you’re around her. Be happy, my son.

With all my love,

Sangmin”

Jungkook breaks down in tears. He can’t do this. He can’t be the shareholder of KANGVITA. He can’t be the one deciding what to do or not. But above anything else, he can’t live without Sangmin, the man who taught him everything about science. He then drives to the lab, wanting to be alone.

Once he has reached his mentor’s private lab, or should he say his now private lab, he rushes inside. He continues examining his DNA, which has been shaped entirely differently. This spider has fundamentally changed him overnight.

His body has expanded crazily in the span of a week. He’s way stronger now, and it’s like he’s been going every single second of the week to the gym. He doesn’t even recognize himself anymore. The body he sees in the mirror reflection isn’t his. But even though the spider had given him this change, the fact that he’s been going around, throwing webs and swinging, has built him differently. His body is a lot more toned.

Helping people has been making him feel alive, and it feels like an extension of what he’s been doing in his lab. The thing is that people see him now. In the lab, he just researches and creates treatments, but nobody ever knows it’s him. Today, people hold him tightly in their arms, fear clinging to their bodies. They thank him when he puts them in a safe place.

He’s spiderman.

The first time someone gave him that name, it warmed his heart in a way he can’t even express. He’s not just Jungkook anymore. He’s spiderman too. And spiderman saves lives and helps people in need. And honestly, he likes doing it.

But it’s something he wished he could share it with you. He wanted to tell you, to explain it to you, because he knows you notice the changes. But the second you told him how much you hate this new spiderman, he decided not to say a word. He doesn’t want you to hate him. That’ll break his heart too much. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. At least not right now.

What has been breaking him a lot is the fact that he’s been holding back from touching you, only kissing you from time to time. He has changed a lot physically. And more than ever, he’s been desiring to rail the shit out of you with this new body. But he’s scared you’ll ask too many questions.

And he’s also scared to contaminate you with the spider venom, like a sexually transmitted disease would.

For now, he’s been simply saying that he’s been going to the gym. You haven’t questioned it too much. But despite the tragedy, he’s been able to justify all of this with his grief.

But he knows that sooner or later, he’ll crack. He adores you and finds you extremely hot under any circumstances.

For hours, he remains locked in the lab, analyzing his blood and trying to understand if this is temporary or if it’ll last forever. Will the spider venom forever remain in his system? Will it keep making him stronger? Those are all questions he wished Sangmin could help him with.

After a while, he decides to go to your apartment to take a look. He wants to see if he can find anything that will help you to find Sangmin’s killer. He knows you’re working on the case, but if he can give you a hand as spiderman, he’ll do it. His vision is now a lot better than any human's. His senses are just heightened.

He puts on the suit he managed to create in such a short time. There’s for sure a lot of work still to be done, but for now, it maintains his identity safe whenever he helps someone. He opens the window of the living room before he removes the mask from his face. It’s a lot better now. He walks to the entrance, his eyes examining the spot where Sangmin was.

Honestly, there’s not much, except for some strands of hair. It won’t be very useful. The tests will only indicate that he was poisoned, something he already knows. His body freezes when he hears someone running up the stairs. He puts on his mask again so nobody recognizes him.

Before he even gets to reach the window, the person enters the apartment. His heart skips a beat when he sees your face. It’s the first time he sees you working, and man, you’re hot as hell. He really wants to take his mask off to make you calm down, but he can’t. Not right now.

“What are you doing here?” you yell.

He can tell how angry you are, and it hurts him. He doesn’t know yet how you’d react if he reveals himself to you. His eyes are quick to notice your partner, Hyunwoo, behind you. Jungkook likes the guy. He's already met him a couple of times, and he’s nice.

Jungkook raises his hands up while slowly walking backward. He needs to escape as soon and as fast as possible. You won’t be letting him go; he knows you damn well. As he moves backward, you move forward, getting closer and closer.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. You’ll recognize his voice instantly.

“You’re Sangmin's killer, right?” his heart squeezes at your words. “He’s involved in your change, and you killed him so he wouldn’t be an obstacle for you. Am I right?”

Jungkook only shakes his head, not a single word leaving his lips. Even though you’re accusing him, his heart warms at how this case is dear to you. He already knew you’d do anything to catch the killer, but seeing it is something else. He’s a hundred percent sure you’ll find the killer.

“Now you come to check if there’s any proof incriminating you.”

He shakes his head again.

“Yn,” Hyunwoo finally says something. “This man would be the last person to kill someone.”

You don’t look back at your coworker. Your gaze is locked on your boyfriend, even though you totally ignore the identity of the man behind the mask.

“We don’t know him,” you mutter. “He suddenly appears out of the blue, pretending to save lives. He could be a killer as well.”

“We don’t know it yet,” your colleague replies.

Jungkook notices the flicker in your eyes. You’re about to run to him, so he bolts toward the window, and without a second of hesitation, he hurls himself into the open void. His breath catches violently in his throat.

It was close.

He’s falling from seven floors down, a blur of movement in the open air. Falling from this height can be frightening, but to Jungkook it feels relieving. For a split second, the world around him disappears completely.

And then, just before he hits the ground, he shoots a web and swings himself to safety. His body moves with such instinct, such ease. It’s like he has done this his entire life, but since he got bitten by the spider, this feels absolutely natural. It’s like he was made for this.

Swinging around the city makes him feel alive.

He can’t compare the feeling to being next to you because you bring so much life to him. But this comes very close to how he feels around you. It’s different, but it’s good.

You

Over the past week, something fundamental in Jungkook has changed completely. The pain, the grief, the confusion, the helplessness—whatever cracked open inside him the night Sangmin died has begun to reshape him entirely.

What started as subtle changes are now impossible to ignore. His body feels different beneath your touch. It’s firmer, heavier, with new muscle. He’s been at the gym almost obsessively, like he’s trying to outrun the chaos in his head with sweat and repetition.

His chest broadened, his shoulders seem to take up more space, and when you wrap your arms around him, it feels like he’s somehow more… His arms, once soft and lean, now pulse with definition. The weight of him when he holds you is grounding in a strangely unfamiliar way.

You don’t complain at all, but this is new. Jungkook never used to go to the gym before, and now, it’s like he’s always there. His body is changing so much.

The glasses? Now, gone. He’s switched to contact lenses entirely, claiming they’re more practical, but you know it’s more than that. Maybe he wants to stop seeing the world through the eyes of the man he used to be. Or maybe he doesn’t want to be seen that way anymore.

What’s most disorienting is how much he resembles his father now. He was already his spitting image, but now? Now it’s even more. Without the barrier of glasses and with the new sharpness in his features, he looks even more like his dad, something you never thought possible.

However, in the middle of that, he’s still your Jungkook. He still comes home to you, cries in your arms, and kisses you passionately. He’s still his nerdy and shy self. But now, your breath catches even more when he walks into a room because he seems so different, and he looks even hotter, which you didn’t think was possible.

At work, you’ve fought hard to take the case of Sangmin. Everybody has desired to have it because with it comes fame and recognition. However, for you, it’s none of that. For you, it’s a matter of doing it for your lover. You need to solve this case for him.

Luckily, the big boss gave in and let you take care of Sangmin’s death. Since he passed away at your place, it became a crime scene, and you can’t get home for now. So, you’ve been sleeping at his parents' place. They insisted on it, and it’s honestly a blessing.

Jungkook has needed his mother’s arms more than ever. Even though you appease his soul, a mother’s embrace speaks louder than anything else. You perfectly know it. Although you absolutely adore your boyfriend, whenever you go through something very hard, you run to your mother to seek comfort.

“That’s tragic to pass away here,” Hyunwoo says once you’re standing in front of the building complex.

“It is,” you mumble.

Flashes of that infamous night cross your mind, sending shivers down your spine. You didn’t know much about Sangmin; you barely saw him, but you heard many stories about him. Seeing him dying in Jungkook’s arms right in front of your place is horrible.

Under police orders, everyone living here has been temporarily forced to relocate elsewhere. It wasn’t pleasant, but you need to examine every corner Sangmin walked in before reaching your apartment. Once that is done, you’ll let everyone come back. But for you and Jungkook, it’s different. You’ll only be able to go back home once the case is solved.

Your eyes look up at the building, your heart already aching. You’ve been having nightmares, but you’re not sure if your boyfriend has been having worse nightmares than you. Maybe the gym has been helping him a lot.

“How was the funeral yesterday?” He asks as you both walk in.

“Very painful,” you admit, remembering Jungkook’s sobs. “I thought I was going to die right there.”

You lift the police ribbon after opening the door. Opening this door for the first time since that night is hard. Your hands are shaking, but you still manage to open it.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea you work on this case?” he asks as he notices your shaky hands. “This is too personal for you.”

“I need to,” you instantly reply, stepping inside the building. “For him.”

“But…” Hyunwoo starts, but you cut him off.

“There’s no ‘but’,” you say. “I need to find out who was cruel enough to kill this man.”

The two of you start examining the main entrance, looking for any proof. Sangmin was poisoned, so you know for sure that the killer gave it to him hours before. The man knew he was dying and walked to your place to die next to Jungkook. He sought comfort in his own death. And that’s the heartbreaking part.

If you managed to understand it, you’re sure Jungkook did too. Sangmin loved your boyfriend like a son. You’d even say that he loved him more than his own son. Seungmin, the heir to the Kang Empire, is the only ‘biological’ child he ever had. He loved him, but Jungkook seemed like the perfect heir. He taught him everything about biological science. He passed on to him his passion for science.

Unfortunately, you don’t find anything, except for his fingerprints all over the walls. He was for sure trying to find physical support as his soul was leaving his body.

As you walk upstairs, you hear a sound coming from your apartment. You grab your gun before rushing to your place, the gun in your hands. Is it the murderer coming to the place where the victim died? Does she or he want to check if there’s anything incriminating about them?

Hyunwoo follows you, his gun in his hand as well. You both stand on each side of the door, ready to catch the person inside as soon as they leave. Very slowly and carefully, you open the door before running inside.

What you find inside surprises you a lot. A man wearing a red and deep blue costume stands tall in front of you. It’s the famous spiderman. The guy who has been bothering you and your colleagues more than anything else. He’s been going around saving people like he’s some kind of superhero.

“What are you doing here?” you yell at the man in front of you.

He raises his hands up while slowly walking backward. You follow him, getting closer and closer. The man doesn’t answer your question; he simply walks.

“You’re Sangmin's killer, right?” you throw at his face. “He’s involved in your change, and you killed him so he wouldn’t be an obstacle for you. Am I right?”

The man only shakes his head, not a single word leaving his lips.

“Now you come to check if there’s any proof incriminating you.”

He shakes his head again.

“Yn,” Hyunwoo says behind you. “This man would be the last person to kill someone.”

You don’t look back at your coworker. Your gaze can’t leave him because you know that the second it happens, he’ll run away like a coward.

“We don’t know him,” you mutter. “He suddenly appears out of the blue, pretending to save lives. He could be a killer as well.”

“We don’t know it yet,” your colleague replies.

Just as you’re about to chase after this so-called spiderman, he bolts toward the window with terrifying confidence, and without a second of hesitation, he hurls himself into the open void. Your breath catches violently in your throat.

“What the hell—”

You rush to the window, hands resting on the windowsill as your eyes dart downward in search of him. He’s falling from seven floors down, a blur of movement in the open air. Your stomach drops. It’s not even fear anymore, it’s disbelief. Your mind scrambles to process what you’re seeing.

And then, just before he hits the ground, he shoots a web—clean, quick—and swings himself to safety. His body moves with such instinct, such ease, that it makes your skin crawl. He disappears from your line of sight, swallowed by the city skyline.

You stare at the spot where he vanished, your pulse pounding so hard it feels like it’s in your ears.

You don’t like spiderman. There’s something about the cockiness, the reckless heroism, the bugs. You never found it charming. And now? Now that some knock-off web-slinger just launched himself out of your apartment and into thin air like he’s bulletproof?

It’s more than just dislike. It’s personal.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, eyes still fixed on the now-empty sky. Your fingers tighten into fists.

“Yn,” Hyunwoo calls out for you, his voice edged with disbelief. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No,” you shake your head, gaze shifting to your colleague. “This guy could be our killer.”

“You’re jumping too quickly to conclusions just because you don’t like him. We don’t have anything concrete yet.”

“I don’t care,” you mumble.

He exhales sharply, clearly frustrated.

“If you don’t pull yourself together and take this less personally, the higher-ups are going to pull you off the case,” he says. “You know it.”

Of course you do, but you can’t do otherwise. This is too personal. This is about Jungkook, and you’d do anything for him. Hyunwoo softens, his tone shifting from sharp to sincere.

“Look, I get it. You’re doing this for Jungkook. So make sure you do it right, okay?” he says. “Don’t let your emotions cost you the chance to actually get justice.”

He’s not wrong. You can’t be acting like that; otherwise, someone else will replace you, and that someone might be doing this completely wrongly. Only for the fame that the case brings. Finding Sangmin’s killer will bring so much recognition to the detective in charge of the case.

“Okay, now let’s make sure spiderman didn’t take anything from your place,” Hyunwoo rationalizes. “Take a look and let me know if something disappeared.”

You nod and follow your colleague’s instructions. Thank God that you have him as your partner. Anybody else would have taken this opportunity to denounce you to your superiors. He’s been with you since you became a detective, and you’ve been doing great work together. You’re definitely a great team.

You

For the tenth time in five minutes, your eyes look up at the clock hanging on the living room’s wall. It’s already 8 pm and still no news from Jungkook, which worries you a lot. He’s been like this since the passing of Sangmin. He doesn’t give any news before reappearing out of the blue, sweating like hell.

You can understand that his way of grieving is by going to the gym, but he can also warn you. It’s easy to say: “I’m at the gym and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You don’t say anything because it’ll feel out of place, but you’re not really liking all of this, especially since this spider guy appeared. He’s a pain in the ass. You don’t like him. You’re already frustrated because everyone seems enchanted by this guy, and then you arrive home to an empty house, not knowing where your boyfriend is.

A couple of minutes later, you hear the door unlocking. You can hear his heavy breathing, but again, you won’t say anything. However, it worries you how much time he spends at the gym. His footsteps bring him closer and closer to you, but you don’t say anything. You simply wait for him to find you in the living room.

A smile arises on his adorable face when he lays eyes on you. He crashes down next to you, his head falling on your shoulder. None of you speaks for a moment, you both look at the show playing on the tv. It’s a show his mom adores; she highly recommended it to you, so you decided to watch. She definitely wasn’t wrong.

“How was the reading of Sangmin’s will?” you finally break the silence.

You were there when he received the formal letter from the lawyer inviting him to the will reading. Jungkook’s head leaves your shoulder so he can look at you. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet. Despite everything, he still manages to catch your breath.

“I inherited the lab house and KANGVITA,” he finally says.

This was quite obvious. The opposite would have surprised you. Jungkook was Sangmin’s prodigy. He made him fall in love with science in the lab house. And above anything else, he transmitted to him all his passion about helping others. Jungkook has always been the legitimate heir to KANGVITA, even though he never wanted to admit it.

“It seems logical,” you answer.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for the company,” he confesses. “Seungmin should have been the one…”

You cut him off. “We both know he isn’t. Sangmin transmitted to you every single value of that company. You’re the only one who will ever be able to keep his legacy alive. Not his son.”

He rubs his hands on his face while groaning in frustration. You know Jungkook has never wanted to run a company. Although he’s the son of a very good businessman, he’s never been one. If he can remain hidden, it’s perfect. Running KANGVITA will put him under the spotlight.

“Look,” you say, placing your hands over his and pushing them away from his pretty face, “you’re not alone. Your dad can help you. He’s very good at running companies, and he can help you out. He’ll do it without second-guessing.”

“Sangmin left me a letter,” he answers, “where he explained that I don’t have to do anything. Just keep the company as it is and just be present whenever important decisions need to be made.”

“See,” you stroke his cheek.

“I don’t know, pumpkin,” he throws.

“We all believe in you, nerdy,” you reply. “And you can take all the time in the world. Your dad is also a shareholder of KANGVITA. Let him manage it on your behalf until you’re ready. He knows your heart, and he’ll be able to handle big decisions in the meantime.”

His gaze is locked on yours, and right now, you wish you could hear his thoughts. But you can tell that he’s heavily considering your words. Maybe he never thought about asking for help from his dad. You guess that maybe he doesn’t even have to ask anything. His father will jump right in.

“Don’t overthink it for now, okay?” you tell him.

Jungkook simply nods before wrapping his arms around you, pushing you into a tight embrace. Underneath his shirt, you can feel his toned and broader chest. You still don’t know how to feel about it, but it’s a weird feeling. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“For the lab house,” he whispers against your neck, “I’d love to live there, but only if you want. I’d never pressure you.”

You’ve spent a lot of time in that house, and you like that house. It’s not too big, considering that it was the house of a wealthy man, but it’s a very beautiful one. The lab was built underground, so it gives more room to the house itself. One thing is for sure: the house is bigger than your apartment.

“Well, now, we’re homeless, so having a house sounds like a great idea,” you smile at him.

Not being able to go home is hard. You adore his parents and siblings, but it feels like you’re bothering them. It feels like you always have to tiptoe around the house, too scared you’ll do something wrong.

“Thanks, pumpkin,” he says, kissing your lips tenderly.

This kiss brings comfort. One that you didn’t realize how much you needed until his lips met yours. The kiss is very gentle, but heavy with unspoken words. It’s not passionate or rushed. It’s slow, intentional, like he’s telling you everything he can’t say aloud. Apologies, reassurances, confessions, all woven into the delicate brush of his mouth against yours.

Your fingers curl slightly into his shirt, holding on, not because you think he’ll pull away, but because this moment feels too fragile, too precious.

Jungkook’s hand is cradling your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin in a motion so tender it nearly brings tears to your eyes. This is, without a doubt, your favorite kind of kiss. The kind that heals, that mends something inside you, that puts balm on an invisible wound you hadn’t dared to touch. You don’t need words right now. This is enough. More than enough.

“Get a room,” Jungkook’s sister, Jiwon, says when she sees you kissing on the couch.

Jiwon is pretty much younger than him; they have a nine-year gap. Two years after Jungkook, his parents had Joongi, and after having two wonderful boys, they wanted a little girl. It took them seven years to have her. It wasn’t easy, but they had her. Jiwon is the little princess at home.

You and Jungkook giggle at Jiwon’s words. She’s in her teenage years, and she finds it gross whenever she sees you kissing. The funny thing is that she has had a boyfriend for like two years already. Yongbok, her boyfriend, was already in the picture for a couple of months when you started dating the amazing Jungkook.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” she answers while shrugging.

“That’s not an answer,” he says quite firmly.

She rolls her eyes, annoyed.

“I can’t sleep,” she ends up admitting. “I haven’t been since what happened at your place.”

She’s clearly referring to Sangmin’s death, but she doesn’t want to say it out loud, which you totally understand. It’s not easy. It isn’t easy for anyone.

“Yongbok is coming,” she continues. “I only manage to fall asleep with him.”

Her boyfriend is honestly a sweetheart, and you’re more than happy that she found him. He’s been by Jiwon’s side for the past week, never leaving her alone in this tough time.

“Mom and Dad know he’s coming?” Jungkook asks.

Jiwon nods before sitting next to her brother on the couch. For a moment, her eyes scan her brother’s figure.

“Since when did you become bulkier?” she frowns.

She doesn’t even hesitate to push up the sleeve of his t-shirt, showing off his already muscular biceps. Jungkook gets all red.

“I’ve been going to the gym.”

“Of all people, you’re the last one I ever imagined in a gym,” she sincerely says.

Jungkook is now the one rolling his eyes with annoyance. You couldn’t agree more with his sister’s words. You never pictured him going to the gym. Never once in your life, you imagine him becoming who he is right now. You’re sure that he could handle you easily.

“Things have changed,” he confesses.

They have changed a lot in reality. And it’s been hard to follow up. Too hard. But you’re hopeful that things will eventually get better. That the pain inside your heart will one day be more bearable.

“You’re not wrong,” she smiles.

Losing Sangmin is already something, but the fact that he was killed makes everything even more complicated. You’re not sure who’s lying or who to trust. One thing is for sure: you don’t trust that spidey guy at all. He smells trouble. And it’s the last thing that you need right now.

“And have you heard of that spiderman?” she asks with excitement.

You and your boyfriend nod.

“Isn’t he incredible?” she asks.

She definitely seems completely under his spell, like everybody else.

“I wouldn’t say incredible,” you answer. “That guy has given us more work instead of helping.”

“He’s been saving lives, yn,” she claps back.

“But he has been breaking the law more times than I can count,” you truthfully say.

He could have been helpful if he hadn’t been swinging around and doing things he shouldn’t have.

“Maybe start seeing him with your human eyes instead of the cop's ones,” she says while shaking her head.

“He probably just wants to help,” Jungkook finally says something.

Your eyes move from his sister’s face to his, and you swear that for a second, you see something in his eyes. Something that might suggest that he knows who this spider guy is. You frown, but brush it off. If he knew something, he would have told you. This is too big a secret.

“Well, if he really wanted to help, what was he doing at our place today?” you raise an eyebrow.

Jiwon frowns, obviously surprised, but Jungkook doesn’t react at all. As if he already knew this. As if this wasn’t news to him. Honestly, right now, you’re starting to think that you don’t know your boyfriend anymore.

“That’s unexpected,” Jiwon says.

“I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but he broke too many laws by being at our place. And above anything else, it makes me think that he might be related to Sangmin’s death.”

“Well, he might have his reasons,” Jiwon tries to defend him. “Maybe he was trying to help you in the case.”

“As I said, he isn’t,” you repeat. “I don’t like him.”

It’s a fact. And by now, almost everybody knows it. This spiderman is a pain in the ass, and all you want to do is catch him to find out who he is. But for now, it’s the least of your concerns. All you care about right now is finding Sangmin’s killer.

“I hope he doesn’t hear that,” Jiwon teasingly says while chuckling. “That was harsh.”

You chuckle. She’s probably right, but you absolutely do not care. Her phone suddenly lights up, her gaze shifting down to it.

“Ah, it’s Yongbok,” she smiles. “I’ll leave you two alone now, but please go to your room. Don’t want to know you had sex here.”

Jungkook turns red, which makes you smile. He’s absolutely adorable when he gets all flustered.

“I can’t promise that,” you tease her.

“Gross,” she replies. “I don’t want to know what my brother does with his girlfriend.”

You laugh as she disappears, leaving you and Jungkook alone again in the living room.

“You’re as red as a tomato,” you say, cupping his warm cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“It’s awkward to be talking about sex with my sister,” he mumbles, still clearly embarrassed, but he leans in to kiss you again.

Quickly, the kiss takes a heated turn for the first time in a week. Jungkook has been avoiding getting intimate with you, which has honestly broken your heart more times than you can count. And to make matters worse, you’re nearing your ovulation period, which only makes the longing more intense.

However, Jungkook breaks the kiss before you take this any further.

“We should go to bed,” he whispers against your lips.

You’re not sure how long you can keep going like this.

Jungkook

He’s sitting at the top of a building, looking around. It was hard to hear you say two days ago that you hate him. Well, you hate spiderman, but in the end, it’s the same. He’s spiderman, so you hate him. That thought keeps echoing in his head, louder than the wind that brushes past his ears.

Suddenly, he hears a scream. A sharp, blood-curdling one, the kind that freezes everything in place for half a second. Without hesitation, his head snaps toward the direction of the sound. Another scream follows, this one thinner, choked with terror.

He springs to his feet. He doesn’t think. He moves. One leap, and he’s flying. Before throwing any webs, he always lets himself fall into the void. It’s probably related to the awful emptiness in his heart. Sangmin’s death has destroyed him in so many ways, but in the middle of that, he also feels the need to help people.

He saves them because he couldn’t save him.

And then, before hitting the ground, he shoots the first web, making him fly. The wind whips against his face as he swings between buildings, pushing his body to go faster until the bridge comes into full view. People are shouting, a few already holding their phones, filming the horror.

A woman has stumbled through the pedestrian rail and is holding on with one hand, her fingers slipping.

This angers him so much. People are filming instead of trying to help her. If spiderman didn’t exist, was she going to die?

Jungkook doesn’t land. He drops straight down, flips in mid-air, and at the last second, shoots a web to catch her. He has noticed that his senses have become much sharper. He just knows when to save people or catch something before it hits the ground. He’s faster now.

For a moment, the only sound is the echo of gasps.

He catches her just as her hand gives way. She lets out a strangled sob as she falls into his arms, holding him so tight, and he swings up, gently setting her on solid ground. The woman clutches his arms, trembling.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer than she expected.

She nods, tears rolling down her cheeks, and hugs him.

“Thank you. Thank you, oh my god—thank you.”

The crowd starts clapping, cheering even. But he doesn’t stay. He never stays, scared that someone might recognize him. Jungkook backs away, turns, and disappears into the shadows before anyone can get close.

He doesn’t need their praise. He just needs to feel like he did something right. Like he mattered. His entire life, he’s been trying to do something right. The proof is that he’s working at a pharmaceutical company specializing in rare diseases. Becoming spiderman feels normal to him. Yes, he has now spider DNA in his blood, but he has decided to use it for good.

Jungkook swings back to the lab house. You’ve already moved there, but your personal belongings remain at your shared apartment. For as long as the investigation goes on, none of you can go there or take anything. Well, you’ve both already been there, but nothing has been taken. So, living in the lab house still feels impersonal. It’s like you’re living in someone else’s house.

But at least, you now have more privacy.

Well, if he hadn’t become a spider, he would have already railed you on every single surface of the house, but as long as he doesn’t know if he can contaminate you, he’s going to keep his hands away from you. And it’s only getting harder. He almost gave in two days ago, but he managed to remind himself that your safety matters more than his burning desires.

He doesn’t want to give you something that he can’t even understand. He would hate himself if it ever happened.

Once he reaches the house, he strips himself of the costume before hiding it in the lab. He puts on his white coat before sitting down. He believes today he might understand if whatever he has is contagious. He did some tests a couple of days ago, but he’ll only have the results today.

With eagerness, he scrolls through the latest batch of test results, his eyes darting across the data. He doesn’t mind being spiderman, if anything, he’s slowly come to accept it. The strength, the speed, the heightened senses... all of it feels right, like he was built for this.

Nevertheless, something deeply bothers him. He doesn’t know how to act around you anymore.

He clenches his jaw as the results load. It’s not the webs, the agility, or the wall-climbing that keeps him up at night. It’s you, asleep right next to him, and the fact that he can’t touch you the way he wants to. His whole body aches, not just from transformation, but from need. And it’s driving him insane.

He wants you—your skin, your scent, your warmth. He wants to be close again. Not just emotionally, but physically. To let you trace the lines of his new body, to show you the strength in his arms wasn’t just built for saving strangers, but for holding you close. For making you feel safe. Desired. Worshipped.

But he’s been pushing you away, hiding behind Sangmin’s death like a shield. And yes, he’s grieving. If he hadn’t changed, he knows he would’ve never left your side, not even for a minute. He would’ve held you until his chest caved in, until the pain became bearable simply because you were near. Now he doesn’t even know how to touch you without fearing what he might pass on.

Finally, the result appears. His breath catches.

Non-transmissible. Zero risk. Completely isolated to the host.

He stares at the results for a long time. Relief floods through him like a wave crashing down. His head drops into his hands, and for a second, he just sits there, letting the silence press against his skull.

It’s just him.

The weight begins to lift. Slowly.

And for the first time in almost two weeks, a small and sincere smile curves on his lips. Tonight, if you want him, he’ll show you every piece of himself he’s been keeping locked away. If you need softness, he’ll give you that. If you need intensity, he has enough to drown you in it.

But he won’t force anything. He knows he’s been distant. Cold, even. You’ve had every right to doubt him, and if you push him away tonight, he’ll understand.

Still, something in him stirs with purpose. He scans the data again, trying to make sense of the blood mutation. Something has changed far beyond what he expected. He didn’t just inherit the spider’s powers. His blood has evolved into something more. Stronger. Wiser. Singular.

But all of that means nothing if he can’t be whole with you. And tonight, maybe he can finally begin to feel human again, with you.

However, a couple of minutes later, all his hopes crash down. The name of your coworker appears on his screen, and his heart skips a beat. Hyunwoo has Jungkook’s number in case something happens to you. So, his mind goes over every possible case scenario as he sees the name.

Since you started investigating Sangmin’s death, he’s been worried about you. When someone wants to eliminate a person as wealthy as him, it’s for deep reasons. The killer wouldn’t hesitate to harm or even kill you to protect themselves.

“Hyunwoo,” Jungkook says when he picks up.

“Hi, Jungkook,” he responds.

“Something bad happened?” your boyfriend instantly asks.

“Yes,” he says. “Yn was arrested for the murder of Sangmin.”

You

Straight at the beginning of the investigation, you’ve requested the footage from every camera at Sangmin’s workplace and mansion for the week preceding his death. You needed to check from there if there was anything. A team was working on it while you were interrogating people, examining every single room he’d be in.

There has been nothing. Absolutely nothing.

After the forensic pathologist examined the body, it was confirmed that he had been poisoned with aconitine. It was difficult to identify the type of poison used, but after extensive research, he was able to find it.

Normally, Sangmin ingested it a couple of hours before his passing. Apparently, he only got the time to understand something was off before coming to your place.

You’ve also interrogated people, but nothing seems to explain why he was killed. For sure, money is the top reason, but there could be something you ignore.

For now, that’s really what you've got. That’s why the footage is extremely important. You’ll be able to target someone more easily. At least that’s what you hope for. Killers are not stupid. If they decide to poison someone, they’ve also been very careful not to get caught.

The second you enter the police station, your superior walks straight to you. Her face is harsh and very closed. She’s holding a pair of handcuffs in her hands. For a minute, you believe that someone behind you is about to get arrested, but there’s nobody behind you. So your eyes look at Hyunwoo, and he seems as clueless as you.

“Yn,” she begins. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Sangmin.”

Your eyes widen as she says out loud that you’re Sangmin’s killer. What the fuck is this? When did you on earth decide to kill the person your boyfriend adores? There’s absolutely no reason for you to kill him.

Instead of screaming and going wild, you decide to collaborate. The only way to discover why she’s arresting you is by cooperating. Resisting will only make things worse. She’s going to interrogate you, and obviously, she’ll show whatever things she has that incriminate you.

You show your hands to your superior, and she handcuffs them. Even though you’re not guilty, it sounds like you’re truly the killer.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

Even though you’ve pronounced those words more times than you can count, it’s weird to hear them being said to you. It makes you feel like shit.

“Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”

“Yes, Captain Park,” you answer.

Now, you’re being escorted to the interrogation room under the eyes of your colleagues. You avoid looking at them to not see their facial expressions. You know it’ll destroy you if you do, and you’ll never be able again to look at them as you did before.

“Hyunwoo,” you call for your coworker. “Please call Jungkook.”

“I will.”

318 notes · View notes

tranquilreign · 30 days ago

Text

AHHHH OH MA GAWWWWWDDD I WILL REREAD THE WHOLE THING NOWWW

THE ART OF PRETENDING - JJK | 08

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, swearing, fluff, angst, holy fuck jk is a pathetic yearner i love him, explicit sexual content (mdni), lots and lots of kissing, brief breast play, oral (f. recieving), petnames (angel), really really soft & tender sex :(

word count: 7.6k

notes: (read full author’s note at the end of the chapter cuz it’s longgg) i procastinated this part so bad, but finally, here it is. writing the smut in this was definitely an… experience, and it’s not my usual writing, so i apologise if it isn’t the best. likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are soo appreciated. enjoy reading my angels <33

⤷ chapter eight — lover, you should've come over

"so i'll wait for you, love / and i'll burn / will i ever see your sweet return?”

FIVE WEEKS LATER

It’s two in the morning, and the city has stilled.

Jungkook sits in the living room with the lights off. There’s only the orange glow from the streetlight that filters through the slats of the blinds, stretching in long shadows across the hardwood floor. The TV is off, the soundbar unplugged. He’s on the couch, feet bare against cold wood, a half-full glass of whiskey resting in his palm like an afterthought.

He hasn’t spoken to anyone all day.

He should sleep. He has work tomorrow — well, technically today, given the hour — but the thought of crawling into bed alone again, pretending not to notice how empty the sheets feel and how quiet everything gets without your breathing beside him, keeps him rooted in place.

He takes another slow sip, grimacing at the taste.

It’s not like he didn’t try to build something here. The place is fine. Modern. Big enough for one (really, it's big enough for two but he doesn't let himself say that out loud). The kitchen island is spotless. The walls still smell faintly of fresh paint. He bought a plant last week, a pothos or something, and it’s somehow still alive. The kind of normalcy he thought would help him forget. Reset.

But it never feels like home. Not the way you did.

Sure, the days are manageable. He's built up a routine that keeps his head busy — morning coffee, train ride, work, gym, home. He nods when people talk to him. He smiles when his manager tells a joke. He even laughed once last Thursday because Hoseok sent a meme to the group chat that was so absurd it cracked him up. But none of it sticks. Nothing lands. It all brushes off his skin like dust.

And the nights?

The nights are brutal.

This is when his mind slows down just enough to let the ache rise again. When he finds himself wandering the apartment, opening drawers like he’s looking for something, like maybe you might’ve left a bobby pin or a receipt or — God, anything that says you were once here. That you loved him once.

He knows he won't find anything. You haven't even seen this place, let alone lived in it. But still, he catches himself doing it too often.

It’s pathetic, probably. He knows it. But grief makes people strange. It makes time bend, like now, when seventy-three days have passed but it still feels like yesterday that you watched as he left, suitcase in hand, desperately fighting the urge to look back.

You asked for space. You asked for time. And he gave it to you. Every inch, even when it clawed at him.

Because the truth is, he knew he’d messed it all up. He let silence fester in place of conversation, convinced himself he was doing the right thing by letting you go. Convinced himself you’d be better off chasing your future without him weighing you down. He thought he was doing the noble thing — stepping aside so you wouldn’t have to choose.

But you did choose. And he never gave you the chance to say it out loud.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, elbows digging into his knees. The ice in his glass has mostly melted, the amber swirl going pale and soft at the edges. Somewhere across the street, a neon sign buzzes faintly, the only sound besides the piercing silence.

He should sleep.

He won’t.

Instead, he leans back, lets his head fall against the couch cushion, and closes his eyes, just for a second. Just to let the weight of everything he’s holding settle again.

He doesn't know many minutes pass as he sits in silence, but it's when the first inklings of sleep creep up on him that a buzz cuts through the air.

It’s faint. Barely there — a low vibration against the coffee table.

His eyes flutter open, groggy and flat. He doesn’t reach for it. Doesn’t even glance right away.

Because it’s never you.

Every call he’s picked up over the last five weeks, heart thundering in his chest, thumb swiping too fast — it’s never you. Wrong name. Wrong voice. Wrong timing. And every time, he feels a little more stupid; a little more hollowed out.

So he lets it buzz twice more before instinct wins over doubt.

He leans forward slowly, eyes finally dropping to the screen, preparing himself to feel that same old hit of disappointment in his chest. But it never comes.

My ____

Your name, exactly how it’s always been saved. He never changed it. Couldn’t bring himself to. Even on the nights where he told himself he had to move on and make peace with the silence — he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t erase that last bit of you from his phone.

His breath catches.

The glass is left forgotten on the table as he grabs the phone with both hands, like it might vanish if he hesitates too long. His thumb hovers over the green button for a brief second before answering.

He waits for your voice. He can hear the faint sound of your breathing on the other end, and a part of him fears that you'll end the call any second now.

But then, you speak.

“Hello?”

You're voice is quiet. A little uncertain.

Jungkook’s heart caves in.

Relief pours through him all at once, warm and slow, like the first beam of sunlight after a long winter. For a second, he can’t even speak.

Every second he spent waiting, every moment he kept himself from reaching out, all erupts at once, and now that he’s heard your voice again, really heard it, his body doesn't know whether to collapse or run to you.

He sags back into the couch like his body can finally rest for the first time in weeks.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice cracking around the edges.

You’re quiet on the other end, but he hears you breathe out hesitantly, like you’re testing the waters.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d answer.”

Jungkook closes his eyes for a moment, fingers tightening around the phone. “I almost didn’t,” he admits, voice low. “Thought it was another wrong number. Couldn’t take that again tonight.”

A soft exhale leaves you. He imagines you lying in bed, curled up in the way you always are, phone pressed to your ear, blanket tucked under your chin. The image cuts through him with a sharp kind of ache.

“I wasn’t planning to call,” you say. “Not really. I just... I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep.”

His throat tightens. “Yeah,” he says. “Me neither.”

There’s a pause. It stretches out just long enough that his chest starts to feel hollow again before you speak.

“When I said I needed time,” you begin, “I meant it. I needed to get my head right. I needed space to think without everything feeling so heavy.”

Jungkook nods even though you can’t see him. He presses a hand to his forehead, thumb brushing the curve of his brow. He doesn’t say anything yet. He doesn’t want to interrupt.

“I needed to figure out what I was even angry about. Or what I was still holding onto,” you continue. “And maybe... maybe I wanted you to grovel a little.”

That pulls a breathy laugh from him before he can stop it. It escapes rough and surprised, but warm, like something inside him shakes loose.

“You wanted me to grovel?” he echoes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I see how it is.”

“Well,” you say, and there’s a hint of something familiar in your voice now — that teasing edge he’s missed so much. “I figured if I was miserable, you should be at least a little miserable too.”

“Oh, I’ve been more than a little miserable,” he mutters, tilting his head back again, letting it rest against the cushion. “Trust me.”

You’re quiet again, like you're rethinking your words.

“I kept thinking about the last thing you said to me,” you murmur. “At the resort. About the kiss.”

His body tenses, guilt twisting in his gut.

“And I hated how much that hurt,” you say. “Because you saying it didn’t mean anything made me feel stupid. Like I was the only one still holding onto something. Like I’d made everything up in my head.”

“____…” His voice cracks again, thick with regret. “I didn’t mean that. I was being stupid. I was angry and confused and— I was hurt too. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“Well,” you say, “you were wrong.”

God, he doesn't know whether he wants to cry or to laugh. A part of him wants to drive through the night until he’s standing outside your door, but he stays still, grounded only by the quiet rhythm of your breathing in his ear.

“I miss you, Kook." The nickname he hasn't heard in so long, falls from your lips as a shaky whisper.

He closes his eyes. His fingers twitch around the phone, like he might shatter it if he grips any harder. For weeks, he’s imagined you saying his name again, and finally hearing it from you has his heart swelling.

“I miss everything,” you go on, voice smaller now. “I miss talking to you about dumb things. I miss your stupid socks on the floor. I miss the way you made coffee even though you always forgot to stir the sugar in.”

He lets out a small huff of air — a laugh that’s too close to a sob.

“I miss you too,” he says, swallowing hard. “So much.”

You let out a soft exhale from the other end.

“Okay,” you murmur, and it’s barely a whisper. “Then, if we're gonna give this one more chance, I want there to be rules. But right now I— I just want to see you. Please."

His heart stutters for a few beats.

“Now?” he echoes, like he doesn’t believe it.

You hesitate before saying softly, “Yeah. I want to see you.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice.

He’s already getting up, the couch creaking beneath him as he moves fast, grabbing his keys off the hook, pulling on the jacket that he'd draped over a chair after work. The phone stays clutched to his ear the entire time.

“I’m on my way,” he says, breathless.

He can hear your smile through the phone.

“Okay.”

You don’t move right away.

The lock clicks open beneath your hand with a sound that feels too loud in the quiet, and for a second you just stand there, fingers still curled around the knob, heart threatening to rattle right out of your chest. You tell yourself to breathe. Tell yourself you’re okay. That this is what you asked for. That you want this.

But the second the door eases open and you see him standing there, the air around you stills.

Jungkook is backlit by the hallway light, hair messy from the hood he’s now pushed back, black strands curling slightly from the mist in the air. He’s wearing a grey hoodie — one of those oversized ones you always stole when you were cold — and matching grey sweats, hand tucked into the pocket.

His eyes meet yours, wide and soft in that way that always made your chest ache, and for a long moment, neither of you speak.

You just look at him.

He’s thinner than he was five weeks ago. Not drastically, not in any way someone else might notice, but you see it instantly. You see it in the sharpness of his jaw, in the slight purple shadows under his eyes, in the way his mouth trembles just barely when he sees your face.

There’s a split second — just one — where you consider running. Because standing this close to him again feels like pressing on a bruise that never really healed.

But then he exhales, chest rising slow beneath his hoodie, and you know you won't run. You can't run — not from him.

Your mouth opens and closes briefly. You're not sure how to break the silence.

After you'd cut the call with a giddy smile on your face, you'd planned exactly what to say to him. But now that he's actually standing in front of you, all the words die on your tongue.

"You actually came," you eventually say. It's a stupid thing to say — you'd literally heard him as he grabbed his keys and stepped out of the house — but it's the only thing your lips can muster in the moment.

His mouth twitches, but it’s not quite a smile.

“Of course I did," he says. His voice is low and the words are laced with tiredness. “You called."

It takes everything in you not to break right there.

Your fingers curl against the doorframe. You step forward before you can talk yourself out of it — only a single step, but it’s all it takes. His hand lifts halfway from his pocket like he might reach for you, then stops.

So you reach first.

You press your palm gently against the fabric of his hoodie, right over his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart beneath your fingertips. He blinks down at you, lashes damp, breath caught.

Your hand is small against him, just a flat palm over soft cotton, but the way his chest stutters beneath your touch feels seismic.

Jungkook doesn’t speak.

He just looks at you, eyes flicking down to where your fingers rest over his heart, then back up again. The hallway light pools behind him like a spotlight, and for a second, all you can think is he’s here. He’s really here.

You don’t realise your hand has curled, fingers bunching in the fabric of his hoodie, until you feel the faint tremble in your knuckles. You’re not crying, but your eyes are hot, and there's a familiar burn growing in the back of your throat. When he finally lifts his hand and rests it gently on top of yours, the ache inside you swells.

Not because the gesture is romantic or anything, but because it's careful.

So careful, like he’s afraid too much pressure will send you backing away.

“I missed you,” he says, and his tone is quiet. Cautious, even. Like he’s testing the words on his tongue before committing to them fully.

You don’t respond at first. You just stand there, soaking in the weight of those words, letting them settle into the space between your ribs. There’s so much you want to say — I missed you too, I hated being apart, I thought about you every single day — but you’re not ready to spill that yet. You’re still trying to remember how to breathe when he looks at you like that. Like you're not just someone he loves. Like you're the only thing he’s sure of.

“I should probably let you in,” you murmur, voice tight.

Jungkook huffs something that's half a laugh and nods, stepping through the threshold with a quiet, “Thanks.”

His shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and though the touch is light, it leaves your skin burning. You shut the door behind him with a gentle click, and then it’s just the two of you. No anger or confusion in the air, no years of history clawing at the back of your throat.

Just you and him.

He looks around your apartment like he hasn’t seen it before. His eyes linger on the jacket you tossed over a chair, the slippers by the edge of your couch, the framed photo of the entire friend group that sits on your kitchen counter, frozen in time under a summer sunset.

“So,” he says, turning to face you again. “You said something about ground rules?”

You nod, arms crossing lightly over your chest. It's a defence mechanism more than anything, because if you don’t hold yourself together physically, you're afraid you might splinter into pieces just standing there.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Rules.”

He waits for you to continue and you take a breath.

“First of all — no more shutting me out. No more deciding what’s best for me without even talking to me about it.” You say it slowly, with intention, because you need him to hear you. “I’m not a puzzle to solve, Jungkook. I’m your partner. If we’re doing this again, we’re in it together. You don’t get to play martyr and walk away because you think you’re doing me a favour.”

He nods, shame flickering across his face like a shadow. “You’re right. I was an idiot.”

You don’t disagree.

“Second,” you say, stepping a tiny bit closer, “I need honesty. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable. I know communication is hard sometimes— God knows it is for me— but I can’t go through that again. I need to know what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. I don’t want to guess.”

Jungkook's voice is soft, a little hoarse. “Okay.”

You take another step. You’re close now — close enough that the scent of him hits you all at once. He still wears the same cologne, and it still makes your heart thump just a little faster.

“And third…” You hesitate, but only for a second. “You don’t get to kiss me unless you mean it. Not just because someone’s watching. Not just because it’s convenient. I need to know that when you touch me, it’s because you want to, and not just because you think you should.”

Jungkook’s mouth parts slightly. His brows knit. “I always mean it when I touch you.”

You believe him, but you needed to say it.

"So," you ask, almost shyly, “Do you still want this? Even with the rules?”

Jungkook steps forward so there’s barely any space left between you. His voice is low, but steady.

“I’ll follow every single one of them. And if you come up with more, I’ll follow those too.”

Your breath catches.

“I want you,” he continues, “however you’ll have me. And I’m sorry it took me so long to say it the right way. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you to make your own decisions. I— I'm sorry I left.”

Your eyes sting again. This time, you don’t fight it as hard.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “For letting you think I didn’t love you anymore. I should’ve said something sooner.”

“You didn’t have to,” he says. “I never stopped loving you. I don’t think I ever could.”

You press your forehead against his and let your eyes flutter shut as the warmth of his skin brushes yours.

Your fingers lift slowly, reaching up to touch his jaw. His skin is soft under your palm. So so soft.

He turns into your touch like he’s starved for it, like he's needed it for far too long and didn’t know how much until right now. You let your thumb brush across his cheekbone, and a moment of stillness passes before his lips are on yours.

The kiss starts tentative, almost unsure, like you’re both trying to remember the rhythm of something that once came so easily. But then he exhales through his nose and his hand comes up to the side of your neck, and it feels like the past few weeks haven't happened at all.

Because it doesn't feel like the days you spent not speaking your mind or saying things you don't mean in the heat of the moment.

It’s years of shared beds and grocery lists. It’s every late-night laugh, every sleepy touch, every quiet I love you that still lives in the walls of this very apartment. It’s the night he held you as you cried, the morning you curled around him when he fucked up an exam, the beach sunset where you first realised you couldn’t picture a future that didn’t have him in it.

When you pull back, you don’t open your eyes. You stay there, breathing him in. Letting the closeness settle and wrap around you like it always used to.

You feel his hands move down to skim your waist, both arms wrapping around you loosely.

When you speak again, your voice is quiet. “Do you want to stay?”

It’s not a question about tonight. Not really. But he answers both.

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “If you’ll let me.”

You nod and pull away, taking his hand into yours.

He follows you through the darkened hallway, your fingers laced between his. Neither of you speak, but there's a soft smile playing on both of your lips.

The bedroom light is off, but the city spills in through the half-cracked blinds, painting silver across your sheets.

You turn to face him again, and he lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to your knuckles. Then your wrist. Then the inside of it, just where your pulse beats under the skin. His lips linger there, and you swear he breathes in like he’s trying to memorise the rhythm.

You reach for the hem of his shirt.

Not urgently or desperately. You just need to feel him. All of him.

He lets you. Raises his arms and watches as you pull it over his head, the fabric falling to the floor between you.

He’s leaner than he used to be. Slightly more toned in some places, a little sharper in others. You trace the lines of him with your eyes first, then your hands. He’s always been beautiful to you, but there’s something else now. Something more vulnerable.

He lets you take your time as you relearn him.

You rest your palms against his bare chest. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and you can feel the way his heart stutters.

You kiss him again.

The way your lips move against each other is still unhurried, but laced with something heavier — a thread of longing that’s no longer restrained. You feel it in the way his hands slide over your back, and in the way he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

He pulls you closer, aligning your bodies together.

You gasp softly when his mouth finds the curve of your neck, and suddenly it’s so clear: how much you missed this. How much you missed him.

Not just the comfort of him, but the way he touched you like he knew your body better than anyone. The way he always slowed down when you needed it. The way he never tried to take — only ever tried to give.

Jungkook pulls back to look at you.

“I love you,” he says, like it’s the most important thing he’s ever said. “And I know we’re not fixed. I know we still have a lot to figure out. But if you’ll let me — I want to try. I really want to try.”

Your throat tightens, and your voice cracks when you answer, “Me too.”

You tug him gently by the waistband of his sweats, guiding him with you as you move backward, step by step, until the edge of the bed brushes the backs of your knees.

Your back meets the mattress with a gentle thud, the cotton sheets cool beneath your skin. Jungkook follows you down, his weight suspended by one forearm beside your head, his other hand still cupping your jaw.

The city light slices across his face, casting lines of moving silver across his skin.

You reach up and brush a strand of hair away from his forehead, then let your fingers trail down, just barely tracing the curve of his cheek, the edge of his mouth, the hollow of his throat. He lets you.

He always let you.

His lips move slowly against yours gently, and you realise with a strange ache that you’ve never felt rushed with him.

Even at the beginning, when everything was new, he always made space for you.

Your fingers find the slope of his shoulders, then slip lower — down the hard lines of his back, where his muscles shift under your touch. You press your palm against the nape of his neck, anchoring him to you.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, lips pressing wet kisses along your jaw. "So much."

Something deep inside you stirs — the kind of warmth that swells and swells until it makes your whole body feel full.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, fingers ghosting along the hem of your shirt. He doesn’t tug on the fabric until you nod, and when you do, he helps you sit up a bit before slipping the top over your head in one smooth motion.

His eyes dance across the expanse of your bare skin, which prickles under his gaze. He leans in to kiss your shoulder, then lower, just above your collarbone. Then just below.

Each press of his lips is slow and warm.

When his hand finally spans across your ribcage, fingers spreading wide, his touch is feather-light — almost too light — like he’s scared to bruise something delicate. But you’re not fragile. Not with him.

You slide your hands down his sides, thumbs brushing the waistband of his sweats.

He kisses the centre of your chest — open-mouthed, breath fanning warm across your skin — and for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you feel wholly wanted. Not in a performative way. Not like you’re being consumed.

But cherished.

Worshipped, almost.

Jungkook shifts to press kisses to your jaw, then your cheek, and finally your mouth again. His tongue slides gently against yours, and you sigh into it, tilting your head for more. His hand finds your hip, and you arch into him without thinking.

You can feel him now — hard, yet tentative, still holding himself back.

But you don’t want him to hold back.

You whisper his name against his mouth, barely audible.

He breathes, “Yeah?”

Your hands slip beneath the waistband of his sweats — just a little — just enough to make your meaning clear. He tenses for half a second, like he’s making sure this is still okay.

You look him in the eyes.

He exhales shakily, the sound catching at the back of his throat. Then he kisses you again — slower this time, like he’s savouring the feel of your mouth beneath his, letting it pull him under.

His hand slides up your waist, over your ribs, and he pauses just beneath your chest. You feel the way his fingers tremble, and it makes something in your throat go tight.

"Please, Koo," you breathe out.

He leans in, mouth pressing to the top of your breast before his lips trail across the curve of it. Each kiss feels deliberate, his breath warm, his voice even warmer when he murmurs against your skin, “So pretty.”

You shiver.

He doesn’t stop.

“So, so pretty,” he whispers again, like the words are meant for him more than you.

Your hands bury in his hair as his lips drag lower, brushing over the centre of your chest before he lifts himself just enough to look at you — really look at you.

His eyes search your face like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory. Like he knows this doesn’t erase the pain or the time you lost, but it means something.

“I love you,” he says again. The three words sound like a prayer falling from his lips — something he'd whisper against your skin because it's the only truth that matters right now.

You whisper it back without hesitation. “I love you too.”

He dips his head and kisses just beneath your breast, lips brushing across the tender skin there, the press so soft it borders on worship. His hand holds your waist steady, thumb stroking over your side with the kind of care that makes you melt a little deeper into the sheets.

Your body arches instinctively, chasing more of him.

He groans softly at the movement — like the feel of you against him might actually undo him.

“You don’t know how much I missed this,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “You have no idea.”

“I do,” you breathe. “I missed it too. Missed you.”

He leans in to kiss you again, and it's messier this time. You moan into him, and his hand slips down to your thigh, then back up again.

You guide him as your legs part slightly, wrapping loosely around his hips. He doesn’t push forward, doesn’t grind down. Just settles into the space you give him, chest pressing against yours, nose brushing your cheek, lips brushing whatever skin they can find.

His voice is nothing but breath as he speaks. “You’re perfect.”

You shake your head, the faint shade of embarrassment from how tender he's being painting your cheeks. But he lifts himself slightly, meets your gaze.

“I mean it.”

His hands skim down your thighs now, calloused fingertips dragging slowly along your skin. He presses a wet, open-mouther kiss to your stomach and whispers again, “Perfect.”

His mouth trails down and lingers just above your navel, lips parting slightly against your skin. You feel the way his breath stutters as he exhales there, chest brushing your inner thigh, and your hands instinctively tangle deeper in his hair.

Jungkook shifts lower, tracing a line of kisses along your hipbone, then across to the other side. Every movement is slow, and you'd be complaining if it didn't feel so good. It's as if he wants to stretch this out as long as he possibly can.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. “I hope you know that.”

And god, you're not sure how to feel when he says it like he truly believes it. Like he's not trying to convince of anything, only reminding you of something you forgot, and the feeling that embraces you is so overwhelming that you can feel that burn in the back of your throat again.

The first press of his mouth against you steals the air from your lungs. He groans quietly against you, like he’s been starved and finally, finally gets to taste something he missed more than he let himself admit. His hands stay steady on your thighs, fingers splayed, thumbs brushing small circles into your skin.

You suck in a breath, eyes fluttering shut as your hips tilt toward him, and he follows to adjust without hesitation, because he remembers exactly how to move with you. How to listen, not just to your words but to you as a whole. The way your body tightens under his mouth. The way you sigh when he slows down, and shiver when he picks it back up again.

You thread your fingers tighter through his hair, breathing his name when his tongue flicks just right, and he hums against you, sending low vibrations of pleasure coursing through you.

"Just like that," he murmurs, barely audible between kisses. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The tension builds, curling in your lower stomach, spreading heat through your limbs. Your breaths come faster and more shallow, hips twitching toward him without meaning to. Jungkook places his hands firmly on your thighs, anchoring you in place, giving you something to push against.

Your orgasm hits you as a sharp inhale and a soft, broken moan slipping past your lips. Your back arches off the mattress, thighs trembling, and your hand laces with Jungkook's tightly. It rolls through you in waves, stealing your breath and scattering your thoughts.

Jungkook lets you ride out your high against his mouth, only moving away when you let out a soft whine.

As the feeling starts to ease, you sink back into the bed. Your chest rises and falls in uneven pulls of air, and your fingers stay wrapped in his.

Through the haze, you blink down at him, a soft smile curling at the corners of your lips.

Jungkook looks up at you through his lashes, and the sight alone makes your breath hitch.

He presses one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before shifting up, his hands gliding over your waist as he makes his way back to you. The sheets rustle quietly beneath his weight, and when he leans in, you meet him halfway.

The kiss is messy, a little dizzying, and you taste yourself on his tongue. It makes your cheeks flush, but you don’t pull away. You only press closer, sighing into his mouth, your fingers sliding up the back of his neck to keep him there a moment longer.

When you finally break apart, your nose brushes his, and you can still feel his breath against your lips.

“I need you, Kook,” you whisper.

He lets out a low sound at the tone of your voice.

You let your fingers drift down his skin until they reach the waistband of his sweats. You tug gently, and he shifts up to help you, pushing them down, then off completely.

You rise slightly, tugging him back toward you, your mouths meeting again in a kiss that’s so so soft. Your legs part again, wrapping around his waist with ease, and this time, you feel him settle fully between them.

His hands cradle your hips, thumbs stroking over the sensitive dip there. Your hands cup his face as your mouths press together over and over, and every kiss is more desperate than the last. You can feel just how much he wants you in the way he kisses you. Like he’s making up for all the ways he held back before.

When he finally rocks his hips forward, just enough to feel the drag of you against him, your breath catches in your throat.

You arch into him, chasing more of that friction, and your body trembles with the anticipation of it.

“Are you sure?” he breathes, voice already wrecked from the feeling of you against him.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” you say, holding his gaze. “Never been more sure about something.”

He exhales, a small smile playing on his lips before leaning in to kiss you again, and there's so much love behind it that you could drown.

His kiss swallows your answer like he’s tucking it away somewhere inside himself. His hands press more firmly to your body now, mapping the curve of your waist and the dip of your spine.

He leans his forehead against yours, nose brushing gently along your cheek. “I dreamed about this,” he admits. “Almost every night. Not just the way you feel, but this. Being close. Being yours again.”

Your heart clenches, pulled taut with the weight of his honesty. You tilt your head just enough to kiss his jaw, then again at the corner of his mouth.

“You've always been mine,” you whisper, with a small breath of laughter. And it feels good to say the words out loud and finally allow them to rest in the air between you.

The last thread of hesitation slips loose as he finally pushes in, giving you every second to feel him stretch into you and open around him. Your lips part in a quiet gasp, and his brow furrows instantly, like the sound physically affects him.

“Fuck,” he says. “You’re—”

He cuts himself off with a groan, kissing you again, almost like he needs to because it’s the only way to hold himself together as he bottoms out.

Your fingers clutch at his back, nails dragging faint lines across his skin as you adjust to the fullness of him, and the sound he makes in response — a broken, breathless moan pressed into the skin of your shoulder — has you clenching around him.

He doesn’t move at first. He just stays there, buried in you, letting the moment settle.

You cradle his face again, lips brushing his temple.

“Please,” you whimper, and it's all it takes for him to give in.

Every thrust is slow but deep. His hips roll with aching precision, drawing soft sounds from your throat with each dragging press, and he swallows every one of them like he’s starving for them.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, barely audible. “You’re perfect, you always— fuck— always were.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck again, pulling him closer, and he drops his forehead to yours, your bodies rocking together.

There's barely any moments where his lips aren't on your skin. He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck, everywhere.

“Look at me,” he says, voice breaking.

You do, and you watch as he falls apart a little right there under your gaze.

He looks at you like he's witnessing the very thing that hold the stars in place, that if he stares long enough, he might finally understand how the universe works. There’s something raw in his gaze — a mix of awe, relief, and maybe a little disbelief — like he can’t quite believe you’re here, touching him and choosing him all over again.

His movements falter, just slightly — a soft tremble in his thighs, a caught breath in his chest — and his hand finds yours on the sheets, fingers interlacing without hesitation. He squeezes once, and you squeeze back.

He leans down and kisses you, and it's the type that lingers and settles into your bones. You tilt your chin to meet it, breath catching as he rolls his hips again, a little deeper this time.

You whimper into his mouth.

“You’re so good,” he breathes. “You feel so good, angel.”

Goosebumps arise across your skin at the nickname.

His free hand roams across you, fingertips ghosting along your skin like he’s sketching the outline of everything he lost. It rises to cup your jaw, thumb stroking the corner of your mouth.

Your lips part again, a quiet moan catching between his fingers.

“That’s it… that’s my girl.”

Fuck, how you've missed this. Missed him like this. Not just the way he touches you, but the way he loves you out loud, with everything he has and with every inch of himself.

His pace deepens again, rhythm rocking you into the mattress with each pass of his hips. Your body starts to tighten around him, tension winding low in your stomach — a slow, blooming pleasure that spreads with every stroke and every broken whisper of your name.

His nose brushes yours. “You close?”

You nod, unable to find words.

He slides his hand between you, fingers finding the spot that’s always made you fall apart the fastest. He moves his fingers against your core, and your legs shake around his waist, hips rolling up into his.

“Let go,” he whispers. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just let go for me.”

You do.

The wave breaks over you, your body trembling under his as your release pulls a cry from your throat. His name is the only thing that falls from your lips as pleasure courses through you.

He follows you just moments later, hips stuttering as he buries himself one last time, spilling into you with a quiet, ragged moan.

Your name leaves his lips over and over again, like a prayer.

Your name, and I love you, like it's the four words he knows how to say.

You feel his weight settle just a little more on top of you, the tension in his arms easing as his body finally lets go.

Eventually, his voice quietens as he comes down from his high, and a comfortable silence fills the room.

You run your fingers slowly through his hair, the damp strands sticking slightly to your palm, and his breath fans warm against your collarbone.

He exhales shakily, the tension in his body starting to soften as he presses one more kiss to your skin. It's nothing more than a brush of lips, but it makes your chest ache all the same.

He shifts slightly, kissing your shoulder again before slipping out of you slowly, like the thought of putting even an inch of space between you stings. You exhale at the loss, but before the air has even left your lungs, he’s pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your chest to his like he needs to feel every part of you still there.

His hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin gently.

Then, a breath hitches in his chest, too sharp to be from exertion. His hand loosens against your cheek, fingers curling into a soft fist near your jaw.

You whisper, “Kook?”

He tries to answer, but it catches in his throat. Instead, he presses his face into the side of your neck, and you can feel it fully now — the way his body begins to tremble, the tears he tries but fails to hide.

“Hey,” you breathe, hands moving up to cradle his face. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

But he shakes his head against you, arms coming around your waist like he needs to hold you closer to survive it.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice wrecked and a bit uneven. “Fuck— I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no. Jungkook—” You kiss the crown of his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I promise you, we’re okay now.”

He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, and the sight guts you.

His cheeks are damp. His lashes clumped. His mouth trembling with something he can’t bite down.

“I almost lost you,” he whispers. “I thought I could live with it— that maybe it was what you needed— but I couldn’t. Fuck— I really couldn't.”

You press your forehead to his again, tears pricking your own eyes now, but you blink them back.

“I was right here,” you say softly. “Even when I wasn’t. I was still yours.”

He swallows hard, his thumb brushing a faint streak of dampness from your cheek. “I didn’t know if I’d ever get this again. Not just the sex— this. You. Your voice. Your touch. Your arms around me. I missed you so fucking much it hurt to breathe.”

Your hands find his face, thumbs brushing over the wet lines beneath his eyes.

“I missed you too,” you say. “Every single day.”

His mouth finds yours again, the pressure featherlight.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only far enough to press soft kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your jaw, as if he’s trying to soothe you and himself at the same time.

Eventually, you feel his hands trace your sides, lingering at your waist before he lifts them reluctantly, as though a part of him still isn’t ready to let go.

He leans in once more, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, and then another to your shoulder before slipping out of bed with a quiet rustle of sheets. He slips on his sweatpants again and disappears long enough to get a towel and a bottle of water.

He helps you clean up gently, and when you're finally able to just curl into him beneath the sheets, legs tangled, arms wound around his torso, he tucks your head beneath his chin with a content sigh.

“I love you,” he whispers again, voice small in the dark.

You press a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you more.”

He smiles — you can feel it against your forehead — and pulls you impossibly closer.

You fall asleep like that — tangled up in everything you never thought you’d get to feel again.

Morning doesn’t rush you.

The world outside the window begins to stir, but inside these four walls, time moves different. It stretches and breathes. Jungkook shifts beside you with a sleepy sigh, and you feel it again — that quiet swell in your chest.

The day eventually pulls you out of bed. You make coffee in his hoodie. He watches you move around the kitchen like it’s the most captivating thing he’s ever seen. You both laugh when he accidentally adds salt instead of sugar, and neither of you care that the pancakes burn slightly because you’re too busy kissing over the stove.

You spend the day close.

Brushing shoulders when you pass in the hallway. Sharing a blanket on the couch. Washing dishes together with music playing low in the background. At one point, he comes up behind you while you’re towel-drying a mug, wraps his arms around your waist, and presses a kiss to the side of your neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Because it is. It always was.

You don’t talk about the weeks apart because you don’t need to. It’s all still there, woven into the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, or the way you catch yourself touching his wrist just to make sure he’s real.

When night falls again, you fall asleep with the window cracked open, the breeze lifting the curtains, his heartbeat steady under your ear.

And when you wake to find his hand still tangled in yours, you don’t think about what comes next.

You’ll talk more, and keep talking. You’ll argue sometimes, and figure it out anyway. You’ll laugh in grocery store aisles and fall asleep on the couch and maybe cry again, too — but you’ll stay.

Because now, you both know what it means to leave.

And even more than that:

You know what it means to come back.

extended author’s note: I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS TECHNICALLY THE END OF THESE TWO :<< they’ve been my babies since april and i’m so attached for no reason hdjdjs

writing the smut for this — as i briefly mentioned before — was such a love hate experience. i literally didn’t know how to go about it, but it ended up being really dramatic (i’ve been reading classics lately and you can tell with the writing LMAO) but i think it ended up okay. it’s not as explicit as what i usually write but i do think it fits these two better. but yeah, pls don’t be mad at me for it not being as detailed as other stuff i’ve written 😖

i am planning on writing a little epilogue (hint: proposal) but it’ll be a while before it’s out cuz i’ve bitten off a lot more than i can chew so i just need to focus on other projects for a bit. also (i’m gonna make a proper post explaining all this) but i’m gonna try and have a good few works pre-written so that when i start classes again in september and get extremely busy, you guys still have something to read. life does get hectic though so i have no idea how things are gonna go, but we stay optimistic :)

a little special thanks to my angel, j @tranquilreign, because i swear to you, half of this series wouldn’t have existed without her. she’s helped me so so much with scenes and ideas for the plots and has listened to me yap endlessly about this. i also wanna thank isa @page-isa, who has even had to suffer with me talking about this couple irl while we hang out 😟. she also beta read this chapter while i spiralled about it :)) i genuinely don’t know what i’d do without you both and i love you soo much <3

and of course, i want to thank each and every one of you reading this right now. words cannot describe how much i love you guys, like my heart is genuinely going to burst. this series has received so much more love than i expected, and i’m so so sooo grateful for each ask i receive and every comment and pieces of feedback you guys leave. it all means the entire world to me, and i hope that i can continue to write things you guys enjoy. i fucking adore you so much, please never forget that. MWAHHH <333

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tranquilreign · 1 month ago

Text

I'M SO BEHIND IN READING PEEPS WORKS I PROMISE I'LL GET TO IT AND GIVE YOU MY THOUGHTS!! <3

CRAVE YOU ⭒ JJK

in which jungkook comes feral with need to ruin you on the kitchen counter.

pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

genre — established relationship, romance, smut, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, dirty talk, rough sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, possessiveness, kitchen counter sex, passionate sex, oral sex (f. receiving), clit stimulation, fingering, breast play, nipple play, light spanking, praise kink, intense orgasms, longing and love confessions

wc — 1.7k

a/n — this short drabble has been sitting in my drafts, so decided to post it! <3

m. list

────୨ৎ────

The day had been endless.

Each second felt like an eternity as jungkook sat trapped in his office.

The place was like a prison for him and the constant tap tap of the keyboard barely did anything to drown out his thoughts.

Those thoughts were all of you.

You with your soft skin that he could still feel under his fingertips from this mornings rushed goodbye kiss.

Your little whimper along with the little hitch in your breath when he touched you just right.

The way your body fits so perfectly against his, like you were made for him.

His fingers drummed against his desk, feeling restless, his mind imagining vivid pictures of you sprawled across the bed waiting for him.

Needy and aching just like he was.

He shifted in his chair, the tight pull of his pants against his hardening cock making him grit his teeth.

It was torture.

This want, this need, had him fuming all day and it was growing hotter with every passing hour.

He could see you so clearly in his head—your hair messy on the pillow, thighs parted and your cunt already wet and glistening.

Begging for him.

His hands clenched, nails digging into his palms as he fought the urge to grab his phone and text you something dirty, something that would have you squirming until he could get his hands on you.

But he held back.

He wanted to save it all, let this primal hunger build until he could pour it into you the second he walked through the door.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, his heart was racing, almost matching with the throb in his cock as he fumbled with his keys at the front door.

The familiar smell of your shared home hit him as he stepped inside, heady and sweet, wrapping around him.

The house was quiet except for the faint clatter from the kitchen.

So he guessed where you were.

He took off his shoes, already shrugging out of his suit jacket, it was too tight and confining against his hard muscles.

He followed the sound, each step increasing his need.

And there you were.

Standing at the sink, your back to him, wearing one of his old t-shirts that was loose on you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.

Your legs were bare and smooth and he could see the curve of your hips.

You were humming a quiet tune and you hadn’t heard him yet.

That made it better somehow—gave him a moment to just look at you, to let the sight of you ignite the fire in his chest until it was unbearable.

“Baby.”

His voice coming out raspy, like he'd been holding it in for too long.

You jumped a little, turning fast, a soft gasp escaping from your lips.

Your eyes locked on his and he saw it right away—the way they darkened, the way your eyes were dilated with the same hunger he felt.

Your cheeks flushed and his gaze dropped, catching the hard peaks of your nipples pressing against his t-shirt.

Fuck

You were already so ready for him.

He could tell by the way you shifted, pressing your thighs together that you were dripping and you'd been thinking of him too.

“kookie…” you said.

Voice breathy, trembling with need

“You’re home.”

He didn’t bother with words.

He crossed the distance with quick steps, hands finding your waist, pulling you hard against him making you squeak as you gripped his chest.

You felt so good, so soft, your curves fitting in his like you belonged there.

Without wasting any time, he kissed you fierce and hungrily, tongue entering into your mouth, tasting you—sweet like the strawberries you'd probably been eating earlier.

“mhmm”

You made a soft, needy sound, your hands grabbing at his shirt, fingers shaky as you tried to match his intensity.

“God, I missed you.”

He growls against your lips.

His hands slid down, grabbing your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you whine.

“All fucking day baby, couldn’t think straight, kept thinking about this sexy body.”

He all but groans as he pressed himself closer, letting you feel how hard he was, his cock straining against his boxers.

And the way you moaned high and desperate nearly broke him.

“jungkook, please,” you whispered shakily.

Your fingers fumbling with his belt.

“I’ve been—I’ve been thinking about you too. I couldn’t—oh!”

Your words cut off as he lifted you against the counter, the coldness biting into your bare thighs.

He spreads your thighs, stepping between them, bunching the t-shirt at your waist revealing your panties, the fabric soaked through, clinging to your puffy folds.

“Fuck, such a naughty girl…”

He grumbles as he presses his fingers against your clit through the damp panty, circling slowly.

Your head fell back, lips parted, a soft cry slipping out and he watched, his nostrils flaring, struggling to control himself at the way your body responded to him.

“All this for me huh?”

“You’ve been dripping like this, waiting for me to come home and take care of you?”

“Yes yes.” you babbled.

Your hips rocking against his hand, chasing the pressure.

“I tried touching myself too but it wasn’t enough. I—I needed you so bad.”

His cock twitched at that, a low sound rumbling in his throat.

He yanked your panties down, tossing them somewhere behind him and the sight of you—bare pussy quivering and clenching around nothing—made his mouth go dry.

He didn’t wait.

He couldn’t wait.

His fingers slide through your slit, spreading your slickness, teasing your clit until you were shaking.

“Aahhh mm, yes!” you keened.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he huffs roughly.

His words turn you on even further and he plunges two fingers inside you, curling them just right, expertly hitting that spot and your back arches off the counter.

“So tight, so warm I've been dreaming about this all day, sweetheart. About you spread open like this begging for me.”

“kookie, oh god.”

Your hands gripped the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles went white.

“Please don’t tease me, need your cock please.” you coo

He didn’t need convincing.

He didn’t have the heart to deny his baby.

His hands were shaking as he undid his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself.

His cock was hard and heavy, the tip already leaking precum and he gave himself a few strokes, his hand wrapped around his length, eyes locked on your pussy as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Look at me.” he said softly.

Like he was grounding himself in you.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his and the raw, open need in them and the way your eyes were teary made his chest tight.

“That’s my girl. Wanna see you when I fuck you.”

He pushed into you slowly, feeling the way your cunt stretched around him so tight and warm, it made his vision blur.

It felt like coming home.

You cried out long and broken, your head tipping back as he filled you inch by inch until he was buried deep.

The sensation was almost too much—your walls fluttering, pulling him in and both of you were going dizzy.

“Dammit.” he grits out.

His hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You feel so fucking good. Missed this pussy.”

“Nghh kookie, you’re so big.” you whined.

Your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Don’t stop, please…”

He didn’t.

He started moving slowly at first, letting you feel every inch as he pulled out and thrust back in quickly and you struggled to breathe.

The slick, obscene sound of your bodies loud in the kitchen.

Your moans got louder and more shaky, each one pushing him to go harder and deeper as he growled.

The counter creaked under you but he didn’t care—he was lost in you, in the way your pussy gripped him.

Your nails scratched at his shoulders, your lips remain parted in a sob as you looked at him like he was everything.

“Baby, you take me so well.” he snarls.

His thrusts getting more desperate.

He looks at the way your tits bounces under your shirt, he leans down, sucking one of your nipples through the fabric, wetting it under his tongue.

You sobbed out, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging hard.

“Love these perky breasts of yours. These nipples are always hard for me hmm? All mine, right?”

You were lost in the way he pounds you, too mindless to listen to him or answer him and that leads him to spank your ass, making you hiss.

“Answer me.” he scoffs.

“Yes kookie, yours.” you wail

Your voice breaking.

“Missed you so much, needed you—ohh fuck, right there!”

He shifted, angling his hips to hit that spot inside you, the one that made your eyes roll back, your moans turning into full on unrestrained sobs.

He could feel you getting close, your walls tightening, thighs shaking around his hips.

His hand slid down between you, fingering your clit and rubbing fast, tight circles that had you screaming his name.

“Come for me, sweet girl.” he husks.

“Wanna feel you come on my cock. Show me how much you missed me.”

“jungkook. jungkook.” you chanted.

“I’m—oh gosh I’m gonna—”

Your words broke into a high, shuddering yelp as you came, pussy clenching so tight around him his hips stuttered.

You writhed, your body arching, nails digging into his back as the pleasure hits you hard, seeing stars behind your vision.

That was it for him.

He thrust deep one last time, his cock pulsing as he came, spilling inside you with a ragged groan.

“Shit.” he gasped.

His forehead presses to yours, both of you sweating and panting.

“That was good.”

He rasped out a deep chuckle.

You were still trembling, your arms wrapping around him, pulling him close.

His tongue entered into your mouth as he lazily kissed you, tasting the saltiness of the sweat and the tears you shed from the intensity.

“I love you.”

He said quietly, still breathless.

“Missed you so damn much.”

“I love you too, koo…” you said

Your voice hoarse from all the noises, but you're shy now that it ended, his cock still inside you, not leaving just yet.

Your fingers traced slow circles on his back.

“Don’t leave me like that again.”

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Never pretty girl. Never.”

────

permanent taglist: @chaelvrx @wintaemoonjen @slutology00 @furioustrashlover @kelsyx33 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @minewlove @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lachesismoonmist @angelfuzzy2 @levisnumber1 @angelsdecalcomania @magicalnachocreator @hynjamkook @koodollylvr @withmuchluv-tannie @istarag @elmarimochi9513 @wtfanu @kooklv @endlesslysassy @nanisblogg @tatamicc @mokaliciouss @armybomb-infires @jiniminisworld @seokjinthescientist @gyeomibearr @xmiaacxio @n0chuprettykook @gizaspicebag @aaclariww @dollytingz @pokalunolino @bunnies-only @cuntygguk @whoisbaek15 @lachimochala @tranquilreign @j0cgr0c @ninglyss @cheolew @iheqrtete @skinnystalker @weaslyswizarding-wheezes

#jungkook smut #gukcnt #read later

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tranquilreign · 1 month ago

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Wow! 500 of you guys!!

thank you all so much for following me! I apologise for the lack of posts/fics but I will be getting back to it! thank you all again! I can't tell you how much this means to me! <3

#bts #tranquilreign #wooooow

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tranquilreign · 1 month ago

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AHHH SO EXCITED WILL READ LATERRRR (DOM JK FOR THE WIIIIN)

02 | BOUND BY VOWS ⭒ JJK

pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

warnings/tags — 18+, protective!jungkook, angry!jungkook, emotional trauma, power dynamics, hurt and comfort, grief, fear of intimacy, several intense crying scenes, emotional distress, abuse and manipulation from readers father, mentions of fear, isolation, break down, miscommunication, argument, betrayal, trust issues

wc — 5.2k

a/n — this chapter is relatively short, but I promise the next part will be longer—and probably a smut, finally hehe. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and feedback is appreciated! <3

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

The week before the wedding unfolded, each day was relentless slowly bringing you closer to the cage made up by jungkook and your father.

A constant reminder of the life you were being forced into.

Every broken room you entered which you were so used to transformed for a marriage you dreaded.

Your small apartment now full of luxury with extravagant gowns to choose from.

The dresses were masterpieces.

Each fabric delicate and every one of them was adorned with lavish details, the dresses hugging your curves like they were meant to be.

One gown the chosen one was a work of art—it was sparkly, floor length and so light it seemed to float.

You ran your fingers over the fabric, its softness causing a pang in your chest—once you might have dreamed of such a dress.

Childish dreams of wearing a beautiful wedding gown like a princess and meeting your prince.

But now you hated it.

Because it would snatch your life from you.

The dressmakers cooed over you as they adjusted the dress, needles in their hands.

“You’ll be the most beautiful bride.”

One said, her eyes full of admiration.

You forced a smile, lips trembling but inside you wanted to lash out.

Beautiful?

You felt like a doll dressed up to be somewhere you hadn’t chosen to be.

You felt like a prisoner.

The mirror in front of you reflected a stranger—your hair down and styled to perfection, skin flushed with a forced glow from makeup.

Anyone that would see you would see a happy bride.

Your eyes though, betrayed, red rims from nights spent sobbing into your pillow.

There were several jewelry pieces everywhere—diamond rings and necklaces, each piece more expensive than the last.

You wore a delicate necklace, its small diamond stones were dazzling, with matching earrings.

The planners were there constantly, invading your space with samples of everything.

Menus of dishes you'd never tasted were sent for you to approve.

A towering wedding cake that almost seemed too beautiful to be real with its fondant roses and small art designs.

“Everything is to your taste.”

The woman assured you, smiling.

“mr. jeon was specific, he wanted it to be perfect for you.”

You nodded, throat tight.

You didn’t care about the flowers, the gown or anything.

You didn’t care about any of it.

Your father was a different creature in these days, his usual scowl replaced by a greediness in his eyes.

He roamed through the chaos barking orders at the staff reveling in the wealth this marriage would bring him.

“Look at this y/n.”

He said one afternoon, holding a box containing an expensive bracelet jungkook had sent.

“This is what you’re marrying into. Don’t mess it up.”

His voice was sharp, lacing with warning and you shook, fear knotting your stomach once again.

“I don’t want this.” you whisper.

He laughed, the sound cruel.

“You don’t get a choice, girl. You're doing this for your mother… or do you want her to die because of you?”

The words hits you deeper each time he says them.

You turn away, hands trembling and retreated to your room, the only place you could breathe though even that was tainted.

The flowers invaded here too, their scent too suffocating now and there are piles of fabrics and dresses on your bed.

You sank to the floor, back against the wall and buried your face in your hands, the tears coming out fast.

“I can’t do this.” you sobbed.

“I can’t be her. I can’t be trapped like her.”

Your mother's face haunted you, she was so close to death.

You couldn’t tell her about the marriage, couldn’t confess the terror that consumed you.

She'd always wanted you to have a life free from the pain she'd endured but now you were walking into the same hell like she did.

Trapped forever.

You'd promised her you'd be strong, but strength felt impossible when every moment was a countdown to your misery.

The nights were the worst.

When the planners left and the apartment was silent, you'd lie in bed in the darkness.

The sheets, once comforting did nothing to help you.

You cried until your throat was raw, sobs shaking your entire body.

This was your last week of freedom, the final days before you'd be stuck to a man you feared.

A man whose dark eyes and presence had already invaded your nightmares.

You imagined jungkook as a shadow of your father, his wealth and power only increasing his cruelty that you'd grown up with.

The thought made you curl into yourself as if you could shield yourself.

The planners noticed your silence, your lack of enthusiasm.

“Every bride is nervous.” one said.

“You’re so lucky to be marrying mr. jeon, he’s sparing no expense.”

The word felt like a slap, and you wanted to scream out that this wasn’t luck—you were pressured into this.

But you stayed quiet, eyes dull as you nodded.

You'd learned long ago that speaking out only brought pain.

jungkook's influence was everywhere, his wealth reshaped your world in a way that you struggled to adjust to.

Gifts arrived daily—each item chosen with care, exactly to your preferences that your father had fed to jungkook's team but they felt like bribes.

Attempts to buy your dreams you no longer believed in.

You touched them slightly as if they might burn you and left them untouched in their boxes, their beauty barely affecting you.

One evening as the sun was setting, giving the room a glow, a woman handed you a velvet box.

Inside was a delicate silver locket, engraved with tiny roses and a single diamond at its center.

“From mr. jeon.” she said.

Her voice full with awe.

“He thought you’d like something personal.”

You opened it, lips parting and found it empty except for the locket—no photo, no note, just a hollow space like the man he was.

You snapped it shut and set it aside, chest tight with anger and grief.

The final fitting felt like torment, with the dressmakers around you with their tape measures and pins.

You stood still, letting them do their thing and listened to their chatter—how lucky you were, how grand the wedding would be and how every detail was perfect.

Perfect. The word was nothing but a lie.

When they left, you collapsed onto your bed, the gown still on suffocating you, too tired to take it off as you clutched the bedsheets.

“I’m sorry mom. I'm trying to save you… but I’m losing myself.”

The words were for the empty room, a pain that no one answered to.

You were alone, a bride surrounded with luxury she didn't want and you were counting down the hours until your freedom was gone.

Forever.

۶ৎ

The morning of your wedding broke through like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

Stuck in it.

You stood wearing the gown.

It hugged you like a second skin while the long flowing fabric stretched behind you, pooling on the floor.

Despair pressed against your chest.

Your hands shook as you touched the veil.

Your eyes swollen from crying were hidden behind light makeup, cheeks flushed with blush and your lips painted with a glossy rose pink but that did nothing to hide the way your lips quivered.

No amount of makeover could erase the sadness etched in your features, the emptiness in your eyes.

The floor was a polished marble, cold beneath your bare feet as you stood, too numb to slip into the heels waiting nearby.

The women bustled around you, their hands adjusting your veil, smoothing your gown and trying to perfect you for the monster waiting for you.

“You look like an angel.”

You didn’t respond, chest aching with the weight of unshed tears that you couldn’t let out because it would ruin your makeup.

You looked at the mirror and you saw not a bride but a broken girl bound to a fate she couldn’t escape.

The venue itself was a display of wealth, along with hundreds of strangers you didn’t recognize in suits and gowns, their talks low as they awaited the ceremony.

The aisle was decorated with scattered petals leading to an altar, the air thick with the scent of candles and flowers.

The soft music playing in the background did nothing to dim your mourning.

Your father stood at your side, his grip on your arm bruising, his face holding fake pride, reminding you of the man he'd always been.

“Don’t ruin this.”

He hissed under his breath.

“Smile or I’ll make sure your mother pays for it.”

The threat knotted your stomach until you thought you might break.

You nodded, a single tear streaming down your cheek and he tugged you forward, forcing you to walk.

The aisle stretched before you, each step of yours felt heavy.

Your heart pounded loudly in your ears, drowning out the music.

The guests eyes bore into you, their stares a mix of awe and pity but you didn’t meet them.

Your vision blur with tears as you didn’t try to look forward at the man standing for you.

Your soon to be husband.

The thought nauseating you.

You focused on the petals beneath your feet, your gown trailing behind you just like your life that you were leaving behind.

Your hands clutched a bouquet of lilies, fighting to keep your sobs silent.

At the altar stood jungkook, his presence terrifying you.

His suit was simple yet elegant.

Its black in color and tailored to accommodate his broad shoulders and muscular frame.

His man bun was sleek, a few dark strands escaping to frame his rugged face.

His dark eyes locked onto yours the moment you appeared, their intensity enough to make your knees buckle.

His hands clasped before him, the veins prominent.

The scars on his knuckles were visible from his life, the one fought and won.

His scent—smoke and something uniquely masculine—reached you even from a distance, stirring a warmth in your chest that you pushed away.

As you reached him, your father released you and you stood before jungkook, trembling like a leaf, feeling his gaze on you like a physical touch.

You couldn’t look at him.

Your eyes fixed on the floor, anything but the man who was about to claim you.

Your tears fell freely now and though you couldn’t see it, his heart raced in a quick rhythm that matched your own.

You were a vision in his eyes—the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Your fragile self and sorrow only deepening the possessiveness in his chest.

But your tears and the way you shrank from him angered him for a reason he didn't know why—not at you but at whatever had brought you to his state.

He wanted to reach for you.

To wipe away your pain but your father's earlier words echoed in his mind.

“She’s just emotional about leaving her family.”

He clenched his jaw, hands tightening, restraining the urge to act.

The priest's voice started, his words about love and unity felt mocking against your reality. You barely heard him, mind swirling with your grief.

The vows came too soon, your voice quivering as you forced the words out, each of your words a lie that you had to admit against your will.

“I… I take you jeon jungkook, to be my husband…”

Your voice cracked, a sob escaping and you pressed your lips together, fighting to continue.

“For better and f—for worse”

The words were bitter in your mouth, and you choked on them. Your tears are constantly there, a whimper slipping from between your lips.

jungkook's voice when he spoke was steady and sure, a deep rumble but there was a softness beneath it.

A gentleness you didn’t expect

“I take you y/n, to be my wife. To protect and love in sickness and in health.”

“Until death do us part.”

His words a vow, not just to the priest but to you and they stirred something in you.

A flicker of something.

He took your hand and you gasped, the warmth of his touch a shock against your cold skin. His hand was large and calloused, the roughness of his palm so different than you.

His fingers curled around yours, not tightly but with a deliberate care that made your breath hitch.

The ring he slid onto your finger was a band of diamonds, each small stone was twinkling like a tiny star, catching the candlelight.

It was beautiful, simple yet extravagant, chosen because it reminded him of you—delicate, precious.

And unique…

But to you it felt like a heavy weight against your fingers, something that’s going to bind you to a life you didn’t want.

You slid a plain platinum band onto his finger, hands shaking so badly you nearly dropped it.

The priest's final words were like a death sentence to you.

“I now announce you both as husband and wife.”

You wept openly now, your body shaking, sobs coming out raw and broken.

The guests clapped, their applause barely reaching your ears because you felt only the weight of your free life being taken away from you.

The ring around your finger felt like chains that were about to keep you locked up.

You hated this moment, hated the ring.

Hated the man before you.

Even though a small traitorous part of you wondered at the gentleness of his hand, the way his touch hadn’t hurt you or bruised you like your fathers always had.

“You may kiss the bride.” the priest said.

Your heart stopped.

You looked up at jungkook, meeting his eyes for the first time and the look in his gaze stole your breath.

His dark eyes softened, a flicker of tenderness breaking through them and it almost terrified you.

Your bottom lip trembled, a mewl escaping as he stepped closer.

His hand cupped your cheek.

His touch felt like a caress of feather, even though the hard callouses of his hand sent shivers down your spine.

His thumb brushing away a tear that escaped.

“Don’t cry.” he murmurs, huskily.

His whisper was meant only for you.

“I’ve got you.”

He leaned in and you closed your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for something forceful, something cold.

But his lips met yours in a soft, fleeting peck, brushing against yours with a warmth that was over before you could process it.

The kiss was respectful and restrained.

As if he knew you weren’t ready and it left goosebumps all over you, your lips tingling with an unfamiliar heat.

It was your first kiss, stolen on the day you dreaded the most and the realization made your tears fall harder.

He pulled back, breath hot against your skin and whispered.

“I’ll protect you y/n, always… I promise.”

His words were another vow, your mind reeling and assuming that all his words were just a lie in order to get you to be his slave.

Even though a small part of you told you otherwise, which you refused to acknowledge.

You turned away as you clutched the bouquet, the petals crumbling under your grip just like your life.

The crowd cheered, their voices distant, you only felt the ghost of his lips and the cage closing around you.

jungkook stood beside you, frame towering like a threat, his own heart tangling with mixed emotions.

He didn’t understand your tears and didn’t know the depth of your pain.

But he knew one thing.

You were his now.

And he'd burn the world to keep you safe.

Even if you hated him for it.

The ceremony ended with you walking back down the aisle, his hand at the small of your back, the touch both comforting and suffocating.

You didn’t look at him, didn’t speak, your tears falling like rain as you mourned for the life you’d lost and the cage you’d just entered.

Locked up forever.

The future was dark in front of you.

And you didn’t know if you’d ever find light again.

۶ৎ

You were currently in jungkook's house after the wedding.

The bedroom was dimly lit with candles that lined the nightstand, their glow casting across the masculine decor of his room.

A king sized bed with charcoal silk sheets.

The scent in his room was heavy with a clean male scent that was uniquely jungkook's and a sharp smell of cigarette smoke.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your small frame hunched as if trying to disappear.

The simple white dress you wore after the ceremony—clung to you.

Your hands gripped the sheets, fingers twisting the silky material until your knuckles whitened, the texture grounding you against the fear in your chest.

Tears fell silently down your cheeks, their saltiness on your lips.

Each sob was a quiet shuddering breath, barely audible as if making any sound would summon the man you now called your husband.

You couldn’t breathe, you just wanted to wail loudly.

To let out all the sorrow you had.

The room's luxury and its richness mocked the poverty you had but at least it provided you joy and a freedom you always loved.

You imagined him forcing himself on you, his voice rude and the thought made your stomach lurch, bile rising in your throat.

The door creaked open, sending your body jolting.

jungkook stepped inside, his presence shifting the air in the room immediately and the tension was palpable.

He'd discarded his wedding suit, the white shirt was now unbuttoned at the top, revealing his skin and hints of his muscular chest.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his veiny arms and faint scars.

His face with all its sharp features and the constant frown he had was softened by the glow of the candle but the intensity of his gaze remained.

Unrelenting and piercing.

Your head spun at his even sharper smell and how he invaded your senses.

He didn’t approach immediately.

His steps measured as if navigating whether you're comfortable or not.

Instead he paused near the table, picking up a glass from the tray and filling it with water from a jar.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

It was careful but it still made your heart race.

You shook your head, unable to form words, eyes fixed on the floor, not even daring to meet his.

jungkook sets the glass down with a soft clink, the sound sharp in the silence.

He moved to the window, the curtains parted slightly to reveal the night sky. He tried to fill the silence with words, voice gentler now, almost hesitant.

“The ceremony… it was long. Did you manage to eat anything after?”

His tone was an attempt at normalcy, but it felt nothing like that, instead it felt like a stranger intruding on your grief.

You didn’t respond, lips pressing into a thin line as another tear slipped down your cheek.

He exhaled a sound heavy with frustration and confusion at not being able to understand you and reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette.

He lit the cigarette, taking a drag and leaned against the window frame, his posture casual, though his eyes never left you.

Minutes passed, the silence stretching.

jungkook’s already thin patience seemed to fade because he couldn’t just read your mind if you didn’t speak.

He wanted to listen and he'd never cross the line, make you uncomfortable or do anything without your consent.

He straightened, the cigarette dangling from his lips and spoke again, voice edged with something raw.

“Are you unhappy with this marriage?”

The question lit a spark of fury inside you, igniting it into something you'd been holding back.

You didn’t know how it happened but you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your head snapped up, eyes glistening with tears, a scream begging to be unleashed from your lips.

“Unhappy?”

The word was more of a sob.

“You think I wanted this? you think I chose to be here? m—my father forced me! he sold me like I was nothing and threatened my mother’s life if I didn’t comply.”

“And you—you just took me? like I was a prize to be brought to me! I'll never accept you as my husband, never love you and never let you touch me! you're no different from him—from the monster who beat my mother, who broke every day of my life—”

You paused, chest heaving as a broken sob left you, you realized you were rambling, pent up emotions and anger coming out all at once.

“You’re just another man like him and I’ll die before I let you break me too!”

Your voice cracked, the words spilling out in a rush and you struggled to breathe, your dress clinging to your sweat damped skin.

Your hands trembled violently, nails digging into the sheets.

Your cheeks flushed with your anguish, bottom lip trembling with another sob.

jungkook’s face darkened from where he stood, eyes narrowing.

He didn’t interrupt once when you were talking, letting you let out all your feelings.

Something men has never allowed in your life, they never let you have a voice and never valued your feelings.

They always silenced you like your father.

Punished you.

The cigarette burned, forgotten between his fingers, jaw clenching as his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded

His voice was almost a growl with confusion but not anger—not at you.

The cigarette fell to the floor, dying in the dark.

He took a step toward you and you gasped, your body curling, arms wrapping around yourself as if expecting a blow or a slap.

The action was like a knife to his chest.

His eyes flashed with an anger so intense his entire form was shaking and it was aimed at the one who had taught you to fear.

To expect pain from a raised hand.

His fists unclenched, hands hovering uselessly as if he wanted to reach for you but he knew he couldn’t.

He had questions too many of them.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, quietly.

Though there's a dangerous edge there.

“Who made you think I’d hurt you?”

You didn’t hear the question, couldn’t hear anything over your own pounding heart.

“Stop lying!” you screamed.

A wail left your lips, body shaking as you stood abruptly.

“Just stop acting like you didn’t know! you knew I didn’t want this, that I was forced into it and you just went with it—"

You paused, taking a deep shaky breath.

“You’re a monster just like him! I’ll never forgive you or think this is okay. You—you bought me and I'll hate you for it every day for the rest of my life!”

Your words hung for him heavy and final

You collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, hiccups leaving you as tears soaked the sheets beneath you.

Your hair clung to your wet cheeks, covering your face from his gaze, your makeup ruined just like the inside of you.

The room started feeling smaller, the walls felt like they were closing in.

jungkook stood frozen, his breathing shallow, eyes locked on your frame.

The fury in his gaze softened into something else—something almost broken.

He wanted to speak to deny your accusations, to tell you he hadn’t known that he’d been lied to for the first time, manipulated by your father’s bullshit.

But your pain was like a wall in front of him that he couldn’t break through, a wound he couldn’t easily heal.

He took another step, slower this time and you moved away, shaking your head.

His heart lurched at that, his brows furrowing.

He stopped, his hands falling to his side. In this moment, he not only hated the world that had hurt you but he hated himself more for being a part of it.

He wanted to rip apart whoever had made you this way, to tear their limbs from their body with his bare hands.

To make them feel the terror you carried in your very soul since you were a child.

But he couldn’t.

Not now.

Not when you were shattering before him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t give him the chance, with a choked cry, you bolted from the bed, your bare feet carrying you out.

You ran, sobs echoing in the hallway.

You found an empty room, its door ajar and burst inside, slamming it shut with a force that rattled it.

The lock clicking in place.

You sat down on the floor, body weak and no energy left in you.

The room was a stark difference with minimal furnishing compared to jungkook's bedroom.

You cried until your throat was raw, eyes swollen and burning.

The lock on the door was a small barrier but it was all you had—a shield against the man you feared, the man who was now your husband.

Your hands clutched at the floor, wanting to ground yourself to reality, chest feeling empty and you wondered if you'd ever feel whole again.

You hated jungkook—hated his presence, the way he'd claimed you without a thought about your willingness.

A memory was there that refused to be gone though.

His touch when he'd wiped your tears at the altar, his lips soft against yours and his voice that promised safety.

It didn’t make sense.

Nothing made sense also the way he didn’t react when you yelled at him and didn’t hit you like your father had.

Men like him—men like your father—didn’t protect.

They destroyed.

You shifted, your body aching from the hard floor and pressed your cheek against the door.

Your tears had dried, leaving wet trails on your face as hiccups left you.

Sleep tugged at you, an escape you needed but you fought it, afraid of what might happen.

Images of chains, your father’s fists and jungkook—they didn’t leave your mind.

You were scared that jungkook would hurt you once you slept, his facade slipping to reveal the real him.

Terror was threatening to swallow you whole.

“I won’t break.” you whisper, hoarsely.

Saying it as much to yourself as to the universe for always attempting to destroy your life.

“I won’t let him break me…”

Your father had been the first man to hurt you, to ruin your life and jungkook was here now.

You didn’t know if you could fight them both, you didn’t know if you had the strength.

But you clung to the memory of your mother's love.

And hope.

The only thing that had ever guided you.

۶ৎ

The bedroom was filled with silence after your departure. The sheets were rumpled from where you sat, along with the faint traces of your perfume.

jungkook stood motionless in the center of the room, his broad shoulders slumped, man bun loose now, tugging his hair in his fist as if the pain could anchor him.

His eyes burned with emotions he couldn’t name.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for another cigarette, taking a sharp inhale, brows furrowed in a scowl that was more pain than anger.

Your words went through his mind, each one cracking the wall around his heart that he'd spent decades forming.

“forced… sold… I hate you.”

He could hear them endlessly.

He'd been deceived by your father's lies and the betrayal stung not because of the man's audacity but because it had cost him you.

You with your tear streaked face, saw him as a monster—a reflection of the very man who'd broken you.

The realization made him smoke faster, wanting to distract himself but that was barely working.

He exhaled the smoke as he fought the urge to go after you.

He wanted to break down the door of the guest room, to kneel before you and beg for forgiveness, which was something he has never done for anyone.

To promise you the world if it would erase the fear in your eyes that you held for him.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not when you run away when he approaches.

Someone had hurt you, had taught you to fear a raised hand and the thought made him want to hunt down the culprit.

Make them suffer.

His first clenched, knuckles whitening

“Damn it.” he signs.

A snarl leaving his lips, it was a sound of frustration and agony of a man struggling with feelings he'd long buried.

He turned, pacing the room like a locked beast.

He stopped at the window as he gripped the glass hard enough for it to crack, staring outside at the darkness, the same as what he felt within him.

“Who made you so afraid?” he breathes.

He thought of your eyes wide and shimmering with tears, the way your small body trembled under his gaze.

He'd seen terror before—in the eyes of his enemies—but never like this, never so raw, so personal.

You were so delicate.

So breakable.

Yet you’d stood up to him, your voice rising in a way he hadn’t expected.

That courage buried beneath years of misery, only deepened the ache in his chest.

The need to protect you.

To shield you from a world that had already taken too much.

He sank into the bed and buried his face in his hands.

He didn’t know what love was—had never felt it, never trusted it—but what he felt for you was something fierce.

It was a hunger, a desperation to keep you safe even if it meant fighting his own nature.

He'd been called a monster, a man without mercy and perhaps he was all those things.

But for you he wanted to be more.

He needed to be more.

“Forgive me.” he murmurs.

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know.”

The confession meant that he'd failed you before he'd even begun.

He'd trusted your father's lies, believed you'd chosen this and now you were locked in another room, crying and hating him.

He could barely breathe.

“I’ll fix this.”

He promises with a rasp, he swore he'd try.

“I’ll make it right even if it kills me.”

He meant every one of his words said to you today, even at the wedding.

He didn’t know he could be the man you needed, didn’t know if he could learn to love but he knew he couldn’t let you suffer.

Not you.

Never you.

Not the girl who’d given her meal to a stray, who’s so selfless and had endured too much injustice all her life.

The night stretched on.

In the guest room you drifted to sleep, your body curled on the floor weakly, the entire day taking a toll on you.

In the bedroom jungkook stood, not being able to sleep, his heart filled with fury and longing.

Two souls bound by a marriage.

Their paths entwined with an uncertain future that could change.

Or ruin them both.

────

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #gukcnt #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfiction #bts #read later

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tranquilreign · 1 month ago

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AHHHH TYSM LOVELY FOR THE RECOMMENDATION!!!!! <3

APRIL’S FAVS !

𓍯𓂃 a collection of fics that i think are just too good to stay only on my fic rec acc. this list will be regularly updated!

ONESHOTS

⋆ if-then | jjk by @jiminrings

summary. you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively. alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 i love jungkook in this so much :((( and the writing is just BEAUTIFUL, my heart is gonna burst

⋆ make it right | knj by @strwbyoons

summary. you were the right people in the wrong place. then the wrong people in the right one.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 this fic has a special place in my heart i love it so much :<<

⋆ handle with care | jjk by @dreamersparacosm

summary. in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 dare i say, one of the best oneshots i’ve ever read? this shit had me clenching my thighs and going feral lawd 😩

SERIES

⋆ bitchin’ | jjk ( completed )

summary. the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 ooo i gobbled up this entire fic at like 7am in the morning hungover as fuck, and it completely revived me. saurrr good

⋆ in love with love | jjk ( completed )

summary. you are a romantic. jungkook? jungkook is not.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 so stinkin cute. another one i gobbled up in one go :>

⋆ aura | jjk ( smau — completed ) by @golden-loona

summary. it wasn't just a one night stand for him. and hopefully it wasn't for her either.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 the way i was screaming at the screen after every chapter!!! it’s s short-ish series but the slow burn was indeed slow burninggg :<

⋆ bamboo & ginger lily | jjk ( smau — ongoing ) by @tranquilreign

summary. when you're paired with cold-hearted, heartthrob jeon jungkook, you're surprised to see that under all the tattoos and piercings, he's gentle and kind.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 guys i beg of you, go check out all of j’s works RIGHT NOW. they’re all so fucking good AND she has soo many good fics coming very soon :>>> (istg this girl’s brain is always working on new fic ideas)

⋆ if we were us | jjk ( ongoing ) by @dreamersparacosm

summary. in which life gives you and Jungkook one more chance to hold on. (read extended summary in the series masterlist)

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 fic isn’t even finished and i just know it’s gonna emotionally destroy me. ang is such a phenomenal writer, i genuinely cannot express how much i love her words. i heavily recommend reading it while listening to ‘hey lover, you should’ve come over’ by jeff buckley. this shit hurts

⋆ not in the cards | myg ( ongoing ) by @yoonmetogether

summary. as the youngest child of the most powerful family in the country’s crime syndicate, you never thought you would be forced to takeover your father’s money-laundering casino. due to unforeseen circumstances, you and your brother, jeongguk, are left in charge to carry on with business. but in the absence of your father and oldest brother, seokjin, the two of you are targets of rival bloodthirsty mobs desperate for power and turf. you must be protected but the man who’s assigned as your bodyguard is someone you never thought you would see again. this wasn’t in the cards.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 SO SO GOOD!!! i don’t usually read mafia aus but this one is just teeww fucking good. LIKE THE TENSION? THE DETAILS? THE MYSTERY? AAAAA

⋆ price of fame | myg ( ongoing ) by @glossdebut

summary. You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 i’ve been fucking hooked on this series since it started in october. very much a slow burn but also very very hot. aqua writes yoongi in a way that makes me go CRAZY. also, he has a tongue piercing in the fic. what more do i need to say 🤷‍♀️

⋆ skater boy jimin | pjm ( headcannons ) by @dearjoons

summary. rodrick heffley-anna coleman (freaky friday) crossover. set somewhere between 1994-2006.

april’s thoughts 𓍯𓂃 I NEED TO FUCK HIM SO BAD this has four parts as of now and each part eats down so fucking hard. just perfection.

more to be added very soon…

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tranquilreign · 1 month ago

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enigma | 18+ | series | 01.

🗒 details

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: spider! kook, anti-hero! reader, superhero au! college au, smut, fluff, angst, mystery/crime au! warnings: swearing, fire-arms, fighting(?) word count: 3.6k series taglist: @googie-jeon @bananamwilk @sadiayn permanent taglist: @someoneelse0109 @dailynnt @ggukivrse taglist: open!

🖋 synopsis

enigma (n.) uh·nig·ma a person or thing that is mysterious or difficult to understand

friendly neighbourhood spider-man has a spidey friend. except she enjoys sabotaging his plans at every given moment.

when police come forward stating the increase of missing persons, spider-man seeks help from you, another spider-person, but who doesn't enjoy the hero lifestyle.

🖇links

jungkook masterlist main masterlist request | request rules prompt list

Spider-Man. Everyone knows who he is. But no one knows who he is. Many have tried to figure out his identity, to unmask the superhero. From villains to regular people, everyone wants to uncover the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. His identity is important to him. Mainly due to the fact that if people found out the city's superhero was a college student, people wouldn't take him as seriously as they did before. People would only see him as a kid.

For those who would take him seriously, their focus would not be on him. They would go for his friends, his family. And he wouldn't forgive himself if he were the reason the people he cared about got hurt. The people of Seoul believed that Spider-Man didn't have any weaknesses. But his friends - his family - were his weakness.

It was the late morning when Jungkook felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He sat in class, in the middle of a literature test, when the unease came. Usually, a pair of headphones would be blocking out the sounds of pencils scratching against paper and mumbles exchanged between students. Unfortunately, during tests, such things were not allowed; thus, he had to rely on his spider-senses.

The sudden sound of sirens had caught everyone's attention, including the lecturers. It was quick, cars racing past civilians to catch the criminals. The mumbling started again, quickly being hushed by the lecturer. Jungkook had to think fast to figure out some sort of excuse to get out of class and put an end to the car chase.

A chair scraping caught his attention, the sudden high-pitched noise of metal grinding against tiled flooring had many students cringe at the sound. Jungkook grimaced as well, his heightened senses drawing more of a reaction to the screech than anyone, yet he still couldn't take his eyes away from the location of the sound.

He watched as you stood out of your chair, face deadpan, eyes blank - no emotion found behind them, and walked over to the lecturer with your paper in hand. Jungkook had never really spoken to you, much like himself; you were closed off, not wanting to be around anyone.

At least that's how you were after being on absence leave for over a month. It was as if something had changed over the time you were sick. No one had heard from you or knew where you were. People reckoned it was anxiety or depression. Your best friend, Isabella, had dropped out a month before you disappeared, and many thought that was the leading cause of your mental decline.

Sauntering over to the lecturer's table, you placed your paper down onto his desk, not bothering to say a word as you turned back around and grabbed your belongings. The lecturer wanted to say something, but decided to keep quiet. With a quiet click on the door, you were gone, the students watching in both awe and confusion at your carefree and what some might say - ignorant attitude.

The sound of the door closing pulled Jungkook from his thoughts, allowing him to focus back on an excuse to get out of class. Without thinking, his hand shot up, his other arm clutching his stomach to fake his discomfort. The lecturer didn't look up, eyes scanning over your paper as he marked it. Jungkook's frustration grew, a quiet grunt escaping his lips.

"Mister Choi," Jungkook groaned. "May I be excused? I think I'm gonna-" Jungkook pretended to gag, the action having the students that sat around him scramble from their seats to keep distance from him. "Throw up."

Mister Choi sighed, shooing Jungkook away with a motion of his hand, the action indicating he could go. Hurriedly, Jungkook packed his belongings and hauled his bag over his shoulder, rushing towards the door. The students who sat near the back moved from their seats as he grew closer, not wanting to risk being caught in his line of fire if he were to vomit.

Jungkook moved down the hallway, pushing past students who wandered the corridor on their free periods. All he needed to do was get the the men's toilets, then he could change and climb out one of the windows without getting caught. With quiet "excuse me's' and 'pardon me's', Jungkook weaved through the sea of students, his destination growing closer with each step.

"Oh my gosh, Kook. Are you alright?" a girl asked, suddenly standing in front of him.

One thing that Jungkook knew was that he loved his alone time. He preferred not to be disturbed or interrupted. He wasn't rude; he just enjoyed his peace. With his headphones on, listening to the radio for any mention of crime that was happening throughout the area or city.

However, there was no denying that Jungkook was a very attractive man. He had caught the attention of many women - and men - from the very first day of college. But, Jungkook just thought they were being nice; he would always greet people in return or help when asked, it just never clicked that they were interested in him.

The girl who stood in front of Jungkook raised the back of her hand to press it against his forehead, trying to get an idea of his temperature. Jungkook stood, staring at her, mildly confused at her actions, but more so at who she was. Her hair was tied up, and her top was pulled a little too low, exposing her cleavage, which was clearly being supported with a push-up bra.

"I'm fine, thank you. Please excuse me," Jungkook replied, not sparing her a second glance.

He removed her hand from his forehead and pushed past her. The girl stood dumbfounded, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. She then scoffed, pulling her top back up over her cleavage and storming off in the opposite direction.

Jungkook had finally got the men's toilets, pushing open the door and rushing into one of the cubicles. Locking the door, he scrambled to open up his bag. He leaned against the cubicle wall, struggling to pull off his trainers, revealing the bright red soles of his spider suit. A panicked squeak escaped Jungkook as he struggled to balance on one leg to tug his trousers off. Now, shoving his shoes and trousers into his bag, he suddenly stopped short, when the door to the toilet opened.

"Kook?" a familiar voice echoed throughout the tiled room.

"Jesus, Namjoon. You scared the shit outta me," Jungkook breathed, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "Look, there's a big car chase, and I need to get out of here. I'm gonna sneak out through the window."

"I figured as much," Namjoon responded. "Don't worry, I won't let anyone in until you've left."

"Thanks."

Namjoon was Jungkook's best friend and the only one to know Spider-Man's true identity, which, of course, was Jungkook. Though Jungkook hadn't told him directly, Namjoon just... figured it out. It was hard to keep secrets from Namjoon, usually because he was so good at reading people. When Jungkook had first been bitten by the radioactive spider and underwent the various changes to his body because of said spider, Namjoon was quick to notice.

Namjoon's suspicions only grew when Spider-Man was on the news the following week. Eventually, he connected the dots, noticing how Jungkook was never in class or at home when Spider-Man was out and about.

In the end, he confronted Jungkook. What didn't help was that Jungkook was a terrible liar. So much so that when Namjoon first asked, Jungkook caved immediately, spilling his secrets and explaining how everything had happened without Namjoon even asking for details.

"Sorry, you can't come in here," Namjoon said, catching Jungkook's attention.

"Why not?" a student asked, clearly irritated by Namjoon's words.

"Someone clogged all the toilets, clearly some stupid prank. One of the janitors asked me to stop anyone who may enter while they went to get an out-of-order sign."

It sometimes frightened Jungkook how well Namjoon could come up with a lie. Let alone a lie straight off the top of his head. Jungkook guessed the student had believed Namjoon's words, as there was no further conversation. Finally, packing the rest of his clothes into his bag, he unlocked the cubicle door and stepped out, mask in hand. Namjoon looked over his shoulder at his friend, looking at the mask in Jungkook's hands.

"Do you need me to take your bag? I'm finished for the day, so I can drop it off at your place."

"Nah, I'll keep hold of it. I'll just web it at the top of the Lotte World Tower," Jungkook replied, checking the fluid in his web-shooters. "Thanks, though. I'll swing by your place once I'm done."

"Aren't you supposed to still be in the middle of a test?" Jungkook froze as he opened the window. He looked over his shoulder, smiling sheepishly at Namjoon, who in return rolled his eyes. "I'll let Mister Choi know you had to go home."

"You're the best," Jungkook grinned, finally pulling the mask over his face.

Namjoon smiled, watching his friend climb out of the window, his bag accidentally hitting against the glass of the frame on the way out. With Jungkook now out of sight, Namjoon adjusted the strap of his bag and opened the door to the toilets, casually slipping into the crowd of people.

Jungkook took in his surroundings, careful that he wasn't caught sneaking out of a college bathroom; otherwise, there would be a lot of explaining to do. With the cost clear, Jungkook took the opportunity to aim at the campus wall, quickly pulling himself over the perimeter of the college and off into the bustling city.

Luck was on Jungkook's side with the weather. Clear skies with minimal wind, perfect swinging conditions. The only downside was the birds. Jungkook almost collided with an Oriental Turtle Dove, nearly losing his bag in the process. He moved closer to the ground, deciding it would be the best choice instead of fighting with the birds higher up. Many people called for him, excited to see that Spider-Man was on his way to prevent crime and save lives. All that he needed to do first was make one quick stop.

Jungkook swung over the Han River, exiting the Gwangjin district and entering Songpa, the Lotte skyscraper in sight. As Jungkook pulled himself higher up the buildings, he felt uneasy all of a sudden.

His spider-senses tingled, but it was different this time. It was as though someone was watching him. But that couldn't be possible, not this high up. Shaking off the feeling, he landed atop the Lotte World Tower, the feeling calming slightly.

He shook his bag off his shoulders, opening it up to look for his phone and headphones. Having taken so long to get out of college, he had lost track of where the car chase was not located. He only hoped it was close by, and that he was quick enough to prevent anyone else getting hurt.

Turning on his headphones, he pulled them over his ears, waiting for the familiar pinging sound to go off, indicating they were connected. Impatiently, he tapped the side of his phone, looking at the news app, the slider showing how long it had been running for.

"Finally," he muttered when the ping went off.

Eagerly, he leaned in closer to his phone, as if it would help him hear better. The usual news hummed in his ears. Politics and variety show drama. It was something Jungkook learned to withstand when it came to looking for criminals to take down. He'd never admit it, but he did rather enjoy the gossip that came from contestants on reality TV. Almost as if on cue, news of the car chase had interrupted the regular news.

"The car chase that started in Dongdaemun this morning at ten o'clock has made its way down into Gangnam. It appears that several escaped convicts high-jacked the car of a young mother and her two children. Thankfully, no one was hurt. We ask those in the Gangnam district to please be careful if you are not at home, the police and Spider-Man will handle everything."

Headphones now turned off, he threw his belongings back into his bag and webbed it against the highest window of the tower, convinced it was hidden away from civilians. His movements came to a sudden stop when he was about to stretch. That familiar feeling of being watched had returned. This time it was much stronger, and it made him uneasy. Jungkook took a deep breath, allowing himself to fully hone in on his senses.

His breaths were slow, shallow, ears were slightly ringing, straining for any sound that sounded unnatural. The tiniest sound, of something landing on the opposite side of the building, almost had him flinch. A beat of silence, then his eyes opened. Spinning around swiftly, he released the fluid from his web-shooters, barely missing another spider-person. Wait. Another spider-person?

"You know... webbing your bag up here is just weird."

It was a female voice, one that Jungkook felt he recognised, but couldn't figure out where from. The Spider-Woman was kneeling at the highest point of the tower, looking down at Jungkook.

Her costume was similar to his, though the design and colours were different. Instead of the usual bright blue and red, hers was black, with dark purple colouring on the inside of a hood which was pulled up. The spider that was displayed on her chest was much larger than his, its legs extending all over the suit, entangling around her body.

"I-ugh-" Jungkook stuttered, not believing that there was another Spider-Person. Someone who was just like him.

"Never mind," the woman replied, standing up and looking out over the city. "Are you tryna find the car chase that was happening on the other side of the Han River?"

"I-yes. How did you know?"

The woman snorted.

"You're Spider-Man. Everything you do is to prevent and fight crime. It doesn't take a genius to know that when you're about, you're stopping criminals. Or helping old ladies cross the street."

The woman's words were sarcastic, mocking... teasing. Jungkook frowned at her, deciding it was best to ignore her jabs. Instead, he stretched, pulling his arm across his body and holding it with the other.

Jungkook couldn't help but glance over at her from time to time, watching as she sat down, and kicked her legs back and forward slightly, leaning back on her hands. Jungkook thought, maybe, just maybe, that she was here to help.

"Right, so," Jungkook began, "the car chase has made its way down into Gangnam. Which is convenient for us as we're right-"

"What do you mean 'we?'" the woman asked, cutting him off.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow in surprise. All this time, he wanted to find someone like him, someone who understood him entirely. Maybe be partners and fight off crime and save lives. However, the woman sitting in front of him seemed to be the complete opposite.

"Then why are you here? If not to help?" Jungkook challenged.

She shrugged.

"Freedom, I suppose."

Silence. Jungkook let out a snort, forcing the woman to look at him. He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was irritated by him. She stood and turned to face him fully. His smile faltered.

"I don't understand what's so amusing about my words. Unlike you, I'm not being chained down by the police to provide for them when they can't do their shitty job," she spat.

Jungkook was taken aback by her words. He was aware that not many liked the police sometimes do to their questionable decisions, but he had never met someone with as much hatred as the person standing in front of him. However, he stood his ground.

"The police may have trouble from time to time, but that doesn't make them bad people."

"How would you know? You're always too busy being a people pleaser to realise the corruption behind closed doors. You've no idea what regular citizens have to deal with on a daily basis because of the police's incompetence," she scoffed.

Jungkook nearly lost his temper, taking a step closer to her before he could think. She watched him closely, but remained as she was, unbothered by his attempt at intimidation. Huffing, she crossed her arms and looked out towards the city when the familiar sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.

"Looks like your car chase is heading this way. Good luck, Spider-Man."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Jungkook bewildered. Trying to fathom her animosity towards the police, and from what it looked like, towards him as well. Sighing, he shook his head, trying to remove any thoughts of the woman from his head. He needed to focus, stop these criminals from doing any more harm than they've already done.

With no hesitation, he sprinted, leaping from the top of the tower, diving down closer to the business of the streets. Swift, but graceful movements followed, as he angled his body upright, and released a web, it attaching to a close by building, finally having eyes on the police cars.

He frowned, watching as the hijacked car sped forward, disregarding the people who just happened to be too close. Reacting quickly, he swung forward, landing on the ground and pulling a woman to the side when the car collided with a bin, which almost fell on top of her.

"Are you right, ma'am?" Jungkook asked, his hands resting on her shoulders, looking for any sign of injury.

She shook her head, not trusting her words from fright. Jungkook smiled at her, dusted down her jacket and swung away again, back on the chase.

He had caught up in moments, watching police cars now struggle to keep up with the convicts. Jungkook landed on top of the car, his sudden body weight making the car dip down slightly.

"Afternoon, officers," Jungkook greeted casually, looking into the driver's window.

"Bout time, Spider-Man. These guys are driving like maniacs! We've been on their tail all morning, but we didn't want to risk the lives of civilians," the driver yelled.

"Apologies for the delay, gentleman. Just leave the rest of this to me."

Jungkook leapt from the car, webbing attaching to a wall of an apartment building and pulling himself up higher into the air. With quick analysis, he derived a plan, noticing a tunnel ahead of where the hijacked car was speeding off to.

With ease, Jungkook swung in front of the car, landing on the bonnet, catching the criminals by surprise.

"Hello there!" Jungkook called, voice cheery.

The passenger didn't wait, pulling out a gun and aiming it at Jungkook. Quickly dodging as bullets fired, he moved to the passenger side, webbing the man's eyes so he couldn't see. Panicked, he dropped the gun, clawing at his face, attempting to remove the web fluid.

"Shit!" the driver yelled, leaning down to try grab the gun.

Jungkook glanced forward, the tunnel now directly in front of them. Acting fast, Jungkook jumped from the car, webbing himself up onto a sign to get high ground. As the car passed, he webbed the front right wheel and pulled, the action causing the car to suddenly spin to the side.

Using his other web, Jungkook aimed towards the tow bar and let go of the front wheel. With all his strength, he pulled, forcing the car to a sudden stop, it slowly pulling back and lifting into the air, the nose of the car barely touching the ground as it was suspended.

Jungkook jumped from the large sign, cautiously walking over to the driver's side. To his relief, the men were unharmed, soft groans being heard in unison at the new position they found themselves in.

The police sirens soon followed, the officers getting out of their cars and rushing to Jungkook's side.

"Good work, Spider-Man. We couldn't have caught them without you."

"Don't worry about it," Jungkook replied, grin hidden behind his mask. "You officers alright to handle this? I'm needed elsewhere."

"Yeah, go on. We've got this."

"Oh, and the passenger had a firearm. I'm guessing the driver didn't have one. He was trying to pick up the one his friend dropped," Jungkook explained as he walked away.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips, happy that the chase was finally over. He took a moment to admire the city streets around him. The clear blue skies, people beginning to gather, and the sun shining brightly onto his face.

Something caught his eye, however. And that something was standing a top of one of the apartment buildings. He looked up at her. The Spider-Woman.

She stood, staring down at him, then moved her head slightly towards the police cars stationed outside the tunnel. Looking back at Jungkook, she shook her head, turning around and walking out of sight.

In a hurry, Jungkook webbed up to the top of the building, hoping to get some answers about who she was and where she came from. Upon reaching the top, however, she was gone. No trace of the woman to be found, except the remnants of her webs disintegrating against the concrete.

to be continued...

hello lovelies!

hope you enjoyed the first chapter! please leave your thoughts! I would love to hear your feedback! <3

Please if you would like to be added to the tag list! click the link at the top of the chapter and fill out the google form!

tranquilreign~

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tranquilreign · 1 month ago

Text

YEASSS GIVE IT TO MEEEHHHHH

THE ART OF PRETENDING - JJK | 07

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, swearing, fluff, angst, they finally communicate yayay, (2) cliche kdrama scene, (eventual) explicit sexual content, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs

word count: 7.7k

notes: one more chapter to go!!!! i hope this one explains everything :< if it doesn’t, please do drop by in my asks so i can over-explain everything until you guys are sick of it lolol. likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are very appreciated!! enjoy reading my darlings <33

< prev • next > | series masterlist | main masterlist

⤷ chapter seven — zombie girl

"maybe i've been getting you wrong / i cover you with questions / cover you with explanations."

“Jungkook. You’re a fucking idiot.”

Taehyung’s voice is blunt and tired as it carries across the quiet living room.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. He’s still lying on the couch, one arm flopped over his eyes to shield them from the grey haze of early morning light seeping in through the wide windows. His neck hurts. His back’s worse. And the blanket he grabbed last night is too damn thin. But more than anything, it’s the weight in his chest that keeps him from sleeping again.

Well, that and Taehyung who's crouched by the coffee table, in sweatpants and a plain top, his hair sticking up in multiple directions. He’s holding two mugs, and one gets plunked onto the table in front of Jungkook.

“I mean it,” Taehyung says, settling onto the floor, legs crossed like he’s gearing up for a lecture. “Like actually. You're an idiot.”

Jungkook sits up slowly, wincing as something in his shoulder clicks. Despite looking comfy, the couch had felt like concrete to sleep on last night. He takes the mug and mutters a thanks, even though he knows he’s not off the hook.

“Fuck, Kook.” Taehyung drops his head back and groans into the ceiling. “Okay. Let me get this straight. She said she wouldn’t take back an ex, in a game, while she was acting like your girlfriend, and instead of thinking ‘oh maybe she’s just playing the part’— which, by the way, is what you literally asked her to do— you spiral like you just got dumped or something?”

When he puts it like that, it does sound stupid, so Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just takes another sip of coffee.

“I need you to hear how insane you sound right now,” Taehyung adds, pointing at him. “You’re acting like she tattooed the words ‘I hate Jungkook’ on her forehead.”

“You don't get it, hyung. I— I kissed her,” Jungkook says quietly.

Taehyung’s mouth snaps shut. He stares.

“And then she said that. Or didn’t say anything. Whatever.” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots. “I know it’s stupid. But it felt… like I was wrong for thinking it meant something. Like I got my hopes up and she was just being nice. Or drunk. Or— fuck, I don’t know, trying to keep things from getting awkward.”

Taehyung leans back on his palms. He doesn’t say anything for a while.

Jungkook keeps talking.

“But it's fine now. I'm giving her space. Clearly she doesn't think of me in the same way anymore and fuck— it sucks but I'll learn to live with it.”

Taehyung exhales slowly. “Okay.”

“I just… I miss her. All the time. Even when she’s right there.”

Jungkook sets the mug down and leans forward, placing his elbows onto his knees. There’s something about saying it out loud, finally, that makes his chest feel like it might breathe again.

Taehyung watches him carefully with that frustratingly calm stare that always comes out when he’s being more perceptive than people give him credit for.

“You do realise you're fucking leaping to conclusions here, all based on something so miniscule.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for her,” he says eventually, voice quiet.

“Then just stop trying to protect her from yourself and talk to her," Taehyung says, voice laced with exasperation. "Maybe you're right after all — though I seriously fucking doubt it — but you'll never know unless you talk to her.”

“I can't."

"Why?"

“Because if I do—” Jungkook sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. “Then I have to hear her say it. That she’s done. That she doesn’t love me anymore. And, hyung, I don’t think I can handle that. I really don’t.”

Taehyung is quiet for a long moment. His eyes are unfocused, like he's thinking through a million things at once.

“Okay.” His voice is calm, but Jungkook knows him too well to miss the edge underneath. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say she doesn’t feel the same way anymore.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Let’s say the kiss meant nothing to her,” Taehyung continues. “Let’s say she’s over it. Over you. That all of this”— he gestures vaguely between them —“is just her being polite and going through the motions.”

He pauses, watching Jungkook carefully.

“If that’s true... don’t you think she would’ve walked away by now?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, but something in his chest twists.

“She’s not stuck here, Kook,” Taehyung says, voice softer now. “She’s not trapped. We’re not kids. We’re all adults, and she doesn’t owe anyone anything — not even Jin hyung and his proposal plans. If she really didn’t want to be around you, she wouldn’t be. She wouldn't have agreed to your plan in the first place.”

Jungkook swallows hard. “I never said she hated me. I just… I don’t think she loves me anymore. Not like she used to.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung raises a brow. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. Because the truth is: he’s not sure. Not really.

"You can't keep pretending that you know how she feels because it's easier than actually finding out, Kook. You can't just avoid her under the guise of giving her space that she never asked for."

Jungkook scrubs a hand over his face. “When you say it like that, I sound like a coward.”

“You are being a coward,” Taehyung says plainly. “But I also get it.”

That surprises him.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “You’re scared. That makes sense. You’ve always loved hard, and you’ve never really figured out how to deal with the idea of it not being returned.”

Jungkook looks at him, something almost defensive rising in his chest, but then it fizzles. Because it’s true.

He has always loved hard. Maybe too hard. Maybe in a way that’s always been just a little too much.

“And maybe she’s scared too,” Taehyung adds. “But she’s still here. Still trying. And it's not fair if you don't try either.”

Jungkook’s throat feels tight again.

He thinks about your voice last night. The way it cracked, just slightly, when you said he couldn’t kiss you one day and ignore you the next. He thinks about the way you stood in the living room and asked if you could talk, like you were still trying to hold onto something.

Maybe she’s scared too.

That thought sticks.

“She deserves better than this,” Jungkook murmurs, barely audible.

“Then stop making her guess how you feel,” Taehyung says simply. “Be honest with her. With yourself.”

Jungkook leans forward again, elbows digging into his knees. His hands are clasped, jaw clenched. There’s a thousand thoughts running wild in his head, none of them helpful. But under all of it — under the fear and the guilt — there’s one quiet thought that keeps returning.

She’s still here.

Taehyung watches him for a second longer, then pushes up off his palms and stands, stretching his arms overhead until his back gives a quiet pop. He groans at the sound, rolls his shoulders, and then grabs his now half-empty mug off the table.

“I’m serious, though,” he says, glancing down at Jungkook, who’s still hunched over like the weight of the entire conversation is settling into his spine. “You don’t have to figure it out right this second. But whatever you do, just don’t hide from her.”

Jungkook nods absently. Not a promise, but not nothing either.

Taehyung takes a few steps toward the kitchen, then stops and glances back.

“Oh,” he adds casually, “and maybe be careful around the girls today.”

Jungkook finally lifts his head, brows knitting. “Why?”

Taehyung smiles over his shoulder. “Apparently Jimin overheard them planning to fight you if ____ needed them to."

Jungkook blinks.

“They were very enthusiastic about it,” Taehyung says, disappearing into the kitchen. “Might wanna watch your back.”

Jungkook huffs out a soft laugh despite himself, dragging a hand through his hair. Rain has started to tap against the windows again in a steady manner, and he's starting to find the glum weather to be rather mocking of the situation and everything going on.

He finishes up the last of his coffee in one, bitter sip before standing with a sigh and moving into the kitchen. His legs are stiff, muscles tight from sleeping in the wrong position — or maybe not from sleeping at all. He doesn't really know anymore.

He finds Taehyung leaning against the counter, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly while sipping from his mug with the other. The sliding glass doors are to his right, blurred slightly by the rain dotting the glass. It’s not heavy. Just enough to leave streaks down the panes and a soft grey veil over the view outside.

Jungkook makes his way over to the coffee machine, and nudges the kettle into place. His mind feels weirdly quiet now. Not peaceful, but blank in an odd way. Like there’s nothing left to think until something new sets off the spiral.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Speak of the devil,” Taehyung mutters.

The tone pulls Jungkook’s attention immediately. He glances over, brows furrowing. “What?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer right away. Just lifts his chin toward the window.

Jungkook follows his line of sight.

Out on the sand, maybe a few metres from the lazy ocean, sits you. Hood down. Legs pulled to your chest. Arms wrapped around them loosely. Your hair’s getting damp from the light rain, sticking slightly to your skin, and you're just sitting there.

No umbrella. No towel. No rush to move.

Jungkook watches for a few seconds, expecting you to shift, to stand, to brush off your jeans or shake your head and head back in, but you don’t.

You just stay where you are.

Taehyung exhales next to him, tapping the edge of his mug with his thumb. “She been out there long?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know. Instead, he simply says, "She's gonna get sick."

Taehyung hums noncommittally, eyes still fixed outside. “Yeah. Probably.”

The rain’s light but steady, enough to soak through clothes if you sit in it long enough. Which — judging by the look of it — you’re doing. You're not curled up for warmth or sheltering your head with your arms. Just sitting, with your back to the house, posture unreadable, and from here, Jungkook can’t even make out the expression on your face.

That bothers him more than he’d like to admit.

“She doesn’t even have a jacket,” he mutters. His hand hovers near the kettle, but he doesn’t go for another cup.

Taehyung leans against the counter, casual as ever, and sips from his mug. “You think she’s out there because of yesterday?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer.

Because what’s he supposed to say? That he doesn’t know? That he hopes so, because at least then it means you still care — but also hopes not, because it means he really fucked up?

He looks down at the floor briefly, and shakes his head. “Maybe.”

Another beat of quiet.

Then Taehyung says, like he’s thinking out loud, “Or maybe she just needed to be alone.”

That makes Jungkook hesitate.

Because yeah, maybe you’re out there for space. And maybe walking out with an umbrella and a few soft apologies isn’t what you need right now. He could keep doing what he’s been doing — hanging back, trying not to make things worse, convincing himself that silence is safer than saying the wrong thing.

But where has that gotten him?

Nowhere good.

The kettle clicks behind him, but Jungkook doesn’t move to fill his mug. Instead, he sets it down on the counter and walks toward the door, eyes flicking briefly to the umbrella stand that’s been sitting there since the trip started, untouched.

He grabs the handle of the nearest one. It’s a little worn at the edges, slightly bent near the tip, but it’ll do.

He stands there for a moment, the umbrella resting loosely in his grip. He still doesn’t know what he’s going to say when he gets to you — if he says anything at all. Maybe you won’t even want to hear it. Maybe you’ll ask him to go. Or maybe you won’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between you the way he did last night.

But watching you from behind the glass, doing nothing, feels worse.

The air that greets him as he pulls open the door is cool and damp, the scent of sea salt drifting in with the breeze. He steps out, closing the door behind him, and pops open the umbrella with a soft click.

The sky is painted a murky blue — too dark to be morning, but too light to still be night. The kind of early where the world feels like it has come to a still.

You sit in the sand, your knees drawn up, your fingers tangled together just to keep them still.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out here. Long enough for your plaid pyjama pants that you hadn't bothered to change out of, to get damp where they press against the ground. Long enough for your fingers to start going cold. The rain has softened to a mist, barely more than a whisper now, but you’re already soaked through at this point. Still, you haven’t moved.

You should. You know that. It’s not warm, and you didn’t exactly dress for sitting in wet sand like a ghost of your former self. But movement feels like a thing that belongs to people who have direction. And right now, you don’t.

You just feel untethered.

Not angry. Well, not exactly.

Just tired in a way you haven’t let yourself admit until now.

The past few days have been a slow unravelling. And yesterday — yesterday pulled at the last few threads.

You think back to the living room. The sound of rain tapping against the windows. The way you stepped in front of him, heart in your throat, trying to speak. Trying to say something — anything — to bridge the space that had suddenly, grown between you.

"I’m sorry the kiss didn’t mean anything.”

The words still sting.

You don’t think he meant it to sound cruel. Jungkook doesn’t weaponize words like that. But it definitely landed cruel.

Because it did mean something. It had to. Or maybe you just wanted it to so badly, you convinced yourself it did.

You glance down at your hands in your lap. Sand clings to the skin between your fingers. There’s a bit under your nails. You brush at it absentmindedly, then give up.

If you're being honest, this isn't really about the kiss. Or the argument.

It’s about how he’s been holding you at arm’s length ever since.

You keep trying to understand it. What changed. What line you must’ve crossed in that kitchen or at the beach or in the thousand unsaid things between you.

You try to make sense of his silence in the morning, of the way he ignored the coffee you made, the way he got up from the couch when you tried to sit beside him, and you keep circling back to the same hollow conclusion: he’s done trying.

But if he’s done trying, why does it still feel like he’s watching you every time you’re not looking?

You sigh, pressing your thumb to the inside of your palm, grounding yourself in the motion. Your eyes drift to the grey ocean that stretches out in front of you. It reminds you of Jungkook in that way. Always steady. Always showing up. Even when you didn’t ask him to.

Even now, after everything.

A part of you still feels like you’re waiting for something. For him.

And maybe that’s the worst part — not knowing if you’re waiting to forgive him, or waiting to finally let him go.

You hate that it’s not clear.

Because you don’t hate Jungkook. Not even close.

You’re hurt. You’re confused. You feel like you’ve been spinning in circles while he holds all the answers and refuses to hand you even one. But you don’t hate him.

You can’t.

He was your best friend before he was anything else. He’s still the person you catch yourself thinking about when something funny happens. Still the person you instinctively turn to in a crowd. Still the name your mouth almost forms when you’re half-asleep and dreaming about something soft and good.

And maybe that’s why all of this feels so impossible to sit with.

Because loving someone that much doesn’t always fix what’s been broken.

You close your eyes.

You don’t hear the sliding door or the soft crunch of footsteps in damp sand. You’re too far out to notice much of anything but the breath of the ocean and the thrum in your chest that won’t quite settle.

The rain stops rather abruptly.

Or at least… it stops hitting you.

You open your eyes, confused.

There’s an umbrella above your head.

And beside you, a quiet figure crouches, a little out of breath, holding it over you like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be here.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. His clothes are damp, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The shadows under his eyes and his hair seem to almost match in colour.

You look at him, but don’t speak.

He meets your gaze briefly. Then drops his eyes to the ground.

“Can I?” he gestures, motioning to the space beside you, his voice soft.

You don’t answer. Instead, you simply turn your face back toward the water like the question never left his mouth.

The space between you is narrow but it feels impossible to cross. And still, you feel him hovering there beside you, like he’s waiting for a sign you’re not going to give.

He hesitates before sitting down, the action almost cautious.

You hear the shuffle of damp fabric, the gentle thump of his weight settling into the sand. He angles the umbrella to cover the both of you, his arm stretched awkwardly behind you to keep it in place. You can feel the tension clinging to him in every movement.

The rain ticks against the nylon of the umbrella and the ocean murmurs. You can hear the faint sound of him breathing. You don’t look at him.

Not because you’re angry — okay, maybe a little — but because you don’t trust what might happen if you do. You’re too raw, too exposed, and you’re still trying to figure out if the ache inside you is grief or something worse — hope.

You’re tired of hoping.

Seconds pass in silence that slowly melts into minutes. You start to wonder if he's going to speak at all, or if he's continue his bullshit from yesterday when you hear him sigh quietly.

“I thought you were talking about me,” Jungkook says eventually, voice low, almost embarrassed. “When you said you’d never take back an ex.”

Your stomach twists as the realisation dawns on you.

“And I know I shouldn’t have assumed,” he adds quickly. “I should’ve asked. Or at least waited. But I didn’t. And it felt like… you were drawing a line. Like the kiss meant nothing to you.”

He shifts slightly beside you. You don’t look, but you can feel him angling toward you, tentative, like he’s bracing for impact.

“I didn’t say it to hurt you,” he continues quietly. “What I said last night. I just—” He sighs again. “I was hurt. And confused. And scared that I was the only one who still cared that much.”

You blink slowly, eyes on the sea.

He sounds sincere. He always does. But sincerity doesn’t patch holes. It doesn’t rebuild trust. Not when you’re the one who’s been standing in the wreckage for weeks, waiting for answers that never came.

“I didn’t know what to do when you didn’t answer me that night,” Jungkook says after a beat. “When I asked if you meant it. You just… went quiet. And I panicked. I thought maybe you were just being kind. Or that you were too drunk to really mean it. Or worse — that you were trying to keep things from getting awkward. And then I started thinking about what you said during the game, and I just—” He breaks off. “I spiralled. I thought I’d made it worse. That maybe being close to me again was just... exhausting for you.”

You still don’t look at him.

Not yet.

He sighs again, softer this time. “So I pulled back. I thought it was what you wanted. I thought, if you didn’t care anymore, then maybe I was just in the way. And I couldn’t take the risk of asking. Because if I asked and you told me straight out that you didn’t care for me anymore in the way I cared for you, I— I wouldn't have been able to handle it."

You finally turn to look at him. Just slightly. Just enough to see the way he’s holding himself — like everything inside him is tense and tired and barely holding together.

“You think I don’t care about you?” you ask quietly.

He blinks, startled by your voice, by your words, by the fact that you’ve finally turned toward him.

You shake your head slowly, incredulous. “You think I’d agree to your stupid plan to in front of our closest friends if I didn’t care about you in the slightest?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he says.

“I let you kiss me,” you continue, voice a little stronger now and sharp with disbelief. “I let you touch me like nothing had changed. I’ve spent every night in the same bed as you, Jungkook. Do you honestly think I would’ve gone through all of that if I didn’t care?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Do you know how hard it’s been? Watching you treat me like a stranger one second and like something you still want the next? Pretending it doesn’t bother me every time you walk away when I try to sit beside you, or when you ignore the coffee I made, or when you act like I’m the one who created this distance?”

His jaw tightens, expression pinched like he’s finally hearing all of it — the hurt, the confusion, the vulnerability you’ve been biting back since this trip started.

You look at him then. Fully. And it takes everything in you not to cry from the weight of finally saying it.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says quietly. “When we broke up.”

The more he speaks, the more questions that form in your head. You look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes are fixed on the ocean now, like he can’t bring himself to meet your gaze again.

Your voice is low when you finally speak. “The right thing?”

He nods once, but doesn’t elaborate.

You wait.

And when he still doesn’t say anything, you ask, “For who?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, after a long beat, he says, voice so quiet that the sound is almost lost to the wind, “For you.”

That stings more than you expect. Because if this is what him doing what’s best for you looks like, you don’t want to see what the opposite would’ve been.

You want to speak, but you stop yourself. You want to hear the whole story — no more fragments, no more half-truths — and you want him to want to tell it.

Jungkook sighs again, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. His other arm is still outstretched, holding the umbrella over both of you. You wonder how long he’s going to keep it there before his arm gives out.

“I know you’re mad,” he says finally, softly. “You have every right to be. I just… I needed you to know it wasn’t because I stopped caring. I never stopped.”

But that isn't enough anymore. You've learned to realise that caring and choosing are two different thing, and he chose to walk away for reasons you're still unsure about.

The silence between you stretches long and thin. You return your gaze to the sand in front of you, but you can feel him in every fidget and every glance he throws your way.

“Then why did you?”

He doesn’t ask what you mean because he knows.

And maybe that’s the worst part — that he’s known this whole time, that you’ve been drowning in confusion for weeks and he’s been standing on shore with the answers in his pocket.

His voice is hesitant when he eventually speaks. Almost as if he never wanted to say the words out loud.

“I saw the email.”

Your brow furrows before you even realise it. You glance at him, and he’s already looking down, lashes low, jaw set.

“What email?” you ask.

“The one from Berlin.”

Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t told anyone. Not back then. You were still trying to figure it out yourself — if you could do it, if you even wanted to.

You never imagined he’d seen it.

“How?” you ask, a little sharper this time. Your heart racing now.

“You left your laptop open. You were in the shower.”

Your lips part slightly. “So you… read it?”

“Just the subject line.” He looks guilty. “The name of the program. The ‘congratulations.’ That was enough.”

You look away, back to the ocean. You remember the moment now — coming out of the bathroom, finding him on the couch with his phone in hand, your laptop screen closed.

He must’ve seen it and said nothing. Carried it and let it snowball.

You blink slowly, trying to process. “You should’ve asked me about it.”

“I know.”

“Instead, you—” You stop yourself. Swallow hard. “You broke up with me?”

His answer comes quickly this time, like he’s been holding it in ever since.

“I didn’t want to hold you back.”

It’s so simple. So clear. So frustratingly stupid.

You let out a short, humourless laugh and shake your head. “So you just made the decision for me?”

Jungkook goes still beside you.

“You didn’t even ask what I wanted,” you say, voice soft but steady. “Didn’t give me the chance to choose.”

“I thought—” He breaks off, then runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve talked about wanting to live abroad since freshman year. About how you’d take any opportunity you could get if it was the right one. And that program? It was a huge deal. You worked your ass off for that email. I couldn’t be the reason you turned it down.”

“But I did,” you say, not looking at him. “I turned it down.”

He’s quiet.

“I turned it down before we even broke up,” you add, and there’s no satisfaction in saying it. “I read it, I thought about it, and I knew I wasn’t ready to leave.”

You glance at him, and he’s staring at you, frozen. “You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you that.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Because you didn’t ask.”

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath. “I thought I was doing the selfless thing.”

You finally meet his eyes. “It wasn’t selfless. It was cowardly.”

He flinches a bit, like you hit him, but you don’t take it back.

You don’t enjoy saying it. You don’t want to hurt him. But it’s the truth, and the truth matters now more than ever.

You look away again, toward the sky and the dull curve of the horizon. Your voice is quieter when you speak. “You say you never stopped caring. But caring about someone means you talk to them. You trust them to make decisions with you, not for you.”

“I didn’t trust myself,” he admits. “Not to be selfish. Not to ask you to stay.”

Fuck. In a way, he's right in that sense — you would've stayed if he'd asked you to and you're not sure if that makes you proud or foolish.

You draw a shaky breath and hug your arms tighter around your knees.

“Do you know what it felt like?” you ask, voice just above a whisper. “Thinking I wasn’t enough?”

Jungkook’s voice is immediate. “You are.”

“It didn't feel like it, Jungkook. It felt like— like you just realised one day that I wasn't good enough so you left. That I was something you could just throw away without looking back.”

“I just— I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed.”

Your chest tightens. You wish he’d said that weeks ago. You wish you didn’t understand it now.

The umbrella has started to dip, though Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His shoulders are slumped, his hand shaking slightly where it grips the handle. You don’t reach out. You don’t steady it for him.

Instead, you stare at the ground.

Because for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re finally getting answers. And for the first time, you wish they didn’t hurt this much.

For a while, neither of you speak. You simply watch as the ocean laps at the shore gently, trying to quiet your mind.

Jungkook shifts slightly beside you, the umbrella angling just enough that a light drizzle brushes the edge of your shoulder. Still, neither of you move. He must feel it too, but maybe, like you, he’s not sure if he has the right to fix anything anymore.

You tuck your chin against your knees.

“I thought you were going to propose.”

He freezes.

You don’t look at him. Just keep staring down at the sand, wet and rippled and full of small, wavy lines. “I found the receipt from the jeweller. A few days before it happened. You’d left it in the glove compartment.”

His breath catches, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t know if I was imagining it,” you continue. “But… you were acting different. Distant and like, nervous. You’d been asking Tae weird questions. I figured maybe you were just waiting for the right moment.”

Another beat passes, and you let out a soft, bitter laugh. “And then you left.”

You finally glance at him.

His face is tight with something like regret. Shame, maybe. His eyes are focused on a point in the distance, jaw clenched so hard you can see the tension in his neck.

“I was,” he says, voice low. “Going to propose.”

You swallow hard, throat dry. “Why didn’t you?”

He hesitates. “Because I saw the email, and I panicked. Everything just—shifted.

“I thought if I proposed, it would be selfish. Like I was tying you down. Making you choose me over something bigger. Something more. And I didn’t want to be that person.”

“You weren’t tying me down,” you say. “You were supposed to be part of the future. Not the thing standing in front of it.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally flicker to yours.

“I know that now,” he says. “But at the time… all I could think about was what if you said yes because you felt like you had to? Because you didn’t want to hurt me? And then a year from now you’d wake up in some apartment with me and wonder what could’ve happened if you’d left when you had the chance.”

You blink hard, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “You should’ve trusted me to make that choice.”

“I didn’t trust me,” he says. “I loved you so much it scared me. I still do. And it felt like— like too much of me was wrapped up in you. Like I couldn’t be objective anymore. I couldn’t think straight. I just—”

He breaks off, eyes cast low, voice thinner now.

“I thought letting you go was what I had to do.”

You breathe in slowly, trying to steady your pulse. “So you let me go. Without asking. Without warning.”

“I know,” he says. “I know I handled it all wrong.”

You nod once, slowly. “You did.”

“I kept waiting for you to call,” you admit. “I thought that maybe you’d change your mind. That you’d wake up and realise it was a mistake.”

“I did,” he says, instantly.

The wind brushes past you, loosening strands of hair from behind your ear.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, quieter now. “Why didn’t you reach out?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I guess I thought if I stayed away, it’d be easier. For both of us.”

You look down at your hands.

As stupid as it was, he thought he was being selfless. But really, he was afraid. Of being the one who made you stay. Of being the reason you didn’t go. Of being loved too much, and losing it anyway.

You don’t know what to do with all that.

You’re not sure if it’s something to forgive, or just something to live with.

The umbrella’s starting to tilt. His arm’s been outstretched too long.

You glance at it, then at him. He’s not complaining — just sitting there, jaw tight, fingers white-knuckled around the handle.

You reach over without thinking and adjust it yourself, steadying the angle so it stops dripping at the edge. Your hands brush, and his flinch is barely perceptible — not from the touch, but from the way it happens so easily. Like it always used to.

The umbrella rights itself. The air between you doesn’t.

God, this would've been so much easier if you didn't still love him. If you didn’t still want to know how he’s doing first thing in the morning or wonder if he’s eaten. If your body didn’t still tilt toward his in a room without meaning to, like it forgot what happened.

But you do. You still love him.

And love — the kind you had, the kind you have — doesn’t just go away.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t make the hurt disappear either.

You lower your hand, letting go of the umbrella. Letting go of him, too, just a little.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you murmur.

Jungkook swallows hard. “I don’t want you to say anything you don’t mean.”

“I mean,” you start, then stop. “I need time.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just sits a little straighter, arm still raised, rain still pattering gently over the both of you.

You continue, voice careful. “Not because I don’t care. I just… I’ve been so tangled up in everything that happened, and in what you did and didn’t say that I haven’t had a second to think for me.”

You draw in a deep breath. “And I need that.”

Jungkook finally lowers the umbrella. Not all the way, but just enough that the edge dips again and the mist kisses the back of your neck. He nods slowly, like it hurts, but he understands.

“I want to be honest with you,” you say, softer now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if we’ll fix this. But I do know that pretending we’re fine, or jumping back into what we had— it wouldn’t be fair. Not to either of us.”

Jungkook blinks fast and nods again.

“But I meant what I said the other night,” you add. “When I didn’t move away. When I let you kiss me. It did mean something to me.”

He exhales shakily. “Okay."

You don’t say anything after that. Neither does he.

The sky has slowly started lightening into morning. You know you're going to regret sitting out here later — you can already feel the ache building in your back. But for now, you hug your knees a little closer to your chest and stay.

The stars are bright tonight, painted across the dark sky in constellations. A soft breeze rolls through the open balcony, and the air is cool against your arms where they rest along the wooden railing.

Up here, it’s quieter than usual. Everyone's gathered around in small groups as you stand a few steps off to the side.

Your body relaxes into the railing, elbows hooked over the edge. You haven’t really spoken to anyone tonight. You’d slipped back inside after the beach and crashed on the bed without a second thought. It’s the first time all week your mind hasn’t been a mess of things you don’t want to admit out loud.

Now, you feel the last of it — the fog of that sleep — still lingering at the edge of your awareness. You blink slowly, eyes tracing the way the light spills over the floorboards, how it wraps around Namjoon and Aria as they talk quietly near their door. Jimin’s halfway through telling a story to Hoseok, animated as ever, and Yoongi keeps interrupting with deadpan commentary that earns a laugh every time. Kiara rests her head against Hoseok’s shoulder, her hand absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of his hoodie.

They’re all waiting.

Yasmine isn’t here. She’s with Seokjin and Haeun, probably directing the last-minute touches for whatever proposal magic he's cooked up. She swore everyone else wasn’t allowed downstairs yet. “You'll ruin the surprise,” she said earlier, shoving Jimin back up the stairs when he tried to sneak a peek.

Your gaze drifts over the group again, pausing for a beat on the spot where Jungkook isn’t.

You haven’t spoken to him since this morning. You hadn’t meant your words to sound like a wall going up, but maybe they had. He's been giving you space ever since, and you'd taken it.

You’d gone inside and slept like you hadn’t in days. And now you’re here, awake and still somehow tired, unsure what to say even if you knew where he was.

You rub a finger along the edge of the railing just as you hear footsteps from behind you.

Jungkook comes to a stop beside you, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne — faint and familiar, buried somewhere in your memory alongside sun-warmed sheets and midnight conversations. He rests his forearms on the railing, mirroring your stance. There’s a careful sort of quiet that settles between you, more comfortable than awkward.

“You slept,” he says after a moment.

You nod. “Yeah. Knocked out.”

His voice is soft. “Good. You needed it.”

“I think my body gave up arguing.”

He hums in agreement. “You looked peaceful.”

You glance sideways at him. “You were watching me?”

He shrugs. “Just… passed by. The door was cracked.”

You hum and let the silence return, not rushing to fill it.

Down the line, Jimin says something that makes Kiara burst out laughing. The sound is warm, and it pulls a small smile from you too.

You don't notice Jungkook moving until he's pulling something from his hoodie pocket. “Hey, um— before you say anything,” he starts, holding up his hands a little, “this isn’t me trying to win you over or anything. I just… I got you something.”

You blink, turning to him more fully.

He holds out a small bundle wrapped in crinkled tissue. “I actually bought it the day we went into town. That’s why it took me so long to ‘get water.’”

You stare at the bundle, then slowly reach out and take it from his hand.

“I saw them and just… thought of you,” he adds quickly. “That’s all.”

You unwrap the paper. Your fingers pause when you see what’s inside.

Earrings.

Small pearls that are almost identical to the ones you lost.

Your breath catches, but you don’t say anything. You just hold them in your palm, letting the weight of them settle, letting the quiet linger while your heart does something you’re too scared to name.

You turn the earrings over in your hand and the light catch on the glassy stones. They glint, just like the pair you used to wear.

“They’re almost the same,” you murmur.

Jungkook leans a little closer, arms still resting on the railing. “Yeah. I thought they were, too.”

You glance at him, catching the faintest curve of a smile before he looks away.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You brush your hair back and slip one earring in, then the other. They’re light, barely there. A part of you wonders how long he had them tucked away. How long he’d been waiting for the right moment — or maybe convincing himself there wouldn’t be one.

When you glance at him again, he’s already watching you. His eyes flicker to yours for half a second too long before he looks away, clearing his throat.

“They look good on you,” he says.

You smile, small and real. “You always say that.”

His mouth pulls into something like amusement, but there’s something else there too. Something quiet and tender.

He doesn’t say anything else.

For a few long seconds, you both watch the stars. And in the quiet, you feel it again — that thing that’s never fully left. The pull. The ache. The way being near him still feels like second nature even when everything else feels unsure.

The earrings catch the light as you turn back toward the sky, your profile soft in the glow of the overhead bulbs. You don’t say anything else, and neither does he. Jungkook stays still beside you, watching the curve of your cheek, the gentle sway of your hair in the breeze.

He lets out a slow breath and shifts his gaze forward.

There’s a strange peace in this moment; like standing on the edge of something that used to be home, knowing it may never be again, but still loving it anyway. He’s not sure what to do with that.

Then, from the stairwell behind them, Kiara calls out, voice bright and breathless, “They’re coming up!”

Everyone turns, chairs scraping and voices rising.

Jungkook doesn’t move right away. He watches as you straighten up, tucking your hair behind your ear. You walk forward a few paces, toward the centre of the balcony, just as Seokjin and Haeun step up into view.

“She said yes!” Seokjin beams, his hands thrown up in triumph.

Haeun laughs, eyes glassy and shining. “Of course I did, idiot.”

The group erupts — cheers, clapping, congratulations tumbling over each other. Jimin shouts something about planning a bachelor party that immediately makes Yoongi groan. Namjoon pats Seokjin on the back so hard it nearly knocks him forward.

Jungkook stays back, leaning against the railing.

He watches as you move forward and wrap Haeun in a hug, then Seokjin too. Your smile is wide — real — the kind that lights up your whole face. It hits him all at once: how beautiful you look in this moment. How easy it is to picture a future like that with you.

How close he’d come.

His hand twitches at his side.

He remembers standing in a jewellery store with Taehyung a few months ago, holding a ring box in his hand and wondering if you’d cry when he asked. He’d imagined this exact scene — your friends around you, stars overhead, your arms wrapped around him instead.

But it hadn’t happened. Because he hadn’t let it.

Because he’d thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go before he became something that held you back. Before he became the reason you said no to the rest of the world.

And yet here you are.

He swallows hard, pushing the thought down. It’s not just regret — there's something more than that. Something like almost.

Almost asked.

Almost said yes.

Almost forever.

Jungkook exhales slowly, and from across the balcony, you glance back at him.

It’s only a second, but he can tell you feel it too.

You look away first.

Only because Kiara calls your name, reaching out to pull you back into the circle forming around Seokjin and Haeun. Jungkook watches as you step into it easily, your laughter mixing with the others’, your hands clapping as Jimin demands a full retelling of the proposal, as if none of you saw it coming.

Jungkook doesn’t move right away.

He lingers at the railing, hands buried in the front pocket of his hoodie, eyes still trailing after you. There’s something familiar in the way you laugh at whatever ridiculous thing Seokjin is saying, the way you throw your arms around Haeun without hesitation, nudging Seokjin with a mock-scolding look. Like nothing’s fractured. Like you belong there.

You always did.

And maybe that’s what makes it hurt — how natural it still feels to love you in silence.

Eventually, he moves. Makes his way over with a grin that feels steady enough. He wraps both Seokjin and Haeun into a hug, murmuring something that makes Haeun laugh and Seokjin say, “Took you long enough.”

Just as he steps back, the first firework cracks open above.

A deep, thunderous sound fills the air before gold floods the sky, scattering into a trail of light that fades into falling blue sparks. Instinctively, everyone presses in toward the railing, crowding together. In the quiet jostling, you end up beside Jungkook again.

Neither of you speak.

You’re watching the sky like it’s something brand new. Head tilted back, arms loosely crossed on the railing, lips slightly parted. The reflection of the fireworks dances across your face in flashes; amber, silver, a soft lavender that makes your eyes seem even softer.

Jungkook doesn’t watch the sky.

Not really.

He watches you.

In the brief pause between bursts, he sees your lashes catch the light, your expression unguarded.

How are you still the most beautiful thing in a sky full of fire?

Another firework blooms — gold again, then violet, then a wave of silver sparks that make the whole group gasp.

You exhale slowly, like you’ve been holding your breath.

“It’s so pretty,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jungkook doesn’t look away. Not even for a second.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes only on you. “It really is.”

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#bts #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut

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tranquilreign · 1 month ago

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YES

should i post ch7….?

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tranquilreign · 2 months ago

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OMG GIRL EAT EAT EAAAAAAATTTTT! (You post so fast g GOOD LAWRD!!!

06 | SHADOWS OF OBSESSION ⭒ JJK

pairing — criminal dom!jungkook x student sub!femreader

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, angry!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, emotional vulnerability, trauma and recovery, tension, mentions of blood, angry confessions, domestic intimacy, care and nurturing, argument, miscommunication, conflict and confrontation, crying and begging, isolation, sacrifice, escaping, guilt, self-hating, heartbreak, fear and desperation, mentions of anger, several sex scenes, several orgasms, multiple positions, oral sex (f. receiving), use of sex toy, vibrator, making out, biting and scratching, consensual forced orgasm, crying from pleasure, intense overstimulation, dual stimulation, fingering, mentions of blood during sex, safe word mentioned but not used, cum swallowing, clit play, breast play, eating out, face riding, face sitting, tongue fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (m. receiving), deep throating, gagging, face fucking, cock sucking, body worship, bruising, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie, missionary, doggy and 69 position, emotional and physical connection during sex, post sex care, aftercare

wc — 8.2k

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

The air was heavy with the smell of forest and earth in jungkook's cabin, a scent that felt like a part of you now since you were so used to it.

Like home.

Everywhere in his place held small things of your presence and yet it barely dimmed the tension in your heart.

You stood in the small living room, feet bare and even though this place softened just for you, comforting you in its own way,

It started to feel like a cage now, like the walls were closing in.

You'd been healing.

The trauma of your kidnapping started leaving under jungkook's care—feeding you warm meals with his own hands, eyes constantly watching all your moves.

His gruff voice always murmuring promises of safety to you.

But the ache for your own life, your apartment where you’d spent most of your time, held so much of you, had grown into a need.

You missed your days—medical textbooks, visiting your university and you chasing your dreams.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like it here, the cabin was warm, along with jungkook’s presence.

A comfort you both cherished and resented.

You needed a moment to breathe.

To break free.

You faced jungkook now, his broad frame filling the couch, black t-shirt clinging to his muscled chest.

His hair was messy, falling over his forehead, a cigarette was between his lips.

He was just lazily lounging yet looked so beautifully dangerous and his gaze on you made your heart stutter.

Your shaky hands twisted the hem of your oversized sweater.

His sweater.

“jungkook.” you breathed.

Mustering all the courage you had even though fear was still lacing your words.

“I want to go back. To my apartment. I miss my life.”

“I can’t… I can’t stay here forever.”

His eyes darkened, jaw clenching so hard the muscle ticked. The cigarette burned brighter as he inhaled and exhaled out the smoke almost in a furious way.

“No.”

Just a single word, that’s it.

But so sharp.

The word broke your heart as your eyes glistened with tears, threatening to spill.

You stepped closer.

“Please.” you begged.

Voice trembling with desperation.

“I need to go back. I—I have classes, dreams, a life.”

You looked at him as he didn’t speak further, focusing on the wall ahead but his clenched jaw was the proof that he was listening.

“You can’t keep me locked away like… like a pet!”

His cigarette fell to the floor as he advanced towards you, his steps thudding on the floor, expressing his anger.

You gasped.

His hands balled into fists, knuckles white.

“I can.” he roared.

His rage was undeniable.

“You'll stay with me! I’ll bring you anything—books, food, fucking stars if you want them—but you don’t leave.”

“Not after what happened. I won’t let you get hurt again!”

The air filled with tension as you shook your head, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“You’re not protecting me.” you cried.

“You’re suffocating me! I’m not a thing you can own jungkook!”

You paused before starting.

“I need my freedom. I can't live forever trapped here no matter how much I—”

You stopped, the word “love” caught in your throat too heavily.

His eyes narrowed, breath hitching as if he'd heard it anyway.

He steps even closer now, towering over you, his presence making your knees weak.

“You think you’re safe out there?”

He snarls.

His breath hot against your face

“The world is fucked up and you’re not for it, petal.”

“They’ll hurt you and I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”

He grabs your waist, pulling you to his chest and you let out a whimper.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me? and I keep what’s mine.”

More tears spilled, your chest heaving with the reminder of his claim.

“I’m not yours.” you whispered.

The lie felt bitter on your tongue.

“I’m a person, not a possession.”

“I need to live jungkook, to breathe. And if you can’t let me, then… then maybe I—I was wrong about you.”

His brows draw together, pain flashing there and you realize you wounded him without wanting to.

His hands let you go, dropping from your waist.

“Wrong about me?”

He repeats, voice cracking.

“You think I want this? to trap you?”

“I’m trying to keep you alive to keep you from the bastards who’d hurt you because of me.”

His voice raw, eyes meeting yours.

“You’re my fucking weakness but I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

Your sobs broke free loudly as you turned and ran to the bedroom—his bedroom.

Now yours as well.

You slammed the door shut and twisted the lock, making sure it was set before you sank to the floor, back against the door.

Your knees drawing to your chest as you cried.

Outside, jungkook's thoughts were a mix of everything.

He couldn’t lose you.

Not after the kidnapping, not after seeing you so broken, your lips bleeding, body bruised all over.

You were the only thing that kept his darkness from swallowing him whole but you were slipping away.

He felt it.

Your need for freedom something he couldn’t ignore for long.

He knew it.

He pounded the door with his fists angrily.

“Open the door.” he demanded.

The wood of the door almost breaking under his rough hits.

“Don’t do this to me baby. Don’t shut me out.”

You didn’t answer, your sobs muffled.

Even though he was away now, he was everywhere in every corner of this room.

Every corner of your being.

You clutched your knees, nails digging into your palms, the pain helping to distract you.

You wanted to run to him.

To fall in his arms and to let his darkness consume you once again.

But you couldn’t.

Not if it meant losing yourself, your own life.

You were torn between love and wanting freedom.

jungkook slumped against the door, forehead pressing to the wood, breaths ragged as his hands were now shaking from the heavy pounds.

He couldn’t risk you in a world that had already tried to break you.

But your tears, your pleas were like knives in his chest.

And for the first time.

He wondered if keeping you meant destroying you.

Pushing you further away from him.

The thought brought out a pained growl from him, his fist hitting the door one last time before he stormed away.

۶ৎ

Your body felt heavy when you woke slightly.

The room was dim and you lay in his bed, your chest empty, the sheets tangling around you.

“no”

A single word that shattered all your hopes, locking you in his world.

His obsession.

The door creaked open and before you could fully understand what was happening, a strong sensation jolted you awake fully.

A buzz pressing against your pussy.

Your eyes snapped open, a loud gasp escaping your throat as you found jungkook above you.

His sudden presence felt like a demon from your nightmare.

His eyes were pitched black, hair clinging to his forehead damp with sweat and his lips curled into a sneer.

Your eyes fell down as you saw a sleek black vibrator in his hand, its tip glistening with your arousal.

“hnnngh oh god—”

Your pussy already swollen with slick that you hadn’t acknowledged and he pressed the vibrator even closer.

Shockwaves of pleasure intensely went through you, that it was almost painful.

Your hips jerked, thighs trembling as you tried to close them to stop the overwhelming assault.

But jungkook's free hand held you tight, fingers digging, pinning your thighs to the bed.

“Don’t.” he growls.

His voice was filled with anger, something deeper, something wounded.

“You don’t get to run from this.”

“Ungh!”

A keening wail escaped you as your hands pushed at his chest, nails scraping his shirt.

“jungkook, stop!” you sobbed.

Your heart pounding with a mix of hurt and desire.

“I’m angry, I’m hurt, please!”

Your strength was nothing against his.

Your palms useless against his strong frame, his body trapping you beneath him.

The vibrator pressed harder, its tip circling your clit in a way that made you see white as your bud throbbed angrily.

Your walls clenching, aching to be filled

Your arousal dripped down your thighs and onto the sheets, your head spinning.

His eyes flashed as he leaned closer, lips brushing your ear.

“You think you can stay mad at me?” he grumbles.

“You think you can push me away, lock yourself in here and I’ll just let you, huh?”

Your tears spilled faster, your loud broken sobs filling the room.

The vibrator shifted, its tip pressing directly against your clit and it was so intense your back arched, a scream tearing from your throat.

“jungkook, please!” you wailed

Your hips rocking despite your protests chasing the pleasure, the torment of the vibrator had your pussy dripping faster as you reached the edge.

Your thighs shook, breaths coming in short gasps as you surrendered to the pleasure.

He watched you.

His eyes unblinking, drinking in every tremble, every cry, his own chest heaving, seeing you experiencing pleasure was like getting pleased himself.

His free hand slid between your legs, not being able to help himself.

His calloused fingers probed your entrance, teasing the slick folds before plunging two inside.

You screamed at the delicious burn, walls clenching around him.

So tight, so wet.

The sound of your arousal so lewd as he thrust his fingers, curling to hit that inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Mmm fuck, you’re soaked.”

His eyes locked on your pussy, staring at how it sucked him in.

“Look at you fighting me but fucking my fingers like a naughty girl.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling from his chest.

You whimpered at the shame, your head thrashing left and right against the pillow, hands clawing at his arm.

Nails drawing blood.

But he didn’t even flinch, his focus on making you cum relentless.

His fingers pumped fast and hard, pressing against your spot with every thrust as he held the vibrator against your clit.

You were going mad.

Now uttering nonsense, nothing made sense and it felt like you're gonna die like this.

The pleasure pain was too much, body shaking.

“I can’t hahh.”

“It’s too much, please please.”

“You can.”

He spoke, voice now soft but no less commanding.

“You will. Let go, petal. Show me how much you need this.”

His fingers thrust deeper, curling constantly as his other hand adjusted the angle of the vibrator and you let out a final wail.

Your climax crashing over you.

Your pussy squirted, soaking his hands, the sheets and yourself in the process.

You basically go mindless.

You didn’t know what was happening, your body not realizing that it squirted for the first time

Wave after wave of ecstasy left you trembling.

But he didn’t stop.

He held your folds open with his fingers and pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, your poor bud so sensitive it hurt.

Each relentless vibration felt like a needle being pierced.

Your hands pushing at him, your legs kicking but he held you down.

“jungkook. jungkook”

You chanted, begging for mercy.

Your voice was hoarse as he plunged three fingers inside you, stretching you even further.

Your arousal dripped down his wrist.

“It hurts please, no more!”

You were getting way too overstimulated.

“You can take it… you have taken my cock, which is even bigger yeah?” he coos darkly.

He knew exactly how much to push you, knowing your body too well—even better than you.

And he's also given you the free rein to use the safeword whenever you want, he would never push you over your limits.

“You’ll come again for me.”

“I need to see it, need to feel it.” he hums.

Your pussy clenched tight, every nerve of your body felt like it was on fire as you moaned.

Your hips rocking, chasing the pleasure pain.

Your body betraying your mind.

He leans down, his lips crashing onto yours, tongue swallowing all your noises, his teeth grazing your lower lip.

“I hate this.” he murmurs.

“I hate that you’re mad and hurting. I can’t stand it.”

His words cut through your hurt and you sobbed into his kiss, your hands clutching his shirt.

Your body trembling as the pleasure built again, unstoppable.

Your second climax hit even harder.

Your body went numb as your cunt squirted again, cries muffling against his lips.

You felt like you'd break.

The walls spasming around his fingers, the stretch a delicious agony, your cum soaking everything and the smell of your arousal was everywhere.

Your body was boneless, mouth agape with drool trickling down your cheek as you clung to him.

Heart pounding.

He finally stopped, pulling the vibrator away, his fingers slipping out coated with your cum.

He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes never leaving yours.

A predator savoring his kill.

You struggled to breathe, eyes dilated.

Your tears fell still, the aftershocks hitting you hard.

He grabbed your cheeks, grip firm.

“You have no right to be angry at me,” he rasps with emotion.

“I will never let you cry from pain or sadness. The only tears you're allowed to shed are from this—from pleasure, from me.”

“Do you understand?”

You fisted his shirt, tears soaking it, your heart torn.

“I’m scared.” you whisper in a small voice.

“Of what this means, of what you’re doing to me.”

His eyes softened a bit, thumb brushing your tears away.

You sank into him.

Your body exhausted and your pussy was still throbbing as the vibrator lay discarded, but the feel of its buzz felt like it still lingered.

A pleasure that your body willingly enjoyed.

And the cage he’d built.

You were his and he was yours.

It was a truth that will soon ruin you both.

“There’s nothing to be scared of as long as I’m here…”

Those are the last words you hear from him before you give in to sleep.

۶ৎ

The night was alive as jungkook's bike rumbled through the empty streets.

You held onto him, arms wrapped around his waist, fingers digging into his leather jacket.

The wind whipped through your hair and you wore his hoodie upon his command to protect you from the cold.

Your chest pressed against his back as you felt his hard muscles warming you.

This was freedom, a rare escape.

Your heart raced not from fear but the thrill of him and this, how alive he makes you feel.

How he saves you in his own way.

His silence felt charged with unspoken promises.

You tightened your hold, your cheek resting on his back and the bike's rumble soothing you.

And for a moment you were just a girl on a ride with a man who consumed your every thought, your every breath.

He pulled up at your apartment, stopping the bike and jungkook got off first, his movements quick.

He offered you his hand, fingers engulfing yours as you slid off the bike, legs unsteady from the ride.

His touch didn’t leave you, his eyes scanning you, making sure you were whole.

Untouched by the world's cruelty.

Always making sure.

Putting your comfort and safety above everything.

Inside your apartment, it felt like it was the same, like you never even left it for so long, the terror of what happened the last time you were here felt like it never happened.

The air was clean, the smell of your favorite candle present that you didn’t even lit.

Your books were neatly stacked, that was once a mess, your blankets were folded neatly and kept on the couch.

The rug that was stained with blood was gone.

Someone put so much effort into taking care of your place like it was something precious.

The space felt like you yet not—too perfect.

Something that was done with the hands of a man that was only capable of violence, but your home spoke of his gentleness.

Of his care and devotion while you were absent.

jungkook took care of your things like they were his own, erasing everything that tainted them.

You couldn’t breathe from this, from everything.

From the efforts he puts in and the love he shows but never admits to.

You turned to him, heart fluttering as your eyes welled with tears, bottom lip quivering.

“You did this.” you whisper.

“You made it… mine again.”

He steps closer.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said, lowly.

“But you need to promise me something.”

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your skin.

“When I say you need to come to my place, you come. No questions. No hesitation.”

You nodded, breath catching but a small boldness filled your chest.

You tilted your head, lips curving into a coy smile.

“You put all these locks and these cameras.” you say, playfully.

“But they won’t keep you out, will they?”

A growl left his throat, the sound possessive.

“Not even the world’s strongest security can keep me away from you.”

His hand slides down your waist to your ass, cupping it and pulling you closer.

You let out a squeak.

“You’re mine petal. Always.”

A shiver ran down your spine, all his words were the truth of the depth of his obsession for you.

You spent the rest of the time with him.

He sat on your couch manspreading as always, his arm draped over its back, a cigarette was left unlit between his fingers since his focus was on you.

A little too much.

You moved around him, your body hyperaware of his gaze, goosebumps erupting all over your skin as you made tea.

You talked, voice soft, about nothing and everything—your classes, a book you'd read, your favorite weather.

You always talked and he listened intently even if they were such random things.

And you realize exactly how much you appreciated it, how in your life you never had anyone

Who just listened.

A rare smile tugged on his lips, softening his sharp face.

The air shifted when you set the tea down.

You felt your heart race with a confidence tonight that you didn’t know how to explain.

A need to claim him as he'd claimed you.

You stepped between his legs, hands trembling as you placed them on his chest and kissed him, lips brushing his.

This is the first time you approached him when it was always him to start things or lead them, your shyness stopping you.

He froze, breath hitching.

You pulled back, cheeks flushing and he stared at you hungrily with a look that was almost primal.

“Don’t stop.” he husks out.

A plea in his voice

You kissed him again, harder, not holding back this time, your hands sliding under his shirt, lifting it to reveal his scarred tattooed chest.

Your lips trailed over his skin.

The faint salt of his sweat was mixed with his cologne, his muscles tensing under your lips.

His breath ragged as his hands clenched the couch to keep from grabbing you and taking control.

You kissed his collarbone, your breath shaky, placing small kisses, reaching his throat.

Your hands feeling his hard muscles, each kiss was your own way of worshipping him.

For the man who'd broken you.

Who'd made you whole.

Your eyes caught the tattoo—your name over his heart, a mark from when you were taken.

Tears glisten in your eyes.

Your chest tightened and you leaned forward, pressing your lips against it, tongue coming out to trace the letters.

“You did this for me.”

You whispered, tears falling onto his chest.

“I missed you.”

His voice raw as he cupped your face, wiping your tears away.

“When you were gone, I thought I’d die. This was all I had left of you.”

You kissed lower, expressing your feelings through actions, lips brushing on his hard muscles as you looked at the faint trail of hair leading down his stomach.

He was gorgeous.

A man carved from pain, all the scars on his body told stories of his survival and struggles.

Your heart raced as you unbuttoned his pants, your hands shaking.

He lifted his hips, letting you slide them down with his underwear.

His cock springs free, thick and intimidating, you’ve seen it several times before but not so close.

It was massive with veins pulsing, his head leaking precum.

You huffed shakily, your pussy clenching at the memory of how he'd stretched you, taken your virginity and filled you so completely you'd forgotten your own name.

“Go on.” he hums.

Amused eyes locked on yours.

“Do what you want petal.”

You hesitate, cheeks burning.

“What do you like?”

Your voice small, your innocence a big difference to his hunger.

He laughed darkly, the sound making you shiver.

“Just breathe near my cock and I’ll fucking cum… you’re that perfect.”

You blushed, biting your lower lip as you tentatively wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him.

Slow and unsure.

You felt him throb, cock twitching at your touch.

His balls were heavy as you cupped them, your fingers exploring.

You kissed the tip, the precum salty against your tongue and he groans, his head falling back, adam's apple bobbing as he gulped.

Your thighs pressing together to reduce the ache in your core at the sight.

He wanted to remain patient and let you take things at your own pace but it was hard, his hands clenching the couch so hard it creaked.

You took him into your mouth, the taste of him almost too much—a unique taste that was so him.

You sucked, tongue swirling around the head, your cheeks hollowing as you tried to take him deeper.

He was too big.

And your eyes watered, making you choke but you didn’t stop, your need to please him overriding everything.

“shitt.”

He growls, hips twitching, fighting the urge to thrust, to fist your hair and fuck that pretty small mouth.

“Goddamn baby.” he grunts.

“You’re literally killing me, hmm yes… so fucking good.”

You teased him, tongue tracing the veins.

Your hands stroke what your mouth couldn’t take and he snarls, not being able to take your ministrations any longer.

And feeling your mouth and hands on him for the first time was his undoing.

He came with a roar, his cum hotly filling your throat and you sputtered, trying to keep up.

You swallowed, your own pussy dripping, the act of pleasing him was making your mind hazy with need.

He panted, eyes wild as he sees you not miss a single drop, cleaning everything like the perfect girl you are.

He saw red, his control snapping.

He can't hold back anymore.

He throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing making you squeal, something he has done several times before.

Manhandling you as he pleases.

Taking you to the bedroom that he’s cared for and kept clean because it was yours.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning you to the bed, your wrists caught in his hand and you panted at the sudden action.

His body caging yours.

He took your clothes off at such a fast pace you forgot to breathe, leaving you bare for him.

Your pussy already soaked, clit pulsing and he didn’t waste any time before he dove between your legs.

He was filled with animal need.

He sucked your clit, teeth grazing just enough to make you scream.

“Ahh, jungkook!” you cried.

Your hips bucking, fisting the sheets

He growls against you, the vibration leaving your lips parted, tongue fucking your pussy, lapping up your slick like a starved man.

Your clit was way too swollen and sensitive and when he bites a bit harder this time, your entire body lifts off the bed, a wail leaving your lips.

“Goshh nghh—”

He pulled you up, positioning you in a 69 position, barely letting you breathe and controlling your body how he pleased.

Your face was over his cock as your dripping cunt hovered over his mouth.

“Take my cock inside your slutty mouth.” he gruffs out.

You let out a mewl and followed his command, wrapping your lips around him, your throat burning already.

His cock was hard again, like he barely softened in the first place.

He connects his mouth to your pussy again, tongue and teeth grazing your overstimulated clit.

His hands gripping your thighs, not letting you run away.

You sobbed around his cock, not being able to keep up with his pace, your tears falling on his cock and mixing with his precum.

“Go on, don’t stop.” he grumbles.

His palm gave you a spank on your butt cheek when you stopped and he started thrusting, fucking your mouth.

“Mmph!”

You gagged, tears streaming, your hands stroking as you remained still, letting him use your mouth and his constant sucks had you very close to cumming.

But he didn’t let you.

“Nooo.” you sniffle, pouting.

It was like he was playing a twisted game and you were stuck in his torment.

“Patience.” he orders, roughly.

He flipped you on all fours on the bed.

You're boneless and weak.

You felt like a rag doll for his pleasure.

Your pussy wet and clenching around nothing, your ass up, face pressed to the mattress.

He thrusts into you from behind without any warning and you were so slick that made him sink deep inside you in one smooth motion.

The stretch was quick and intense, making you let out a broken cry, biting into the sheets.

“You’re so tight.” he huffs.

His hands gripping your hips.

“Always so tight even after getting fucked almost every day, yeah?”

The bed creaked with the force of his fast thrusts.

“Hahh jungkook.”

You called out, drooling on the bed.

His cock hits your spot perfectly and each thrust of his was bringing out expletives from your mouth.

Your climax was building fast after being denied of it for so long.

His eyes were locked on your bouncing ass, watching your tight cunt take him so perfectly as he spanks you again, your skin getting red.

You clenched on him, toes curling.

“Come for me, sweetheart.” he orders.

And you did.

Your body reacting instinctively to his words.

Your pussy spasmed, cum soaking him, your pleas filling the air.

He thrusts hard a few more times and comes deep inside you, his cum coating your inner walls as you gasp for breath.

Owning every part of you.

The room was heavy with the scent of sweat and sex.

He pulls out slowly, making you whimper at the loss and lies beside you, his own breathing ragged, chest rising and falling as he pulls you in his arms.

Your body was shaking with aftershocks—both your bodies slick with sweat and cum.

Your skin tingling from where his hands had groped, spanked, and used.

The bed was a tangle of sheets beneath you both as your nails dug into his chest, your heart beating wildly.

He shifted, his eyes still dark from the passion from before but they softened as they met yours, a tenderness there.

“You okay, petal?” he breathes.

The care in his voice makes your chest tighten.

His hand reached for you, fingers brushing your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized was still there from when you'd cried.

Not from pain but from how dazed you were by everything he's made you feel.

You nodded, throat aching from earlier.

“Yea…” you whisper.

Your lips swollen from his kisses, his cock.

“Just… a lot.”

He hummed and sat up, his muscles flexing but now his touch was gentle as he pulled you into his lap.

Your head resting under his chin

His warmth always a cocoon for you, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against your cheek.

His one hand stroked your back, the other cradling your head, fingers threading through your hair

Untangling your sweaty strands gently.

You hum, melting into him.

“Stay here.”

He says after a few moments and you nodded, too spent to move, pussy sore in the sweetest way.

He eased you onto the bed, propping a pillow under your head.

You watched your eyes half lidded, close to sleep, as he moved to the bathroom.

He returned with a warm damp cloth, kneeling beside you, his eyes scanning your body, not with lust now but with a protectiveness.

Looking at your marks and bruises.

“Gonna clean you up.” he said, gently.

You were too tired to talk, but your legs parted for him.

Your trust a constant thing for him.

The cloth was soothing as he pressed it to your inner thighs wiping away the slickness of your cum and his sticking there.

You let out a contented noise, he moves to your pussy and you gasped at the contact, your oversensitive pussy quivering.

“Shh.”

He soothes you.

His free hand resting on your stomach, thumb stroking the skin there.

“Let me take care of you.”

His eyes flicked to yours, searching, and you gave a small nod, your lips parting in a sign as he cleaned you.

The warmth of the towel easing the ache, his actions a stark contrast to his earlier wildness.

He discarded the cloth, grabbing a bottle of lotion from the nightstand, your usual floral scented one as he squeezed some into his palm.

His hands were strong as he massaged it into your skin, starting at your thighs, fingers kneading your tense muscles, working out the soreness.

You mewl, burying your face in the pillow, his touch grounding you.

“My pretty girl.” he rasps, almost to himself.

His hands cupping your ass and massaging the redness from his spanks.

He moved to the rest of your body, his hands worshipping as always, and you purr under his attention, eyes fluttering closed.

Your own hand reached up to hold onto him.

As your hand brushed the tattoo on his chest, he stopped.

“This,” he grumbles.

“This is forever. You’re forever.”

You reached for him, hands threading in his hair.

“I know…” you croon.

Your voice trembling

He leans down, lips brushing against yours and his tongue enters your mouth, kissing you, his hands cupping your face, coaxing small noises from you.

He pulled back, grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand.

“Drink.” he said, firmly.

This soft, dominating and authoritative aura he had even outside sex when he had to look after you.

Your hands shaky as you took the glass, his fingers steadying it.

The water was refreshing, helping your raw throat, and he watched, eyes dark, ensuring you drank every drop.

He took the empty glass, setting it aside and pulled you back into his arms as you lay against his chest.

Your naked body pressed to his, nipples that were still hard brushing against his skin.

The contact intimate.

He grabbed the blanket, draping it over you both.

His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You both lay there savoring the silence.

“You scared me today.” he admitted.

“Taking charge like that, kissing me, sucking me off… fuck baby, you drive me crazy.”

You smiled against his chest.

“I wanted to.” you say, shyly.

“I wanted to make you feel… like you make me feel.”

You curled closer, your body fitting perfectly against his, legs tangling, your hand resting over the tattoo.

You drifted to sleep safe and warm.

In the arms of the man who's your haven as much as you are his

۶ৎ

You were in jungkook's cabin, keeping the promise that you will be here with him whenever he wants you to.

Tonight you were filled with a purpose, heart fluttering as you moved through the kitchen.

You’ve decided to surprise jungkook and cook his favorite dish—a recipe you’ve learned from watching him.

The kitchen was small but it still felt like home, a part of you, just like it was his, and you were busy cutting the vegetables.

Your hair was tied back in a loose bun, with a few strands escaping it to frame your flushed cheeks, and you wore one of jungkook's oversized t-shirts.

The act of cooking for him, of doing something so domestic, made your chest swell with something you hadn’t known you could ever feel for a man like him.

A man whose hands were stained with blood but whose heart beat.

For you.

You hummed softly as you plated the cooked meat and rice once you were done, each dish cooked with care.

Once you were done setting the food on the table, you stepped back, hands clasping as you smiled brightly, thinking of jungkook's reaction.

His dark eyes softening just for you, a small smirk that made your heart skip.

You wanted to give him this.

A moment of normalcy, after everything he has done for you.

The door creaked open and your head snapped up, your smile wide.

But the sight of jungkook stole the air from your lungs, your joy fading in an instant.

He stood in the doorway, black leather jacket slick with rain and something else—blood splattered across his chest and his hands.

His knuckles were raw, blood oozing from there.

His face was calm, eyes normal as if the blood clinging to him was just as mundane as a simple day.

Like it didn’t affect him at all.

He casually took off his boots, the blood staining against the softness of your shared space.

Your hands trembled as the serving spoon slipped from your fingers, falling against the counter.

Tears welled in your eyes as the memory of that day flooded back—the day he'd saved you, his knife plunging into the man who'd taken you.

Too much blood everywhere.

It painted the walls in red and jungkook's face was unrecognizable, like his soul wasn't even there.

You'd seen him kill.

You've seen the beast he could become and it terrified you.

And now here he was, bloodied again, the strong smell of blood taking away the smell of the meal you'd poured your heart into.

“Why?”

You let out a shaky breath before stepping back, hands clutching the edge of the counter for support.

“Why do you keep doing this, jungkook? That blood—it's someone else's isn't it? You killed again, didn’t you?”

He froze, eyes narrowing.

A flicker of something—anger, guilt—crossed his face before it hardened once again.

He tossed his jacket onto the couch and turned to you, voice low.

“He was tied to your kidnapping,” he said.

“I had to. You think I’d let anyone who hurt you walk free?”

Your tears finally spilled down, your heaving chest.

“Stop it.” you cried.

Your voice rising as you balled your hands into fists

“Just stop, jungkook! I can’t live like this knowing you’re out there killing, becoming that… that thing I saw!”

You yelled, raising your voice at him for the first time.

“You were a monster that day, covered in blood, stabbing him until there was nothing left! It scared me, it still scares me! I—I’m begging you, please just stop this!”

His anger overcame him in full force.

“You think I can stop huh?” he bellowed.

“Killing is who I am! It’s in my fucking being, a part of me ever since I was a kid!”

A sob left your mouth as you covered your mouth to hide it.

“I protect you and I’ll burn this entire fucking city to keep you safe! you want me to be something I'm not? some soft, gentle man who holds your hand and writes you love letters?—”

He pauses before continuing.

“That’s not me petal and it will never be!”

You flinched as you inhaled sharply, backing against the counter.

“I don’t want you to be someone else.” you sniffled.

“I just want you to stop killing, to stop letting it consume you.”

“I saw what you did jungkook. I saw you lose yourself and it scares me! I can't love a man who's always drowning in blood... w—who's turning into a killer every time he thinks he's protecting me!”

You weren’t aware of what you were saying, but you spoke whatever was in your heart and you didn’t hold back.

His eyes flashed at your words, his face a mix of pain and rage.

His jaw was clenching so tight he thought it might crack.

He took a step towards you.

“Love?” he spat.

As if the word were a curse.

“You think love changes anything? I don’t believe in love and I told you that!”

“It’s a lie, dammit and it’s for the weak. What I feel for you is greater than that, and I kill for you because I’d rather die than see you hurt again.”

He looked at you intensely, not breaking eye contact, his brows peaking in the center as if this argument was hurting him as much as it was hurting you.

“You want me to stop? then you're asking me to stop breathing, to stop being me.”

Your knees buckled, your hands covering your face as you sank to the floor, weeping.

“I can’t,” you pleaded.

“I can’t keep living like this jungkook. Keep seeing blood everywhere and living with the fear that you’re becoming something I don’t recognize.” you whimper.

“Please just…try. For me,”

He towered over you, blood dripping onto the floor from his fists.

For a moment you thought he might soften.

He might kneel and pull you into his arms.

But he didn’t.

“You think I haven’t tried? every fucking day I try to be better for you to keep the darkness away, but it's who I am.”

He exhales roughly.

“I kill because it’s the only way I know to protect you, to make sure no one ever touches you again! you want me to stop huh? I can’t change and I won’t lie to you and pretend I can!”

A silence follows after that, you stayed on the floor, tears not stopping, your heart broken.

He turned after that, his footsteps stomping to the bathroom and the door slammed loudly.

After a few moments, you could hear the shower running.

The dinner still remained forgotten, all the happiness from before snuffed out.

You crawled to the bed, body heavy and the sheets, as always, smelled of him, of you, a cruel reminder of the life you'd built together.

A life that was crumbling now.

You lay there silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling, hiccups leaving your lips from the cries and you soon fell asleep.

۶ৎ

You wake up to the feel of jungkook's body sliding over you and the room was even darker now, which hinted that it was late at night.

You lie beneath him, your half closed eyes fixed on his as he takes off your clothes to leave you bare for him.

Your skin flushes at his proximity.

You can smell his shampoo from when he took a shower a few hours earlier.

He moved over you, eyes locking with yours with an intensity that stole your breath as his hands cupped your face, brushing against your tear streaked cheeks.

His expression was desperate and pained.

“You belong to me.” he growls.

As if saying the words could somehow tether you to him forever.

Almost like he was convincing himself.

“No matter what, petal”

Your lips parted, a sob caught in your throat.

“jungkook,” you croaked.

“I can’t… I can't do this. I can’t let you ruin yourself for me.”

His eyes darkened farther, a hurt in his features but he didn’t respond, not with words.

Instead, he kissed you slow and deep, capturing your lips hungrily as you wept, tongue silencing your cries.

His tongue tracing your mouth, tasting the salt of your tears and how you surrender to him so easily.

You melted into him once more.

The last time.

Your hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging, clinging to the man who'd become your whole life.

Even as you knew you had to let him go

He shifted, settling between your thighs, his hard cock pressing against you.

Your pussy soaking for him because it was so used to him now, sensing him like every part of your body.

He didn’t rush his movements, it was slow almost reverent.

As if both your bodies just knew this would be the last time they connect.

Even though he wasn’t aware of what's going to happen.

“Look at me,” he commands.

“Don’t hide from me… not now.”

You met his gaze, eyes wide with unshed tears.

“I’m scared for you, of us, of what you’ll become if I stay.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment you thought he might break, might let the walls around his heart down.

Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath brushing against your lips.

“You can’t love me.”

He says, like he can hear the words without you saying them.

“I’m not made for it but fuck, do I need you. I need you more than I need anything.”

Like he cant breathe without you.

The words twisted your heart even more but you didn’t pull away.

You couldn’t.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, pussy clenching with need.

With the desperate desire to hold onto him.

Even if just for this night.

He groans lowly as he feels your heat and readiness and he positions himself, the head of his cock nudging your entrance.

“Tell me you’re mine.” he demands.

Eyes searching yours for the answer he wants.

“I’m yours.”

Your voice breaks as you look away.

Tears soaking the sheets, you couldn’t look at him and lie.

“Always jungkook”

He then thrusts into you slowly and you gasp, your walls welcoming him easily.

You arched into him, hips rising to meet his.

“Fuck baby.” he signs.

His voice thick as he grabs one of your hands and pins it beside your head, intertwining both your hands together.

You moaned, your free hand sliding up his back, feeling his muscles and scars for the last time.

Your pussy pulsed around him with each of his thrusts, your nipples brushing against his chest with each thrust.

“mhmm ohh—”

You whine.

The position was intimate, his weight pinning you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt every inch of him, the rhythm of thrusts slow and deep, unlike other times when he takes you hard and fast.

“jungkook!”

Your voice high and needy.

“Ohh god… yeah.”

He leans down, his teeth biting your earlobe, making you squirm.

“Take it baby.” he says hoarsely.

His deep thrusts pounded you and it was hitting your spot.

Each movement a promise, a plea and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, moans rising every time he hits your sweet spot again and again.

“Yeah? you like it there?” he scoffs.

Your pussy clenches on him tightly at his words, drawing a groan from his lips.

His eyes never leaving your face, looking at all your reactions, his hips moving according to your noises, knowing exactly how to please you.

“You’re so beautiful.”

His voice softer now, almost broken.

His words pushed you over the edge, your clit pulsing almost painfully as your orgasm crashed over you.

Your cum soaking him.

“Nghh, jungkook!” you sobbed.

Nails raking his back, your toes curling, heart thudding with the force of your release.

He looked at your bouncing breasts, groping one and pinching the nipple between his fingers, making you wail.

He kept going, thrusts harder now, chasing his own climax, overstimulating you in the process, his eyes locked on yours.

“I can’t lose you.” he growls.

The wet slap of skin against skin was an obscene noise in the room, along with the headboard hitting the wall.

“I won’t survive it, petal.”

His hips slam onto you one last time before his cum fills you, mixing with your own, and the sensation was overwhelming—something he can never tire of.

Your pussy milked him.

Your teeth sank into his shoulder as a second orgasm ripped through you, so intense you saw stars.

Your tears falling.

He collapsed onto you his weight heavy but grounding, arms wrapping around you.

His lips left open mouthed kisses wherever he could reach against your skin, along with your lips.

You clung to him, tears soaking his skin.

Your moans faded into soft whimpers and he didn't pull out just yet, your pussy throbbing around his softening cock.

He thought your tears were from pleasure from your connection, but they were from something deeper—a farewell you couldn’t voice.

You memorized him—the heat of his skin and the steady beat of his heart against yours.

You traced the tattoo of your name, fingers lingering as you leaned down, lips brushing it.

A brand of you that he will carry even in your absence.

You lay on his chest, his arms around you and you soon felt his breaths slowing, his face relaxed as he fell asleep.

You look at him, asleep, he looks younger, almost innocent.

Not a murder, not a monster.

Just jungkook.

The man who'd loved you in his twisted, obsessive way.

Though he never believes in the existence of love.

You watched him, your heart full, pussy still warm, dripping with his cum because he filled you to the brim.

But your thoughts were all over the place.

If you stayed, he'd keep killing, his darkness would keep on growing and growing.

Killing you both in the process.

You'd seen it—the blood, the knife, the man's lifeless body that jungkook took away.

He'd turn into something even he couldn’t recognize.

And the worst part.

You'd be his weakness, a chain that will drag him further into committing crimes.

Before you, he'd been unstoppable, a man without any weakness, no one to hold onto, no one that would break him.

He needed to be that again.

For his survival, for yours.

You couldn’t be the reason that will eventually get him killed, you couldn’t let your love blind him like this.

You slipped from his arms, slowly, your body still weak from the sex.

You dressed silently, body trembling.

You packed your things—whatever you could find near you—your clothes, some of your medical textbooks and other necessary items.

You also take the pink teddy bear he’d given you, you couldn’t leave it behind.

It will be a comfort you could cling to in the days to come.

When you missed him, needed something and felt lonely.

Your eyes finally fell on the money you'd saved tucked in a small bag, enough to get you far from this city.

From him.

You stood over him, covering your mouth to stifle the sob that wanted to escape you, the cry of heartbreak.

He slept unaware, his lips slightly parted, tattooed arm flung across the place where you'd been.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his, careful not to wake him as you kissed him softly.

Tasting him—salt and smoke, hoping to keep it in your memory as long as you can.

“I love you.” you whispered.

For the first time vocalizing about it.

A confession to the man who'd never hear.

“I’m sorry… I have to do this. For us”

Your hand lingered on his chest, tracing his skin as your body shook with a sob again.

The pain of leaving him felt like a physical ache, sharper than anything you’ve felt.

You grabbed his black hoodie, that carried his scent.

A piece of him to hold onto.

You slipped out, not looking back anymore, you feared you would change your mind and get back in his arms.

Forgetting everything.

The door closes with a soft click.

You walked, your mind numb, until you stopped at the bus station, you boarded once the bus came, bag clutched to your chest.

The city went past, everything fading, a place that once held your love.

The obsession jungkook held for you slipping away.

You cried, your sobs muffled by the hoodie.

Your body curled into itself, the scent of him the only thing you have to cling onto.

You prayed he'd live.

That he’d find his way back to the shadow he’d been, that he wouldn’t ruin himself for you.

You prayed you'd survive this empty space in your heart, an absence that will always be there for the man who'd been your everything.

A home you never had.

But the road stretched on.

Leaving everything behind, a piece of you left with him forever.

────

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