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daddyjeonnn · 4 months ago

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GUILTY AS SIN | JK

"You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying."

→ Pairing brother in law!Jungkook × widowed fem!reader

→ Genre forbidden love! au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, smut

→ W.C 17. 32k

→ Warnings unrequited love :(, oc is in love with his older brother, early character death of the said older brother who is haunting the narrative, cute childhood sweethearts who are doomed by me, mentions of dealing with grief and acceptance, mention of cancer, a minor scene where harassment is attempted,emotionally troubled! oc, emotionally troubled and detached! jk, simp jk, pathetic man in love, he's so so lovesick, ceo! jk, protective jk, yearning, pining, loads of angst, fluff if you squint, breif yoongi mention, namjin yay!!,rich people party, mentions of anxiety,sexual tension,slow burnish,smut (omg everyone look away), kissing, unprotected sex (raw and deep, next question),dirty talking, oc is insecure,hickies,oral (f! Receiving), he cums in his pants,big dick jk, soft Dom Jungkook, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, praise, cuddles if you squint again

→ Playlist Guilty as sin, control, killing me softly with his song, do I wanna know?

→ A/N the idea of this one shot came to me at 1 am when I was supposed to be studying for a test that probably my future depends upon and after much much complementing I'm finally posting it. To me, its very experimental and I was just trying to explore my writing style and writing things that I haven't before, like smut 🫠 so please please bear that in mind!! I hope you enjoy reading and if you did please comment!! It makes my whole day 🥰💕💕

P.S: cross posted on wattpad.

It is a believed fact that it takes three to four short months to fall in love.

For you, it took one summer. The summer spent watching him sketch galaxies in the dirt with a twig, summer spent learning the way his laughter sounded after stealing popsicles from the freezer, summer spent holding his hand as they made paper planes under the blazing sun. It was the kind of love that grew roots so deep, you couldn’t separate where he ended and you began.

That summer, you met Minho. The boy next door with a mind as wild as his curls and a heart so warm it seemed to shine blindingly bright. He showed you how to climb trees, told stories he'd crafted all by himself, convincing you that the universe could be held in the palm of your hand. He shared his world with you, and you fell in love with it.

You kissed his cheek on the porch of your house one late July evening, bold and brimming with the kind of confidence only childhood summers could bring. “Now you’re gonna have to marry me, Min Min,” you teased, hands behind your back, your toes curling against the wooden floorboards.

He blushed, a shade of red that rivaled the setting sun, but his grin mirrored yours.

The porch of your house was a witness to many things. Your first steps, held your first scraped knees, your first dog and Minho's new brother; your new friend.

A boy of your age, younger than Minho had appeared from right behind him, his hands clutching onto Minho's flannel, his watchful eyes going everywhere all at once. The kind of boy who never spoke unless he had to, the kind who was more familiar with loss than comfort, lingering on the edges of things, unsure if he belonged.

Jungkook.

Now, Jeon Jungkook.

You and his brother had taken it upon themselves to bring him into your fold, turning your duo into a trio. With time, he laughed with you both, trusted you both, became one of you both.

The three of you were inseparable— in the backyard of your house, in elementary school, in high school. How could you not be? You had tied the promise in the form of handmade friendship bracelets around the wrist of both boys.

Even though what you wanted with minho was far from friendship. A bold dreamer, you always have been. But not so much when you turned sixteen. Sixteen; what a awkward age.

An age of overthinking haircuts, dreams, and the lives your peers are gonna live all at once. Visits to the school councilor are doubled. Relationships happen; Friends part.

But you only grew closer with Jungkook. He didn’t seemed interested in making a move on the timid, short haired girl who passed him notes in chemistry class, neither did he talk much about the future. When you asked him what he wanted to do, he’d shrug and say something like, “Whatever makes sense at the time.” He wasn’t aimless, exactly—just grounded in a way that made you think he didn’t feel the need to plan everything out.

Minho, though, was spiraling.

He now spent more time with the councilor that he spent with you both. Had this bitter look on his face every morning you saw him on the bus stop that will have you sharing a knowing look with Jungkook—Minho had been having a lot of fights with his dad, had been overthinking a lot more because the world seemed so much bigger than he had imagined.

Maybe for the eldest son and heir to a family that ran a company as old as the town itself, the world really was big. But to you, he was just a hopeful boy with all the colors in his eyes. The colors that you loved. The colors that didn't belong in a office, crunching numbers.

Your heart ached for him, but you didn’t know what to say. At sixteen, nobody has the answers.

Seventeen is a different story. It's a starlight dream. It's you acing the college entrance test. It's Minho surfacing back. It's Minho kissing you on that very same porch, promising, “One day, we’ll have our own porch, and I’ll kiss you there every day.”

And he was one to keep his promises.

You married him at twenty-five, in crisp autumn. To your family and friends, it was "About time." To you, it was nothing short of a dream as you walked to promise forever to the man you love, a vision in white. It was nothing big, just a dreamy intimate affair with soft twinkling string lights. Something you both agreed on. Because you were content with what you had, overjoyed actually after picking out a quite cozy apartment for the both of you and landing a job as a humanities professor in a university that wasn't too far from the said apartment. Minho was too and while things weren't the same with his father now, he did what he loved. Ever the artist at heart.

It was like everything you ever wrote in your middle school diary, everything you wished for was now laid under your feet like a carpet unfolding.

You were given a good time before it started pulling away from your feet.

At first, it was subtle. A missed dinner here, a canceled hangout there. Then he told you both he’d taken up an opportunity abroad to manage the family business, something Minho had no interest in, just on the night of your wedding after he had fulfilled his role of the groom's best man, watched you walk down the aisle.

You hadn’t seen the decision coming—not that night, not like this—but you couldn’t deny it either. Jungkook had seemed restless here, especially after finishing college.Conversations with him in those days had been brief, distracted, his eyes darting to the distance even as he smiled at you. It felt as you were trying to talk to the Jungkook who had appeared on your porch the first time. He hadn’t asked for understanding, and you hadn’t known how to offer it. His reasons were vague, more like placeholders for something unsaid. And so he left, quietly, with little fanfare, and though Minho seemed sad to see him go, you could tell he understood.

“It’s good for him,” Minho had said. “He deserves something for himself.”

Relationship happened; Friends parted.

You weren't sure if you understood. While you agreed with Minho, you couldn’t help but feel the loss of a friend now that his calls became less frequent until they stopped altogether. One day, he was simply gone, leaving behind only the memory of the boy who had once trusted you with his rare, precious smiles.

"You’d laugh if you saw me right now. I tried to fix the leaky sink in the kitchen, and now the entire floor is flooded. Minho’s being no help—just standing there laughing."

"Hey, stranger. Our anniversary is next weekend. We’re just doing a small dinner. You should come. Seriously, koo, don’t make me guilt-trip you."

"Saved you a slice of cake, but Minho ate it. You’d better show up next year, or I’ll stop saving you anything."

"Hey, Koo. Just checking in. Hope you're healthy and happy. Would love to hear from you"

You'd text him timely, in hopes that he still knows how to use a phone. But apparently, not.

Still, you had Minho. Your husband, your best friend.

Until you didn't.

Until the carpet was at last, snatched right down from your feet.

The diagnosis came in the spring. It started with a faint weakness in his voice. A shortness of breath he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Just tired,” he’d say, smiling that same easy smile. But tired turned into tests. Tests turned into results. And results turned into a diagnosis that was oh so cruel.

Leukemia. Early stages. Aggressive.

The months that followed were a blur of hospital visits, treatments, and quiet nights where you held him as he cried. You tried to be strong, for him, for both of you. Told him what the doctor in the sterile white office will tell you. "They've caught it early so we're not at a great risk here." You'd reassure him. "You have yet to get away from me, min min." You'd try making him laugh but he had always been better at that.

Now, suddenly he wasn't. The next two years, your life was just the slow, agonizing process of watching the man you loved fade away, losing every bit of his lively soul to the cancer, holding his hand when he was too weak to hold yours back.

Perhaps it wasn't only Minho who was chipping away. It was you too.

You turned into the woman who knew exactly how to track medication schedules, who could list every side effect of his treatment in order of severity, who spoke with doctors as if reciting a memorized script. You learned how to bite back the frustration when he snapped at you because he was in pain, and how to smile when all you wanted was to scream at the unfairness of it all.

You started to measure time not in days or months but in cycles of chemotherapy, in percentages of remission and relapse. Life was divided into hours spent in sterile hospital rooms, waiting for results that were never as hopeful as you needed them to be, and hours spent at home trying to pretend those results didn’t exist.

You had stopped dreaming. And minho had stopped painting.

Grief doesn’t wait for death— or so you've realized as you often found yourself grieving the life you had built together, the one you knew would never be the same. You grieved the sound of his laugh, which became quieter as the months passed. You grieved the way he used to tease you about your love for terrible reality shows, You grieved the mornings spent tangled together, talking about everything and nothing.

By the time the end came, you had already lost so much of him that you thought you might be prepared.

You weren’t.

And then he was gone.

With an, "I'm sorry. I love you." He was gone.

The house was too quiet without him, the days too long. You withdrew, not just from the world but from yourself, letting grief shape the edges of your existence.

The world moved on, even if you didn’t. They tell you how long it takes to fall in love but not how long it takes to get over it.

2 years, 240 days. And you're still counting.

Time passed in pieces—fractured and unrelenting.

Your family, Minho’s family, even well-meaning friends—none of them knew what to do with the mess you’d become, so they did what people often did. They tried to fix it. To fix you.

Blind dates were their answer, little nudges toward what they called healing. The word had been said so many times it began to lose its meaning. Healing. As if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.

You didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, so you let them dress you up, hand you phone numbers, and convince you that this—whatever this was—was what you needed.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Because as the man sat in front of you in the dimly lit bar continued to talk about how his ex couldn't handle his success, the trials of being a man with ambition, you really couldn't even bother to pretend you were interested. He was nice enough—tall, well dressed (consdering the dingy bar) with a confident smile but your thoughts kept drifting, as they often did.

2 years, 240 days since Minho had died.

2 years, 240 days of waking up alone in your bed, his side untouched.

2 years, 240 days of trying to find your way back to the woman you used to be.

“Hey,” the man interrupted your thoughts, leaning forward with an eager grin. “I feel like I’m talking too much. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for fun?”

You forced a smile, your stomach twisting. “I paint. It’s... therapeutic.”

“That’s nice,” he said, reaching across the table to touch your hand. You pulled back instinctively, your stool scraping against the floor. His brows furrowed.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, but his tone was tighter now. He leaned back, shrugging as if trying to dismiss the moment. “You know, you should loosen up a little. You’ll never find anyone if you keep acting like you’re still married.”

The words hit you like a slap, your chest tightening as you struggled to process the audacity of his statement. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring the warning in your tone, “you should give people a chance. I mean, you’re here, right?” He smirked and stood, coming around the table. “Let me take you home. We can—”

“Stop,” you said sharply, rising to your feet.

But he didn’t listen. His hand reached for your arm, his grip firm.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d grabbed you, he was gone.

The man stumbled backward, a hand jerking him by the collar. The force was so swift, so unexpected, that it took you a moment to register what had happened.

And then you saw him.

“..Jungkook?” The name caught in your throat as you turned.

You took in the man standing before you, taller and broader than you remembered, the years etched into the sharp lines of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. His dark eyes were fixed on the man who had dared to touch you, glinting coldly.

His voice was low, dangerous. “She said stop. I suggest you listen.”

For a moment, the world tilted.

You weren’t in a dingy bar anymore.

You were standing at the edge of a memory—the first time you’d ever seen Jungkook, the quiet boy who clung to Minho’s shadow.

And the last.

The last time you’d seen him, a looming figure in an ocean of black suits. A barely recognizable shadow among the mourners at your husband's funeral.

Now, standing before you, he was real, tangible—and so was the flood of emotions crashing over you.

It was so loud, you could barely hear as the the man stammered out an excuse, something about a misunderstanding.

“Leave.” Jungkook snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut and bring you back to the moment.

The man hesitated, his mouth opening as though he wanted to argue, but one glance at Jungkook’s expression and he decided against it. Without another word, he turned and stalked out, muttering something under his breath that neither of you caught.

Silence followed.

Only then did you felt his gaze on you. His presence was larger than life, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of how much had changed. How much he had changed. You hadn’t registered that at the funeral. Now, you didn't know what to say, you could hardly manage to look at him. While he wasn't Minho's real brother, didn't share any resemblance with him, it still hurt you, sucked you back into those times when it was the three of you, when it wasn't.

He too didn't reply right away, his gaze searching your face, as though he was also trying to piece together the version of you he remembered with the one standing before him now. When it landed on the arm you were clutching, the arm that dipshit had grabbed, you saw his eyes glint again.

"Did he hurt you?" It sounded more like a demand rather than a question but you couldn't even deciper the words, too focused on how his boyish tone had turned sharper, harder.

"W-What?" You fumble out like a fool.

"Did he hurt you, y/n?" This time, you heard him.

Letting your hand fall, embarrassed, you shook your head, finally managing to utter something sensible out. “No—yeah. I’m fine.”

He glanced back at the door that man had fled from before looking back at you. Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and quiet.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

You blinked. “My phone?” You don't remember getting a call from anyone but then you realize your battery had died down as you looked down to see your dead device laying flat. "Oh. I didn't realis—"

“Mom said you’d been gone a while. Told me where you were.” He interrupted. There was an edge to his voice now, faint but undeniable.

You feel more embarrassed now that you know it's because of your mother in law's anxious nature that he is here. Your fingers brushed against the strap of your purse, desperate for something to do, something to hold onto as he speaks again. "Are you ready to leave?"

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “I can get a cab.”

His brows furrowed, just slightly, and you noticed for the first time the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the hint of weariness in his expression. “It’s late,” he said simply.

"So?”

“So,” he echoed, his tone calm but unyielding, “I’ll take you.”

You hesitated, your pride and your exhaustion warring within you. Finally, you exhaled out in defeat, reaching for your coat. It's just a thirty minute ride. You reassured yourself. It'll be fine.

The cool night air wrapped around you and so did your coat as you stepped outside, and the streetlights cast long shadows that flickered as you walked toward his car. He opened the passenger door for you, his movements deliberate, and waited for you to slide in before closing it softly behind you.

The drive started in silence.

It wasn’t the silence of old friends, the kind that felt easy and safe. This was different—fraught, taut, like a thread stretched too tight.

You stole a glance at him as he started the engine, too aware of the small space you were packed in with him.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you said finally, your statement sounding more accusatory that you or he would have liked.

“Just for a little while,” he replied, his tone ofcourse, unfazed. “Business.”

Buisness. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the word. If someone could look like that word, you thought, it'd be the man in the fine tailored suit with eyes fixed on the road ahead and a rolex that didn't look any more cheaper than the car he was driving and you wondered.

Wondered if the lines of his palms—the callouses from late-night basketball games, the way they had felt solid and familiar when he held yours to steady you on the wobbly bike Minho had convinced you to ride—had changed too.

Had they turned forigen, unyielding? Had time eroded their familiarity?

When the car slowed, you glanced out the window, expecting to see the acquinated sight of your apartment building. But instead, the streetlights gave way to a quieter, darker road. You frowned, turning to him.

“This isn’t the way to my place.”

“I know,” he said simply, not bothering to elaborate. "You're coming with me."

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse quickening as unease prickled at the back of your neck. “Jungkook,” you started, the word heavy with protest.

"Y/N." He ends, sparing you a glance that has you sinking back into your seat, arms folded across your chest like a petulant child that you could swear made his lips twitch at the corner, you could swear you saw your old friend who had grown a sassy tounge at the age of fourteen that'd earn smacks at the head from his older brother for a fleeting cruel second there. But that was it. It was gone as fast as it had appeared, summoning the return of the silence that felt like its own living thing.

The house was still the same.

That was the first thing you noticed as the car slowed down in front of the building that loomed at the end of the road like a memory waiting to consume you.

The overhead lights still flickered faintly, casting shadows across the steps where you and Minho had once sat, daring each other to stay outside until the stars disappeared. Even the smell was the same—faintly woody, with the comforting hint of whatever candle Jungkook’s mom always lit in the hallway.

You hesitated in the doorway, the memories rushing in too fast, too loud. It's not like you haven't been here in ages but since the year you celebrated your first marriage anniversary with Minho here, it felt like you have lived a thousand lives.

Lives that haunted you still, made you randomly pause in the grocery aisle and now before this house until you felt Jungkook’s presence press behind you as if silently urging you on.

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of your heels that have been as much as pain as the man you had been on a date with. The floor creaked softly beneath your feet as you stepped inside, the sound jarring. The same hardwood floors, polished to a faint sheen. The same floral wallpaper lining the hallway. The same photo frames arranged along the wall—a collection of childhoods captured and frozen in time.

But as you glanced toward the corner of the living room where the three of you used to pile up pillows and blankets for makeshift forts. The corner was bare now, save for an old armchair, but in your mind, you saw it vividly: Minho’s determined grin as he shuffled the pillows, Jungkook, always following the lead but never quite competing for it. You would snuggle a pillow to your lap, nestled between the two brothers, peeking from behind your fingers and giggling at the the way Minho’s face would light up in triumph when he won another round of rock-paper-scissors.

A type of smugness that came from knowing he’d get to flick Jungkook’s forehead next. But your smile would fade as soon as you would realize that it's your turn next. “Wait, wait!” you’d plead, wide-eyed, deploying the best puppy-dog look you could muster. It was the same look that had, on occasion, earned you extra TV time with your dad. Jungkook would glance at you and chuckle. Relent like your father would and sheild your forehead with his palm that'd have Minho pouting. "Hey! That's not how you do it!"

"Y/N?" A well recognized voice pulled you back to the where you were supposed to be, back from the fort of pillows and blankets.

You turned around and instantly found yourself wrapped up in a tight hug. You managed a small smile, letting your arms wrap around the warm frame of your mother in law, the scent of her jasmine oil and apprehensive energy pulling you in. "Mom." You greeted back.

Mrs Jeon hadn't always been this.. overbearing. Though after the passing of your husband, she had teamed up with your mother and been on a determined mission to make sure you are well and on a road to healing.

The next few minutes, she did what she had been doing best—fussed over you, asking how you’d been, if you’d eaten, if you were warm enough. In that time being, Jungkook had resigned to wherever his room was.

You planned to do the same, especially now that you could see on her face how she is on the brink of asking about the disaster tonight. You showed some obvious sign of weariness, in hopes she'd let it go for the night and tell you where you're supposed to go to bed for.

"Third on the left, my dear. And I'm gonna need you to stay for breakfast, okay?" You wondered if stubbornness was a running streak in this family.

Hours later, sleep had yet to come.

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the faint grooves in the plaster as if they could somehow lull you into rest. The trick didn't work. It hadn’t worked in your own apartment either—the one you and Minho had picked out together, picked the colors of the walls together, and argued over where the bookshelf should be. Yet, it was still your space. You could control how you faced the memories there, pacing them, deciding when and how to confront them.

There, at least, you’d managed four or five hours of sleep on a good night. Here? In this house that held so much of him, so much of them, you weren’t sure you’d manage even one.

The room you were led to was neat and welcoming, the kind of space that had been carefully prepared for guests. But there was no comfort to be found in the knowledge that two doors down lay Minho’s childhood room, untouched, a shrine to a boy who grew up into the man you loved and lost.

At some point, you gave up.

Sliding out of bed, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you padded quietly downstairs. The house was silent as you made your way downstairs, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound, the indistinct glow from the kitchen spilling into the dimness. You didn’t expect to find anyone there, but as you rounded the corner, your steps faltered.

Jungkook stood by the counter, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his other resting on the marble surface. His jacket was gone, abandoned somewhere, leaving him in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Tattoos.

They sprawled across his skin, intricate designs etched into muscle and sinew, that you didn't think you'd ever see on him.

Perhaps you thought wrong. Perhaps you never knew. Never knew him.

He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours that looked just as caught off guard as yours did. For a moment, you didn't feel comfortable moving from your spot until he eventually spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You shook your head, stepping into the kitchen. “Needed some water.” You said and opened a cabinet, finding the glasses exactly where you remembered, and filled one with water.

Behind you, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his presence impossible to ignore. Funny, how he always preferred to blend in the background as a child, now his mere cologne—earthy and warm—demanded attention, filled the room before he had even entered.

“Do you… do you drink often now?” you asked hesitantly, glancing over your shoulder, at the way his fingers curled around the glass, the tattoos on his hand shifting as he tilted it.

“Sometimes.” he said, his tone vague.

If things were anything like before between you two or anything like before at all, maybe you'd have pushed further, asked him if this was growing to be a unhealthy habit.

Now, it didn’t seem right when there was an ocean between you—a chasm of time. Felt intrusive. And you know it would only sound hypocritical from your mouth—talking about unhealthy mechanisms. Hah.

You ended up only nodding and put the washed glass back so you could go back to counting the grooves in the plaster. Resume your restless attempt at sleep.

But Jungkook spoke again.

"How long have you been going on.." He started suddenly, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. His voice was calm, but the muscle in his jaw twitched as he spoke. "These dates?"

You blinked at him, taken aback by the question. "Uh—for a while now, I guess?"

“Are you willing, or are they forcing you?”

The question, the way he asked it—sharp, direct—left you off balance. So did the way he was looking at you now, his eyes no longer holding the casualty as they once did when he had the glass of alcohol in his hand.

“I—” You faltered. “They just want to help. They think it’s time.”

“And what do you want?”

To go back to your room. To ask him what did it even matter to him, after all this time.

But what came out was forthright honesty. “I don’t know,” you admitted, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

He stepped closer, his feet padding softly against the kitchen floor—a contrast to his rigid frame that now towered just close enough. Close enough to see how his chest rose and fell with every breath. Close enough to see how his eyes lingered on you, like he was trying to unravel something he didn’t understand.

“You don’t have to do anything for them or anyone,” he said, his voice soft but no less rough. “Not if you’re not ready.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to deflect, to do something, but his gaze held you in place, tracing down from the dark circles that weighted your eyes to your parted lips. All you could feel was his gaze burning on you and hear your own pulse in your ears.

“Jungkook…” His name escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible.

He lingered for a beat longer, his eyes searching yours, then he stepped back, his jaw just as tight. “Get some rest.” He clipped out before he turned and walked away, leaving you alone again.

You didn't got any sleep that night.

8:00'o clock. The time's a etched number in your brain ever since you started your job at the university.

It's a routine that needs no alarm clock. It's a number you keep waiting for as you blink at the time passing. And you're more than eager when the morning comes softly along with smaller needle stopping at 8, sunlight slipping through the curtains in streaks too gentle to match the weight in your chest.

With Minho, you were the one to wake up first but here you find that the house was awake before you.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, mingling with the faint sound of voices coming from the dining room. Breakfast was warm and lively, much like your mother in law. She greeted you with a brightness that almost made you feel guilty for your somber disposition.

“Good morning!” she said with a smile that could have been plucked from a painting. Reaching for a plate of toast, setting it down in front of the empty seat beside her.

“Good morning.” you murmured, sliding into a chair.

Across the table, your father in law sat at his usual spot, his attention fixed on his phone, only looking up to give you a nod of acknowledgment. You had never fully understood him, not as Minho’s father, not as a man.

Perhaps, It had always been because of the sore spot between him and your husband, the way his father disapproved of his wishes—choosing art over business, passion over practicality. You remembered the arguments you thought would never hear after the age of sixteen, the way Minho would come home, his face tight with frustration. “He doesn’t get it,” he’d say. “He never will.” You saw the way it wore on him, the way he carried the weight of his father’s disapproval like it was stitched into his very skin.

Even now, as you sat across from him, you wondered if he ever regretted it—if he ever wished he had spoken softer, loved louder. But his face was as impassive as ever, his thoughts a mystery.

“Jungkook left early this morning,” his mother said, breaking the silence. “Something about a meeting downtown.”

You nodded, relief washing over you in a way that felt almost shameful. You hadn’t realized how much you were dreading seeing him until you knew you wouldn’t have to.

“Busy as always,” you said lightly, reaching for your coffee.

The conversation drifted into familiar topics—neighbors, extended family, stories you half-listened to with polite nods. The table felt both too full and too empty, the gazes of all the people that sat there never straying to the right one in the left corner, just right beside yours.

The older woman turned to you, her tone bright with enthusiasm.

“There’s a party this weekend,” she said, her smile widening. “Just a small gathering with some friends and business partners. It would be lovely if you came with us.”

The suggestion made you squirm uncomfortably in your chair. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“It’ll be good for you,” she interrupted gently, her gaze soft but insistent. “Everyone would love to see you.”

You hesitated, the thought of mingling with people, of putting on a brave face for strangers already making you want to go back to bed. “I’m not sure I’d be good company,” You glanced towards your father in law, half-hoping he might say something to discourage the idea, but he couldn't be any less bothered.

“Nonsense!” she pressed. “You don’t even have to stay long. But it would mean so much to us.”

There was no malice in her persistence, no attempt to guilt you, just a genuine desire to include you in their lives. You couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Her face lit up with a smile. “Wonderful. Jungkook will pick you up and bring you there. That way, you don’t have to worry about driving.”

You froze, cup midway to your mouth. "There's no need for that, mom."

"Oh hush." she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’ll be coming from the office, so it’s no trouble.”

You nodded slowly, your appetite not too great or you just wanted to get out of here.

8'30. You glanced at the rose gold wrist watch, your first anniversary gift. Your first class is due in an hour, the perfect excuse wrapped around your wrist which you use to excuse yourself from the suffocating walls that always feel like they are closing in on you.

You have come to prefer the morning buzz of the university more—the hum of young adults chatting in the hallways, the scrape of chairs against tiled floors.It was a rhythm you found comforting, predictable in its own way. Here, you were just a professor, the one who explained history and philosophy with hands that only shook sometimes.

The teenage year you would have thought predictable as boring but you— a woman gone through a dubious sets of events found a fellow feeling in it.

Found the task of grading thesis, making power point presentation better than you would have ever imagined.

But Gods, your students need to realize that they can't dump about their toxic ex in every essay. A woman can only take so much.

You were sorting through the said papers in your office when the door creaked open, and a woman peeked her head in, the light from the outside catching in her curly locks.

“You busy?” she asked, her voice light and familiar.

You looked up to see Mira, the economics professor and one of your closest colleagues, walking toward you with her usual warm smile. Mira was more than just a coworker though—being practically family, the wife of Minho’s dark haired cousin who didn’t talk much in family gatherings, and over the years, she had become a friend you could rely on and share lunch with.

“Not for you,” you said, smiling as you waved her in.

She dropped into the chair across from you, setting her bag on the floor. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

Was it that obvious?

“I didn’t,” you admitted, sighing softly. “I stayed at the Jeons’ last night.”

Her eyebrows rose, but there was something in her eyes—a softness, an understanding—that made you look away for a second. “How’d that go?”

You hesitated, picking at the edge of a notebook on your desk. “It was… fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Jungkook’s back,” you said, and her eyes widened slightly, the topic seeming to catch her attention.

“Really? I didn’t know he was in town.”

“Neither did I, until yesterday.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Just for a while, though. Business stuff, y'know?”

Mira tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “And how’s that going?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, but her eyes stayed on you, curious. “I mean, it’s been years, hasn’t it?"

“Yeah,” you said slowly. "It's fine, I suppose. We didn't talk much."

“Hmm.” Mira hummed thoughtfully as if tasting the question she was gonna ask on her tounge. “Are you okay with him being back?”

Were you okay with him behind back? Okay with him stepping in your vicinity after years of acting like you were not even family, let alone a friend?

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “It’s strange seeing him again after all this time. But he’s been… kind. Quiet, mostly.”

Mira didn’t press further, but there was something in her expression that made you uneasy, as if she knew something you didn’t.

You cleared your throat, desperate to change the subject. “There’s a party this weekend. His mom invited me. Please tell me you’re going.”

Mira winced, her smile apologetic. “Date night with the husband. Non-negotiable.”

"Oh." You tried not to show the dejection on your face but it was there. "Lucky you."

She studied you for a moment, her expression gentle. “Are you okay with going?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything for them. Not if you’re not ready.”

If only he understood how much easier it was to do things for others than to face yourself.

“Y/N…” Her voice softened, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she reached out and squeezed your hand. “You’ll be fine. And if you’re not, you can text me. I’ll make up some excuse to get you out of there.”

You smiled, grateful for her before bidding bye to her for her next class and focusing back on the pending work spread across your desk while simultaneously going through your closet in your mind.

Minho had always said red made the brown of your eyes excel more.

And you have really tried to believe it, looking at yourself from above your shoulder, from the side of your arm in the mirror but perhaps it's not only this red, off shoulder dress that's not doing your eyes justice. It's every color you have once known, once loved.

It's like, it's you that's not doing them justice.

As you stared into the mirror, your eyes flitting from one detail to the next—the slightly uneven tuck of fabric, the exposed skin of your collarbone—it felt wrong.

The little things were missing—his hands fixing the clasp of your necklace, his voice telling you not to overthink it, that you looked beautiful. That it didn’t matter what you wore, because it was you who wore it.

But he wasn’t here.

With a sigh, you adjusted the necklace you had chosen yourself, a simple silver chain that rested delicately against your collarbone. The mirror wasn’t forgiving, but you looked anyway, searching for something familiar in your own reflection. You smoothed your hands over the fabric, told yourself this was just another party, and dodged the doubts of this being a mistake.

The knock at your door came too soon, sharp and punctual, like everything Jungkook had become.

You felt your stomach clench, nerves twisting with something else you couldn’t name. Smoothing your dress one last time, you crossed the small space of your apartment, pausing just before the door.

When you opened it, Jungkook was standing right before you.

He had stood on the edge of cliffs where oceans met skies too, in countless countries at that, walked through streets that droned with history. Scrawled through the wonders of the world—the kind that made poets immortalize them in verse—but nothing—nothing—would ever measure up to this.

To you.

You, standing in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the hall light, your hair falling in waves that he had memorized long ago.

His chest tightened, the memory of another doorway bleeding into the moment as gaily as if it had just happened. He had been in the room meant for waiting, where your parents had sat moments before, your mother sniffling into a tissue, your father pacing in his polished shoes. Now it had been his turn.

The thought alone of being the second person to see you before you walked away from him for good had made his tie that he had been trying to get the hang off felt too stressed around his neck, his palms clammy despite the air conditioning. He rubbed them on his pants, glancing at the small clock on the mantle every few seconds. The minutes dragged, each one seemed longer than the other.

What would you look like?

The thought ran circles in his mind, only for a creak of the door to startle him back.

Footsteps had echoed in the quiet, minimizing the distance until he could practically feel the nervous energy of a bride bounce against his. "Okay. You can turn around now." He had heard you speak, had seen the skittish smile on your face before he even turned around.

And when he did, he felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

The dress hugged you like it had been designed with only you in mind, its soft fabric flowing as if in defiance of gravity. Your veil cascaded behind you, catching the light, and your smile was small, almost shy, as you looked up at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Well?” you prompted, turning slightly, your hands brushing the fabric at your sides. “What do you think?”

What did he think? He thought the universe was wicked for allowing him to witness this and still expect him to let you go.

He had swallowed hard, forcing his voice to steady when he finally said, “You look—” His tongue had faltered over every adjective that came to mind. Beautiful wasn’t enough. Breathtaking felt like a cliché. “Perfect.”

You—Beautiful, Devastatingly, so.

You—who weren’t his to look at this way.

He feels his breath catch, his hands clenching at his sides to keep himself from reaching for you.

Because while that version of you had been a dream, this version—worn, weathered, but still so unmistakably you—was real. And the reality of you had always been what he wanted most.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t have agreed to pick you up, shouldn’t have stepped into this space, should have kept the distance he had spent years bridging.

But he has always found himself hopeless and running back to wherever you were concerned, hopeless in a way that had him studying for a test he didn’t even have to keep you company or show up.. here. Content to be near you in whatever capacity he could. He told himself it was enough. That it would be enough to watch you from the sidelines, to sit across from you at family dinners.

It wasn’t.

Because Jungkook wasn't a virtuous man. He never had been.

Virtue belonged to his brother—the one who could weave dreams out of thin air, who saw the world in colors Jungkook had never learned to name. His brother—Minho—who had been the light, the warmth that people, he gravitated toward. He had admired Minho, even envied him, resented him in ways he never admitted aloud and kept it in shadows.

When Minho died, the shadow became a man. And that man had spent years running.

Running into work, into unfamiliar cities, into the kind of purpose that left no room for thought. No room for the times when everything was right, when he tasted family and friendship for the first time ever, no room for the last time he tasted it when you walked down the aisle to his brother looking at him like he was the sun and how it burned, how he had burned with nails biting into his palms.

And only men with no integrity burn. Men who are cowards, restless, afraid of thier own greed try to run, in hopes that the distance would save them.

But distance didn’t save men like Jungkook.

Because here he was again, standing before you, the fire still smoldering.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice pulling him back, creating a doubt in his belief.

“Hi,” he replied, his own tounge feeling heavy in his mouth.

“You’re early,” you said, your tone carefully light.

He cleared his throat, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks in an attempt to keep them to themselves. “Traffic was lighter than I expected. Are you ready to leave?"

You nodded and he stepped back, revealing his sleek Mercedes benz parked just right in front. He let you walk before him, watching how your movements were hesitant, as if the ground beneath your feet wasn’t entirely steady. He wanted to ask you if you were okay. He wanted to tell you it was okay if you weren't.

He settled for opening the car door for you.

“Thanks for this,” you said, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do.”

His grip tightened against the leather of the steering wheel with a force that made his knuckles ache. There was a rancorous way that you spoke to him, carefully restrained, that he couldn't even blame you for.

"It's not." He gritted out. "It's not a problem."

He had earned every inch of this gap between you, had spent years building it brick by brick, mile by mile. He's all to blame for. For carving the space between you with every ignored call, every excuse he made to avoid family dinners where you’d inevitably be.

For the leaving the wreckage in his wake—yours, his, theirs.

It wasn’t fair to hate the consequences of his own choices.

But hell, if he didn't outright loathed feeling like he was staring at a wall of frosted glass when he looked at you—where he could see the outline of you, but the details were blurred, distant. Like he had lost the privilge of knowing you from one glance, lost the privilge of having you speak up to him whenever you wanted, call him out, intoxicate him with your laughter that lightened up a room he wasn't even aware was dark. Found it fucking unbearable.

So much that he felt relief washing over him when the venue of the gathering came in view. A grand mansion, framed by manicured gardens and sprawling oaks that seemed to whisper old secrets to one another. It had a timeless elegance that made you wonder how many lives it had seen pass through its doors.

Small gathering, she said. You scoffed internally at rich people and their definition of small.

“Nice place,” you murmured as you walked beside him, your steps careful on the stone path after the car was eased into a parking spot.

“It’s the Kim's family home,” Jungkook said. You nodded, though the name didn’t spark much recognition. The Kims had been mentioned here and there at family dinners—names dropped in passing between sips of wine and shared laughter. You had barely paid attention then, too busy suppressing laughs at the jokes that Minho whispered near.

The front doors were open, the faint scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne wafting out to greet you. Inside, the space was as opulent as expected—high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, polished floors that gleamed under the soft light, and clusters of well-dressed guests milling about with drinks in hand.

A tall man stood near the entrance, his broad shoulders and sharp jawline making him impossible to miss. Beside him, another man stood with a softer air, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he leaned into the first man’s side.

The taller of the two men turned, his expression lighting up as he spotted Jungkook. “There he is,” He said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly.

"Hyung." Jungkook softened, clasping hands in a firm shake before pulling each other into a brief hug, the kind that spoke of collaboration and respect.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, your fingers curling around the strap of your purse as you wondered whether to step back and leave him to his conversation or stay and risk being out of place.Would it be rude if you chose the former?

You were saved from your uncertainty when the two of them pulled away from Jungkook and took you in, a gleam of recognition passing through their face. Recognition, shock, then pity. You know how it went.

“You must be Y/N,” the taller one said, his gaze shifting to you with a warm smile.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the direct attention. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Kim Namjoon ” he said, offering his hand. “And this is Seokjin, my partner.” You smiled, nodding in acknowledgment before taking the hand of the charming one in the beige suit. “It’s nice to meet you, both. This is a beautiful venue.” You assume that they're the hosts of the party. The Kims that this house belonged to.

“Thank my father for that,” Namjoon said with a chuckle. “Sixty years old and still insists on hosting the most extravagant parties. He’d never let me live it down if I didn’t pull out all the stops.”

“Extravagant is an understatement,” Seokjin chimed in, his tone playful as he glanced at Namjoon. “I’m pretty sure half the flowers in the city ended up here.”

You smiled again, but it faltered when Seokjin's expression changed in a beat.

“We’ve heard a lot about you too,” he said gently, his gaze dipping briefly to Jungkook before meeting yours again.

You tilted your head, curiosity flashing across your face. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” Namjoon assured you. “Your family is well-regarded, and we-we're sorry about Minho. He was brilliant in every sense of the world. We can't even imagin—"

“Thank you,” you said softly, trying really hard to not let the tightening of your throat strain your voice. “He was.”

Jungkook watched as your smile faltered, just slightly, at the mention of Minho. He decided to steer the conversation away but you recovered quickly, offering a polite nod and beat him to it.

There was a brief, loaded pause before you glanced at Jungkook. “I should find mom. She asked me to join her earlier.”

"Yeah, right.” Jungkook said, his voice steady despite the way his chest tightened again when he looked at you.

You walked by Jungkook, brushing close enough that your shoulder brushed against his chest, the faintest hint of your vanilla perfume that was so maddeningly you lingered in the air. He tensed, his breath catching before he could stop it. His fingers twitched at his sides, an almost imperceptible motion, but it was enough.

Subtle as he tried to be, he caught himself leaning slightly, his chest rising with a quiet inhale as though he could take the ghost of your scent and keep it for himself.

"Not as subtle as you think." Seokjin snickered by his boyfriend's side who also raised an eyebrow, his expression knowing and somewhat giving away his discomfort. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Shit.

Jungkook straightened, his jaw clenching as he avoided their eyes, fixing the collar of his shirt hoping they won't catch on the heat creeping up on his neck too. “Don’t.” he said quietly, his tone low and edged with warning.

"Maybe you don't sniff her like a dog in public? Maybe you have some decorum?" Seokjin judged, proud and loud.

"I have plenty, hyung." The younger male side eyed the older one, his eyes narrowed and the tips of his ears already crimson red like he was a boy caught watching porn for the very first time.

Namjoon sighed, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Let him be, honey.”

But the look he gave Jungkook was far from dismissive. It was the kind of look that saw too much, that peeled back layers Jungkook wasn’t ready to confront. Gods, he needed new friends.

He turned his attention back to the crowd where you disappeared.

The soft hum of conversations and the faint clinking of glasses followed you as you weaved through the grand hall, your eyes scanning for your mother-in-law’s familiar figure. The air in the mansion was heavier than it had been when you arrived, the brush of silk against silk, the way every movement seemed calculated, observed, and weighed.

You navigated through the crowd like a ghost in a gallery, your steps measured and slow, eyes flicking to the floor more than once to avoid the speculative stares. With rich circles came dirty gossip—whispered words disguised as laughter, false smiles that hid daggers. You’d learned to let them roll off your back, like rain on stone.

The Jeon matriarch had mentioned being near the back, closer to where the banquet tables were set. You followed the direction she’d gestured toward earlier, passing servers who moved seamlessly with trays of sparkling champagne.

Halfway through the journey, your steps faltered as your gaze landed on the centerpiece of one table—a chocolate fountain. Warm, rich, and cascading like liquid satin, it stood surrounded by an array of treats. Strawberries gleamed like rubies in the low light, their surfaces polished and inviting.

You hesitated, glanced around as if expecting someone to berate you for indulging in something so ordinary, but eventually, you plucked a strawberry and dipped it into the cascading chocolate.

You let the sweetness settle on your tongue, closing your eyes for a brief moment. For the first time all evening, you found this place somewhat tolerable.

Free food always making things better.

“Excuse me, miss.” a small voice piped up beside you, tugging on the flowy end of your dress.

A boy, no older than six or seven, stood by your side, his wide eyes flicking between you and the fountain. He looked as if he had stepped out of a luxury children’s catalog, his little suit tailored perfectly, his bow tie slightly askew. “Can you grab one for me? I’m not allowed to reach it by myself.” he asked, pointing at the fountain. His voice was polite, but there was a hopeful edge to it, as if he wasn’t used to asking for things twice.

“Of course, love.” you said, your lips curving into a small smile. You picked another strawberry, dipping it with care before crouching slightly to hand it to him. "There you go."

“Thank you!” he chirped, grinning immediate and radiant, the kind that softened the edges of a hard day.

"What's your name?" You asked him, crouching down to his level.

“Do-yun!” came a sharp voice, the kind that turned your stomach before your brain even processed it.

Who you assumed was the boy's mother stepped forward, her elegance severe, her lips painted in a red that matched the strawberries. She took her son’s hand but not before her eyes raked over you, head to toe, with an expression that left no room for interpretation.

"What did I tell you about bothering strangers?” she scolded do-yun who stared at the skewer in his hand apologetically.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” you said gently, straightening up and having the woman’s eyes flicker to you again, assessing.

“He just wanted a treat.”

Her eyes flicked to the chocolate fountain, then back to you, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “how kind of you.”

There was no warmth in her tone, no hint of gratitude. Just a faintly dismissive air. And with that, she turned, her child in tow, leaving you with the faint scent of something floral and the taste of bitterness on your tongue.

You'd learned better than to expect warmth from people bound by history.

You'd learned not to mind it. To overlook it. To not pay attention to them at all.

"That's her, isn't she?"

“Such a shame, losing her husband so young.”

“Yes, but you know, they weren’t exactly power players, were they? He was an artist, wasn’t he?”

The words hung in the air like cigarette smoke, acrid and inescapable.

A laugh, soft and cruel. “I suppose she’s lucky the Jeons still keep her close. Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.”

You stopped in your tracks. The sharp sting of their voices cut through the party’s hum, louder than the music, louder than your own heartbeat.

You could feel your palms start to get sweaty, eyes suddenly unable to meet anyone's.

Breathe. You reminded yourself.

One: Find your breath.

Two: Focus on something neutral—the fountain, the floor, the chandelier above.

Three: Remind yourself: They don’t know you. Their words are weightless.

But weightless wasn’t the right word.

“Though, you’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly… widow-appropriate, is it?”

You tried to focus on your numbers but you lost it.

You turned, your fists clenched, your lips thinned, the polite demeanor cracking away from your face under the weight of your frustration.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “Was there something you wanted to say to my face?”

The women froze, their eyes widening in surprise. One of them, a younger woman with a nervous smile, tried to backpedal. “Oh, no, we didn’t mean—”

“Because if you have an issue with me or my dress, feel free to say it outright,” you continued, your voice clear despite the way your heart hammered in your chest. “I’d hate for you to waste any more time whispering behind my back.”

The group exchanged glances, communicating in a language of their own, you couldn’t care less about. Atleast not in this moment.

“We didn’t mean to offend,” one of them muttered, her tone brittle.

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “How could I possibly take offense to strangers dissecting my life as if it’s some dinner party entertainment?”

Stupid old hags with no life of their own!

You kept that to yourself.

Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and stormed away.

The chandeliers above blurred as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

You weren’t looking for anything specific—just distance, just air that wasn’t thick with judgment and whispers. A bathroom, maybe, though you weren’t going to ask for directions not when your voice felt like it would crack the moment you opened your mouth.

People brushed past you, their scents of expensive perfumes swirling in the air, their muted voices blending into a hum you couldn’t quite focus on. One or two bumped into your shoulder, but you didn’t apologize, didn’t bother looking back.

You just needed to get away—you just needed out of here.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t finished testing you, a firm hand of another one of a frame you jerked into, closed around your wrist, halting your momentum.

You looked up, brows scrunched, eyes glossy and mouth parting, ready to snap but then you were met with a amicable pair of dark eyes.

A crease of his own wrinkling his forehead as he looked down at you. "Is something wrong?" He asked and you almost wanted to laugh mockingly.

Instead, you did what you initially wanted to do. Your eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face. “Let me go.”

He hesitated for a moment, tounge poking his cheek, grip on your hand loosening but not releasing entirely. "What's wrong, y/n?"

“I said, let me go,” you repeated, your voice firm, frangible at the edges before you pulled your hand away from him and pushed past to walk away without another word.

The next random hallway you stumbled into was quieter, emptier, and for that, you were grateful, stretched ahead like an endless corridor of polished wood and muted gold accents. The noise of the party faded into the background, muffled by the thick walls and heavy doors.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to roam around mindlessly any further. This should be good enough, you told yourself and leaned against one of the walls, your forehead pressing against the cool surface as you tried to breathe through the wave of vehemence emotions that crashed through you.

One: Inhale.

Two: Exhale.

Three: Forget the words they said. Forget them.

But they echoed, persistent and savage, circling in your mind like vultures.

Poor thing, all alone now. Must be awful.

You’d think she’d be a bit more modest. That dress isn’t exactly widow-appropriate, is it?

Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, your hands clutching at your dress as if the fabric could somehow hold you together. But nothing could, nothing had. You had tried and tried and tried.. and fuck you didn't wanted to do it anymore.

Turning around, your head tipped back against the wall, the ceiling swimming in and out of focus as your vision blurred.

You shouldn’t have come here.

You should have stayed home, buried yourself in the comfort of your quiet apartment where no one whispered behind your back or looked at you with pity thinly disguised as deference.

Why did they care? Why did it matter to them how you dressed, how you existed, how you grieved?

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the tears away. Crying wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change anything.

Your hands gripped your clutch tightly, the edges digging into your palms, and for a moment, you considered throwing it—hurling it across the hall just to feel something break.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because even here, in this quiet, empty hallway, you felt the silent expectation that you hold yourself together, that you keep smiling, keep nodding, keep existing in a way that made other people comfortable.

You hated this. You hated being you. You hated being the one who was left behind. And God you hated being alone. No Minho to make a quiet joke about the ridiculousness of it all and pull you toward something fun and irreverent.

Just you.

It will be always be just you. You've never admitted that to yourself but now that you did, you feel such panic rise in your chest that you don't hear him at first. Not until his voice broke through the haze.

“Y/N.”

It was soft, tentative, but it still cut through the silence like a blade.

You flinched, your head snapping toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression shadowed with concern.

He had followed you.

“I told you to leave me alone,” you managed, your voice trembling as you turned away, willing him to disappear.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, his footsteps growing louder as he moved closer with a cautiousness that made you feel like a wounded animal. “Talk to me.” He added, the pleading in his voice almost running free.

"I mean it, Jungkook.. go away." You tried putting distance between the both of you again but far too quick for your slowed senses, he was now standing right in front of you, hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know what to do with him while also knowing.

"And I told you, I'm not leaving." His tone had coarsened and your dam had broke.

“Why now?” you cried, stepping closer to him, your fists balling at your sides. “Why do you want to stay now? You’ve spent years acting like a stranger, Jungkook. Years acting like I didn’t exist. And now—”

You shoved at his chest, your fists pounding weakly against him, but he didn’t move.

“Now you want to act like you care?” you yelled, your voice cracking as you hit him again. “Now you want to be here? Why?”

Jungkook stood still, his arms at his sides, his chest solid and unyielding beneath your fists. He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back, didn’t even try to stop you. He just let you hit him, let you pour out everything.His silence infuriated you, and yet it steadied you in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Why do you care now?" you repeated, your voice cracking, trembling like your hands as they hit his chest incessantly. Each word felt like it scraped raw against your throat. "Where were you, Jungkook? When everything fell apart, when I—when I needed someone. Where were you?"

“I don’t need you now!” you snapped, your tears falling freely now. “I don’t need you to come here and act like you care, like you’ve always cared, because we both know that’s not true."

“Because you left!" your voice cracked, the words laced with betrayal. The hurt from the breach of faith weakening you and your punches on his chest until they finally stilled, your hands trembling still as they curled into the fabric of his shirt. Jungkook caught your wrists, his hold firm but gentle, and for a moment, you fought him, your breaths coming in sharp and ragged. But when he didn’t let go, when he didn’t flinch or step back, the fight drained out of you.

Your knees buckled, and his arms came around you slowly, hesitantly, as if he were afraid you might push him away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were too tired now. Empty hands that had been holding onto something for as long as you could remember were too tired, have forgotten the feeling of what it felt like to be held instead.

You allowed to let yourself feel that. You allowed yourself to feel someone else other than the woman you couldn’t even recognize in a mirror as you sagged against him, your head pressing against his shoulder as your tears soaked into his shirt, body shaking and shivering from the quiet sobs that you let out.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, angel." You heard him say those words like a mantra against your hair, arms tightening around you, nestling you close against his chest.

For a moment, you heard pain there, raw and unfiltered, pain that felt similiar to your own in ways you hadn’t expected. You clutched his shirt tighter. You didn't wanted to be alone and Jungkook felt and smelled of times when you weren't. Earthy and Warm. Like that one time when he pulled you in to him after the death of milo- your first dog, and didn’t even mind your snort.

You had clung to those memories but it felt better clinging to him. A small, desperate part of you wanting to drag him closer, to cling to what little you had left of the past. The rest of you wanted to push him away, to keep screaming at him for daring to come back after all this time, after all this distance.

The sobs subsided slowly, leaving behind the kind of stillness that felt fragile, as if it might shatter with the wrong word or movement. Jungkook didn’t push you away, didn’t loosen his hold. If anything, he pulled you closer, as though he feared you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your gaze searching his face. His eyes shadowed, a stupid perfect strand of his stupid perfect hair falling on his forehead with tension prominent in his jaw and you wondered if there was a time there wasn't.

You wondered if it would make you any more vulnerable that you are right now if you say the words that sit on the top of your tounge, sting in the tears that linger in the corner of your eyes.

“I missed you,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. They felt dangerous, like exposing a wound that had barely begun to scab over.

His eyes darkened, a low sound rumbling in his chest—something between a growl and a sigh. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I missed you too, angel."

The rawness in his tone made your chest clench, a part of you craving more, while another part shrieked at you to stop this before it went any further, gather whatever semblance has left of you and walk away, play his cards against him.

But you have never been too good with cards or walking away.

“Then why did you leave?” you croaked. “Why did you stay away for so long?”

His gaze dropped to the space between you before meeting your eyes again, his own breathing now getting uneven. You could feel it beneath you. Rising. And Rising. And Rising.

"I didn’t knew how to look at you and not feel like I'm.. betraying him." His voice trembles as he drews in breath and you're so close you feel the heat of it brush against your temple. "And I can not, not look at you. That became a problem."

But you have never been too good with cards or walking away.

“Then why did you leave?” you croaked. “Why did you stay away for so long?”

His gaze dropped to the space between you before meeting your eyes again, his own breathing now getting uneven. You could feel it beneath you. Rising. And Rising. And Rising.

"I didn’t knew how to look at you and not feel like I'm.. betraying him." His voice trembles as he drews in breath, and you're so close you feel the heat of it brush against your temple. "And I can not, not look at you. That became a problem."

Your body stiffened at the confession, the world around you shrinking until it was just the two of you, his voice echoing in your ears.

Your first instinct was disbelief.

This can't mean what you think it does.

This can’t mean what you think it does!

The words replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to settle. Each repetition twisted something deeper, something buried in the hollow space that had once been you.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, needing space, needing air.

He didn’t move. His gaze followed you, his expression resolute, like he was determined to lay everything bare now that the first truth had slipped out.

But you didn’t even wanted to acknowledge it as something, let alone, a truth. “That’s not—” Your voice cracked, and you forced yourself to start again. "Are you drunk, Jungkook?" You found the thought so repulsing, you could only think of ways to brush this up, put all the blame on the champagne.

From the way his eyes narrowed and brow ridged, you could tell that it was not the champagne.

“Y/N.” he says with a warning. “I’m not fucking drunk.”

“Well, you sound like you are,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “Because that—what you just said—sounds like something someone says when they’re not thinking clearly. You're not making any sense, Jungkook!"

“It makes sense,” he was starting to get frustated now. “It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

And you were starting to get scared. You needed him to stop talking. Anything and everything he said made you physically want to recoil. You took another step back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if you could shield yourself from the weight of unsaid words that are no longer so.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice breaking, hands tempted to cover your ears like a child. His confession felt like a pin pulled from a grenade, and now the blast was unfurling within you. “Don’t do this. It's not fair. It's-It's not fair to him. Or me. Or you."

I know. He admits quietly to himself because he doesn't think anyone knows better than the man who was holding the jagged ends of a once delicate thread. And he hates himself for it because hating you was as unrealistic as the existence of a greater being to him. He had tried. Tried turning to salvation. Tried to despise you for being the one thing that has turned him the best and worst person he can be but he just can't. He prefers hating himself better.

He wants this punishment, that is you. He wants to whisper I'm sorry- I'm sorry for leaving- I'm sorry for coming back in every crook and nook of your body for the rest of his life so you'd feel his expression of regret that could only be a product of love so consuming embedding into you.

Because it's truth. It's his truth, has been for years and years, before he even knew what are the consequences of being a honest person. Now that he is seeing you in front of him—you with a revolting look, a stray tear rolling down your eyes that is nowhere near as angry as it had been before, he understands that it's not a consequence he can take.

He dares to step forward again and even if takes a whole lot of power in him not to pull you into him again, he doesn't and only raises a hand and catches the tear with his thumb.

“You don’t get to do this to me.” you repeat, your voice low and trembling.

And so does his. "I know."

Jungkook didn’t know what he expected you to say, what he hoped for. Forgiveness? Understanding? He wasn’t sure he deserved either.

Yet when you don't pull away, look back at him with the same daring he had stepped forward with, a silence understanding passes between the space that is separating you from him. And he's done being separated from you.

He tilted his head down, his breath stirring your hair when he inhaled deeply, his nose tracing a path down until it rubbed against yours—softly, deliberately—as if giving you time to move away. You didn't and his eyes fell on your inviting mouth again.

Fuck it.

Jungkook surged forward, his hands cupping your face, tipping your face up to him as his lips crashed against yours. The way he kissed you was nothing like the way he had touched you. It was rough, desperate with the way tounge and teeth clashed, filled with years of pent up desire and regret and emotions too tangled to name.

He kissed you like the nights he’d spent staring at the ceiling in places too far from home, wondering if you’d be happier without him there to complicate things, wondering if things had been any different if he said something before. Will you have looked at him like the way you looked at his brother? Would that choice have saved you from years and years of tragedy? Would that have saved him from the weight of his guilt, his love—love that had been a silent, unwelcome presence in his life for so long that it felt like another organ, vital and inescapable?

When he felt you grip him again and kiss him back. Nothing else mattered. The world stopped spinning and he didn't wanted to run anymore.

His hands found your waist, gripping tightly. A low groan slipping from his mouth to yours at the feeling of how you melted against him when he deepened the kiss, tounge proding and exploring all that your sweet mouth had to offer. Gods, he was drunk now.

"Shit." He shuddered as the taste of you finally started to settle in, pulling you closer and closer, then pushing you back until your back met the wall of the hallway.

You should be scared, anxious and pushing him back. The mere thought of someone walking in on you kissing him, your supposed family. Should make you want to end this because you could only imagine the stake they'd pin you on. They'd be not wrong to.

This is traitorous—what you're doing, what you're allowing yourself. But so is a shameful part of you that had always reached for him. Something that whispered to you, so soft it felt like it came from inside your own chest.

It's not so bad. His lips feel good.

But oh, it is. It makes you sick from just thinking how bad it is. Anger, confusion, guilt—oh, the guilt—swirl together and make you so sick.

"W-We shouldn’t.." You gasp against him as your unpracticed lips suck on his in a contradiction.

"No, we shouldn't." He kisses you harder, his mouth only leaving yours to trail a train of kisses along the column of your accessible throat to him, making you whimper out loud that he takes as an sign to nibble and bite.

Your hands find their way to his shoulder and his to your hips. "Legs around me." He licks the length of your neck, narrowing your world down to the feeling of his provoking wet tounge on your skin, his calloused fingers squeezing your hips. It felt all too real now. And despite you being balant enough to start this in the first place, you're not sure if you're still feeling bold. What you are feeling is this sinful, unexplainable craving seeping into your bones, curling around your ribs, making it hard to breath and think. Or maybe it's him.

Whatever it is, you get yourself to pause his eager hands and hungry mouth and speak, your breath coming in short, hot puffs. "Jungkook.. I don't think-" He straightens up and the vulnerability in his voice and eyes is gone as he squeezes your hips tighter.

"Finally gave me that perfect mouth of yours and now you want to walk away? Do you like tormenting me, angel? Do you like knowing that I'd fuck my fist to only the thought of you when you do?" He growls against your ear and you feel yourself flush so hard you're sure he even feels the heat coming off you in ripples.

"Please, baby." He pleads unapologetically, fingers tugging you closer even when all of you is pressed against all of him. "I want you." So bad it hurts.

Gone is the man who had once been so armored, seemed so unreachable and untouchable. And left is Jeon Jungkook, who looks like he will crumble to the ground if you pull away now.

You wouldn't want that. But the words came anyway, right from where shame twisted in your stomach, tangling with the guilt that clawed at your throat. "Do you still want me even if I'm nothing like the woman I used to be?" It came out breakable and in segments, and the second they left your lips, you weren’t sure what to except as a answer.

For a moment, all you could hear was the ragged rhythm of your combined breathing.

You swallowed hard, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The intensity in his dark eyes was almost unbearable, raw and unrelenting as they searched yours.

"Don't ever say that again." he bit out, every syllable heavy. "I want you always. I want you with my every breath. There's always been only you for me, understand?" He added with a brief grind of his hardened arousal against your front, making you mewl.

The words, though, hit you like a physical forcek, breaking through the walls you’d built around yourself, the ones you’d convinced yourself were impenetrable.

Before you could respond, he moved.

His mouth fell onto yours again and with practiced ease, his hands slid to the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. "Now. Legs around me, baby." he murmured in the kiss, and though your mind was a whirlwind of what seemed like every single thought you've ever had, your body obeyed.

You could barely figure out to where he was taking you, too engrossed in the kiss that you steered towards a softer, mellow one, fingers tangling in the hair that has grown a little bit on the nape of his neck. Feeling like you both were two audacious college students trying to find a space in a messy party where you both won't be interrupted.

When he halted in his steps, you assumed that he found it as he kicked it open with a firm nudge of his boot, the room beyond dim and quiet but he barely give you time to register anything else, his movements urgent and frantic as he carried you over to the bed in the middle after swiftly locking you both away. You bounced on the silk mattress as he set you down, though his intentions were grave, his actions or the way he held you was gentle, tounge swiping over his glistening lips like chasing the taste of you that made you want to give him once more.

Audacious, you were.

Your eyes on his face, shadows played along the planes, softening the hard edges of his jaw, but his gaze burned. Dark and piercing, it held you in place as if daring you to look away.

You didn’t.

Your eyes followed the sluggish movements of his hands as he reached up, his fingers deftly working the knot of his tie. The fabric slid free, whispering against the buttons of his dress shirt before he cast it aside, forgotten on the nearby chair.

Next came his jacket. He shrugged it off with practiced ease, the broad span of his shoulders rolling beneath the fabric. Your breath hitched as he discarded it, leaving him in the crisp white shirt that clung to his frame, the outline of him barely hidden.

And then his hands moved again, this time to his wrist.

You watched, mesmerized, as he undid the strap of his watch, the silver buckle catching the faint light. He pulled it free and set it down on the nightstand, the movement so fluid it felt almost rehearsed.

It wasn’t until he turned his wrist slightly that you noticed it—the worn thread of a bracelet wrapped around his wrist, faded from time and use but unmistakable.

The one you’d tied around his wrist when you were kids in an action of promise to stay friends for years to come.

But he still wore it.

He still wore it.

Your fingers twitched against the bedspread, the urge to reach out and touch him almost overwhelming.

And as if understanding your anticipation, he soon followed you down, your breath catching as he hovered above you. You waited for him to kiss you again because god help you, you liked a little too much but he only pressed a chaste one, smirking subtly at the pout that subconsciously formed on your lips that soon parted in a gasp when he started to suck on your neck again, this time with the intention to claim the spot with the scrape of his teeth.

He hummed against your skin, the sound deep and satisfied, before he drew your flesh into his mouth again, harder this time. The sharp pull sent a jolt of pleasure-pain coursing through you, thighs clenching together.

"My angel." he said softly, yet nothing was soft about the way he pulled down on the straps of your dress. The fabric slipped, baring the smooth skin of your shoulder, and he pressed his lips there, warm and firm, before trailing lower, his mouth following the path he’d just uncovered. "My undoing."

The red fabric gathered at your arms as he pushed it further, exposing the tops of your collarbones and the swell of your chest. His gaze flicked up to meet yours then, dark and questioning, seeking permission even though his hands were steady, his intention clear.

You nodded, perhaps with too much enthusiasm and earned a chuckle from him that you were sure was the reason for the wetness pooling between your legs.

You had missed that sound. You had missed him.

And he was hell bent on making up for lost time as he dived face first into your chest, humming again when he took in your pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling his tounge around the roundness of you.

"Oh shit." Your back arched, hands finding their way to his hair again. Pulling and tugging. Urging him on until his hand was fondling the other, abandoned tit. Squeezing under his rough palms that made the heat lowering your stomach worse—all of it felt too much, too soon. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

It had been so long.

Too long since someone had touched you like this, with a reverence that made you feel seen, whole, wanted.

You told yourself it was natural, that anyone in your position would respond this way. That it wasn’t about him—it couldn’t be. But your body betrayed you before your mind could even catch up. Your legs wrapped around his waist once more as you ground yourself against him. Against the print of his bulging length you could feel pulsing against you.

"Fuck yeah.." You cursed low, head falling back on the pillows and Jungkook looked up, his own cock twitching at the sight of you, at the feel of you. Of everything he has ever wanted. Of everything he thought he would never have. But here you were straight from his flithest wet dream that would have him taking more cold showers that he could keep count of.

A goddamn miracle for him, this wasn't a dream.

"This here needs some attention too, hmm?" He rasped, hands slipping down from the curve of your waist, to bunch up your dress to your hips. Wasting no time in finding the wet mess you made of your panties. "Look at this." He grunted, hand cupping your clothed mound. "So wet."

You exhaled out like you'd been freed from shackles that felt too heavy and a whimper followed right after when he disposed you of them, exposing your deprived cunt to the cold air that had you clenching around nothing. "And so fucking responsive." He breathed against your bare sex after moving his head down.

You hadn’t expected that. You breath was bated, cheeks were flushed and heart was pounding at the view alone of his face between your thighs.

Then again, he was all about surprising you today.

Though, it didn't make it any less overwhelming.

The way his hands gripped your thighs, firm yet careful, as if he were both anchoring you and holding himself back. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to leave the faintest imprint, a reminder of where he had been, where he was. Your legs draped over his shoulders, trembling with a mix of anticipation and disbelief, as though your body was still catching up to the reality of this moment.

Never in your wildest dreams, it would have come to this. Come to Jungkook licking a greedy strip up from your folds.

"Jungkook—oh God!" You gasped and he groaned, feeling all of his restraint and the plan to savor this, to savor you, slip away from his tightening hands. One taste of you and he wanted to grasp every drop of like it would be his last.

And so he did.

Burying his face in your wanting pussy like a man with purpose, he lapped. His mouth wrapped around your clit, tounge swiping and licking with a reverence because you were something sacred, something he had put on a pedestal so high, others in his life barely mattered.

"Oh- mhm. Feels so good!" You moan out, mind in a haze of pure fog and he takes it as his cue to plunge his digit inside your dripping core. You're sure you've got no mind now. Grunts of his own leaving him at the thought of your heat wrapping around his aching cock instead.

He felt no shame in that. No shame in what he was doing right now. Because then you moved, your body arching toward him as if to erase every doubt. Your fingers found their way to his hair, tugging as selfishly as he fed on you, flatenning his tounge on your slit to take all he can get, to give you all he can.

A shaky exhale brushing against your folds. The sound was low, guttural, and filled with more longing than he knew how to contain. "Does it, baby? Sweet pussy's feeling good?" His fingers—knuckles deep now—worked you faster, curling and testing ways to get you closer to the edge.

This was more desire that he knew he was possible of as his hips started to rut on their own, seeking friction in a way that was both instinctual and helpless. Brain flat lining. Face drowned in the essence of you. Desperate, as you pulled on his hair. Pathetic, as he chased his own high from just the taste of you, from just how you enveloped his curving fingers. Ecastic, when you finally reached your breaking point from how he alternated between broad strokes and targeted flicks, making you come all over his mouth that kindles his face, that he swallow all because he refuses to let anything go to waste.

"Ah fuck—Oh lord!" You fingers tear in his scalp and hips bucked against his face, eyes rolling back until they whitened.

Oh.

It was in this moment, with your thighs braced against his shoulders and his name spilling from her lips, that Jungkook knew.

He would never be the same again.

That he too would be coming in his pants like a high school boy.

It wasn’t enough—nothing would ever be enough—but it was all he had, and it drove him to the edge faster than he would’ve liked to admit. The tension inside him snapped before he could stop it, his body tensing and toes curling because he found everything else secondary to the sheer joy of watching you fall apart beneath him.

"Oh shit, y/n. Shit. Shit. Shit." He whimpers against your cunt, his hips finally slowing down their mindless movement. His forehead pressed against your thigh as he caught his breath. His chest heaved, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his entire body felt like it was vibrating, the aftershocks of his release making his muscles twitch.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to your clit before leaning back up to feel another wave of release threatening to overcome him when he sees your content expression, hands loosening their grip in his raven hair, half lidded eyes meeting his own before they trail down. "Y-You.." You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t have spoken even if you tried.

A lazy smirk made it's way to his lips that caught the light before he licked whatever remnant what was left of you on his fingers.

"I'm a starved man, angel. Cut me some slack." He panted, pinching your bud in emphasis and moved back up before you could even process it, the warmth of his breath retreating, replaced by the cooler air of the room as he straightened. The absence of his lips against you left you gasping, your chest heaving, your pulse thundering in your ears or maybe it was you still riding your orgasm or maybe it was the knowledge that he came in his pants from just eating you out.

Then he was there again, his hands sliding from your thighs to the mattress on either side of you, bracketing you in like a secret he refused to let escape.

"Hi." He breathed against your forehead.

You felt a shy smile twitch on your lips. "Hi." You reply just as breathlessly.

He presses another kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah?" You couldn’t reconcile it.

How could he say things that made your cheeks flush, your body respond in ways you couldn’t control, while his lips brushed against your temple with a tenderness that felt like an apology?

How could he make you feel like you were unraveling and being held together all at once?

You wanted to know. "Mhm. Please." You mewl, hands softly going through the beautiful mess that you made of his hair.

"Please, what?" He demanded, lips on your cheek.

"Please fuck me." You whine and he bumped his nose against your face, chest rumbling from a sound so feverish that you can't help but grind against him again. Coaxing his cock back into hardness with your bare cunt against him, from the realization that you shared the insatiable urges with him.

It got his hand trembling when they reached down to unbind his belt, pushing the fabric down his hips to reveal predicament he's made of his boxers that were bounding his hard, leaking cock but hell if he had it in himself to care.

He had been bidding his time for far too long. Waited enough—longer than any man should have to wait for something that felt this inevitable, this right, this his.

Ridding himself of the last piece of clothing on him, other than the white dress shirt that flexed against his coiled muscles, he took himself In a fist, groaning when he pumped himself in one slow stroke. Eyes never leaving your wide ones like you weren’t sure if you should be impressed, intimidated, or both.

Your breath hitched audibly, and your chest rose and fell as your eyes darted from his face to the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, but you couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away, couldn’t stop the thought that immediately took hold.

"You're too big." Your throat dry, and your fingers fisted the sheet beneath you, trying not too think too much about how thick he would feel down your throat. The sounds he'd make when you would lick him just right.

"And you're gonna take every inch." He said it like a statement, a prominent vein popping in his neck when he finally let go of the locked gaze and focused instead on compressing the tip of his angry, veiny cock to your slick folds.

"Won't you, angel?" He asks with a confident smirk passed your way for a second before his breath wavered again, brows scrunched together and if it wasn't for his tip nudging inside you, you'd thought him endearing.

But once his tip is actually is in, you're left with no thought. Rendered speechless, eyes falling shut when he starts to jab inch by inch.

"Dear lord—" You gasp out loud. The sheet beneath you not providing much semblance so you switch to his shoulders. And you swear, he feel him shake when he is finally all in. Closes his eyes and relishes in your heat stretching around. "Fucking hell." The sensation was overwhelming—heat and softness so consuming it felt like his mind short-circuited, every thought dissolving into static.

But you feel that its your pussy that feels like it's going to split apart any moment now that's stopping him from moving. And partly it is. "You're so..tight." He hisses out and squeezes your hips with great roughness.

"Been long since you've been fucked, eh?" He muses, dark hungry eyes devouring yours when he makes an attempt to move inside you like he was testing your limits. Your mind reels, caught between the sharpness of the initial sensation and the overwhelming desire that followed.

He felt impossibly big, like your body wasn’t prepared for the sheer intensity of him, and for a fleeting moment, doubt crept into your thoughts.

It’s been so long.

The thought came unbidden. Your body had grown used to quiet nights and cold sheets, to the impersonal hum of a vibrator and the absence of warmth.

"Been so long." You confirm, nails clawing at his shoulders, mimicking the roughness that only spurs him on. His lashes fluttered shut, his forehead drops to your shoulder and with a whine of disagreement from you, he pulls back fully just to (to your satisfaction) bury himself back to the hilt.

An unadulterated moan from you broke the silence, a sound so sweet it made him want to come right there and then again. But he'd much rather have you convulse first. Priorities.

His jaw clenched, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he started to move his hips against yours, slow and deliberate, like he needed to feel every inch of your.

Your legs tensed around his hips, pulling him closer. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him, your mind a dizzy blur of heat and need and overwhelming sensation.

He pulled back again, the drag of him leaving you feeling empty, only to return with the same slow, measured thrust.

“That’s right,” he muttered, his voice rough and uneven, barely coherent through the sounds your free spilling moans and the fact that his face was buried in the crook of your shoulder. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect.” His voice unrefined at the edges, raw with honesty and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe you were really here, with him, like this.

Your hands slid down his back, clinging to the flexing muscles beneath your palms. You suddenly didn't like that his shirt was still on. Wanting to map out his bare skin with every graze of your nails. But with each thrust, pleasure sparked at the base of your spine and spread outward, your thoughts scattered like autumn leaves.

"Yeah- Oh mphm! Just like that!" He flourished in your cries of encouragement, his grip on your hips tightening, his fingers digging into your skin as he was afraid he'd lose control too soon.

And you wanted nothing more. "F-Faster! Please go faster!" His pace was unhurried but devastating, every pull and thrust deliberate, designed to drag you to the edge and keep you there, teetering. You couldn’t take that anymore.

And Jungkook couldn’t take keeping you unsatisfied. His lips found the corner of your mouth, brushing against it in a fleeting kiss before moving lower, his teeth grazing your jaw. His hands moved to your thighs, urging them higher, wrapping them around his waist as he drove into you with more force, more intent.

“taking me so well, was made for this cock.” Were made for me. he praised, his voice sounding like a backdrop to the obscene sounds his hips snapping against yours as your own body moved with his, meeting him with the same intensity, the same desperate need. "Yeah." He grunted, punctuating his words with a squeeze to your boob. "Fuck me back. Use me. Feel me."

All you could possibly do was feel him.

He felt like fire and electricity all at once, a heat that spread from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

“Jungkook…” you whispered again, your voice catching on the syllables when his head tipped forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his damp hair brushing your skin.

He whimpered in response, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through you, and he pistoned his cock harder, pulling a cry from your lips that you couldn’t hold back.

"I-I missed you." You can feel tears gather in your eyes again. You don't even know why. Why you're repeating what you've already admitted. Why the words feel more vulnerable now. All you know that you missed him and the coil is tightening in your stomach.

Jungkook, too feels like he will break down any moment when he stares down at you. But he’s got a impending orgasm to deliver.

He kisses your eyelids, is tempted to lick the tears that slowly make their way down to your chin but doesn't. He's not sure he'll be able to handle the taste of your despair without feeling like he has to chastise himself for ever being the reason for it.

"I know. I know." His cock thrusts with renewed vigor. "I missed you too. I missed you." He says through his gritted teeth, feeling how your walls fluttered around him.

"Gonna cum now?" He knows what your answer will be. There's a smug underline tone in his rasps that gives him away. How he takes pride in knowing that he's the one to make you release all this tension; once on his mouth; then on his cock that is pulsing with an reoccurring ache.

You can only manage to nod, lips tightly tucked between your teeth, hands scratching and marking on his once crisp shirt that is now crumpled from the fate of your hands.

"Gonna soak my cock, huh? Go ahead, baby. Go ahead and come with me." He demands, his hand slipping between you to rub tight circles against your puffy clit that is just enough to tip you over at last.

"Koo.. ah..oh god!" The name you've always called him with a fondness falls unintentionally from your lips when your walls tighten for the last time and you release all over his cock that is now stuttering with it's every thrust.

"Oh fuck. Call me that again." He all but snarls. Cock turns firmer inside your heat that hugs him. And balls screw up.

"Koo.." You whine and that's all he needs before thick ropes of white hot cum is spilling inside you, filling you to the brim. "Mhm, take it all. There's my girl. Pussy looks so good stuffed with my cum." He grinds the best his spent body can into yours that still welcomes him and fuck if that doesn't make him never want to leave.

And he doesn't, for a moment, when he collapses onto you. Just not enough to crush you under his weight. Just enough to latch his lips where ever he can find and whisper words of affection. "Could'nt fucking breathe without you." He's yet to get enough of you. This life won't suffice, he thinks. Then finally pulls out his softening cock from your slick hole with a hiss.

You too feel the loss the of the connection that had pulsed faintly between you, leaving you achingly empty.

He moved with the same carefulness, reaching for the tissues on the bedside table. The room was quiet save for your mingled breaths as he knelt beside you, his touch impossibly tender as he wiped at the inside of your thighs. You shivered under the cool press of the tissue against your skin, the sensation making you acutely aware of the aftermath—the way your body still quivered, the way your breaths still came uneven.

You stared at the ceiling while he did so, the edges of your perception blurred as you tried to silence the tingles that still hummed across the length of your legs. A reminder of how throughly he had disentangle you, how throughly his very essence had penetrated into you.

You were ruined by him.

There was no going back from this. You knew that.

What scared you was the realization that you didn’t want to.

You just didn't know how to admit that out loud where everyone and he could hear you.

Your eyes seeked out for him as if that alone could answer all your questions. He returned back against you without a question. Hands finely adjusted the strap of your dress and drew you closer to him with a soft voice, hoarse from the strain of everything he’d given you. "Come here, angel." Bundled you up in his arms and then only did he breathe out.

Your breath stayed differing. “Why do you call me that?” Your voice was curious but tentative. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”

You felt his lips curve up against your temple. "You were wearing this really pretty white dress the first time I met you." he began, his voice quiet, almost wistful. “Had these frills on the sleeves. I thought you looked like an angel."

You tried to piece together the memory. “That was so long ago."

It might be understood that it takes months to fall in love but Jungkook had been falling all his life.

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daddyjeonnn · 4 months ago

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────𐙚 husband!Jungkook / edition two

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

↳ part of 𝓦𝓗𝓘𝓢𝓚𝓔𝓨 ꩜ .ᐟ

❝ [ husband!Jungkoook universe] ¡! ❞

✎ summary: short headcanons that frame little things i imagine him doing in a marriage

‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

○ keeps your panties in his jean pocket after ridding you of them

○ slaps your clit while telling you how cute your cunt is

○ loves missionary- seeing your face, watching your tits, getting in deep with your legs on his shoulders

○ also loves when you ride him, caressing your waist and hips, kneading at your ass with his botttom lip tucked beneath his teeth

○ "yeah baby? sound so good, fuckin' feel me- feel so good ma"

○ possible breeding kink man ...

○ angry sex = backshots, hands pinned, spanking (stay tuned for one time for the present )

○ doesnt yell at you, ever

○ silent treatment until he gets weak and begs you that he'll do anything to make you happy again

○ never lets you sleep apart no matter how upset he is, his arms will be around you

○ usually cries with you, threading his fingers through your hair while sniffling,

○ "it's okay baby.. we'll do better, i love you so much"

・❥・❥・❥・❥・❥・❥・❥・❥・❥・❥・

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daddyjeonnn · 5 months ago

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JEALOUS!JUNGKOOK who watches you closely at every party. Jungkook didn’t even realize he was looking at you — it was something instinctive for him: to admire you, to pay attention to you and any of your actions to see if you needed him; simply having you always there in some way was the most natural thing for Jungkook. that’s why, when he followed you with his eyes, making sure you were having fun, he didn’t realize that he prolonged his attention when someone wanted to be nicer to you; or when someone wanted to take a little risk and try to touch you in some way, Jungkook simply couldn’t look away from you. Jungkook just wanted to make sure you were having fun, but that you weren’t having the time of your life without him. “oh, was i looking? sorry. i was just admiring how all the men here are mere children in adult bodies. just a thought, really”

JEALOUS!JUNGKOOK who made getting to know you a contest. Jungkook knew that, at the end of the day, he was the one who had you. he always saw you talking to everyone. your words came out freely without any problems, revealing fond memories and fantastic stories. in just a few hours, you made yourself known to those who wanted to know you. but none of them knew how you liked your coffee; none of them knew you were still crying over lost friendships; none of them knew how you liked to make your bed; none of them knew you, as you were, in your entirety. none of them except Jungkook. he was the only one who knew you. he was better than everyone. “what do you mean they only found out now that you don’t like elevators? you’ve been afraid of it since you were 5. frankly, they could be more considerate and walk up the stairs with you, but oh well.”

JEALOUS!JUNGKOOK who compares himself to everyone you talk to. you might be accepting a drink from that bank clerk, but Jungkook cooked for you every saturday. you’re laughing at the professor’s joke, but you ended up crying and clutching your stomach from laughing so hard with Jungkook. the engineer could have put his arm around your neck, but it was Jungkook who hugged you from behind when you felt under the weather. you’re telling the story of how your boss mistook you for an intern to the psychologist, but it was Jungkook who heard all your secrets. yes, they could be a lot of things, but none of them were Jungkook. “are you sure the story you just heard was the best you’ve ever heard? don’t you remember how you liked that story i told you so much that you called me at 4 in the morning asking how it ended?”

JEALOUS!JUNGKOOK who had no doubt that you would be happier by his side. no matter how many laughs and conversations you had with everyone else, Jungkook was still special, he knew it. he was the only one capable of turning your tears into melodious laughter, he was the only one capable of bringing you comfort on the coldest nights, he was the only one. yes. Jungkook didn’t need to worry — he was the one who knew you, who made you smile, who made you happy. no one else could make you feel grateful to be alive like Jungkook did. none of these people who wanted your attention knew how divine you were. only Jungkook — the only one capable of making you truly happy. “i know we agreed to marry each other if we’re single by 35, but i’m just suggesting you consider moving that date forward. that’s all.”

JEALOUS!JUNGKOOK who just wanted to make you smile like others did. yes, Jungkook was himself, and he was a lot to you, but he couldn’t make you smile like that. you had shining eyes, your skin was glowing, and your smile, as if drawn by the happiest artist, sculpted by the luckiest god, painted by the brightest star — your smile was everything. and Jungkook had never been able to put a smile like that on your face, a smile capable of stealing the light from the moon and the heat from the sun — pure, heartfelt, yours. “i noticed that you were enjoying the conversation with the group of professors. you looked really pretty smiling.”

JEALOUS!JUNGKOOK who doesn’t want to lose you, but he can’t ask you to stay. you were happy. you were having fun. you were charming the entire audience with your smile. you didn’t belong to Jungkook anymore — you never did. now you were theirs. of all those who admired you and wanted to know you better. and all Jungkook could do was look at you, admire you, see you conquering the entire world without any effort. like he always did. like he always will.

JEALOUS!JUNGKOOK who finally decided to talk to you. “when you were with the others and having fun with them it was as if you held my heart in your hands and squeezed it with your every laugh. i feel like i was never able to make you as happy as you were with them and i realized that that hurts, a lot. what i’m trying to say is that i like you, and that’s why i don’t like seeing you with others.”

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daddyjeonnn · 5 months ago

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BOY WITH LUV

18+ / mdi

summary: a new job as a barista should be easy enough, right? except it gets a whole lot more complicated when the coffee shop's most loved client just decides he has to have you OR richboy!jk falls for barista!reader and refuses to give up.

content: richboy!jk, downbad!jk, barista!reader, sub-ish!jk, reader plays hard to get just for plot purposes, jk is down horribly bad for reader, afab reader, smut, dry humping, jk's the embodiment of needy, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.8k

a/n: another silly and unserious jungkook fanfic<3

masterlist | patreon

"Anyways just be careful with how many pumps you add to drinks. Customers can be extremely sensitive about that kind of stuff. Trust me," rambled on your new trainer, Jen? Jess? Something like that.

You watched disinterested, already having had a menial barista job in the past and being well aware of the high expectations of disgruntled customers. You, too, had been verbally harassed by one too many people in dire need of a drink far too specific for the average person to memorize. It was still appreciated, though, the effort she took in walking you through every step to ensure you did good at your new position.

Despite your focus on the task being demonstrated to you not being at its best, you did take notice when Jean(?) stopped her mentoring and instead spilled some of the drink she was currently making, clearly now equally as distracted as you. Her focus was no longer on the counter you were practicing drinks on, but instead looking past you and towards the counter a few steps behind you.

You meant to call out her name to question her, but without an angle on her name tag or any confidence in actually remembering the correct name, you simply grabbed at a nearby towel and cleaned off the mess, not bothering to look at whatever was distracting her. It was too early for you to bother.

Snapping out of her trance mere seconds later, she tapped at your shoulder urgently, her voice now a whisper as she leaned close for you to hear what she was about to say.

"Oh my God, don't look, but that's Jungkook," she whispered excitedly, as if letting you in on information you had any context about — hint: you had no idea who nor what she was referring to.

Turning around, you eyed another one of your new coworkers tending to the line at the counter, but more specifically helping out some guy. Focusing your eyes on him, you could now understand why his presence had caused a short-circuit in Jane (?) and why she felt the need to announce his presence to you.

The distraction in question presented itself in the form of a very tall and fit guy, one with a fully tattooed sleeve and dreamy black curls. Other outstanding attributes were the very obvious muscles encompassing his entire body and the shine that came from the various piercings on his face. In short, the man was nothing short of a dream straight from a Pinterest board — and the charisma radiating from his mere presence did not help matters.

"He's a regular. No one really knows much about him other than he's rich. He tips like 200% above his total," continued June, still leaning in your direction to whisper.

You felt bad at how obvious you were whilst staring at the boy, but he was likely the prettiest one you'd seen in a while. The blank expression in your stare did not tell on you, but it did not deny the fact that you were staring.

"We take turns serving him," your coworker informed you, "Sometimes we fight over it. He's a natural flirt, but he does it with everyone, so we're not sure if he's taken or not," she proceeded to tell you benign details about him that had you nodding along as you continued to stare at him.

The usually fast-paced place seemed to slow down when he entered the coffee shop, with most baristas' attentions going to him rather than their jobs. If he was aware of it, he was good at ignoring it, instead giving a flashy smile to the lucky barista currently tending to him. From the short distance between you, you were unable to hear his conversation, but you still had a perfect view of him as he simply existed. He could easily see you, as there was nothing in his way, but he hadn't yet, somehow oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all other baristas in the house.

As time stood still for everyone else, it continued normally for him. He paid for his drink, having it quickly bypass all other prior orders and made immediately by one of the many girls fawning at him. God, even the two baristas working the drive-thru had taken a short break from it go gawk.

It wasn't until moments later that Jungkook seemed to get a taste of his own medicine, with his own time suddenly coming to a halt. As he turned around to leave, sweet drink now in hand, his eyes incidentally met yours, causing him to pause mid turn and do a double take in order to catch your eyes again.

It was ridiculous, really. Almost too identical to those moments you'd see in those dumb romcoms you used to enjoy as a teenager. Except this was actually happening. And it was happening to you. As all your new coworkers watched his every move with extreme attention.

His eyes widened a bit. It was something the naked eye might've missed, but not you (nor the other five girls watching). His head tilted a bit to the side — maybe in curiosity due to not having seen you there before (Joanne did mention he was a regular). A ghost of a smirk took over the natural smile that had been on his lips since arrival. And lastly, a nod was sent your way — a nod in acknowledgment to your presence, but also with a flirtatious hint to it. It was hard to describe. You simply had to be there.

You remained watching him with a poker face throughout. The same poker face you'd had since clocking in to work that morning. It wasn't that you were mean or not a people person, you simply hated work. You'd been told you had a bit of a resting bitch face and gave a mean impression to those who didn't know you, but that was beside the point. The pretty boy whose attention you'd caught had gotten lucky, though, as he at least received the ghost of a smile from you before he left.

The first thing to occur upon his departure was a squeal from your left. The perpetrator? Julie (or whatever her name was).

"Oh my god!," she let out, grabbing onto your shoulder so you'd face her, "Did you see that?"

"See what?", you asked, not 100% sure of what had just happened.

"He totally checked you out . He's never done that before. Maybe he likes you? God, don't let Lila find out, she's got a huge crush on him," she informed you, once again assuming you knew who the hell Lila was.

"Hah, I think he might've just been surprised to see a new face," you downplayed, "What were you explaining before he got here? The thing with the pumps and the-"

"He comes here every morning at 8 or so. How about you take his order tomorrow? Y'know, just to test my theory," she suggested, disregarding your question.

"Orders? It's my first day here. Isn't training like two weeks lon-"

"It's fine! I'll be shadowing you. You'll do great! Now let's get back to your training-"

"Jane! I need more change at drive thru!", called one of the drive thru girls, interrupting your conversation.

"Coming, Lila!", she responded, giving you a polite smile before handing you the shaker she had just been holding, "Just practice some drinks how I taught you. I'll be right back to show you how to work the register."

So her name was Jane. And that was Lila.

At least you learned something today.

The subject of Jungkook stayed for a while after he left.

As you got to know a few of your other coworkers during your shift, you came to learn more useless details about him. Useless due to the fact that none of your coworkers had ever actually had a real conversation with him. It appeared as if he was always in a rush any time he stopped by. This bit of knowledge made it even more scandalous among your coworkers that Jungkook had stopped to blatantly check you out before continuing with his busy day.

And so the next day, you were admittedly a bit nervous when they'd suddenly prepped you for cashier duties only one day on the job. You'd done this before, but it was always slightly nerve wracking working a new cash register system and dealing with an entirely different hurdle of customers. That and the fact that you knew all your coworkers were awaiting the moment in which Jungkook came back, only this time he'd get a one-on-one with you.

For one, you didn't believe the suspicion that he liked you.

It was impossible to assert that from the simple one-over he'd given you. But then again, you didn't know the guy as well as your coworkers claimed to.

It was at 8:17AM that the theory was finally tested, when a certain heartthrob walked through the glass doors with all the charismatic energy a person could possibly carry.

He looked as handsome as he did the day prior, especially because now you had a beeline view of him, simply waiting for his arrival on the other side of the counter. His hair was wavier today somehow, and he donned a tight short-sleeve that gave you the perfect view of a sleeve full of colorful tattoos — fuck. His jeans were loose but still gave you a nice view of his physique. It was easy to tell the man was ripped to hell, yet another probable reason as to why your coworkers were all in love with him. Chunky shoes and shiny piercings accessorized his outfit, bringing an edge of grunginess you typically enjoyed in guys.

All things considered, he seemed just like your type.

However, the concept of even crushing on a guy that had every other girl at his feet sounded far too exhausting. You were just not into the idea of chasing after a guy who had a line of women waiting for their turn (or just chasing any guy in general). Today you'd simply serve his drink to prove a point and put an end to any possibility of even a mere flirtation with Jungkook before it even began.

Somehow, he hadn't taken note of you until reaching the cash register, too distracted by his phone as he made what was likely a familiar path for him — he was a regular, after all.

When he reached you, finally putting his phone away, he reacted similarly to last time, doing a double take before letting his eyes land on you for a more permanent stay. His mouth opened and closed a few times, hands reaching up as if undecided on what to entertain themselves with and remaining awkwardly on the air. A gulp took over his voice before he shook his head slightly to clear his head.

"Hi," he began, "You're new."

"Hi, yeah. What can I get for you today?," you got straight to the point.

As flattering as his reaction to you was, a line would probably form any minute now, and you'd already been thrown to the wolves, so you needed to move things along. There's never any time to waste in customer service.

"Oh, uh, the other baristas know my usual — but, uh you're new, like you just said, so, it's uhm just an americano. Medium, please," he rambled, not smooth like you'd expected someone as handsome and put together to be.

Your chuckle couldn't be helped, but at least it wasn't the girlish giggle you truly felt like letting out in the presence of such a man, "Yeah, okay. That'll be $4.95. Anything else?"

He stared at you blankly for a few moments, two silent blinks trapping his large eyes before clearing his throat, causing you to look up from the cash register to give him a curious look, hoping that was enough of a silent indicator at him to speak up.

"Your number, maybe?"

Admittedly, this caught you off guard.

You were surprised at the swift shift in confidence in Jungkook. Literal moments ago he was stammering his way through a sentence, yet the second time you looked up from the cash register he began to sport a cocky smile, confidently leaning against the counter separating you.

"God, you're gorgeous," he then added, eyes moony as he stared at you. It was said with a clear lack of thoughts in his brain, though also with an air of confidence, almost as if he were stating an irrefutable fact.

"Uhm, thanks," you mumbled, taking the money he was currently handing you with an awkward smile, "Okay, got a $5," you recited the usual cashier dialogue as you dug into the register for his change, "Here's your change. Your drink will be ready in a few minutes."

He took it, eyes still glued to yours with a dreamy smile on his face. Tilting his head to the side, his smile widened, "So, no number?", he asked with a teasing tone.

"Sorry, not allowed to give it to customers," you lied, "What's your name? Need it for the order," you asked despite already knowing his name. Disclosing this information would've only made him more adamant in asking for your information.

"That's a lie. Most of your coworkers have slipped me their numbers before," he called you out nonchalantly before giving you his name without any further argument, "What's your name? You don't have a name tag on," he seemed very okay with continuing with the small talk as much as possible, ignoring how your eyes looked past him to eye the line that had began forming.

You sighed, noting how settled he was on his spot, with his arms now leaning comfortably on the counter. He was clearly not going to leave with at least something from you.

You gave him your name, adding reluctance to your tone, attempting to send a message of disinterest.

Lifting his hand, he reached to yours which was currently lying on top of the screen of the cash register, softly grabbing its limp form to offer you a handshake. You did not grasp his hand in yours in return, making the handshake one-sided.

"Very nice meeting you. You'll be seeing me very often, gorgeous," he winked, dropping a bill way too high for a $4.99 order into the small tips cup on the counter and finally walking away as suave as humanly possible.

Internally, you groaned, knowing this was going to be the topic of conversation as soon as you clocked out for your break.

As expected, a few of your coworkers squealed at you immediately after Jungkook's departure, rambling about how clear it was that he was into you. And yes, that much was obvious — especially considering the large $20 tip he'd left you for merely taking his order. It was difficult to not give into their encouragement to ask him out or to at least respond to his advancements next time.

Most of your coworkers expressed happiness for you, simply enjoying the sight of the pretty boy coming around on a daily basis, while one or two seemed to grow an immediate dislike for you upon his sudden interest in you. Regardless, you wished to steer clear of any emotions his crush on you could bring. All you wanted out of this job was to clock in and clock out and call it a day.

The next time you saw him was two days later when you were finally scheduled to work again. Once more, you found yourself at the cashier once again. Despite it being your first week, your trainer had decided that you seemed apt for the task after the test trial with Jungkook a few days prior, so cashier duties were now assigned to you.

You didn't mind this. It was a straight forward task and far more preferable to drive-thru or clean up duty. However, you couldn't lie in saying you weren't a little on edge at the thought of interacting with Jungkook again. So maybe you spent an extra five minutes this morning on your makeup, so what?

You spent most of your morning taking orders for the early risers that frequented the store. They were all pretty nice, likely too tired at such an early hour to trouble the baristas in charge of their morning dosage of caffeine.

"Hey, gorgeous," were the words that took you out of your thoughts, calling your attention to the boy you'd been subconsciously thinking about all morning.

"Hello, Jungkook. What can I help you with?", you readied yourself to enter his drink on the register.

"What, don't remember my order? Missed you the past few days, by the way. Where'd you go?", he pouted.

"Sorry, not good at memorizing customers' orders, you're going to have to remind me. And I was off this weekend," you were straight forward in your responses.

Similarly to last time, he leaned on the counter, diminishing the distance between you as much as possible before speaking again, a smirk still present on his face.

"That's no problem, gorgeous, I'll remind you every day. Any chance you're nearing your break any time soon?", he questioned with confidence, repeating his order afterwards for you to type into the system.

You sighed, interrupting your work to respond, "No, I-"

"Actually, yes!", interrupted a sudden third voice.

You turned your head to the side to look at the intruder. It was Jane, of course.

"She's been working all morning. She's due for her 15," she let out, pushing you away from the cash register to take your place, "I'll work your order for her," she insisted.

"Great," Jungkook smiled at you in triumph, "In that case, throw in some cake pops in for my new friend," he went to take out some cash, handing what was likely too much to Jane and insisting she keep the change.

Turning his eyes back for you, he nodded in his direction as a silent request that you round the counter and head over to his side. Jane somehow completed his order in artful speed and handed it over to you with a wink before nudging you to encourage you to go. With a slight scowl, you did as suggested, handing Jungkook his drink and cake pops before he gave one back for you.

He began walking over to an empty counter, leaning against it and inviting you to do the same. Very casually, he drank from his drink and took a bite from his cake pop as he offered the other one out to you, chuckling when you grabbed it with reluctance.

"C'mon don't act like I got you hostage."

"You kinda do. My break wasn't until another twenty minutes. This just means I'll have to stay another half an hour," you quipped, more contrarian than anything.

He liked this, it seemed, indicating his amusement with another chuckle. It was probably not usual for him be met with much resistance to his flirting. And it wasn't as if it didn't work on you (it did). You were just not very willing to focus on it over your job — as menial as it was.

"I'll cover your overtime, gorgeous, don't worry about that," he smirked, "What time does your shift end anyway?"

"Hah, wouldn't you like to know?", you laughed antagonistically, continuing to nab at the sweet treat he'd given you.

Taking a step forward, he got up in your personal space. It wasn't an intimate type of closeness, but rather a standoffish one. He was challenging your own defiance against his flirting.

"You are aware I'm flirting with you, right?"

"Very."

Another amused chuckle left him, "How many visits is it gonna take me for you to reciprocate?", he asked, "Fine, maybe being so forward after my second visit was a bit too much, but I'm willing to play the long game if you are."

You listened to him with the ghost of a pleased smile on your face. Fine, maybe he was attractive and likable too. You weren't about to shut him down so easily. Maybe the long game sounded good to you too.

Taking the rest of your cake pop into your mouth with one swoop, you gnawed at the leftover candy on the stick, sucking at it with a pop before eyeing him again and nodding at him.

"You're more than welcome to, Jungkook."

He nodded back, "Them I guess I'll be seeing you here tomorrow ..." he paused with a lift of his eyebrow, a silent question for your name and groaning when you continued to grin silently, "Come on! At least give me your name!"

The giggle left you before you could stop it, continuing to sound out your name to him as a sign of peace.

"Pretty name," he murmured to himself, "Same time tomorrow?", he asked before turning to leave.

"I'll be waiting."

In the following two weeks of working as many hours as possible at your new job, you were finally no longer in your training period. You were now considered as useful an employee as Jane and Lila, meaning you got your name tag and could now comfortably settle into your cashier position.

In these two weeks, you also saw Jungkook almost every day (sans those in which you were off).

It got to a point in which Jungkook would occasionally stop by a second time in the afternoon in search of a peek of you, usually proving unsuccessful, but still trying anyways.

As summer time ended, the mornings became more packed, meaning yours and Jungkook's encounters diminished in time due to the peak of clients in the mornings. Jungkook was not shy in expressing his disappointment at this, always giving you eyes to attempt to get you to stall on his orders so he could spend a little extra time at the counter with you, or even attempting to bribe you with tips so you'd give him your number (something which had almost worked a few times).

Now, an entire month into your job, it was safe to say that Jungkook's crush was more than mutual by this point (though it really always was).

Unfortunately, your back and forth was so limited that you were yet to really find out anything about the guy other than his first name. Apart from having a vague idea of his wealth, you didn't know any basic details such as his age, profession or even his last name.

To be fair, you had never attempted to learn more about him, but this was partially due to your belief that he must've just enjoyed your casual flirtation. Likely, he liked your hard-to-get personality and enjoyed attempting to break you down. He had never actually asked you out past that first time he invaded your break, after all.

Up until today, that is.

"Please let me steal you away for your break," were the first words the boy had spoken to you when he'd finally caught you at the cash register after days of missing you altogether, "Or! I can wait until you get off. I'm finally off work for a few days. Please don't make me beg. I will do it, but it won't be pretty for anyone."

You sighed, fake annoyed at the gigantic pout on his face, "You've seen me almost every other day," you started, only to be interrupted by him.

"But you're always busy! God, why do so many people need coffee anyways?"

"Ask yourself. You're a frequent client here."

"Yeah, but that's different! I don't even come here for the coffee anymore. It's too packed," he continued, peeking behind him for a moment to make sure he wasn't holding up a line.

"Really?", you decided to play with him, "Why do you come, then?"

He leaned in closer to the counter separating you, grin copying your own satisfied one, "You know, the least you could do is acknowledge my flirting. It'd be really mean if you didn't."

"Fine," you gave in, "I work a full day today, but my lunch is in twenty minutes. Now order before my manager scolds me for letting you loiter."

He scoffed, "All your coworkers love me, that could never happen. But fine. I'll have my usual," he conceded, "I'll be waiting for you over at a table outside. If you don't come, I'll become even more of a nuance," he threatened jokingly as you processed his order, taking his payment and handing him a receipt with a reluctant nod in agreement.

"Okay, leave!", you couldn't help but berate him as you handed him his drink — which, hard to admit, you knew by heart.

With another chuckle in your direction, he made a face at you and made his way out, making sure to leave a far too large tip before exiting.

The twenty minutes before your lunch were spent boringly to say the least. Not many customers were around at that time of day, so you spent most of your time lounging around the small bar and restocking any lids or cups you felt were low enough to be refurbished. Contrary to how you'd previously expressed yourself, you were actually looking forward to getting to hang with Jungkook.

He was fun, what could you say?

Just a few minutes before your lunch break actually began, a subtle knocking sound caught your attention, causing you to focus your view on one of the many windows in the shop. Looking in that direction, you caught a smiley Jungkook attempting to grab your attention, waving cutely when you finally noticed him.

"Are you done?", he mouthed through the window, hands making a 'come hither' motion to entice you into coming out, eyebrows lifted in anticipation.

It got increasingly difficult to hold back a smile any time Jungkook would do something unknowingly cute, but you still managed.

You looked at the clock hanging on the wall, noting you had two minutes until your break. Looking back and forth between the empty coffee shop and Jungkook fawning at you from the window, you made a decision. What were two minutes, anyways?

Shrugging, you gave him a small smile, you began heading outside after clocking out of your register, having to force back a giggle at how much bigger his own smile got at your reciprocation.

"Was that a smile I saw?", he grinned when you finally made it outside.

You rolled your eyes, though the ghost of a smile didn't leave you.

"Shut up. You got me for thirty minutes, don't waste it."

You walked side by side up until the table Jungkook had been sitting at, not taking a seat but standing next to it.

"Do I have permission to take you out?", he tried, biting his lip in hopeful anticipation.

Pretending to mull over it for a moment, you crossed your arms and pursed your lips, hmm'ing at the proposal.

"C'mon! You know I like you. All your coworkers know I like you. And, y'know what? I think you like me back- Okay, wait, don't give me that look. Fine, you at least tolerate me."

"And?"

"See! You didn't deny it. That's a step in the right direction. Let me take you out. Please? I'm not in this just for the chase, if that's what you're thinking," he practically pleaded, looking down at you with those gigantic eyes you were unsure if you were truly immune to.

"Then why me?", you asked, truly unsure.

"I don't know," he began, "Call it love at first sight, I guess? Do I need a reason to like you? There's too many. I like everything I've known about you," he finished with sincerity in his eyes.

But you couldn't really buy it so easily.

"Jungkook, you don't even know me."

"But I want to! That's the whole point of dating. C'mon, I won't get in the way of your job. I'll even take you out somewhere fancy. I know you like pastries, I always see you go for the sweet drinks rather than the coffees, and you always pair them with a cake pop. See? I know as much about you as you've allowed me to know," he braved it and stepped closer, grabbing onto your hand tentatively, "So, please?"

You huffed, looking down before looking back at him, attempting to force the endeared smile out of your face.

"Fine. You can take me out. But not right now. If you want to take me out, you have to wow me. A measly thirty minutes in my work apron is not enough."

He took a few moments to wipe the huge smile off his face before responding, clearing his throat before doing so.

"Completely valid. Give me your number so you can text me your address and any time you'll be free for me to wow you," he handed you his phone, taking yours in exchange.

"Really? Any time?", you asked as you absentmindedly added your contact info to his phone, "Don't you have a job or something?"

"Huh, now who's the one who wants to get to know me?", he smirked lightheartedly, "That's for you to find out at our date," he went to hand your phone back, "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I still have an allotted seventeen minutes to spend with you."

In usual Jungkook fashion, he insisted on buying you something to eat from your own establishment, huffing at any suggestion for you to use your employee benefits and leaving a large tip as per usual. Whatever was his job, it must've left him more than satisfied. It made you curious, though his personality was even more intriguing. Against how you may have presented your lack of enthusiasm, you were quite excited for your upcoming date.

The next time you saw Jungkook, you got a very clear idea of what his job must be. Or at least of which tax bracket he sat comfortably at.

You weren't sure what model of car sat in front of your apartment at this moment, but you were sure it was worth beyond the money you'd see in this lifetime. There was also no doubt it belonged to Jungkook. The personalized JK1997 license plate was good enough indicator of its owner.

After giving Jungkook your number, you became victim to a myriad of messages from him from that moment on. Not only did he make plans for your date, but he also took advantage of how easily reachable you had become and chose to display his affection for you in the form of endless messages.

You couldn't lie to yourself, it was fun to have a guy so deeply interested despite your constant indifference towards him, specially if it was a guy that looked like Jungkook.

His messages varied from flirtatious to friendly to downright thirsty — there had been an instance of him sending you a picture of him at the gym, one which you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. You'd tease him about sending pictures back, but the most you ever gave him were selfies (to which he responded with threads of heart eyes).

Your date had been planned almost immediately. Jungkook, claiming himself a romantic, insisted on not telling you his plans, but did recommend you wear a pretty dress and some cute heels. He ached to see you all dolled up for him (his exact words).

Part of you wanted to be a brat (as he seemed to enjoy) and deny him of this pleasure. But a bigger part of you as tired of rejecting him and wanted to break him in different ways. And so you dressed up. You pulled out the dress you thought would wear him down the quickest, dolling yourself up to the best of your abilities and even donning the cutest pair of heels you could find.

The fruits of your labor manifested themselves in the form of a practically drooling Jungkook standing in front of your apartment door, stammering a greeting to you as his eyes went up and down your body multiple times, taking various stops at the parts he likely deemed his favorites.

He led you downstairs by your hand, groaning out loud at your perfume as he complimented it, claiming you must've wanted him dead before he even got to take you on your date. Maybe he was half right about that.

Once downstairs, he played dumb when you gaped at his expensive car, simply claiming that you deserved nothing but the best and opening the passenger door to you with a kiss to the pack of your hand.

His hand remained on your thigh the entire way over, nimble fingers occasionally tracing t the skin or sometimes even squeezing at the plushiness of it. You smiled in satisfaction at how blatant he was about wanting you. He'd always been loud and proud about it, but the reactions he was giving you tonight inflated your ego tenfold.

The restaurant was, once again, another demonstration of his wealth. This time you scoffed at any other suggestion to him being rich, to which he simply chuckled as he allowed the host to lead you over to your seats — some which he'd introduced as the best in the house.

"Are you going to tell me what you do for a living or should I start speculating?", you asked after a few sips of wine.

"What are your thoughts?", he decided to entertain you.

"You're in the mafia, maybe? Or a nepo baby? One of your parents married into wealth? You don't seem the lottery type. You look like you're very well accustomed to being rich," you began speculating, enjoying his amusement at you.

"All very fine guesses, but no. Gonna have to try harder."

"Can I bribe you into telling me?", there was a suggestive tilt to your tone.

"Please bribe me."

You giggled. You enjoyed how open he was about liking you. It was extremely refreshing. It was hard to remember now why you'd ignored his advances for months.

"Tell me," you whined.

"It's nothing exciting. I'm afraid you'll be bored by it," he clicked his tongue.

Maybe you should flip the script and show him your own interest?

Before you could decide, your body took control of its own, with your leg beginning to drag up and down his own under the table in a slow and seductive fashion. He instantly hiccuped at his drink when he felt the touch.

"Tell me?", you asked again, but your tone was far more convincing this time. You let the strap of your dress fall to the side, giving him a sneak peak at the strap hidden underneath it; the first hint at the pretty set you'd thrown on for later.

"A-ah, I'm just a video editor and producer. Nothing too exciting," he managed to not stutter too much as he felt your touch and allowed his eyes to zero in on the tiny sliver of bra.

"Oooh, sexy."

"Well, not as sexy as being a barista," he joked back through a stutter.

"Is that why you're always at the cafe? You're rich enough to not work a menial job like the rest of us peasants," you leaned towards the table a bit, foot continuing to tease at his leg.

"I'd say the pretty barista there is the bigger reason- Baby, you gotta stop doing that," he interrupted himself.

"What, I can't flirt with you? How's that fair?"

"You have the upper hand here. It's not fair!" he almost whined.

"Trust me, I could be doing much worse," you threatened with a smirk, "Don't make me sit next to you. I'll be even meaner up close."

He gaped at you for a few moments before readjusting himself on his seat, eyes trailing to your chest for a brief moment before attempting to refocus.

"Baby, did you enjoy your meal?", he suddenly switched the subject, sitting up straight now.

"We just got here," you tilted your head in confusion.

"Yeah, but, uh, I think I might've left my stove on. Come back home with me to check?"

Oh.

Well, that was fun enough for you.

But you could make it funner.

"But I wanted dessert," you pouted as you let your foot find higher heights on his legs.

"What I want isn't on the menu," he played along with a matching pout.

"Will you treat me to something good if I say yes?"

"I'll give you anything you want," he gave up on the double entendres, tone exasperated as he visibly itched to get up from his seat.

"Fine," you feigned disinterest, slowly getting up from your seat only to be rushed by Jungkook who had suddenly made his way over to your side of the table, ushering you out of your seat.

He scrambled through his wallet to grab a stack of cash, gesturing at the waiter to let him know it covered the bill and that he could keep any extra as a tip. You giggled as he dragged you away, not at all subtle in what his goal was. Even his grip on your wrist as he dragged you away was clear on its intent.

"Well, that was a shitty date," you deadpanned back in the car.

"You're the one who ruined it by playing footsie with me!", he rasped, attempting to focus on the road while you sat pretty beside him with an unspoken promise of sex as soon as you reached your destination.

You were happy to not be the one driving.

"But you said you'll treat me once we take care of your oven, right, Kookie?" you teased with a hand beginning to draw patterns on his leg, causing him to flinch with a whine.

"D-don't touch me! I will crash and I need you intact for I wanna do to you," he grumbled.

You laughed again, surrendering for the rest of the ride.

The next time you spoke was when Jungkook began pulling into a building that looked a few tax brackets above your own. It oozed luxury, being so high up that you could not see the end of it from the car window.

"A producer, huh? Dude, you're loaded. You could probably buy out the entire franchise of the cafe I work at," you marveled as you took in the expensive-looking parking lot you were pulling into.

"Can I? Will that get you to stop working and pay attention to me?," he pouted.

The sight gave you some cognitive dissonance. On one hand, you had an extremely attractive Jungkook donning what was likely an insanely expensive suit whilst maneuvering the car with only one hand. Meanwhile, you also had a needy boy pouting at you for your attention.

But you decided to play into the latter. The control he gave you was just too enjoyable.

"Needy," you teased.

"You have no idea."

And those were hid last words before he finally parked the car, rushing to get out and round it in order to help you out of your seat. It was embarrassing, really, the urgency in which he ushered you towards the lobby, practically dragging you all the way to the elevator before pressing a button far too high for the ride to be a short one.

Which was why you chose to take advantage of tour solitary surroundings whilst in that small ascending box.

Jungkook should've seen it coming, really. You hadn't been shy about being a tease back at the restaurant, nor had you really restrained yourself while in his car. It should've been obvious to him that you'd try and pull something whilst on the elevator too, right?

Wrong. Or well, at least if his whimper of surprise had been any indicator of his cluelessness.

The most sensible thing to do (in your horny opinion, at least) at that moment had been to corner him and catch him in a heated kiss. Apart from his initial surprise, it seemed like this was the right step to take, seeing as he fed into it immediately.

His hands were just as needy as his person, gluing themselves to your body and refusing to leave it for even a second. Every curve was felt and squeezed at as his tongue infiltrated your mouth. But his needy hands weren't even the best thing about him.

Your favorite thing was how shameless he was when it came to his sounds. If a mere kiss had him whimpering against you, you were ecstatic to know what second base would make him sound like.

Pulling at his hair, you pulled him away from you just so you could take a look at his dazed eyes (which were very adamantly glued to your lips). The sight was too pretty to ignore. But this lasted mere seconds before the poor boy drew you into another kiss, humming when you kissed back with the same amount of fervor.

Needy hands landed on your hips, long fingers digging into the plush and pushing them against his own. His hardness was already proudly present and dragging itself against whichever part of your body was closest. Pants were released right into your lips and suffocated against your tongue. No words were exchanged, as the sounds of clothes ruffling and tongues meeting were already loud enough.

Sadly, the beautiful art of dry humping had to be put to a stop when the elevator dinged, indicating you'd reached your destination.

True to his character, Jungkook whined again, immediately setting course for his apartment as he dragged you by the hand once again. You found your destination quite quickly as Jungkook fumbled to let the two of you in, practically pushing you in before closing the door behind him.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he spoke for the first time as he pressed your lips together once more.

Blindly guiding you through his expansive apartment, he somehow managed to only bump twice before making it to his bed. Sadly, you were unable to take in your surroundings due to Jungkook's insistence in keeping your lips locked, but who were you to complain?

Landing on his bed, Jungkook remained standing, beginning to throw off his blazer and unbutton his shirt as you leaned back in a sitting position, legs spread to allow him to stand between them. You enjoyed the show, not even attempting to get yourself into any state of undress.

"Stop staring at me like that. You're making me nervous," he whined when he found himself finally shirtless, squinting at you as you quite literally ate him with your eyes.

You knew he'd be the prettiest sight from the moment you first spotted him, but he looked even better than you could've possibly imagined. He was clearly sculpted, but you didn't realize it'd be to this extent. Carrying a lean figure, every inch of his body still managed to contain toned muscle. The tattoo sleeve also did not help manners.

You ignored his whining, continuing to stare.

"Come up wrap me," you lifted your hands childishly as if to invite him to undress you, which he accepted happily.

Chuckling at your demeanor, his hands reached out to you, helping you stand up before blindly unzipping your dress and letting it fall down to reveal the other pretty garments you'd chosen to wear for him.

"Oh, you hate me," he mumbled upon a single view of what was hiding below your dress.

Pressing his forehead to your shoulder, he groaned, hands hanging by your sided as he appeared to apprehensive to touch you, not really knowing where to start.

"You haven't even looked at it yet!", you pouted, "I got it just for you. And it was expensive — maybe not by your standards, but," you shrugged.

His nose trailed its way to your neck by then, breathing you in and continuing to groan at the peak of lingerie he'd just gotten. There was no way he had gotten a good look from his proximity, but knowing that the mere suggestion of you dressing up for him already had him frustrated.

"I'll buy you a wardrobe full of them," he huffed whilst his hands felt you up, fingers lightly scratching at the lace barely covering your hips and breasts.

"If I rip it, will you be mad?", he asked after getting his fill of you. Your neck was practically wet with his saliva by then.

"Well, you did say you were gonna buy me more, so,"

Your statement was followed by a ripping sound coming from down south, your lower half now fully nude as you gasped.

"Jungkook!"

"Oh, these rip easily. That's good. I like these," he muttered, unhooking your bra before beginning to kiss his way to your breasts.

"K-kook, fuck."

His lips caught onto one of your breasts, tongue teasingly rounding the hardened bud in the middle before nipping lightly at it. A huff of air was released against your skin as he sighed in what you believed to be contentment.

"You're so pretty," he sounded pained as he said it.

He continued kissing at your breasts and feeling at your body for a few moments before laying you back on the bed, hands aiding you in scooting towards its middle so he could hover above you comfortably. His hands didn't leave you once, latched onto some part of your body at all times.

Trailing down with wet kisses, his lips acted as a magnet against your skin, finding their way to your middle slowly but desperately. Immediately once there, he nuzzled his nose into your bundle of nerves, sighing against it before letting his tongue get a taste.

"I- fuck, Kook," you sighed when you received a wide lick to your folds, followed by precise movements of his tongue.

Jungkook's proclivity towards oral became obvious quite quickly. It was as if he was trying to replace all the wetness seeping out of you with his own saliva. It sounded disgusting in theory, but felt far too good in practice.

"Hmm, fuck. Baby, I need to be able to breathe," he chuckled breathlessly when your thighs began squeezing around his head a little too harshly.

"It's your fault," was all you mumbled before whining at him to continue.

Unable to deny you anything, he kept going, tongue pointed as it poked and licked at your swollen pearl while his ring and middle finger slowly inserted themselves inside, doing a 'come hither' motion and gracing against your walls to perfection. The constant rumble of his groans against you did not really help matters either.

"You're too fucking good at this, shit," you groaned when he held you impossibly closer, nose rubbing against your clit as he licked at your hole maniacally.

"Just, fuck, it's so warn n pretty," mumbled the drunken man.

It made you pulse the way in which he described your cunt. Pretty had never been a word you'd considered, but who were you to oppose his expert opinion?

Far too soon, you felt your orgasm approach. All your senses were heightened. The smell of sweat, the feeling of his tongue against you, the sound of his grumbles of self-serving pleasure; you were done for.

When you came, it didn't come to you as a surprise when Jungkook refused to create any distance between you. His head remained buried between your legs, tongue lapping at you despite your body begging at him to stop. The sensitivity was high, but the pleasure was ever so present, you didn't have it in you to actually make him stop. Your hands dug into his hair even harder than before, though they were indecisive as to whether to pull him closer or away from you.

"God, fuck. I've been wanting to do that since I met you," he groaned out once he resurfaced.

He climbed beck up your limp and ruined body, kissing his way to your lips before nastily shoving his tongue in your mouth. Not bothering to ask whether or not you'd want to taste yourself, he took a wild guess and asserted you'd be enthusiastic in your reciprocation — which you clearly were, practically reaching down his throat with your own tongue.

Naturally, your bodies melded with one another as you kissed. Both pairs of hips became needy as they ground against each other. Bumping bellies, you ensured Jungkook remained trapping against you as you wrapped your legs around his nonexistent waist. He chuckled at this for half a second before continuing to devour your lips with his own, hips even more desperate than before.

"Wanna- fuck, wanna cum like this, but ... God, need to be inside you," he grunted out his predicament.

Pity.

Maybe you'd rebirth the lost art of dry humping some other day. It'd be far more fun to make Jungkook cum in his pants, after all. Why waste a perfectly naked Jungkook with some dry humping when he was already in a full state of undress?

"What are you waiting for?", you nudged him with your foot, opening your legs further to demonstrate your want for him.

"You're mean," he huffed as he kissed you before pulling himself away to scramble through his end table for a condom.

In an uncharacteristically non suave manner, Jungkook ripped the condom open with his mouth, peeling it over his hardness with an urgency that showed you just how needy he was. This caused you to giggle at the sight.

"You laugh now, but I'm about to fuck you into this bed," he grunted as he absentmindedly rewrapped your legs around his waist, ensuring you locked them behind his back so he could grab onto his cock and begin lining himself up.

"Fuck, baby, do you see that? So puffy and needy," he mocked, tip running up and down your folds, catching your clit long enough to make you gasp.

"Stop it. I'm the only one allowed to be mean," you complained, legs pulling him forward.

"Right," he chuckled, "What I'm about to do to you feels really mean, though."

"Jungkook, I swear to- F-fuck!"

"God, so fucking tight," he mumbled under his breath, "Feels even better than I imagined."

You panted for a few moments as you adjusted yourself to the huge intrusion, eyes faltering a bit.

"Thought about this a lot?"

"Every night, baby," he groaned when you gave him the green light to start moving.

With this, he began grinding into you with an intensity that showed you he'd been telling the truth. Despite how much of a mess he'd been throughout your date, his suave and confident persona was ever so present whilst fucking into you.

There seemed to be no thoughts in his mind that did not revolve around your pleasure. His pace was mind-numbing yet sensual, his fingers circled at your clit with the perfect precision, his lips never ceased in their smacking against your skin. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was trying to ruin you for any other man (hint: he was).

"Feels good, baby?," he grunted between thrusts, breathless and almost unable to form a sentence.

"K-kook-"

You were unable to formulate words, and he knew as much. Or at least that's what you got from the smirk pressed up against your cheek as he trailed back up to your lips.

"You're going to cum with me, right, pretty? Hmm?", his nose nudged your own, lips leaving teasing kisses against yours, "It'll feel so good, gorgeous, okay? I'm, fuck, I'm almost there."

"Kook, I'm c-cumming, sh-shit! Fuck!", you wailed when it finally hit you, having no time to feel embarrassed at how quickly it came. It had all been too much, but you were pretty sure Jungkook knew that.

He followed you into the abyss with a groan and a small bite down the skin of your shoulder. He hummed against the skin, getting it damp with saliva, but you didn't care. The heat from his body as he pressed you down onto his sheets created a damp sheen of sweat between you. It was all very humid and nasty, but the knowledge that Jungkook was currently creaming into a condom whilst buried inside you, mind lost as his sounds filled the room, was more than satisfactory to you.

"Fuck," he groaned once he slumped himself next to you.

He lazily slipped off the condom, throwing it at a trash can laid near his bed before nuzzling his body against your limp one. You had made no move since your orgasm, simply taking in the pleasure that had just invaded you mere minutes ago.

"You're dangerous for a barista."

"You knew this the moment you saw me. That's what you liked about me."

He hummed happily, "You should actually be mean to me next time. It'd be hot."

"Masochist," you laughed.

"Guilty."

"All the girls are gonna hate me when they realize I toon you off the market," you whined as you flipped yourself to your side, scooting closer to him and practically burying yourself in his skin.

"But you love that, don't you?", he chuckled.

You giggled back.

"Guilty."

to read short 2k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: more cafe shenanigans with reader and her coworkers, jungkook still being down bad, smut, afab reader, tit fucking, face riding, mentions of sexting, etc.

wc: 351 (teaser); 2k (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"What the hell are you doing here with those?"

"Is that how you welcome your boyfriend?"

Those were his last words before you rushed to round the counter and get him out of earshot, dragging him by the arm towards the exit. On his other arm, he held tightly onto the ridiculously large bouquet of flowers he'd entered the facility with mere moments ago.

"Woah, what's with the aggression?", he scoffed in jest when you finally made it far enough from your coworkers' eyes.

"Dude, I already told you Lila's been on my ass since she found out we're dating. You have got to stop bringing gifts to my workplace," you groaned, though still taking the flowers from him and giving him a peck as a form of thanks.

There had been a few instances already in which Jungkook had been far too loud and proud about your relationship whilst visiting you at your workplace. It always led to thin-veiled animosity between you and your coworkers.

"So? Who cares about Loraine, or whatever her name is?", he shrugged.

"I do! And it's not just her. They're all in love with you. And most of them keep giving me the cold shoulder because of you! Lila's just the worst of them."

He pouted and coo'd, chuckling when you complained at him for patronizing you. His arms wrapped around you, still chuckling in amusement at your predicament.

"Well, you won. You have me," he hummed in satisfaction.

"Pfft. As if I chased after you," you scoffed.

"Is that a challenge? I'm not afraid to go back in there and confess my love for you."

"Jungkook. No!"

"I won't. Just because," he stopped to check his watch, "it's 2:02pm, which means you get to clock out and I get to take you home. So get your pretty ass back in there so I can get my girlfriend in bed."

"It's two in the afternoon."

"I said what I said," he gave you one last squeeze before grabbing onto your hand and leading you towards the cafe you'd just technically kicked him out of.

...

find the continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

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daddyjeonnn · 5 months ago

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⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ jungkook as ur boyfriend

𐙚 jungkook is obsessed with you and he can't be apart from you for long. he's like a puppy who misses his owner when you're away.

𐙚 jungkook hates to see you in pain, rather it's a headache, your period, anything! he hates it so much and he only wants to take it away from you.

(he's totally the type to run you a bath and buy you whatever you're craving, like chocolate)

𐙚 jungkook is a touchy boyfriend and can't fall asleep without holding you in his arms. even if you two argue before bed, he'll hold your hand just to give you some space.

𐙚 jungkook loves to brush and braid your hair. he loves to play with it and put small clippies in it and make a cute/funky style to make you laugh. he'll even let you do his hair.

𐙚 jungkook loves to take you on tour with him. just to show you what he does for work and such. he can't be away from you, so there's a perk for him.

𐙚 jungkook calls you baby, sweetie, and honey/hun more than you're actual name. he knows how to praise you, with kisses and pet names lol.

୨୧ with love · masterlist

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daddyjeonnn · 5 months ago

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Fight for You Epilogue (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: established relationship; former bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader; fluff, hurt/comfort, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language; alcohol consumption, jealous moments, lots of fluff and a bit of drama, explicit sexual content (18+) *specific warnings will be written on applicable parts

Series Word count: 59.4k

Summary: After all that you and Jungkook had to fight through, you’re finally together. But life still happens. You both still come from different worlds. Jungkook still needs to adjust, and there’s still some growing up that you must do. Amidst all this, you and Jungkook learn what it really means to love, to trust, to be happy, and to heal.

Alternatively, fluffy, flirty, smutty, and comfort moments with former boydguard jk!

A/N: Fight for You JK and OC were my escape and comfort couple during the crazy past few weeks! JK was serving looks and it was so fun to imagine him in these little chapters so again, self-indulgent, but I really wanted to explore how these 2 manage their relationship, given all the other factors that kept them apart in the first place. I hope you enjoy!

01: When he starts his first day

02: When you celebrate your birthday

03: When you get jealous

04: When you get stressed

05: When you go public

06: When she comes back

07: When you miss dinner

08: When you talk about the future

09: When he makes plans

10: When he makes a promise

11: Finale pt.1: What happens when you learn to accept love

12: Finale pt.2: What happens when you learn to give love || End

masterlist

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daddyjeonnn · 5 months ago

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between the ride and the roses

(series masterlist)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

jungkook moodboard reader moodboard

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Series Word Count: (??)

Status: ongoing.

Parts: part 1: throttle and stem (2.8k+) part 2: thorns in the asphalt (3.1k+) part 3: blooming grudges (3.8k+) part 4: mixing the grease with the soil (3.3k+) part 5: gears and vines of tension (5.8k+) part 6: bruises before the blossom (4.8k+) part 7: hyacinth exhaust (4.1k+) part 8: when the camellia revs (3.7k+) part 9: wheeling through the lavender breeze (3.5k+) part 10: jasmine accelerators (4.7k+) part 11: cruising in the wildflower meadows (5.8k+) part 12: high octane roses (8.4k+) part 13: skidding in choked roots (4.8k+) part 14: gearshift to wilting petals (7.2k+) part 15: carnation crash (5.4k+)

2K notes · View notes

daddyjeonnn · 5 months ago

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letting fear run the show | oneshot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: fuckbuddy! jungkook, secret friends with benefits to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

Word Count: 29.1k+

Chapter Warnings: unprotected sex (pls be safe), fingering, oral (f. receiving), mentions of strained marriage, broken family, toxic parents, daddy issues, remarriages, denial of feelings, avoidant nature, jungkook is a little broken. (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: 600 followers special !! this was initially supposed to be a 3-part series, but since I already have two ongoing series, I didn’t want to waste too much time. so, I decided to push this bad boy out in one go. with the new year right around the corner, i've been a little busy so i'll be updating the other series soon, so stay tuned !! let me know how you liked this oneshot <3

"How the hell is Byeon Wooseok so good-looking ??" you breathe out, your eyes glued to the television screen where the drama Lovely Runner plays.

The soft glow from the screen illuminates the dark living room as you lay on your side on the couch, Jungkook spooning you from the back. One of his hands rest possessively under the oversized T-shirt—his, of course—that you’re wearing as he fondles your breasts, his thumb lightly brushing your nipple. It's a feeling you've grown used to.

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as his warm breath brushes against the sensitive skin of your neck. "I just fucked you raw on this couch thirty minutes ago..." he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. "And all you care about is your little Kdrama boy?"

His lips hover near your nape, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there, but you only giggle, the sound light and unbothered as your eyes don’t stray from the television. "What can I say? He's just so perfect."

Jungkook scoffs lightly, his grip increasing around your breast ever so slightly. "Keep talking, and I might just start taking this personally." he mutters, though there’s an unmistakable hint of amusement in his voice.

"Maybe you should." you tease, your lips curling into a playful grin, still refusing to meet his gaze. Jungkook smiles softly as his eyes linger on you.

From his vantage point, he catches a glimpse of your perfect side profile. The soft glow of the television bathes your face, highlighting the delicate curve of your cheekbone, the slight crinkle in your nose when you laugh, and the way your lips part just slightly in concentration.

His heart leaps, an unspoken emotion swelling in his chest as he takes in your effortless beauty.

You’ve always captivated him in ways he could never fully put into words. There’s something about you... something that draws him in like gravity, something that feels like home.

Holding you so close like this, wrapped in the warmth of your presence, feels almost surreal. The intimacy of the moment blurs the lines of what this relationship was supposed to be.

Five months. It had been exactly five months since you and him entered into this so-called "mutual agreement."

A friends-with-benefits arrangement— that’s all it was meant to be. No strings, no expectations, no complications. And yet, every time he looked at you, every time he touched you, it felt like so much more.

The first time he met you was etched into his memory like a vivid painting, each detail clear and vibrant. Namjoon, his roommate and best friend, had just started dating Heejin, a sweet girl who, by pure coincidence, happened to be your roommate and best friend.

He remembers the party that night, the buzz of low chatter and the warm glow of string lights casting a golden hue over the room. Namjoon had introduced Heejin to him for the first time, and then, as though the universe had planned it, you were there too.

You had appeared like a vision, effortlessly stealing the spotlight in a room full of people. Jungkook remembers the exact moment his breath hitched, the way his heart seemed to stutter as his eyes landed on you. Under the dim party lights, you glowed. Radiant. Ethereal.

Your laughter was the first thing to draw him in... a soft, melodic sound that seemed to fill every corner of the room. It was the kind of laughter that could disarm even the most guarded hearts, and Jungkook was no exception.

When your eyes met his for the first time and you smiled, it felt as though the world had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him unsteady and utterly captivated.

There was something magnetic about you, an effortless charm that seemed to pull people in without you even trying. And somehow, amidst the noise and chaos of the party, you and Jungkook had found each other, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together.

It was as though you’d known each other for years. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by shared laughter and fleeting glances that lingered just a heartbeat too long. For Jungkook, it felt unreal, like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

That night was a whirlwind of stolen moments and an undeniable, electric chemistry.

He remembers how your eyes sparkled as you leaned in closer to hear him over the music, the faint scent of your perfume wrapping around him like a gentle embrace. He remembers how perfectly your body fit against his when you danced together, the way your movements seemed to mirror his, like two pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

And then there was the kiss... the moment that changed everything. Your lips against his were soft, warm, and intoxicating, leaving him dizzy and craving more. One kiss turned into another, and before either of you realized it, the night had unfolded into something neither of you had anticipated.

What started as a chance encounter ended with you in his arms, skin against skin, bodies entwined in the quiet intimacy of his room. The memory of that night still lingers in his mind... the way your touch felt like fire and silk all at once, the sound of your breathless moans and whispers filling the stillness, and the way your gaze held his as though nothing else in the world mattered.

It wasn’t just about attraction... it was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name. That night had been one of the best nights of his life, not just because of the physical connection but because of you. The way you made him feel seen, wanted, and utterly undone.

And somehow, against all odds, it didn’t end there.

He wanted more of you. He wanted to hear your laughter again, that light, musical sound that made everything else fade into the background.

He wanted to feel the way your hands clung to him in the dark, as though he was the only anchor you needed. He wanted to bask in the quiet comfort of your presence, the way you filled the silence with an ease that felt like home.

And to his surprise... and immense relief, you wanted more of him too.

One night turned into two, then three. Gradually, what had started as a fleeting spark grew into something neither of you could quite define. It was exhilarating and effortless, like slipping into a rhythm you were both born to follow.

And that’s when you proposed the arrangement... a way to keep things simple, casual, and uncomplicated. A way to keep emotions out of it.

At the time, Jungkook had agreed without hesitation, not because he wasn’t tempted by the idea of something deeper, but because the thought of feelings and commitment felt... heavy... messy... a lot of work.

A relationship with you would be a dream, of course. But dreams often came with nightmares, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Growing up with parents whose marriage was a slow descent into bitterness and resentment had left its mark on him.

Jungkook had physically seen how love, once vibrant and full of promise, could twist into something sharp and suffocating. He had watched the cracks grow between his parents, their arguments starting as whispers behind closed doors and escalating into full-blown storms that echoed through the house like thunder.

He felt the icy chill of a home that no longer held warmth, a space that had turned from a sanctuary into a battlefield.

But what hurt more than the yelling, the slamming doors, or the bitter silences was how their chaos seeped into him. Their frustrations, their bitterness... everything they couldn’t work out with each other, was redirected onto him. He became their punching bag, their outlet.

Nothing he did ever seemed to be enough. If he brought home good grades, his mother would question why they weren’t perfect. If he excelled in sports, his father would ask why he wasn’t focusing on academics instead.

Neither of them ever noticed how much their feud was eating away at him. How every raised voice, every dismissive comment chipped away at the boy who just wanted a peaceful family.

They never saw how their inability to reconcile left scars he carried long after the fights were over. Jungkook understood that not all couples could get along, that sometimes love fades. But what he couldn’t reconcile with was how their toxicity wasn’t confined to just them, it spilled over onto him, drowning him in its aftermath.

He craved support, validation, and stability, but all he got was criticism and tension. He longed for a moment where they would look at him and see him... not as a scapegoat, not as a reflection of their own failures, but as their son who was struggling just as much as they were. But that moment never came.

It scared him. The way love could break people, could unravel everything good and leave nothing but hurt behind. He had seen it firsthand, lived in its shadow, and it terrified him.

Love, to Jungkook, was a double-edged sword... something that started soft and beautiful but could so easily turn into something destructive. So when you suggested the arrangement, it seemed like the perfect solution.

No risks. No expectations. Just the two of you, tangled together in stolen moments, free from the weight of labels and promises. It was supposed to be safe, uncomplicated, and exactly what he needed.

But even as he agreed, a tiny part of him knew he was lying to himself.

Because despite the fear, despite the walls he’d built around his heart, he still wanted you. He wanted you in ways he couldn’t put into words, in ways that terrified him.

And even if feelings scared him, even if the idea of commitment made his pulse quicken with anxiety, the arrangement gave him something he couldn’t resist.

It gave him you.

A piece of you, at least. Enough to satisfy the craving, or so he thought because right now, as he holds you close on the couch, your warmth melting into his, the way his heart races tells a different story altogether.

"Oh shoot." You abruptly rise from the couch, pulling away from the warmth of his hold and grabbing your phone from the coffee table. Your fingers fumble as you switch it on, your eyes widening slightly as you glance at the time.

"Isn't Namjoon going to be back soon?" you ask, a hint of urgency creeping into your voice. "I'm pretty sure their movie date is about to end."

Jungkook shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he lazily checks his own phone for the time. His lips press into a thin line before he clicks his tongue in mild annoyance. "You're right..." he mutters, the disappointment in his tone barely concealed.

Neither Namjoon nor Heejin had any clue about the arrangement between you and Jungkook. They didn’t know about the stolen kisses, the heated moments, or the way you’d sneak into each other’s apartments whenever your respective roommates were conveniently absent.

It wasn’t the easiest situation... sneaking around like teenagers, but the thrill of it made it all the more intoxicating.

Still, the thrill didn’t stop his chest from tightening slightly at the thought of you leaving.

You stand up, scanning the room before walking around to gather your discarded clothes... a skirt and a top carelessly strewn across the floor in the heat of the moment. "Let me go change." you say, flashing him a small smile before darting towards the washroom.

As the door closes behind you, Jungkook lets out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. The absence of your warmth already feels too stark, the lingering scent of you on his skin the only solace.

A few minutes later, you return to the living room, fully clothed and bag in hand. Jungkook is still on the couch, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours. A soft smile graces his lips, and the sight of him... his messy hair, the relaxed curve of his shoulders, feels oddly comforting.

His lap looks too inviting to resist, so you stride over and settle yourself on him, your legs curling against his as his arms instinctively wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You drape your arm around his shoulder, fingers brushing the soft strands of his hair as he tilts his head to look at you.

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss against his lips, a quiet, lingering gesture that feels intimate despite its simplicity. He kisses you back just as gently, his lips curving into a smile against yours.

"So, I'll see you again... maybe on Thursday?" you ask, pulling away. "Mhm." he hums, his smile deepening. The fondness in his gaze is almost enough to make you stay longer, but you know you can’t.

His hands tighten around your waist for a brief moment, as if reluctant to let you go, before he finally leans back slightly, his eyes not leaving yours. "Text me when you get home." he says softly.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. With one last glance at him, you rise from his lap and head for the door.

Your heels click against the hallway floor as you approach your apartment. Before unlocking the door, you pause to take a deep breath, smoothing out your coat and patting your hair into place.

Stepping inside, you slip off your heels, noticing Heejin's sneakers neatly placed by the doorway... a clear sign she's already home. You walk further in, and sure enough, there she is in the kitchen, her back to you, busy at the stove. The faint aroma of ramen fills the air, an ever-familiar scent in your shared apartment.

"Oh hey... you're back?" she calls out without turning around, her voice casual but warm. You smile as you approach the kitchen island, setting your bag down. "Yeah... How was the movie?" you ask, taking a seat.

She glances over her shoulder, an exaggerated grin spreading across her face. "Boring as hell. Seriously, if Joon wasn’t so cute, I’d never, ever sit through a historical movie again." she says. You chuckle, shaking your head at her dramatics. "Tough life you’re living, huh?"

She laughs before turning back to the stove, finishing up the ramen. Once done, she pours the steaming noodles into two bowls and brings them over to the island, sliding one towards you.

"How was work?" she casually asks, swirling the noodles in her bowl with her chopsticks. "The usual." you reply, leaning forward to take a bite from your bowl.

But just as you're about to savor the taste, you notice her eyes lingering on your face. Her gaze shifts lower to your neck, and suddenly her expression shifts, her eyes widening in shock as she gasps.

"No way." she exclaims, pointing her chopsticks at you accusingly. "You were out fucking your secret boyfriend, weren’t you?"

You freeze, her words hitting you like a thunderbolt, making your heart race. Instinctively, your hand flies to your neck. Had Jungkook really left a hickey there? Again?

You distinctly remember telling him not to... multiple times, in fact. But Jungkook could be... unstoppable sometimes. You knew how he always got caught up in the moment, his passion overtaking reason and to be honest, this wasn’t the first time.

"I... don’t know what you’re talking about." you stammer, though the flush rising to your cheeks betrays you instantly. Heejin smirks knowingly, leaning forward to get a better look at your neck.

"Oh, don’t try to play innocent with me. You’ve been coming home with these suspicious marks for months now, and every time I ask, you act like it’s no big deal !!" She leans back, crossing her arms as she dramatically narrows her eyes.

"Seriously, when are you going to introduce me to this mystery man? I’m literally dying over here." she exclaims, now leaning forward again, resting her elbows on the kitchen island with an eager look.

"Like… who is he? Is it that ridiculously hot co-worker who asked you out last year... what’s his name again… uhhh... oh yeah, Jimin !! Or... or is it someone from your yoga class? Spill it already !!" she pleads, her voice dripping with curiosity and just a hint of impatience.

You sigh, lowering your hand from your neck, knowing there’s no point in hiding it now. “It’s just... someone.” you mumble, avoiding her gaze. Heejin tilts her head, not letting up. “I need names, Y/n.” she presses, her curiosity shining through.

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart feels like it’s pounding in your chest. “We’re just hooking up... so, it’s not really important.”

Her brows shoot up at your words. “Just hooking up?” she echoes, disbelief lacing her tone as she leans closer. You swallow hard, ignoring the bitter taste rising in your mouth, and nod.

“Damn...” she says with a smirk. “I didn’t know you were into casual.” she adds. You don’t respond, instead focusing back on your ramen, though the taste feels dull as your mind drifts.

The truth is, you’re not into casual. No matter how many times you’ve tried convincing yourself otherwise, your heart always betrays you.

When this whole thing with Jungkook started, it felt like a dream. The chemistry, the connection, the effortless bond... it all seemed perfect. The simplicity of the intimacy with no strings attached was freeing, uncomplicated, and everything felt like it was falling into place.

You were undeniably attracted to him. How could you not be? He was irresistible in every sense of the word. Everything about him pulled you closer, making you crave more.

But somewhere along the way, things started to shift. You couldn’t pinpoint when exactly your heart began to race whenever he was near or why your body longed for his arms around you.

You couldn’t explain the ache of missing him when he wasn’t around or the way your thoughts kept drifting back to him when they shouldn’t.

You thought you could keep it simple, that you could keep your heart out of it. But now, you’re not so sure. Every time these feelings creep in, you shove them aside, knowing it’s a dangerous, forbidden territory.

You were the one who started this whole thing, after all, and the last thing you want is to unpack emotions you’re not ready to face. You tell yourself you’re content with how things are... casual, easy, uncomplicated.

Though the thought of something more feels like a distant, beautiful dream, you can’t risk ruining the mutual agreement you both rely on. You don’t want to complicate things further, especially when the stakes feel so impossibly high.

"The boys are coming over." Namjoon announces, his focus still fixed on the light fixture he’s been adjusting near the doorway.

Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, his fingers flying over his laptop keyboard as he works on the couch. "Movie night?" he asks without looking up, his tone even as he remains focused on the presentation he's making.

"Yeah, Hoseok was saying it’s been forever since we all watched a movie together… and since it’s Friday, I thought it’d be convenient for the weekend." Namjoon replies, stepping off the stool with a satisfied huff. He claps his hands together, getting rid of the dust and strides into the living room, plopping down beside Jungkook.

"Oh, and I invited Heejin and Y/n too." he adds, almost as an afterthought, though the impact of the words lands like a stone dropping into a still lake.

Jungkook’s fingers falter, the clack of the keyboard pausing for the briefest second before he catches himself. A flicker of anticipation sparks in his chest, but his expression remains carefully neutral.

"Really?" he asks, his voice steady, betraying none of the excitement stirring within him. "That’s nice." he adds, his tone casual as he nods and refocuses on his laptop.

Despite his best efforts to mask it, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as the thought of seeing you again continues to linger, refusing to be dismissed.

The evening slips by quickly, and soon all of Jungkook's and Namjoon's friends have arrived. Hoseok, Seokjin, and Taehyung sit sprawled on the living room floor, bickering over the remote as Jungkook finishes preparing the popcorn in the kitchen.

You and Heejin are still not here, and he can’t help but wonder how long it’ll take for you to show up.

Once the popcorn is ready, Jungkook picks up the large bowl and heads to the living room. Just as he sets the bowl down on the coffee table, the doorbell rings. Namjoon starts to rise from the couch, but before he can move, Jungkook is already striding towards the door, eager to see if it’s you.

But to his disappointment, it’s just Heejin standing at the door, a soft smile on her face. "Oh hey, Jungkook." she greets warmly. A flicker of disappointment flashes across his face at the sight of just her, but he quickly masks it with a polite smile. "Hey, Heejin." he replies, stepping aside to let her in.

"Hey, cutie." Namjoon grins once she enters, standing up to pull his girlfriend into a hug. "Get a room, jeez." Taehyung groans from the floor as the couple continue to sway gently, completely lost in each other's embrace.

Jungkook sighs quietly, walking past them with a small shake of his head. He makes his way to the couch, sitting down and reaching for the popcorn just as Namjoon pulls away from Heejin.

"Where’s Y/n?" Namjoon asks, gently guiding Heejin to the couch before taking a seat beside Jungkook.

"Oh, she’s still at work." Heejin replies casually, offering a small shrug. "She said she’d take a while." she adds, settling comfortably next to her boyfriend, who immediately wraps his arm around her.

Soon enough, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Taehyung finally come to an agreement on the movie selection. As the opening credits roll, Jungkook finds himself glancing at his phone to check the time more frequently than he'd like to admit, each time growing a little more restless.

Halfway through the film, and you're still not here.

Seokjin and Taehyung are lost in their laughter, their voices filling the air as they crack open one beer after another, oblivious to the screen. Hoseok, however, is entirely immersed in the movie, his focus unwavering.

Namjoon and Heejin, wrapped up in their own bubble of comfort, laugh at the screen, occasionally stealing glances at each other, their proximity almost magnetic.

Jungkook sits at the edge of the couch, his fingers drumming on his knee. He sighs, his gaze drifting towards the front door.

It's only a few minutes later when the sound of the doorbell rings through the room, sharp and sudden, cutting through the low hum of the movie. Without a second thought, Jungkook jumps to his feet, moving with urgency.

His heart quickens as he strides towards the door, his hand gripping the handle, and pulling it open with a swift motion. The cool air brushes past him, and the moment his eyes land on you, a rush of warmth floods his chest.

"Hey." you breathe, a hint of surprise in your tone as your gaze meets his. His smile is immediate, wide and genuine, his eyes softening at the sight of you. He steps back to allow you inside, his expression lighting up as you walk past him.

You chuckle at the way he looks at you, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. Slipping off your heels, you step further into the apartment, your eyes scanning the room, only to pause when you see Heejin and the others.

"I'm so sorry, guys. Work was busier than usual today." you instantly apologize, your voice carrying the familiar tone of sincerity. Everyone quickly reassures you with understanding nods and warm smiles.

"Come take a seat, we're watching The Nice Guys." Taehyung calls out, waving a hand to invite you over. "Ohh, fun." you reply, your voice light with a smile as you make your way further into the room.

As you carefully remove your coat, placing it on the nearby table alongside your bag, Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat. His eyes wander briefly, taking in your outfit.

It's nothing new... just your usual work clothes. A fitted button-up shirt and a sleek black pencil skirt paired with black stockings and somehow, every time he sees you in it, the effect is the same.

You always manage to look effortless, yet stunning. The way the fabric hugs your body, the way the skirt shapes your figure... it’s almost too much to handle. His mind races with unholy thoughts he tries to push away, but they linger anyway, consuming him.

He bites his lip, trying to focus on anything other than you as you settle into the seat next to Heejin. But his eyes can’t help but wander back to you as he walks towards the couch, the effect of your presence overwhelming in a way he can’t quite explain. He takes a deep breath before sitting right next to you.

You glance at him as his legs brush against yours, the subtle touch sending a faint warmth through you. A soft smile graces your lips when you feel him inch closer, his presence comforting in a way you can’t quite explain.

You lean back, settling into the couch, your attention half on the movie and half on the quiet energy radiating from him.

A few minutes later, your eyes drift to the empty popcorn bowl. “Oh, is there more popcorn in the kitchen? Let me go get some.” you announce, standing up and grabbing the bowl.

Jungkook seizes the moment without hesitation. "Yeah, I’ll show you where it is." he offers smoothly, his tone casual... too casual... as if fetching popcorn is suddenly a two-person job.

You glance at him, your brows raising slightly in surprise before a grin slips onto your face, realizing exactly what he’s up to. The others, engrossed in the movie or their conversations, remain blissfully unaware of the exchange. Taking advantage of the moment, you follow him as the two of you slip into the kitchen.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, Jungkook flicks the light on, the soft glow illuminating the space. You place the bowl on the counter, your movements unhurried, but before you can do anything else, his hands are already on your waist. The warmth of his touch sends a spark through you as he gently pulls you closer.

"Couldn’t wait, could you?" you tease, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glance up at him. He quirks a brow, his pout exaggerated in mock indignation. "Can you blame me? You kept me waiting all evening." he counters, his voice low and tinged with a playful edge.

"I know." you murmur, your voice dropping slightly as you gaze into his eyes. "Work was crazy today."

His gaze softens for a moment, his eyes tracing your features... the curve of your lips, the way your hair falls around your face, the light in your eyes. Without a word, he presses you back against the counter, his hands firm yet gentle around your waist as he effortlessly hoists you up.

A surprised gasp escapes your lips, your eyes darting towards the kitchen doorway. "Kook..." you whisper urgently, your voice a mix of amusement and apprehension. "What if someone walks in?"

His lips twitch into a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with a mix of confidence and something deeper. "They won’t." he assures you, his voice steady and low as he inches closer. The air between you feels electric, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way as the noise from the living room fades into nothingness.

His lips find the delicate curve of your neck, brushing just above the crisp edge of your shirt's collar. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver coursing through you, your head tilting slightly to grant him more access. Each kiss he leaves is slow and gentle, as though he’s savoring every inch of skin that his lips touch.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a soft sigh escaping your lips when his mouth begins to trace the path along your jawline. His proximity is intoxicating, his scent, his warmth, it surrounds you entirely.

"I’ve been thinking about you all day." he murmurs against your skin, the husky timbre of his voice sending sparks through your body. His eyes, dark and full of desire, flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat before his lips hover just a whisper away from yours.

You barely have time to respond before he closes the distance, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that starts achingly slow, his lips molding against yours.

But the restraint doesn’t last. A soft groan rumbles from his chest as his hands grip your waist, tugging you forward until your bodies are flush against each other. The kiss deepens, turning hungrier, more urgent, as if he’s trying to communicate all the things he can’t put into words.

Your hands thread through his hair, pulling him closer, your legs instinctively locking behind his waist. His hands find your hips, holding you securely on the counter as he presses against you, his movements a perfect balance of need and control.

You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. The world outside the kitchen blurs into insignificance. All you can feel is him, the warmth of his hands, the press of his body and the intensity of his kiss.

Breathless, you pull away for a brief moment, your chest rising and falling as you try to steady yourself. Jungkook leans back slightly, his dark eyes scanning your face intently. The sight of your hooded gaze, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips stirs something primal in him, and he has to physically restrain himself from pulling you right back in.

"Do you want to leave?" he asks softly, his voice low and gravelly. You blink at him, still caught in the haze of the moment. "What?" you breathe out.

He smiles faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "You’ve had a long day, and the movie’s almost over anyway." He pauses, his hand lingering near your cheek as his thumb gently grazes your skin.

"Plus, Heejin's probably crashing here tonight, so why don’t we head to your place? Let me... take care of you." he suggests, his grin teasing but his tone laced with genuine intent.

You bite your lip, considering his offer, the thought of some quiet, uninterrupted time with him tempting you more than you'd like to admit. "So… we leave as soon as the movie ends?" you ask, your voice soft but laced with anticipation.

His eyes light up, and he nods eagerly. "Yeah, I’ll just tell them I’m dropping you home." he replies, the corner of his mouth quirking into that boyish grin you can never resist. "Sounds good." you giggle, feeling a rush of excitement.

He helps you down from the counter, his hands lingering at your waist for a moment longer than necessary. You smooth your skirt over your stockings, your fingers trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline still coursing through you.

Jungkook reaches for the empty popcorn bowl, filling it quickly before giving you a knowing glance.

Together, you leave the kitchen, your shoulders brushing as you walk back into the living room. His hand hovers near the small of your back, a subtle but comforting gesture that makes your heart flutter.

No one seems to notice the two of you reentering the room, their attention still fixed on the screen. But as you settle back into your seat, the shared secret between you and Jungkook lingers in the air, a silent promise of the night to come.

"You have your keys, right?" Heejin asks from the couch, her voice carrying over the sound of the credits rolling on the screen. You pause, rummaging through your bag until your fingers close around the familiar metal. "Yeah, got them." you say.

"Alright, I'm gonna head out then." you announce, glancing at everyone in the room. Seokjin is already slumped over, passed out on the bean bag, while Taehyung offers you a sleepy smile from his spot on the floor.

"Bye, Y/n-ah." Hoseok says with a wave, his tone warm despite the late hour. You return his gesture with a soft smile, your gaze briefly sweeping over Heejin and Namjoon before turning towards the door.

"You want a ride?" Jungkook asks, his voice calm but carrying a subtle undertone that only you seem to catch. "Yeah, it's pretty late. You should drop her off, Kook." Namjoon chimes in without hesitation, unknowingly solidifying your and Jungkook's already-formed plan.

You suppress the grin threatening to spill across your lips and nod instead, playing along. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks." you say, your voice steady as you smile politely.

Jungkook grabs his keys from the table, his movements casual, though you catch the fleeting glance he throws your way. The silent exchange between you is brief but promising that the night is far from over.

As you step outside together, the quiet hum of the night enveloping you, Jungkook instinctively glances around the vicinity, ensuring no one is nearby. Satisfied, he reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in one swift motion.

You let out a soft giggle, glancing at him through the corner of your eye. "The things we do... I swear to god." you say, shaking your head in amused disbelief.

He smirks, a playful glint in his eyes as he shrugs. "You gotta do what you gotta do." he replies simply, his tone laced with mischief. The two of you reach his car, and Jungkook, ever the gentleman, steps ahead to open the passenger door for you. You slip inside, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air as he closes the door for you.

Moments later, he settles into the driver’s seat, effortlessly navigating the familiar route to your apartment.

It takes him barely 15 minutes to reach your building, and the two of you hurry upstairs to your apartment. As soon as you unlock the door and step inside, Jungkook wastes no time helping you slip off your coat.

The moment you hang it near the door, he seizes the opportunity, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet and carrying you bridal style.

You can’t help but laugh, your giggles echoing through the hallway as he strides towards your bedroom, holding you securely in his arms. His playful grin mirrors your joy, as he pushes the door open with his shoulder.

Once he's inside your room, Jungkook gently places you on the bed, his hands lingering on your sides as he hovers over you. Without wasting a second, he captures your lips in another passionate kiss.

This time, the kiss is slower, more intense. Your tongues meet, teasing each other in a heated dance, and you pull him closer, feeling the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

The weight of him above you only adds to the intensity, but it’s a comfort, a feeling you never want to end. The kiss deepens, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other.

It only takes a few seconds for Jungkook to move down your body, slowly unbuttoning your shirt and sliding it off your shoulders and then his fingers trace along the hem of your skirt, sliding it down your legs and tossing it aside.

He watches you with an almost animalistic hunger, but when he catches the sight of your stockings and your black lacey lingerie, he licks his lips hungrily.

You can see the anticipation in his eyes, his fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to just pounce on you. You shiver at the sight, already wet and ready for him, and watch as he kneels between your thighs.

You can feel his eyes on you as you spread your legs for him, and you don’t miss the way his pupils darken as he drinks you in. His fingers trail along the inside of your thighs, drawing goosebumps from your skin. "I'll make you feel good, yeah?" he lowly says, tugging the soft fabric of your underwear.

He carefully slides it down along with your stockings as he exposes your glistening, wet core. "For me?" he teases, his fingers gently reaching to feel your arousal.

You spread your legs further for him, allowing him to have a full view and more access. Your pulse hammers in your ears as you hear his breath hitch at the sight of your soaked core. His fingers trail along your slit. You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Good girl.” he purrs, slipping a finger between your folds and feeling how wet you are for him. He watches your reaction as he starts to push his finger inside you, coating it with your juices. “You like this? You like it when I touch you?” he leans closer, increasing his pace.

“Kook...” you breathe out, your hands grabbing fistfuls of the silk sheets beneath you. He grins at you as he continues his slow assault, pushing his fingers deeper and deeper inside your quivering pussy.

He hums at your reaction, watching as you squirm beneath him. “More.” you beg, tugging on his wrist to increase his pace in your needy cunt. His eyes darken and he leans over your body, bringing his mouth to your ear.

“You want me to fingerfuck you? Make you feel good?” He pauses for a moment as he waits for your response. You nod, whimpering as he adds another finger to your core. “Oh god...” you moan, shutting your eyes close.

“That’s my girl.” He begins to move his fingers faster, curling them inside you to reach your sensitive bundle of nerves. His thumb rubs against your clit, causing you to moan and thrash about on the bed.

His eyes stay trained on you, watching as your breath picks up. He slows down his movements and you slowly open your eyes to see him watching you, his cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy.

He presses the palm of his hand into your clit and you let out a loud moan, feeling the pleasure build between your legs. “Fuck... Kook... Oh god... I’m gonna cum.” You whine, trying to fight against the waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Mhmm, that’s my good girl.” He coos as he relentlessly continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. “Cum for me.” He breathes hotly into your ear, causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. His words send you over the edge and you feel your body clench around his fingers, your orgasm hitting you in waves.

Your head lolls to the side as you try to catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down. You pant, feeling exhausted from the pleasure of his touch.

He slides his fingers out of you slowly, rubbing them against your clit, your arousal being smeared against your core. “Fuck…” You whine as the pleasure continues to travel through your body.

He pulls back momentarily, his dark eyes locking with yours as he tugs his tshirt over his head and tosses it aside in one swift motion. The faint glow from your bedside lamp highlights the toned lines of his chest, and you can’t help but let your gaze linger.

He smirks at your unabashed stare before leaning down again, his warm breath fanning over your neck. This time, his lips find the sensitive skin just below your ear, leaving feather-light kisses that quickly grow more insistent.

He nips at the delicate flesh, earning a soft gasp from you as your hands instinctively clutch at his bare shoulders. "Kook..." you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you still try to recover from the orgasm you just had. "No hickies." you warn, though your resolve wavers with every kiss.

But Jungkook doesn’t seem to care... at least, not entirely. The way he trails his lips along your neck, alternating between soft kisses and teasing nibbles, makes it clear he's intent on marking his territory as always. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, a mixture of exasperation and sheer pleasure coursing through you.

Gradually, your bra slips away, and his lips find the soft swell of your breasts. He begins to kiss and suck at the tender flesh, each movement intoxicating. A soft gasp escapes your lips as your back instinctively arches, pressing closer to him, drawn into the spell of his touch.

His mouth begins its descent, leaving a heated trail of kisses along your torso. Each press of his lips is a mixture of gentle nips and soft sucks that leave a faint, glistening path in their wake.

The warmth of his mouth contrasts with the cool air around your bedroom, sending shivers coursing through your body. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he goes lower, anchoring yourself as the sensation overwhelms you, a heady dizziness settling in as he takes his time, savoring every inch of your skin.

And the second his tongue meets your wet flesh, you gasp and arch off the bed, hands flying to clutch the sheets again. He looks up at you through his lashes, a knowing smirk spreading across his lips as he begins to eat you out with an intensity that makes you see stars.

You can’t hold back your moans as he licks up and down your slit, forcefully pushing your thighs open to make room for himself as he devours you like a starved man. He groans into you, his lips and tongue working you over in a rhythm that makes you shake uncontrollably.

The minute his tongue presses against your clit, you cry out and push your hips up against his face, your body desperate for more. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to oblige, using his lips to suck at the bundle of nerves as he slips a finger inside of you again.

Your hips buck up again at the intrusion, and he latches onto your clit, drawing it between his lips and sucking harshly.

Your head thrashes back and forth, fingers twisting in the sheets right above your head as Jungkook takes his time with you. It’s a slow, torturous build, and by the time you reach your climax for the second time tonight, you’re crying out his name as you shudder against his tongue.

He licks you clean with slow, passionate strokes, savoring every moment as your body gradually stills, the tremors of your release fading into the warmth of his touch.

When he finally pulls back, his gaze locks with yours, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re so pretty...” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, the words carrying both affection and pride.

Your eyes flutter open, hazy with the aftermath, and you’re met with the sight of him just above your core. His chin gleams with the remnants of your essence, unapologetically proud, a testament to the fervor of the moment. The sight alone sends a fresh wave of warmth washing over you, leaving you breathless all over again.

“Fuck me, please.” you plead, your voice raw with desperation. Jungkook pauses, his lips curling into a smug, airy smirk at your words. “Someone’s feeling needy tonight.” he murmurs, his tone teasing but laced with an undeniable hunger. "Always... needy for you." you whisper.

He moves closer, his dark, intense gaze locking with yours, making your breath hitch. Without another word, he captures your lips in a searing kiss. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue, mingling with the intoxicating heat of the moment as he licks and sucks at your lips, pulling you deeper into the spiral of longing.

You feel his hard length pressing firmly against your exposed core, the rough denim of his jeans igniting a maddening friction. He rolls his hips against you, eliciting a soft, breathless moan that escapes into his mouth, your lips still locked in a heated kiss.

The contrast of the coarse fabric against your sensitive skin sends a shiver racing down your spine, heightening your every sense.

He pulls away hastily, his impatience evident as he tugs his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. His hard length springs free, and your eyes involuntarily trail to him as he climbs back over you. The sight of him stroking himself a few times, the glistening precum spreading along his shaft, makes you bite your lips.

He leans over you, his breathing rapid as he murmurs your name. His hardness glides over your slick folds, making you gasp at the sensation. He's not done teasing you. You're left squirming and whimpering beneath him as he teases your entrance.

The moment his tip brushes against your opening, your body arches instinctively, and a soft moan escapes your lips. "That's what you want, baby? You want me to fuck you? Want my dick inside you??" he rasps, his voice low and husky with desire.

Without waiting for your response, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely with his cock. You cry out at the sudden invasion, your nails digging into his skin as he forces your legs further apart with his hands. The pressure is intoxicating, the stretch overwhelming.

He stills inside you for a few seconds, allowing your walls to adjust to his thickness. The moment he pulls back out, your hips jerk forward in protest, and he chuckles low in his throat. "You like that, baby?" he asks, his voice dripping with lust.

You gasp when his hand slips between your legs, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit as he slowly starts to thrust into you again. "God, this fucking... this fucking pussy." He groans as you let out a breathless moan in response.

Your hips rock against his, meeting him thrust after thrust as he fucks you earnestly. The sound of your bodies slapping together and your whiney moans fill the room, punctuated by his groans as he takes you harder and faster.

He sits up, pulling your legs over his arms as he hooks your knees over his elbows. He slams into you at this new angle, making your gasps turn into little, strangled screams. His strokes become rougher and more demanding, making your inner walls contract around him.

"You're so fucking tight." he hisses as you tighten further around him. He's watching himself slide in and out of you, and it's only seconds before you're pushed over the edge.

The unbearable pleasure that had been coiling tight in your belly snaps yet again, sending waves of ecstasy pulsating through you as your third orgasm rips through you. He continues to thrust into you even as you come, making the waves of your orgasm gush and flow.

He holds himself still, buried deep inside you, allowing you to catch your breath. He drops a gentle lingering kiss on your forehead, his eyes blazing with lust and something much deeper that you can't really notice.

"My turn...." He breathes out and then he fucks you mercilessly, your hips slamming up against his thrusts until he's growling out his own release, pulsing deep inside you.

The warmth of his seed fills you, making your muscles clench around him with renewed pleasure. He collapses onto the bed next to you, as you both struggle to catch your breaths.

Jungkook peeks at you from the other side of your bed, his lips twitching into an amused grin as he takes in the sight of you propped against the headboard, eyes glued to your phone.

The muffled dialogues from a random Kdrama echo in the room, completely at odds with the steamy moment you’d just shared.

"I just made you cum three times tonight..." he says, scooting closer to your bare form under the warm blanket. "And not even twenty minutes later, you're already deep into someone else's love story?" He leans over to sneak a glance at your screen, his brow quirking as he shakes his head.

"I'll never understand this habit of yours. Like, does your post-orgasm clarity just scream, 'Quick! I need emotionally unavailable chaebol heirs and tragic love triangles right now!'?"

You snort at his dramatics, swatting his shoulder playfully, though it does nothing to stop his amused grin. His teasing chuckle fills the room, warm and infectious. "Shut up." you mumble, your cheeks heating slightly as you attempt to refocus on the drama playing on your phone.

Jungkook shakes his head with a fond laugh but, despite his earlier jabs, he leans closer. His arm drapes lazily over your shoulder, and his eyes fix on the tiny screen in your hands.

"So, what’s the plot this time? Evil mother-in-law? Forbidden love? Someone with amnesia?" he teases, the corners of his lips curling as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. "You're so annoying." you mutter, though a small smile tugs at your lips. "Just watch."

And so he does, his head gently leaning against yours, the playful smirk on his lips fading into something tender as the two of you quietly immerse yourselves in the drama.

The room is serene until the faint buzz of Jungkook’s phone on your nightstand interrupts the moment. You feel him shift slightly, reaching over to grab it. As he glances at the screen, his brows knit together briefly.

You glance at the time—11:03 p.m., a fleeting curiosity sparking in your mind about who might be calling him so late. But you shake it off, choosing not to dwell on it since you don't want to be nosy.

“Uh… I need to take this.” he says, his voice low. You look up from your phone, offering him a soft, understanding nod. “Go ahead.”

His lips curve into a small, appreciative smile before he pushes himself off the bed, phone in hand. He lingers for a second as if considering something but then steps out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The absence of his presence feels momentarily odd, and while the drama continues playing on your screen, it no longer holds the same grip on your attention. You can’t help but wonder who would call him so late... or why his expression seemed just a little more serious than usual.

Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself to focus on your phone. But as the muffled sound of his voice carries faintly from the hallway, your curiosity lingers, no matter how much you try to push it aside.

He returns a few minutes later, his shoulders visibly tense as he walks towards the bed. His movements are deliberate, almost heavy, and he doesn’t look at you or say anything as he slips under the blanket and rests his back against the headboard.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, still pretending to focus on your phone, but the atmosphere in the room feels dense, like a storm brewing beneath the surface.

The silence stretches unbearably until it’s broken by a loud, exasperated sigh escaping his lips. The sound pulls your attention fully, your concern bubbling to the surface. You hesitate for a moment, unsure if he wants to talk, before finally speaking.

“Is… is everything okay?” you ask softly, setting your phone down on the mattress and shifting slightly to face him.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on his legs beneath the blanket, his jaw clenching briefly before relaxing. He licks his lips, his expression tight, as though he’s wrestling with whether or not to let the words out.

The tension in his body stirs something protective in you, and you gently inch closer. ��Hey, Kook, what’s wrong?” you try again, your voice quieter now, layered with care.

This time, he finally turns to look at you. His eyes meet yours, filled with hesitation and a vulnerability you rarely see. “That was… my dad.” he says, his voice low and uneven.

Your lips part slightly as you blink at him, the revelation catching you off guard. Jungkook has always been private about his family, almost evasive. This is the first time you’ve heard him mention his father at all. “Oh…” you breathe, treading carefully. “Is everything okay with him?”

He lets out a dry, humorless chuckle, his gaze shifting away. “Uhh… yeah. It’s just…” He trails off, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You notice the subtle tremor in his lower lip before he presses it tightly together.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.” you assure gently, tilting your head to catch his eyes again. “No… no, it's just...” he says, shaking his head slightly. He finally meets your gaze again, his expression clouded. “My dad… he got remarried six years ago, and this is the first time I’m hearing from him since then.”

Your heart aches at the weight of his words, but you remain quiet, giving him the space to continue. “And now... he wants me to meet his wife… and his... his daughter.” Jungkook says, the words slipping out almost reluctantly. “He said he wants to formally introduce them to me.”

You nod slowly, unsure of what to say, the weight of the moment heavy between you. “Growing up...” he continues, his voice quiet but firm. “My parents didn’t have the happiest marriage. And me and my parents... specifically my dad… well... we never really got along. So, it’s just weird now, you know? Having to meet this new family of his… it feels… strange.”

His gaze drops again, and you can see the faint flicker of pain in his eyes, the way he’s trying so hard to mask the rawness of his emotions. “Yeah… I understand.” you say softly.

He exhales sharply, running his hand through his hair. “And I just… I don’t know how I’m supposed to face him. Seeing him all happy and content with his new family… after all these years when all he’s ever been to me is unavailable. It’s like… I don’t know if I can... if I can face him.”

His voice breaks slightly at the end, and his shoulders slump as if the weight of his thoughts is too much to carry. Your chest tightens at the sight of him unraveling, so guarded yet so clearly hurting. Without hesitation, you reach out, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

Jungkook leans into you, his head resting against your shoulder. His fingers fidget slightly, and his breathing slows as the silence wraps around you both.

Though he doesn’t speak, the tension in his body eases just a little, his presence softening in the comfort of your quiet support.

“Y/n…” he suddenly murmurs, his voice barely audible. You hum softly, your fingers instinctively finding their way to the back of his head, brushing through the soft strands of his hair. He stays still for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts, before he speaks again.

“Can you…” His voice falters, hesitant, before he finally forces the words out. “Can you come with me?” he asks. Your hand pauses in his hair as your eyes widen, his request catching you off guard. “What?” you ask softly, your tone laced with surprise.

Jungkook lifts his head from your shoulder, his soft eyes meeting yours. He immediately notices the uncertainty in your expression, the way your lips part slightly in shock. He hesitates, his throat tightening, but he pushes himself to continue.

“I just… I don’t want to face him alone.” he admits, his voice trembling slightly, raw with vulnerability. “If… if someone’s there with me... if you’re there with me... I think… I think I won’t feel like I’m on the edge.”

He breaks eye contact, glancing down as if ashamed of his own admission. “The thought of seeing him alone… it’s just too much.” he adds, his voice quieter now.

You watch him closely, the way his fingers twist nervously against the hem of the blanket, the faint quiver in his jaw as he speaks. Your heart aches for him, but before you can respond, Jungkook’s breath catches.

He suddenly shakes his head, the hesitation creeping back into his voice as he pulls away slightly. “You know what, forget it. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s… it’s too much to ask of you. I shouldn’t—”

“I’ll come with you.” The words leave your lips gently, cutting through his rambling, and his eyes snap up to meet yours. They’re wide with disbelief, his lips parting slightly as if he misheard you. “What?” he breathes, his voice tinged with shock.

“I’ll come with you.” you repeat, your tone soft but resolute. You reach out, resting your hand on his. “When you have to go see your dad… I’ll be there. You don’t have to go alone.”

His brows furrow slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. “You’d… really do that for me?” he asks quietly, almost as if he’s afraid of the answer.

“Of course I would.” you say with a small smile, squeezing his hand gently. “I can understand how hard this might be for you. If having me there will make it even a little easier, then… I’ll be there, no question.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens as he stares at you, the sincerity in your eyes making his chest ache in a way he can’t quite explain. He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze searching yours, and then he exhales shakily.

“Thank you.” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much.” His words hang in the air, heavy with a vulnerability that feels almost too intimate. You don’t say anything in response, simply leaning in and wrapping your arms around him.

He immediately leans into the embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hands clutching around your back as if anchoring himself to you. “You’re not alone, Jungkook,” you murmur softly, your hand smoothing over his bare back in slow, comforting strokes. “You never have to be.”

He doesn’t reply, but the way he holds onto you, the way his breathing steadies against your shoulder, says everything he can’t.

“Do I look okay?” Jungkook suddenly stops, turning on his heel to face you in the parking lot. His hands fidget with the lapels of his jacket, tugging and smoothing the fabric as if it holds the key to calming his nerves.

You halt in your tracks, a soft smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him. His brows are furrowed, and his lips press into a thin line, betraying the anxiety simmering beneath his otherwise composed exterior. “Yes, Kook.” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “You look perfect.”

He exhales a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, I’m just so nerv—” Before he can finish, you step closer, placing your hands on his arms in a steadying gesture. “I understand.” you say softly, your gaze locking onto his. “It’s okay to feel nervous. Everything is going to be fine.”

Your reassuring tone seems to reach him, and he opens his eyes, his gaze searching yours for some consolation. You lean in slightly, your voice quieter now but no less confident. “So come on...” you say, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go.”

With a soft nod, you carefully guide him forward, turning him back towards the restaurant entrance just a few meters away.

The warm glow of the restaurant lights spills out onto the pavement as the two of you step inside. Jungkook’s eyes immediately begin to scan the room, his gaze flickering across tables and faces until he spots the person he’s looking for.

Across the room, his father sits at a table near the window, the light catching on the graying strands of his neatly combed hair. Beside him is a little girl, her laughter ringing softly as she talks animatedly, and across from them, a younger woman leans in, her smile warm and easy.

Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat as he watches his father laugh, a sound so unguarded and genuine it feels almost foreign to him. He notices the way his father’s hand reaches out to gently fix the little girl’s hair, his expression soft and full of care.

Why have I never seen that smile before? The thought creeps in unbidden, heavy and bitter, making his chest tighten.

He forces himself to look away, unwilling to let the twinge of hurt fester any longer. Instead, his gaze shifts to you. You’re beside him, your own eyes scanning the restaurant.

“Come on.” Jungkook murmurs quietly, his voice tight as he gestures subtly towards the table. “He's over there.”

Your eyes land on the little family. For a moment, you’re still, observing them as if trying to absorb their dynamic. The scene feels private, like a small world they’ve built for themselves, one you’re about to step into.

You take a deep breath, willing your nerves to steady. It’s not your meeting, yet somehow you feel the weight of it too... Jungkook’s vulnerability, his anxiety, his need for you to anchor him in this moment.

“Okay.” you say quietly, nodding as you glance back at him. Your voice is calm, though your heart races beneath your chest. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but the brief flicker of gratitude in his eyes tells you he’s drawing strength from your presence.

And together, step by step, you cross the room towards the table, the weight of the moment sinking deeper with every second. “Jungkook!!” His dad’s voice cuts through the quiet murmur of the restaurant before you even make it to the table.

He stands up with a swift motion, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor, his arms already open in a wide gesture. Jungkook hesitates, his body stiffening as his dad pulls him into a hug. The moment feels disconnected, strained, as Jungkook doesn’t return the embrace, his arms by his sides, his muscles taut.

The way his father pats his back is awkwardly forced, and it only accentuates the gulf between them. You notice the subtle way Jungkook pulls back a little, not in anger, but in guarded distance.

Your lips press together, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth as you watch the brief interaction unfold before you. His dad’s smile doesn’t waver, but you can feel the tension simmering in the air, almost palpable.

The older man releases Jungkook and straightens up, his eyes turning to you. There’s no pause, no acknowledgment of the silence that’s just passed between the father and son. “And… who is this?” he asks, his voice light, almost too light for the moment.

His eyes remain bright, a smile dancing at the corners of his lips, yet something about the way he’s sizing you up doesn’t sit right. “A friend.” Jungkook answers shortly, his tone almost as clipped as his posture.

You offer a polite bow, your own smile gentle but somewhat strained. You glance at the woman across the table, who nods with a soft, warm smile, trying to ease the tension with a small gesture of kindness.

“Come, take a seat!” his dad urges, his voice carrying a cheerful lilt, as if everything's normal, as if nothing heavy hung in the air. Jungkook hesitates for a brief moment, but then, with a quiet sigh, he moves to sit beside his father’s new wife and across from his younger step-sister. She flashes a bright smile at him, her innocence lighting up her features.

You take your seat at the edge of the table, positioning yourself between Jungkook and the little girl. The space between the three of you feels almost too wide, yet your presence beside Jungkook is a subtle comfort, offering a silent but solid support.

“So, Jungkook, how are you?” His father asks, as he settles into his seat, his tone casual. “How’s life??”

Jungkook gulps, the usual ease with which he speaks seems to have evaporated. “Everything’s good.” he replies shortly, not an ounce of enthusiasm behind his words. It’s almost as if the question is more of a formality, a checkmark on a list of things to be asked.

“That’s nice to hear.” his father says, nodding as though it’s all perfectly fine, as if there’s nothing unusual about this encounter. His father leans back in his seat, rubbing his hands together, as if he's ready to continue the next topic of conversation.

“Anyways...” he continues, his tone still light. “I’d like you to meet Suryeon.” he says, gesturing to the older woman seated beside Jungkook.

She gives him a small nod, her smile gentle and welcoming, yet there’s a stiffness to her presence, too, a knowledge that she’s playing a part in this awkward charade.

“And this is… Bora.” he adds, wrapping his arm around the little girl’s shoulders. Bora looks up at Jungkook, her tiny hands waving at him excitedly, a high-pitched giggle escaping her lips as she flashes him a grin.

He nods at Suryeon, and his gaze flickers back to Bora. His smile softens for a moment, but there’s a hesitation, a doubt in his eyes that doesn’t escape your notice.

You take in a steady breath, observing the entire dynamic unfold in front of you. The forced interactions, the strained pleasantries, all of it feels unnatural, almost painful to watch.

You slip your hand below the table and gently pat Jungkook’s knee, offering him the silent reassurance he might not say he needs, but you can feel he desperately does.

The dinner progresses in the same manner... questions and more questions, each one a casual attempt to probe into Jungkook’s life. “How’s work? Any projects you’re excited about?” His dad asks.

Jungkook responds with one-word answers, his body tense, his movements stiff. His fork moves mechanically as he picks at his food, clearly not interested in the meal, but rather in trying to force himself to stay calm.

His eyes dart to the table, his focus broken, as his father continues to ask about the most mundane things. It’s obvious... this dinner, this whole situation, it’s driving him to the edge. You can see it in the way his posture has slumped, the way he forces himself to take a breath after each question.

And then, it happens.

His dad, still too jovial for the moment, makes a remark that strikes a chord. He chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling with a look that feels too much like dismissal.

“You know, Jungkook…” His father’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, still laced with that smile, but something colder underneath. “I always thought you’d be a bit more… successful by now. At your age, I was already running my business, not just… dabbling in it like you.”

The words land like a slap, cutting through the fragile calm that had been trying to hold everything together. Jungkook’s fork freezes mid-air, his body going rigid. His face contorts as the weight of his father’s words hits harder than intended, his breath catching in his chest.

His father’s smile falters for a brief second, but it’s only enough for Jungkook to see it, before he covers it up with a light chuckle. “But I guess everyone has their own pace, right?” he adds, trying to brush it off, his tone flippant, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not a wound he just opened.

But Jungkook’s anger is building... slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, until it ignites like a spark to dry kindling. His eyes harden as they lock onto his father, the frustration rising in him, raw and unrelenting.

Without another word, he places his fork down with unnerving precision. The tension in his body is palpable, his entire form wound tight like a coiled spring, ready to snap. His gaze stays fixed, but his jaw tightens, clenching as he struggles to keep his composure.

“You’re gone for years....” Jungkook begins, his voice dangerously low. “And now, out of nowhere, you waltz back in like everything’s just fine. With this perfect little family of yours, this shiny new life you couldn’t build with us, couldn’t even try for us.”

He swallows, a shaky breath escaping his lips, and you can feel the shift in him, the hurt and the anger colliding. The words are spilling out, raw and unfiltered.

The lump in your throat tightens as you watch him unravel, but you’re frozen, unsure whether you should intervene, unsure if you have any right to stop the damage that’s unfolding. His words sting, not just for him, but for the silence that had been building for years.

“And now you’re sitting here, making all these judgments about my work, my life. Like you have any right to.”

You can feel the sharpness in his words... the resentment that’s been festering for years, now spilling out in the rawest form. His shoulders are taut with anger, every word like a punch that’s been waiting to land.

“You think you’re just going to walk back in and pick apart everything I’ve done like it doesn’t matter?” Jungkook’s voice rises, trembling with emotion now, a mixture of hurt, betrayal, and rage that he can no longer keep bottled up.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Who gave you the right to sit here and critique my life when you weren’t even there to see any of it? When you never bothered to show up? You couldn’t even be there when I needed you, but now you think you can judge me?”

His eyes are piercing now, burning with the fire of everything he’s held back, everything he’s kept silent for so long. His father tries to brush it off with a weak, awkward laugh, but it does nothing to lessen the weight of Jungkook’s words. The anger in his eyes is undeniable now, a storm that’s finally breaking free.

“You left us.” Jungkook continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You left me, and you’ve been gone for how many years now? And now you want to act like nothing’s wrong? Like I don’t have every right to be pissed off? You think I’m ‘dabbling’ in something? You think I haven’t been trying, every single day, to make something of myself despite you?”

His breath comes out in shallow gasps as he fights to keep himself under control, but the words are rushing out, unstoppable now. “You want to criticize me for not being where you think I should be, but you’re not the one who had to pick up the pieces of a life you broke. You’re not the one who had to do it alone.”

The table feels like it’s closing in on them, the distance between Jungkook and his father shrinking with every word that leaves his lips. The silence that follows is deafening, thick with the weight of everything that’s just been said, as if the whole world has paused for a moment.

There’s something raw in his expression now, something that speaks to the years of silence, of hurt, of being ignored and abandoned. He doesn’t look at his father... instead, his gaze shifts towards you, a momentary glance that conveys so much. It’s a mix of fury and something softer, something deeper, an unspoken vulnerability that he’s never shown before, that he can’t quite hide.

“Let’s go.” His voice is firm, almost a whisper, but the weight behind it is unmistakable. Without waiting for a response, without giving you a moment to collect yourself, Jungkook reaches across the table and grabs your hand. His grip is firm, almost desperate and you don’t fight it.

You don’t need to. You simply follow, stepping away from the table, from the wreckage of the moment, as Jungkook pulls you towards the exit.

You glance back briefly, hoping for some acknowledgment, some sign that his father recognizes the gravity of what just transpired, but when your eyes land on him, he’s looking down at his plate.

His face is masked in an unreadable expression, his shoulders stiff, almost as if he’s ashamed... ashamed of his own words, ashamed of the damage he’s done. But he doesn’t look up.

Before you know it, you’re outside, the cold night air biting at your skin, but you barely feel it. Jungkook’s hand still clutches yours, unwavering, as he leads you towards his car.

The world outside feels distant, muffled, as if you’re both in your own bubble, where the only thing that matters now is the pounding of your own hearts, the rhythm of your steps in sync, and the weight of everything that’s been said, everything that’s unfolded this evening.

The moment you slide into the car, Jungkook starts the engine without hesitation. He doesn’t say a word, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked on the road. The car speeds through the streets, the sound of the tires slicing through the silence.

You lean back against the seat, trying to steady your own breath, but your gaze keeps drifting towards him. His entire body is taut, vibrating with a mixture of anger and anguish. You want to tell him to slow down, to take a moment, to breathe... but you can see it. This is how he’s coping, how he’s channeling the storm raging inside him.

Suddenly, the car swerves to the side, tires screeching as he pulls over abruptly. The sharp sound jolts you forward slightly, the seatbelt digging into your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t move. His hands remain on the wheel, his head hanging low, shoulders heaving as heavy breaths escape him. He’s panting now, like he’s been holding his breath all this time, and it’s only now catching up to him.

Your heart aches at the sight of him... so strong, so composed to the outside world, but crumbling here in the quiet confines of this car. It’s as if the weight of everything has come crashing down on him all at once, drowning him in a sea of emotions he’s been fighting to keep at bay.

“Kook…” you whisper, your voice trembling as you reach out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The warmth of your touch meets the cold tension of his body, but he doesn’t respond. His head remains bowed, strands of hair falling forward to shield his face.

“Kook...” you call again, firmer this time, though your voice still wavers. Your fingers tighten slightly on his shoulder, hoping to calm him, to pull him back to you. But he stays silent, his breathing ragged, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

You want to say the right thing, do the right thing, but all you can do is sit there, your hand trembling against him, hoping he’ll let you in, hoping he’ll let you shoulder even a fragment of the weight crushing him.

“I’m sorry…” he breathes out, his voice hoarse, cracking with the weight of his emotions. “I’m sorry… I just—”

You cut him off gently, your voice soft yet firm. “It’s okay. It’s alright, Kook.” you reassure him, your words a quiet comfort in the storm of his thoughts. The car settles back into an uneasy silence as he continues to try and calm himself, his breaths slowly evening out.

Your eyes, however, wander to the world outside, searching for anything to distract him and you notice a convenience store across the street, the soft glow of the neon lights flickering in the night.

You exhale softly, the weight of the evening settling into your bones. With a quiet resolve, you remove your hand from his shoulder, gently unbuckling your seatbelt. You take a moment to steady yourself, then slide out of the car.

Jungkook’s gaze follows you, confusion flickering in his eyes. But he doesn’t stop you. He watches as you walk around the car, the tension still heavy in the air, and the night breeze lifting your hair.

You open his door, the cool air brushing against him. You stand there for a moment, offering him a steadying presence in the midst of his chaos. “Come on.” you say softly, extending your hand towards him, your voice gentle but insistent.

He hesitates for just a beat, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. But after a moment, something inside him shifts as he exhales. He pulls out the car keys and steps out, taking your hand. Before he crosses the road, he makes sure to lock his car.

His grip around your hand is loose but steady, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort you offer. Together, you step into the convenience store, leaving the tense air of the car behind.

The fluorescent lights inside hum softly, casting a warm, sterile glow over rows of shelves neatly stocked with snacks, drinks, and other essentials.

"Go sit down." you say gently, gesturing towards the long stools lined up against the table near the large glass window. There’s no protest, no hesitation from him. He simply nods, his shoulders still heavy with the weight of the evening, and obeys your words without a sound.

You watch him as he takes a seat, his gaze fixed on the faint reflections in the window. For a moment, he looks lost, his fingers resting idly on the table as if he’s trying to piece himself together.

Turning away, you head deeper into the store, scanning the aisles carefully. You grab two instant ramen cups, picking the spicy ones you know he loves, despite how he always complains they’re “too much” for him.

Then come the drinks... your hands hover over the beer section, selecting a few cans of his favorite brand. You add a few of his favorite snacks to your basket... dried squid, triangle gimbaps, and a packet of honey butter chips he secretly enjoys but never admits to buying for himself.

As you walk towards the counter, you notice a small display of sweets. You hesitate, then grab a pack of chocolate-covered almonds, hoping the small indulgence might bring a flicker of comfort to him.

Once the ramen finishes heating in the microwave and you’ve paid the cashier, you balance everything in your hands and the basket that rests over your arm, carefully making your way towards where he’s seated.

His posture hasn’t changed much, but his eyes shift towards you as you approach, a faint flicker of curiosity breaking through the lingering cloud of emotion.

You set everything on the table in front of him with a soft clatter, taking care not to disturb the quiet moment. The cups of steaming ramen, cans of beer, and neatly packaged snacks create a small spread of comfort between you.

Despite himself, an airy chuckle escapes his lips as his eyes sweep over the spread in front of him. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, a faint shadow of his usual smile, and the tension in his shoulders softens just a little.

You smile, too, relieved to see even the smallest crack in his stormy demeanor. “The food at that restaurant sucked.” you quip, shrugging dramatically as you pull a stool back to sit beside him. “I mean, seriously, watch this ramen be a thousand times better than whatever the hell they were serving in those fancy little plates.”

You shake your head, mock exasperation lacing your tone, and tear open a pair of disposable chopsticks with a flourish. “Who even needs that overpriced nonsense when we’ve got this? Gourmet instant ramen, beer, and the finest dried squid convenience stores have to offer. A real five-star experience, if you ask me.”

He huffs out another soft laugh, shaking his head as he finally picks up his chopsticks. “You’re ridiculous.” he mutters, but there’s no edge to his voice, just a warmth that wasn’t there before.

“And yet...” you tease, gesturing to him as he takes a bite of ramen. “Here you are, about to prove me right. Go on, admit it... it’s way better, isn’t it?”

His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges as he chews, the faintest trace of amusement lighting his face. “Okay, fine.” he mumbles, swallowing. “It’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” you gasp, clutching your chest like you’ve been gravely insulted. “This is peak dining, Jungkook. Show some respect.”

He chuckles again, a little louder this time, and the sound is enough to ease the knot in your chest.

As you take another bite of your ramen, Jungkook swallows, his gaze flickering to your face. His chest tightens as he realizes what you're doing... the way you're silently trying to comfort him, to lift his spirits without any grand gestures or unnecessary words.

It's in the little things... the snacks you picked out, the casual humor you’ve thrown his way, and the soft presence you offer, asking for nothing in return.

His eyes drift to the pack of chocolate-covered almonds near your arm, and a small smile creeps onto his lips. He remembers how often he eats those, and it hits him... you noticed. You remembered. Something about that small gesture makes his heart flip.

“Thank you.” he blurts out, the words escaping before he can stop them. You pause mid-chew, looking at him with wide, curious eyes. He catches the way your lips glisten, slightly stained orange from the ramen broth, and a soft laugh escapes him despite himself.

Smoothly, he pulls your stool closer to his, the sound of its legs scraping the floor as you gasp, shocked by the sudden movement. With a tenderness that makes your breath hitch, he lifts his hand, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips.

The touch is fleeting, but it lingers in the warmth of his fingers as he wipes away the stain and licks the remnants off his thumb with an ease that makes your heart stutter. Your chest tightens, but you keep your composure, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for tonight, Y/n.” he repeats, quieter this time.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you place your chopsticks down and lean forward, resting your elbows on the table. “You don’t have to thank me.” you say softly, your voice a gentle balm to the wounds left behind from dinner.

The silence between you is comforting, not heavy like before but warm and steady, like a tether grounding him in the present. His eyes hold yours, earnest and searching, as though he’s trying to memorize the way you look at him... with a kindness he doesn’t feel he deserves.

After a moment, you break the silence. “Your dad might not see it...” you start, your voice quiet but steady. “but, Kook... you’ve come so far.”

His throat tightens, and he glances down at your hands as they move towards his, your fingers brushing lightly against his knuckles. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few months...” you continue. “But every time I see you, every time I talk to you, it amazes me just how incredible you are as a person.”

Your thumb grazes over his skin, soft and tender, as if to emphasize your words. “You’re doing so well... more than well. You’re strong, talented, and you care so deeply. I see it in everything you do, and I wish you could see it too. Your work, your life... everything about you... you should always be proud of yourself.”

His breath hitches at the sincerity in your voice, and for a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. The lump in his throat feels impossible to swallow, and his eyes sting with emotions he’s been holding back for too long.

"Y/n..." Jungkook whispers, his voice cracking, betraying the storm brewing inside him. His hand trembles slightly as it covers yours, the warmth of your skin grounding him in a way he didn’t know he needed. His gaze clings to you, raw and unguarded, his eyes silently pleading for something he can’t quite put into words.

You don't hesitate. With a soft shift, you lean forward, wrapping your arms around him in an embrace that feels like home. He stiffens at first, his body still caught in the tension of everything that had unfolded tonight, but then he lets go.

He melts into you, his arms encircling your waist as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His chin rests on your shoulder, and he gulps hard, his breath warm against your neck as your fingers stroke his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I got you.” you whisper, your voice soft but steady, like an anchor in the middle of his chaos.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word as you hold him, his silence louder than anything he could ever voice. He stays still in your arms, the weight of your embrace settling over him like a warm blanket on a cold, unforgiving night.

His breathing is uneven, shallow, like he’s fighting to keep it together, but the war inside him is spilling over, breaking through every crack he’s tried so desperately to seal.

He feels your fingers move in soothing circles on his back, as if you know he’s seconds away from shattering. Maybe you do... and maybe that’s what terrifies him the most. That you see him, the real him, stripped of all the defenses and bravado he’s spent years perfecting.

His chin rests against your shoulder, and for a moment, he allows himself to close his eyes and just feel. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest.

The faint scent of your hair, something floral and comforting that he’s come to associate with you. The warmth of your body, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that’s been clawing at him since dinner.

And yet, it’s that very warmth that terrifies him.

Because as he stays here, enveloped in your touch, Jungkook realizes something he’s been avoiding for the past few months now... this is no longer casual.

His mind flashes to every moment that led to this... your laugh echoing through his apartment when he'd tickle you, the way you'd rant animatedly about random kdramas, the way your arms would instinctively wrap around him in bed after a long night, the way you’d unconsciously hum along to songs he never thought anyone else knew, and the way you always seemed to understand exactly what he needed without him ever saying a word.

It was never supposed to be this deep, this intimate. Yet here you are, holding him as if he’s the most precious thing in the world, and Jungkook can feel the last fragile threads of his resolve unraveling, slipping right through his fingers.

The truth presses against his chest, suffocating in its intensity, relentless and consuming, demanding to be acknowledged.

He is so fucked... so utterly and irreversibly... fucked.

His chest constricts, each breath growing heavier under the crushing weight of his realization. This... this isn’t what friends-with-benefits is supposed to feel like.

It’s not supposed to haunt him in the quiet moments, the spaces between your touch and his thoughts, where your laughter lingers like a melody he can’t forget. It’s not supposed to leave him aching at the mere thought of you slipping out of his life, of not being able to see the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh or hear the way your voice softens when you call his name.

It’s not supposed to make him feel so desperate... desperate to shield you from every harsh word, every unkind gaze, every fleeting pain the world might dare to throw your way.

It’s not supposed to consume him like this, like you’ve burrowed so deeply into the fabric of his being that the idea of losing you is not just painful but catastrophic. Like the very thought of it would kill him, leave him hollow, stripped of whatever fragile sense of balance he’s been clinging to.

No, it’s not supposed to feel like you’ve become the center of his universe, the axis upon which everything turns. But it does. And it terrifies him.

Jungkook’s arms tighten around you, almost instinctively, as if holding you closer might stop the avalanche of emotions threatening to crush him. But even as he clings to you, there’s a part of him that feels unworthy of this moment, of you.

The words echo in his mind like a cruel mantra... You deserve better than me. Someone who isn’t afraid to love you. Someone who can love you proudly, without hesitation, without fear.

He wants to tell you, to pour it all out in one breathless confession, but the words lodge in his throat, tangled with fear and doubt. How could he ever tell you what’s in his heart when he’s not even sure he deserves to feel this way?

Instead, he lets the silence stretch, his head tilting just slightly to press against yours. He breathes you in, committing every detail of this moment to memory... the way your touch feels like a balm against the chaos inside him, the way your presence is the only thing anchoring him to the ground.

And as much as he wants to stay here forever, he knows this fragile bubble is destined to burst. Every second spent in your arms is a second closer to the inevitable heartbreak, a cruel countdown to when reality will force its way back in.

Because the deeper he lets himself fall, the clearer it becomes... he’s risking everything. Risking you. Risking the only connection that makes his chaotic life feel even remotely steady.

But for now, just for this fleeting moment, he allows himself to hold you a little tighter. To bury his face in the crook of your neck and breathe you in, pretending, against all logic, that maybe... just maybe he could ever be enough for you. That he could ever be what you deserve.

Yet, even as the thought crosses his mind, a hollow ache settles deep in his chest. He knows this has to end. Knows he’s already let it go too far. Because if he doesn’t stop this now, if he doesn’t break it before it breaks him... he’ll be left with nothing but shattered pieces of what could’ve been.

And the worst part? He’s not sure if he’s strong enough to walk away.

"The washing machine stopped working again." Heejin groans as she plops down next to you on the couch. You’re focused on your laptop, your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, eyes locked on the screen as you type away.

"Really?" you ask, barely pulling your attention away from your work.

She hums, inching closer to you, her voice tinged with slight irritation. "Maybe I should call Joonie and ask him to take a look." At the mention of Namjoon’s name, your mind shifts and you instantly think of Jungkook.

It’s been a week since that night... the dinner with his father, the comforting silence in the convenience store. And ever since then, there’s been nothing. No texts, no calls, no secret meetups.

The emptiness of his absence sits like a heavy weight in your chest. You tell yourself it’s probably just him recovering, or maybe he's caught up in work, but each passing day without a word only deepens the ache inside.

Heejin stands up to grab a blanket from her room, and without thinking, you pull out your phone. Your fingers hover over Jungkook’s contact, almost unconsciously. You check for any new messages, but the screen remains blank, void of any sign from him.

Your heart sinks a little, the silence louder than ever before. You miss him. It stings more than you want to admit, but you don’t want to chase him either. You tell yourself that maybe he does need space. Maybe this is the time for him to work through his own emotions, to deal with everything on his terms.

Heejin returns with her blanket, and you quickly tuck your phone away, returning to your work, but the weight of his radio silence lingers in the back of your mind no matter how hard you try to push it away.

Another weeks passes, and the silence remains. But this time, the weight of it feels different. It’s heavier, sharper, and impossible to ignore because you tried—God, you tried.

Your calls stayed unanswered, your texts stayed unread, you even hovered over the thought of showing up at his doorstep unannounced. But every time, you stopped yourself. You didn’t want to cross that line, didn’t want to risk getting caught by Namjoon unnecessarily.

Yet the void Jungkook left behind was consuming you. The overbearing absence of his presence aches in a way you didn’t know was possible. Your body longs to feel the warmth of his embrace again, your ears crave the sound of his laugh, and your eyes sting with the thought of seeing his face after so long.

The past two weeks have been a harsh teacher, forcing you to notice all the tiny ways he had become such an integral part of your life. How his laughter used to echo through your apartment, turning even the dullest moments into something bright and beautiful.

His habits, his quirks... things you’d once thought were fleeting moments in the chaos of your casual arrangement, linger like ghosts in every corner of your mind. You miss it all so deeply, it hurts.

But it’s not just the memories that haunt you, it’s what they’ve left behind. The silence, though painful, has forced you to confront feelings you’d been too afraid to name. Late nights spent tossing and turning, your mind and heart waging their endless battle, have led you to one undeniable truth.

What you feel for Jungkook isn’t casual anymore.

It’s in the way you think of him first thing in the morning, hoping for a text or call that never comes. It’s in the way your chest tightens when you see couples on the street, reminding you of the comfort you’d found in his arms. It’s in the way the mere thought of losing him for good sends a pang of panic racing through you.

Your spiral of thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, the sharp chime slicing through the heavy silence of your room. You blink, momentarily disoriented, before sighing and dragging yourself out of bed. Each step feels heavier than the last as you shuffle towards the front door.

When you pull it open, the sight of Namjoon standing there is almost a welcome distraction. His easy smile greets you like a brief reprieve from your stormy thoughts. “Hey, Namjoon.” you murmur, your voice lacking its usual cheer as you step aside to let him in.

“Hey.” he replies warmly, his eyes scanning your face briefly, probably noticing the weariness there but deciding not to comment on it. "Heejin’s in the shower.” you inform him as you shut the door behind him, gesturing vaguely towards her room.

He nods in understanding, already making his way towards their usual hangout spot without missing a beat.

Being in the same house as a couple feels like a cruel joke, their easy affection a stark contrast to the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside you. You retreat to your room, ready to drown in your thoughts and overanalyze everything yet again.

Just as you collapse onto your bed, a realization strikes. If Namjoon’s here, then Jungkook is likely alone right now. You wonder if he’s out or at home, but something pushes you to take a chance.

It might look like you're crossing a line to show up unannounced, but you can’t hold back any longer. Grabbing your things, you decide to head to his place and hope he’s there.

Jungkook sits in his apartment, the television flickering before him, its sound barely registering in his mind. It hums faintly in the background, a noise easily drowned out by the storm of thoughts that refuse to leave him alone.

The past two weeks have been nothing short of torment... a slow, relentless ache that’s left him feeling hollow. Every ignored text, every call he let ring unanswered claws at him like a wound that refuses to close.

He doesn’t know if he’s being utterly foolish for acting this way, but the truth is, the depth of his own feelings terrifies him. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not in something so explicitly defined as casual.

Being afraid of love and the chaos it brings, is one thing. Breaking the fundamental rule of a friends-with-benefits arrangement is another.

He thought space would help, thought it would douse the fire raging in him, thought it would subside the emotions he never meant to feel. He believed that with time, he could return to who he was before you, before your laughter became the soundtrack of his nights, before the feel of your lips left him breathless, before he started craving you like air.

But the truth is, the distance didn’t make him realize he could live without you. It only made him realize just how deeply you’ve embedded yourself into his life. Into his soul.

And somehow, it’s not just longing that grips him now... it’s a quiet, agonizing resolve. Over these two weeks, he’s turned every possible scenario over in his mind, replayed every moment between you, considered every way this could go.

And no matter how much he wishes it wasn't true, he keeps coming back to the same conclusion... he has to end it.

It tears him apart to even think about it, but he knows it’s the only way. This was never meant to be more than something temporary, something light, something that wouldn’t leave scars. But now, it’s everything but that.

He tells himself it’s for the best, that staying in this casual arrangement is only going to hurt him in the end. Because no matter how much he wants to deny it, he knows he’s already broken the cardinal rule. He’s in love. Deeply. Irrevocably.

And that’s why he has to let you go.

He’d rather cut the cord now than risk dragging you down into the mess of his own emotions, his own doubts, his own fears, his own insecurities.

He doesn’t know when he’ll summon the courage to face you, to say the words aloud and confront the devastation they’ll bring. For now, all he can do is be a coward. All he can do is shut you out, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this will hurt less if he pretends it doesn’t already.

But then, a sudden knock on the front door startles him, yanking him out of the relentless battle raging in his mind. His brows furrow as he wonders who it could be.

Namjoon had just left not long ago, and there’s no way he’d be back so soon. With a sigh, Jungkook rises from the couch, running his fingers through his disheveled hair, trying to push away the unease tightening in his chest.

When he grips the doorknob and pulls it open, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching the instant they land on you. "Hey." you breathe, a soft smile tugging at your lips. The casual warmth in your voice leaves him momentarily paralyzed, his mind scrambling to process your presence.

"Not gonna let me in?" you ask softly, tilting your head in a way that only makes his chest tighten further.

Jungkook gulps, realizing he’s been standing there, staring like an idiot. He quickly steps aside, his movements awkward as he gestures for you to enter. "Uh... yeah, come in." he mutters, his voice low and rough.

You purse your lips, stepping inside with an easy familiarity, slipping off your shoes like it’s second nature. Jungkook’s heart pounds in his chest as his gaze involuntarily travels to you... oversized sweater, shorts, effortlessly stunning. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, you always seem to have this effect on him, this magnetic pull that leaves him breathless and unsteady.

He hates it. Hates the way you’re so breathtaking in the cruelest way, how easily you unravel him without even trying. He quickly shakes the thoughts away, forcing himself to focus as he closes the door with a quiet click.

"Namjoon came over, so I figured you’d be alone." you say, breaking the heavy silence as you wander into the living room. Jungkook follows closely, his steps hesitant. You take a seat on the couch, your gaze lifting to meet his as though silently urging him to join you.

He hesitates but eventually sits down, though it’s clear from the space he deliberately leaves between you that something is different. The distance isn’t just physical... it’s a chasm of unspoken words and withheld emotions, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your eyes drop to the space between you, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady the unease building in your chest. "How have you been?" you ask softly, searching his face for any sign of emotion, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze is fixed on his hands, fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap.

"I’ve been... busy." he mutters, the words almost a whisper. The faint tremor in his voice doesn’t escape you, nor does the very obvious lie.

You nod slowly, leaning back against the couch, your mind racing as you try to decipher his behavior. The silence that follows is thick, oppressive, and maddening in its weight. Unable to bear it any longer, you shift closer, closing the gap between you two.

"Kook, what’s wrong?" you ask, your hand reaching out to gently rest on his arm. "It’s been two weeks since I heard from you... after that dinner with your dad. Is everything okay? Are you having a hard time?"

Your voice is warm and laced with genuine concern, and it only makes his chest ache more. He feels like a complete jerk for shutting you out, for the way he ghosted you these past few days. But he can’t let that guilt sway him, can’t let it unravel the wall he’s painstakingly built around himself.

He inhales sharply, willing himself to stay composed as he shakes his head. "I’m... I’m fine." he says, the words clipped and distant.

The simplicity of his response, the cold detachment, ignites something in you. Frustration bubbles to the surface, pushing you to the edge.

"Seriously, what’s wrong?" you press, your voice rising slightly, the cracks of emotion beginning to show. "For two weeks, you’ve ignored my texts, my calls, and now, when I’m finally here... when I’m finally seeing you again... it’s like you don’t even want me here. What’s going on, Kook?"

Your words hang in the air, a mix of anger and vulnerability that makes him falter. He swallows hard, his fists clenching as he struggles to find the right words, to say anything that won’t betray the chaos in his heart.

A sigh escapes your lips when he remains silent, his refusal to respond only heightening your frustration. Your lips quiver slightly, and with great hesitation, you reach for his face, your fingers brushing gently against his skin.

"Kook... look at me." you almost plead, your voice soft yet trembling with emotion as you guide his face to meet your gaze. His empty eyes finally lock onto yours, and the sight sends a pang through your chest. You can’t read him, can’t discern the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

"Kook, is this about the night after the dinner with your dad?" you ask tentatively, your voice wavering. "Did I say something wrong that night? Did I... offend you?"

You grasp at straws, your mind racing to piece together a reason for his distance. The thought that you might’ve unknowingly hurt him gnaws at you, and guilt threatens to creep in. Maybe it’s something you said, or maybe it’s something you didn’t say... whatever it is, you just want to understand.

Jungkook’s eyes scan your face, taking in every detail... the softness in your expression, the way your concern feels almost tangible, and the tender warmth of your palm against his cheek. It overwhelms him.

His gaze lingers on your eyes, your nose, your lips... those lips he’s thought about far too many times. The pull he feels towards you is magnetic, and for a moment, he nearly gives in to the urge to close the space between you and just kiss you senseless.

But that’s the last thing he should be thinking about right now.

Abruptly, he stands up from the couch, retreating from your touch like it burns. "Why do you even care?" he blurts out. Your eyes widen, confusion washing over you like a cold wave. "What?" you ask as you look up at him, searching his face for an explanation.

"Yeah..." he exhales, his voice sharper now, laced with something you can’t quite place... anger, frustration, pain. "Why do you even care?" he repeats.

The words hang heavy in the air, and you blink at him, unable to immediately respond. All you can focus on is the way he looks at you, the storm in his eyes, the tension etched into his furrowed brows, the clench of his jaw as if he's trying to keep himself together.

"This... this whole thing between us..." He pauses, gesturing to the space between you with his hands as though it holds the weight of every unspoken word, every unsaid truth. "It was never meant to be anything more than a fucking arrangement, Y/n."

His words cut through you, but he doesn’t stop. His voice rises, teetering on the edge of control, each crack in his tone exposing the emotions he’s desperately trying to bury. "So why the hell... why the hell are you acting like you’re so invested? Why are you making this into something that it’s not?"

Your chest tightens as you scramble to find your footing in the storm of his words. "Kook, what are you talking about?" you ask, your voice laced with confusion and a hint of desperation as you rise from the couch to meet him on level ground. "I'm just asking you because I'm worried—"

"You don’t have to be worried, Y/n." he cuts you off abruptly, his tone harsh and unforgiving. "We’re just fuckbuddies. So why... why do you have to be worried about me?"

The word hits you like a slap, each syllable a sting that reverberates through your chest. He’s right... technically, he’s right... but the way he dismisses your genuine concern, the way he reduces everything you feel to something so cold, so transactional, makes it feel like a dagger twisting deep within you.

"So just because we’re fuckbuddies, I don’t have the right to care about you?" you manage, your voice trembling, the sting in your eyes now threatening to spill over.

"Yes." he snaps, his voice raw and breaking under the weight of his own declaration. "Because what we have... it’s not supposed to be deep. No strings attached, remember?" He takes a step closer, the space between you closing but the emotional chasm widening. His words, harsh and final, make your ears burn, your throat tighten.

You feel your chest constrict, the ache settling deep, almost unbearable. It’s a suffocating mix of frustration and pain, the kind of pain that doesn’t just sting, it leaves scars.

How could he dismiss you so easily? How could he reduce you to nothing more than a passing moment, as though everything you’ve shared, every laugh, every vulnerable glance, was just a fragment of a fleeting connection?

Your voice trembles, but you refuse to back down. "Do you really believe that? That just because we agreed to this... this label, I’m not allowed to care? Do you honestly think it’s that simple?"

He doesn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightens, his gaze fixed on some invisible point far away, as if looking at you might shatter whatever resolve he’s clinging to. The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating, louder than any argument.

"It’s not that simple." he finally breathes, the weight of his admission hanging in the air. You blink quickly, willing away the tears threatening to spill as you wait for him to continue.

"And that’s why..." His voice falters, his hands coming to rest on his hips. He looks like he’s grappling with words too heavy to say, the silence stretching unbearably until he finally speaks again, his tone sharper this time. "That’s why we should stop this."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, leaving you breathless. "What?" you whisper, your voice barely audible. You step towards him, desperate for him to meet your gaze, to take back what he’s just said. But he doesn’t. He turns his back to you instead, as if shielding himself from the impact of your reaction.

"Let’s stop this." he says again, his voice steadier now, more certain, though the tension in his frame betrays the turmoil beneath his calm facade. "Friends with benefits, or whatever you want to call it... I don’t want to do it anymore."

His declaration lands like a blow, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your voice wavers, but the pain laced within it is unmistakable. "So that's... that's all I am to you?" you ask, your eyes searching for any sign that he doesn’t mean it.

He flinches, as though your words have physically struck him. "Y/n—" he turns around, but you cut him off, the ache in your heart spilling over into your voice.

"Just your fuckbuddy?" you demand, louder this time, each word slicing through the suffocating silence between you. He closes his eyes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your question. It’s not that he doesn’t want to answer... he just doesn’t know how to. Not when the truth is far messier than he can admit.

You step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. "Say something, Jungkook." you plead, your voice breaking. "Tell me that’s all I’ve ever been to you. Say it to my face if that’s what you really believe."

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists as he struggles to find the words. "It’s not..." he begins, his voice faltering before he tries again, quieter this time. "It’s not that simple."

Your heart twists painfully at his hesitation. "Then what is it, Kook? What are you so afraid of?" you ask, your tone softening, though the hurt remains. "Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re the one complicating this. Not me."

He turns his back to you again, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself. "I’m not afraid." he mutters, though the tremor in his voice betrays him.

"Then look at me." you demand, stepping closer until you’re right behind him. "Look me in the eyes and tell me why you’re doing this. Why you’re ending something that we both know is more than just an arrangement."

He freezes, his back rigid, before finally turning around. His gaze meets yours, and the vulnerability in his eyes nearly undoes you. "Because it’s too much." he admits, his voice raw and unsteady. "You’re too much, Y/n."

"Too much?" you echo, confused and hurt. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I can’t handle this anymore." he snaps, the frustration in his voice cracking through the air like a whip. His breathing is uneven, and his eyes burn with a mix of anger and vulnerability.

"I can’t handle how you’re always there, how you look at me like I’m someone worth saving, like I’m someone who deserves your care." His voice shakes now, the anger dissolving into something softer, something achingly raw. "Because I’m not, Y/n. I’m not, and I hate that you don’t see it."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless as you try to comprehend the layers of emotion behind them. "Jungkook..." you whisper, but he shakes his head, cutting you off before you can even begin to respond.

"No." he continues, his tone growing quieter, though the pain in his voice is deafening. "I can’t handle the way you make me feel... like I’m losing control of everything I thought I had figured out. Like I’ll never be enough for you, but I still want you anyway."

He exhales sharply, his hand running through his hair as if the motion could somehow ease the storm raging inside him. "God, I want you so badly, and that terrifies me."

Your heart clenches at the confession, at the rawness in his voice that he’s trying so hard to conceal. "Why does it terrify you, Kook?" you ask softly. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that you are enough? That you’ve always been enough for me?"

He lets out a bitter laugh, his eyes glistening as he avoids your gaze. "Because I’ve never been enough for anyone." he admits, his voice cracking on the last word.

"Not for my mom, not for my dad, not for the people who were supposed to care about me. I’ve always been the one left behind, the one who never measured up. And now you’re here, making me feel things I shouldn’t feel, making want things I don’t deserve... and I can’t—" His voice falters, and he looks away, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his own insecurities.

"Jungkook..." you whisper, your hand reaching out instinctively, but he steps back, out of your reach. "Don’t." he says, his voice barely holding together. "Don’t make this harder than it already is."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as tears blur your vision. "So you’re just going to walk away? Just like that?" you ask, your voice trembling. "You’re going to throw everything away because you’re scared of feeling something real?"

"It’s not about being scared." he says, his voice rising before it cracks under the weight of his emotions. "It’s about knowing when to stop before we destroy each other."

Your lips part, but no words come out. He exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair in frustration. "I can’t do this anymore, Y/n." he says, the finality in his tone cutting deeper than any argument. "I’m sorry... but... but we’re done."

And just like that, he turns and walks away, each step echoing with the sound of your heart breaking into pieces too fragile to ever be whole again.

"Wow, you look like shit." Namjoon scoffs, leaning back in his chair as he watches Jungkook shuffle out of his room. His movements are sluggish, his hair a tangled mess, and the dark circles under his eyes stand out starkly against his pale skin.

"Seriously, Kook, you’ve been like this for a week straight. You reek of alcohol. Are you... are you even showering?" Namjoon’s voice is laced with concern, though he tries to mask it with his usual bluntness.

Jungkook doesn’t reply. He drags his feet across the floor and heads into the kitchen without so much as a glance in Namjoon’s direction.

The sound of a cupboard creaking open fills the silence as he grabs a glass and fills it with water. He gulps it down like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, but it does little to ease the ache that’s settled in his chest.

It’s been a week since everything officially ended between you and him, and if he’s honest, he’s not okay. Not even close. This past week has been unbearable, worse than the initial two-week break when he’d tried to convince himself that distance was what he needed.

This time, there’s no illusion of reconciliation, no faint glimmer of hope. This time, he knows it’s over... truly, undeniably over and it’s all his fault.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the look on your face from that night. The hurt in your eyes, the way your voice trembled as you begged him to just admit how he felt. He remembers every word, every tear, every moment he stood there like a coward and let you believe that you didn’t matter to him.

It replays in his mind like a cruel loop, haunting him in the quiet hours of the night when he’s too tired to fight off the memories but too restless to sleep.

The weight of his regret is suffocating. He can’t escape the gnawing realization that he let you go, not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much. Because of his own fears, his own warped perceptions of what he thought he could never be for you, he pushed you away.

And now, the space where you used to be feels like a gaping void, one he doesn’t know how to fill.

His grip tightens around the glass in his hand and his jaw clenches, staring at the water as though it holds the answers to the questions he’s too afraid to ask himself.

He let you slip away. No... he let you walk away, let you fall through his fingers like you were never meant to stay. And the worst part? He can’t even blame you.

He knows it’s on him, that he was the one who stood in his own way, who chose to silence his heart instead of giving you the truth you deserved.

"Kook..." Namjoon’s voice cuts through the silence again, softer this time as he stands by the entrance of the kitchen. "You’ve gotta pull yourself together, man. Whatever’s eating you alive, you need to face it."

But Jungkook just shakes his head, setting the glass down on the counter with a hollow thud.

Face it? How do you face the kind of pain that doesn’t just hurt but consumes? How do you face losing the one person who made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were worth loving?

"It's not a date." you groan, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips. "Sure, sure. She straightened her hair, she's wearing gloss, and... girl, that dress?" Heejin quirks an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she lounges on your bed, legs crossed like she’s the queen of calling you out. "And she says it’s not a date."

You roll your eyes, reaching for your eyeliner. "Oh, come on. My other coworkers are going to be there too. It’s just a fancy dinner." you say, your tone dismissive.

"Right. Just a fancy dinner." she repeats, dragging the words out mockingly. "Totally explains the extra effort, though. Is that perfume I smell?"

Ignoring her, you focus on the mirror. Tonight wasn’t about looking good for anyone. It was about showing up because you were supposed to.

Jimin, one of your coworkers, had invited the team to celebrate the success of his major project. It was a big milestone for him, and honestly, you weren’t in the mood to attend. Especially after the week you’d just had.

Not hearing from Jungkook yet again had been harder than you wanted to admit. You’d drowned yourself in work to distract your mind, but it wasn’t enough to stop the ache from creeping in. You missed him. But the way he ended things with you had left a crack in your heart that no amount of distraction could fully numb.

You understood his avoidant nature, why the thought of something real scared him, but what hurt most was how easily he’d walked away, as if ending things was less painful than facing the possibility of love.

You got it... love was terrifying. Who wasn’t scared of it? But for Jungkook, you were willing to try, willing to risk the heartbreak. Because to you, he was worth it.

Yet, when you realized he probably didn’t feel the same way, the crushing weight of rejection had knocked the wind out of you. For two days, you cried in the secrecy of your room, muffling the sobs so Heejin wouldn’t pry.

And then, when the tears dried up, you forced yourself into overdrive. You worked, worked, and worked.. taking on overtime, staring at endless rows of spreadsheets and lines of code, anything to avoid the haunting thoughts of him.

But tonight’s dinner was different. It was mildly official, and skipping it felt wrong. Jimin had put so much effort into organizing it, and he deserved to be celebrated.

Besides, Jimin wasn’t just any coworker. He was kind, thoughtful in ways that went beyond professional courtesy. When he’d once tried to pursue you romantically, you’d turned him down, but he had taken it in stride. No bitterness, no awkwardness. Just a quiet acceptance that made you feel both guilty and grateful.

Where others might have let their egos sour things, Jimin remained warm and genuine. He’d greet you with a smile whenever your paths crossed, whether in the hallway or the coffee room. If you ever looked like you were struggling, he’d help without hesitation.

So, despite the weight in your chest, showing up for someone as thoughtful as Jimin felt like the least you could do but of course, your best friend seemed convinced it was more than that... that it was a date, and perhaps, the moment you were finally giving this guy a chance.

"Anyways, you have fun on your date, and you better..." Heejin pauses dramatically, sliding off your bed and heading for the door. She turns back briefly, a playful smirk on her face.

"You better give me all the details later... I'm going over to Joon's.... Bye !!" she yells as she disappears down the hall, not giving you a chance to refute her very obviously wrong assumption. You click your tongue in annoyance, muttering under your breath as you turn back to your reflection. "It’s not a date." you grumble.

Jungkook hears the doorbell ring from his room, followed by a burst of laughter and giggles that ripple through the quiet apartment. He immediately knows... Heejin is here, and judging by the warmth in their tones, she and Namjoon are basking in the kind of easy, natural affection that comes with being utterly, unapologetically in love.

He sighs heavily, shifting onto his side on his bed to face the wall as if the action might shield him from the noise and the ache in his chest. The sound of their voices feels both comforting and cruel. He can’t help but think about how effortless they seem together, how simple love looks from the outside.

That could’ve been us. he thinks bitterly. No, that should’ve been us.

But things between you and him has never been simple, and now it's nothing at all. Not after he walked away, too paralyzed by his own fears and insecurities to let himself fall fully into you. Not after he let the cracks between you widen into a chasm too vast to cross.

The hours drag by. The muffled hum of conversation outside serves as background noise to the storm of thoughts raging in his mind. He tries to ignore it, tries to lose himself in the numbness.

But even the numbness isn’t enough to drown out the memory of you and just how much he misses you. Suddenly, his throat feels dry, almost unbearably so. He groans softly, swinging his legs off the bed and heading for the door. The need for water outweighs his reluctance to face the world outside his room.

But just as his hand brushes the doorknob, a snippet of conversation freezes him in place. Heejin’s voice is clearer now, carrying through the thin walls. "So, I finally think she gave him a chance." she says, her tone light, almost teasing.

Jungkook’s hand tightens on the doorknob. His breath catches in his throat, and despite himself, he leans closer, his curiosity piqued. "Wait." Namjoon’s voice follows, laced with intrigue. "So this guy... Jimin... asked Y/N out a year ago?"

Jungkook feels his chest tighten, your name hitting him like a punch to the gut. He stands still, holding his breath as Heejin continues, oblivious to the audience just a few feet away.

"Yes! She told me he asked her out on a date, but she didn’t really see him like that, so she turned him down." Heejin explains. There’s a pause, followed by a slight giggle.

"And today, she was getting all dressed up, she was wearing this really pretty dress... and she told me it’s just a fancy dinner or something with her coworkers. But honestly, I just think she’s finally going on a date with him."

Jungkook’s heart plummets, an unbearable weight settling in his chest. He waits, his body tense, as Namjoon responds. "Wow." Namjoon says. "If it’s actually a date, then that’s good for her."

"I know, right?" Heejin adds, her voice filled with excitement. "I’ve seen Jimin before when I dropped her off at work once. And no offense, babe, but he’s so good-looking."

"Hey, why would I take offense?" Namjoon replies, laughing lightly. "You can appreciate a good-looking man if you see one. I’m a secure guy... don’t worry." Their laughter fades into muffled chatter again, but Jungkook barely hears it. His mind is a storm, a mess of emotions he can’t fully untangle.

Jimin. The name is unfamiliar, and that only makes it worse. Jungkook’s brows furrow as he turns around and leans back against the door, his thoughts racing. Who is this guy? He tries to conjure an image, but his mind offers nothing.

What was this guy like? Was he soft-spoken and gentle? Did he make you laugh the way Jungkook used to? Was he everything Jungkook had been too afraid to be?

Jealousy burns in his chest, hot and raw, but it’s tangled with regret and something darker... self-loathing. He had no right to feel this way, not when he was the one who let you go. Not when he was the one who let fear and doubt cloud his judgment and drive you away.

Jungkook sinks back onto his bed, his thirst long forgotten, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he stares at the ceiling. The image of you, dressed up for someone else, burns behind his eyes and he feels truly, utterly helpless.

Another hour passes, and Jungkook has been tossing and turning on his bed. The muffled sounds of conversation from earlier have faded into silence, and he assumes Namjoon and Heejin have retreated to Namjoon's room. The quiet only amplifies the storm in his head.

He grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time... 10:46 pm. His chest tightens as his thoughts spiral. Is she still on that date? Is she still with that guy... Jimin?

His breathing quickens, an inexplicable urge blooming in his chest. He needs to see you, to know if you’re really with someone else, to catch even a fleeting glimpse of you. It’s reckless and irrational, but the thought of sitting in his room for another second feels unbearable.

Scrambling out of bed, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down, then splashes cold water on his face in the bathroom. He doesn’t think, he just moves, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

The drive to your building feels both endless and instantaneous, his mind a blur of emotion. He parks his car a few meters away, hands gripping the steering wheel as he glances towards your apartment building. The lights outside are dim, the night quiet except for the occasional car passing by.

Just as he’s about to step out, a sleek car pulls up to the curb right outside your building. Jungkook freezes, his pulse pounding in his ears as he watches.

An unfamiliar man steps out from the driver’s side, his movements brisk and purposeful as he rounds the car. Jungkook’s breath catches when the man opens the passenger door, and you step out.

His chest constricts as he takes you in. You’re wearing a blazer that clearly doesn't belong to you, draped over your shoulders, your steps slightly unsteady as you move. The man, reaches out to steady you, his fingers curling around your arm in a gesture that seems both protective and intimate.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. So that’s Jimin, he thinks bitterly, his jaw clenching as his eyes lock on the scene.

You’re smiling at the man, saying something Jungkook can’t hear from the distance. But the way your face lights up, the way you seem so at ease with him, makes his chest ache.

The sight is too much. The edges of his vision blur, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he starts his car again. He doesn’t wait to see how the interaction ends. He can’t.

As he drives away, his heart feels like it’s splintering, shards of regret and jealousy slicing through him. His vision blurs, the glow of the streetlights smeared by unshed tears.

"You really didn’t have to drive me home, Jimin." you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of warmth as you glance at him. Jimin offers a boyish grin, shaking his head. "Oh, please, Y/n, it’s the least I could do. You know that."

You chuckle lightly, reaching up to shrug off the blazer draped over your shoulders. The fabric feels heavier than it looks, but it had kept you warm through the chilly night. "Thank you for this." you say, handing it back to him. "And congrats again, Jimin. Tonight's dinner was amazing, thanks for inviting me."

Jimin takes the blazer from you, his grin softening into something more genuine. "That means a lot, Y/n. But really, the thanks should go to you for showing up. It wouldn’t have been half as special without you there."

You shake your head, brushing his words off with a small laugh. "Well, I’m glad I could be part of it." you say lightly. Your gaze shifts past him towards his car, where you catch a glimpse of Soobin, one of your other coworkers, slumped in the backseat, his head lolling against the window.

"Man..." you breathe out, crossing your arms. "How many glasses of champagne did he have tonight?"

Jimin follows your gaze and lets out an exasperated laugh. "I stopped keeping track after four. At some point, I just accepted my fate as his designated driver." he says with a dramatic sigh.

You giggle at the visual. "Well, good luck hauling him up his stairs." you say, tilting your heads toward the car.

"Thanks, I’m going to need it." he sighs, running a hand through his hair before grinning at you again. "Anyway, I should really get him home before he turns into an actual problem. I’ll see you on Monday?"

"Monday it is." you confirm with a nod, your smile unwavering. "Good night, Jimin."

"Good night, Y/n." he replies, retreating back to his car. You watch as he opens the driver’s door, throwing a quick glance towards the backseat where Soobin drunkenly mumbles something incoherent. Jimin shakes his head, clearly amused, before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car.

You wait until Jimin’s car disappears down the street, the red taillights vanishing into the dark, before turning towards the entrance of your building.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you push the door open and step inside, your heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. The warmth of the lobby greets you, but it does little to soothe the ache that begins to creep back into your chest now that the night has quieted.

The dinner had been good, better than you’d expected, honestly. Laughter, celebration, and the lively chatter of your coworkers had served as a temporary distraction from the turmoil you’d been carrying. But now, as the stillness settles around you like a heavy blanket, the ache returns, sharper and more insistent.

Inside your apartment, you drop your bag onto the coffee table and sink into the couch with a heavy sigh. Your head falls back against the cushion, and for a moment, you just sit there, staring at the ceiling as a familiar longing washes over you.

It’s always like this, this quiet yearning that refuses to fade. Your mind drifts back to Jungkook.

You close your eyes, the temptation to grab your phone almost overpowering. The urge to hear his voice, to say something... anything... is strong, but the little voice in the back of your head reminds you of the silence that has stretched between you.

He could’ve reached out too... but he hasn’t.

Your fingers hover over your phone for a moment before you pull your hand back with a frustrated sigh. If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You tell yourself that over and over again, as if repeating it enough times might make it easier to accept.

But it doesn’t.

Jungkook’s breathing is erratic as he stumbles into his apartment, the door slamming shut behind him. His chest heaves with the weight of emotions he can no longer contain. His car keys slip from his hand, clattering onto the floor, but he barely notices.

He collapses onto the couch, his body folding forward as his elbows dig into his knees, his face buried in his hands. The image of you, standing there with someone else... smiling and radiant, plays on a loop in his mind. It burns, sears, and tears him apart from the inside out.

Tears spill freely now, hot and unchecked, staining his hands as he sobs quietly. He feels weak, utterly powerless. Crying feels like the only release, though it does nothing to dull the ache in his heart.

“Kook?” Namjoon’s raspy voice cuts through the stillness, startling Jungkook. He jerks his head up, quickly wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, though it does little to hide his red, puffy eyes.

Namjoon shuffles closer, stepping away from his room as he closes the door behind him, his hair disheveled, eyes half-lidded with sleep as he rubs at them. “What are you doing?” he mumbles, but his voice falters when he gets a clearer look at Jungkook’s face.

“Are you… Are you crying?” Namjoon asks, his tone sharper now, laced with concern. He closes the distance between them, crouching down slightly to meet Jungkook’s gaze.

Jungkook looks away, sniffing, his jaw tightening. “It’s nothing.” he mutters, his voice hoarse and raw from the effort of holding everything in.

Namjoon doesn’t buy it for a second. He sinks onto the couch beside Jungkook, his expression softening as he places a steady hand on his shoulder. “Kook, talk to me.” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve been like this for days now, and I’m starting to get worried. Tell me… tell me what’s wrong?”

Jungkook’s lips tremble as he looks away, the weight of everything he’s been carrying pressing heavily on his chest. He doesn’t know how to put it all into words, but something inside him cracks at Namjoon’s unwavering concern.

It’s about time. Maybe sharing his sorrows with his best friend, someone who’s always been there for him, might help.

He takes a shaky breath and begins, starting from the beginning. He tells Namjoon everything.

He tells him how it all started, the arrangement you and Jungkook had made, how it seemed harmless at first but quickly grew into something far more complicated.

He recounts the night you accompanied him to dinner with his father, how you had been his pillar of strength during what was supposed to be an unbearable ordeal. He talks about the warmth of your presence, the way you’d comforted him without judgment, and how, in that fleeting moment of solace, he felt something shift within himself.

He tells Namjoon about the exact moment he realized he was utterly in love with you... how the feeling hit him like a wave, overwhelming and inescapable, leaving him unsteady and drowning in emotions he wasn’t ready to face. He describes the fears that followed, the insecurities that gnawed at him relentlessly.

The fear of not being enough, the fear that you’d eventually see through the cracks in his facade, notice his flaws, and realize he could never meet the expectations you deserved. He was terrified that the love he so desperately wanted to hold onto would slip through his fingers the moment you saw him for who he truly was.

And then, he tells Namjoon about how he let those fears consume him, how he allowed his doubts and self-sabotage to get in the way. He recounts the argument, the walls he built between you both, and the crushing moment when he pushed you away, convinced it was for the best.

As the words spill out, Jungkook’s voice wavers, thick with regret and anguish. His hands tremble as he clenches them into fists on his lap. “And, hyung…” he finally whispers, his tone hoarse. “I heard Heejin talking about that guy Jimin.”

He pauses, his breath hitching as the memory of what he saw outside your apartment flashes in his mind. “So, like an idiot… I went to check. To see… if she was actually with someone else.”

Namjoon listens intently, his gaze unwavering as Jungkook’s voice breaks with emotion. Every word carries the weight of Jungkook’s pain, his regrets laid bare before his best friend. It’s raw, unfiltered, and messy, but it’s the truth... a truth Jungkook has been running from for far too long.

When Jungkook finally stops, his chest heaving as he struggles to compose himself, Namjoon takes a deep breath. He doesn’t speak immediately, giving Jungkook the space to process what he’s just confessed.

“Kook…” Namjoon finally starts, his voice soft but steady, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. He shifts slightly on the couch, angling himself to face Jungkook, whose tear-streaked face glistens under the dim light of the living room. “Love can be scary. Trust me, I know that.”

There’s a pause as Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “You know how long it took me to even ask Heejin out? Months, Kook. Months. And that’s after she gave me about fifty signs that she liked me. I mean, how many times can a girl ‘accidentally’ bump into you at the coffee machine before it stops being an accident?” He chuckles softly, hoping to lighten the heaviness in the room.

Jungkook’s lips twitch, just barely, but the sadness in his eyes doesn’t waver. Namjoon notices and his smile fades, replaced by something more serious, more empathetic.

“But honestly...” Namjoon continues. “I was terrified. Terrified of screwing it up, of not being enough for her. Of loving her too much and losing her. It’s a scary thing, Kook, letting someone hold your heart like that. It’s like giving them the power to break you into pieces and hoping they won’t.”

Jungkook’s head dips slightly, his fingers curling tighter into the fabric of his hoodie. Namjoon’s voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its intensity.

“But you know what’s worse than that fear? The idea of living without her. Of not even trying. Of sitting there years later, wondering what could’ve been if I’d just gotten over myself.” Namjoon exhales deeply, his eyes searching Jungkook’s.

“You think I don’t see what’s going on?” Namjoon says, leaning forward. “You’re miserable because you’re trying to protect yourself from the pain of loving her. But here’s the thing, buddy... running away from love doesn’t save you from the pain. It just gives you a different kind of hurt. One that eats you slowly, piece by piece.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his chest heaving slightly with unsteady breaths. Namjoon reaches out, gripping his shoulder a little tighter.

“Look, you’re scared. That’s normal. Love isn’t safe, it’s not easy, and it sure as hell isn’t predictable. But if you let fear decide for you, you’re giving up on the one thing your heart truly wants. And that’s the craziest part, Kook... you’re already hurting. Whether you fight for her or you run away, there’s going to be pain. But at least if you fight, you’re living. You’re giving yourself a chance to have something real, something that might just make every scar worth it.”

Namjoon pauses, glancing down briefly before looking back at Jungkook with a small, self-deprecating smile. “You know what Heejin always says to me when I get in my own head? She says, ‘Joon, you think too much. Sometimes you just have to let yourself feel.’ And she’s right. As much as it kills me to admit it... don’t tell her I said that, by the way... she’s right. Overthinking love doesn’t work, Kook. It’s not a math problem you can solve. It’s messy, and scary, and unpredictable, but that’s what makes it worth it.”

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, the weight of Namjoon’s words pressing against his chest. “You love her, right?” Namjoon asks gently, though the answer is already written all over Jungkook’s face. Jungkook nods almost imperceptibly. “More than anything.” he murmurs.

Namjoon smiles softly. “Then stop letting fear run the show, Kook. Because if you don’t go after her, if you let her slip away because you’re scared, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. Trust me, I’ve seen what regret looks like, and it’s uglier than anything love could throw at you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but after a moment, his expression falters, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… isn’t it too late now? What about... Jimin? She looked so… happy with him.”

Namjoon tilts his head, considering Jungkook’s words. He lets out a sigh, his hand squeezing Jungkook’s shoulder. “Look, maybe it is too late. Maybe she’s moved on. Maybe she’s decided to start something new with this guy Jimin, and you’re no longer in the picture. That’s the risk, Kook. You can’t control that.” He pauses, his gaze steady.

“But maybe... it’s not too late. Maybe she’s been waiting, hoping you’d stop being a stubborn idiot and tell her how you feel.” Jungkook flinches slightly, but Namjoon’s tone softens.

“The point is... you won’t know unless you try. And yeah, it might hurt if she’s already moved on, but wouldn’t it hurt more to sit here and wonder ‘what if’ for the rest of your life? If you’re willing to risk it all, to lay it out there and be honest, then you owe it to yourself... and to her... to let her know.”

Namjoon leans back, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “The worst that can happen is she says no, Kook. But at least then you’ll know. At least you’ll have tried. And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens as he absorbs Namjoon’s words, his mind swirling with emotion. For the first time, there’s a spark of clarity in the haze of his pain, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he still has a chance to fight for the one thing his heart truly wants.

You step out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped securely around you, the steam curling out into the hallway behind you. It’s a quiet Sunday evening, and nothing feels more comforting than the long, hot shower you just took, a rare reprieve from the storm of emotions that have consumed you lately.

You make your way to the closet, ready to slip into something comfortable. As you dig through the neatly folded clothes, your fingers brush against a familiar fabric. You pull it out, and it unfurls into a soft, worn grey tshirt.

For a moment, you’re frozen, staring at the piece of clothing in your hands as you realize who it belongs to. You’d almost forgotten it was still here, tucked away in the corner of your closet, left behind during one of those countless nights he used to sneak in.

Your chest tightens, and before you even realize it, the urge to wear it overwhelms you. You miss Jungkook. You miss him so much it feels like a physical ache, and this tshirt... the only tangible piece of him you have left, feels like a lifeline.

It makes you feel ridiculous, like some lovesick fool who can’t let go. But there’s no one here to judge you. Heejin’s out for the evening, and even if she were home, she probably wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t know who the tshirt belonged to.

So, with a shaky exhale, you slip it on. The fabric is soft against your skin, hanging loosely over you. It reaches the middle of your thighs, the sleeves brushing just below your elbows. You turn to the mirror, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips as you take in your reflection.

The faint scent of him still lingers, subtle but unmistakable, wrapping around you like a ghost of a memory. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, your eyes sting but you shake your head quickly, not wanting to fall apart. Not now. Not when you’ve been doing your best to hold it together.

You dry your hair with quiet determination, slipping into the familiar rhythm of distraction. Once you’re done, you head to the living room and plop down onto the couch, grabbing the remote to start the next episode of a Kdrama you’ve been meaning to finish.

Halfway through the episode, you hear a knock at the door. You don’t budge from your spot on the couch, sinking further into the cushions, cocooned in the warmth of Jungkook's tshirt. You assume it’s Heejin, back earlier than expected.

"The door's open !!" you call out lazily, not sparing a glance away from the scene playing out on your screen. You hear the door creak open and footsteps shuffle inside.

You’re too engrossed in the emotional confession happening on the show to even acknowledge it. The only sounds are the dramatic dialogues and the soft hum of the soundtrack filling the room.

But then, a voice... deep, familiar, and entirely unexpected, cuts through the ambiance. "Looks like your Kdrama boy finally got his girl."

Your heart stutters, your body freezing as you process the words. You whip your head around, your eyes widening as they land on Jungkook, standing in the doorway of your apartment.

He’s dressed in a simple black hoodie and jeans, his dark hair slightly disheveled as if he’s just run his hand through it one too many times. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, it’s like time stretches thin, the weight of everything hanging in the air.

There’s a nervousness in his eyes, but underneath it lies something softer, something tender. But then his gaze falters, dropping to the tshirt you’re wearing.

The realization flickers across his face, subtle but unmistakable. His lips part slightly as though he’s about to say something, but the words seem to escape him. Instead, he stares, caught off guard, his emotions shifting between surprise and something deeper.

"Jungkook?" you manage to breathe out, your voice a mix of surprise and disbelief. Your fingers instinctively clutch at the hem of the shirt, a self-conscious move as you become suddenly hyper-aware of the way you must look right now... damp hair, bare legs, and his old tshirt hanging loose around you.

For a fleeting second, the corner of his lips twitches upward, a small, almost imperceptible movement. There’s something in his expression now, a quiet confirmation, a spark of hope.

It dawns on him that maybe… just maybe, it’s not too late. Because if you were truly moving on, truly with someone else, would you still be wearing his tshirt?

"That looks good on you." he says softly, his voice breaking the silence as he gestures towards the tshirt. His tone is gentle, almost hesitant, but there’s a trace of warmth, like he’s clinging to the sliver of hope that seeing you like this has given him.

Your breath falters at his words and a wave of emotions... confusion, anger, longing surges through you, threatening to drown you in its tide. You open your mouth, but the words lodge in your throat, refusing to surface.

"What are you doing here?" you finally manage, your voice trembling despite the sharp edge you try to lace it with. Rising from the couch, you feel every muscle in your body tense, preparing to shield yourself from whatever blow his presence might deliver.

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes hold a depth you’re too afraid to dive into, a mixture of hesitation and something rawer... something that almost makes you falter. "Y/n... I... I wanted to talk to you." he says, his voice soft but heavy, as though each word is weighted with regret. He steps closer cautiously, like he's crossing an invisible boundary.

Your breathing quickens, frustration clawing its way to the surface. You take a step back, shaking your head in an attempt to silence the chaos inside you. "No. You’ve already said enough." you snap, the bitterness in your tone barely masking the hurt buried beneath.

You turn on your heel, moving away from the living room, the need to distance yourself from him overwhelming. The anger festers as memories of the past few weeks resurface... how he shut you out without any explanation, how he let silence carve deep wounds, how he just ended things.

How dare he come back now, uninvited, unannounced as if he had the right to disrupt the fragile balance you’ve been trying so hard to maintain?

Your hands unconsciously brush against the hem of his shirt, the reminder of him only deepening the sting. The audacity of him seeing you like this... wearing something that ties you to a past you’re trying to forget, makes you want to disappear.

"Y/n... no... wait." Jungkook calls out, his voice laced with urgency and a hint of desperation that makes you pause for a fraction of a second. But you don’t stop.

You refuse to let him see the cracks in the walls you’ve built since he left. You’re almost at the sanctuary of your room but before you can enter you feel his warm, firm grasp around your wrist.

"Please." he whispers, his voice low and trembling, as though he’s holding back the weight of an apology that might break him. His touch is hesitant, almost reverent, as though he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he holds on too tightly.

The warmth of his hand sends an involuntary shiver through you, rooting you to the spot. For a moment, the anger wavers, the raw ache of missing him cutting through the defenses you’ve worked so hard to build.

You stare at the door in front of you, your chest heaving with the effort to keep it together. His grip on your wrist isn’t forceful, but it’s enough to keep you from running, even as every part of you screams to do so.

"Let me explain." he murmurs, his voice trembling as if each word is being pulled from a place so fragile it might shatter under the weight of silence. "I know I messed up, Y/n. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, let alone another chance... but I need you to hear me out. Please."

The plea in his voice is almost unbearable, and you find yourself rooted in place, your heart caught between the pain he caused and the raw sincerity in his tone. With a heavy breath, you turn around, his hand still holding your wrist.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, he falters. You see it all... the regret, the turmoil, the silent battles he’s been fighting. He looks at you like he’s searching for something, some glimmer of hope in the sea of emotions between you.

"Y/n..." He starts, his voice breaking on your name. "I just… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for ignoring every text, every call... I’m sorry for shutting you out, for walking away when all I really wanted was to stay. I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. I’ve... hated myself every single day since."

He takes a shaky breath, and his hand loosens slightly around your wrist, though it doesn’t let go. His other hand rises to push his hair back, a gesture that speaks to his nervousness.

"When we first met, I don't know what hit me. You were... God, you were everything. The way you looked... the way you smiled... the way you laughed, the way you talked about the little things like they mattered more than the world itself... it was like nothing I’d ever known."

There’s a pause, his gaze never leaving yours. "You drove me crazy, you know? Crazy in the best way. And when we started this... whole arrangement, I thought I could handle it. I thought I could keep things casual because, honestly, I was just grateful to have any part of you I could. Holding you, kissing you, being close to you... it felt enough, or at least that's what I told myself."

His voice softens, trembling as he takes a small step closer. "But it wasn’t... not really. Every time we were together, it felt like I was losing a little more of myself to you. Like you were becoming my whole world without even trying. And it scared me. I’d never felt like that before... like someone could hold my heart in their hands without even realizing it."

Tears well in his eyes, but he doesn’t try to hide them. "I wanted more, Y/n. God, I wanted so much more... I started to realize... that I didn’t just want you in my bed.... I wanted you in my world. I wanted to be the one you called when you were happy, when you were sad, when you needed someone to... hold you."

His voice cracks, and the vulnerability in his tone makes your chest tighten. "But I was scared, Y/n. Scared of what it meant to want something so much. Scared that if I let myself fall completely, you’d see all the ways I’m not good enough for you. That you’d walk away the second you realized how flawed I am. And instead of being honest with you, I let my fear take over.... and... I pushed you away."

He steps even closer now, his hand still trembling against your skin. "I know I hurt you, and I can never take that back. But you need to know something, Y/n. You need to know that... that I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can even admit to myself."

The confession hangs in the air, and a tear finally spills down his cheek. "I was a coward. I let my fear ruin the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But if there’s even the smallest part of you... that still feels something for me, even after everything I’ve done, then I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make this right. To prove to you that you’re it for me. You’ve always been it."

His voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion. "I don’t want a life without you, Y/n. I don’t know how to have one. So please... please just tell me it’s not too late."

His words hang in the air, fragile and raw, and you feel them settle deep in your chest like an ache you didn’t realize you were carrying. The tears you didn’t even know you were holding back spill freely now, streaking your cheeks as his confession sinks in.

Your heart beats erratically, caught between the pain of the past and the undeniable truth of this moment.

He’s in love with you. He’s in love with you.

The realization hits you with such force that it takes your breath away. After all the heartbreak, all the sleepless nights spent wondering what went wrong, here he is, standing before you with his heart in his hands, offering it to you in the most vulnerable way imaginable.

You don’t trust your voice, don’t trust that you can string together the words to express the emotions surging inside you right now. So instead, you take a tentative step closer.

His eyes remain locked on yours, wide and shimmering with hope and fear all at once. You sniffle, wiping at your cheeks with a trembling hand before placing it gently on his chest. His heart races beneath your touch, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart beats too.

Slowly, carefully, you rise onto your toes, closing the remaining distance between you. His breath catches as you lean in, your gaze flickering to his lips before meeting his eyes one last time, a silent answer to the question in them.

And then, without hesitation, you press your lips to his.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, frozen in place as if he can’t quite believe this is real. The hesitation makes your heart falter, and you begin to pull away, searching his eyes for any sign of what he’s feeling.

He looks back at you, and the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming. It’s like he’s seeing his entire world come back into focus, a mixture of relief and yearning so deep it steals your breath. Before you can say anything, his grip on your wrist loosens, his hands moving to cup your face with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine.

He tugs you forward as he leans closer and then, he’s kissing you again. This time, it’s different... desperate, fervent, as if he’s pouring every ounce of regret, longing, and love into this one moment.

The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against yours, sending a bolt of electricity coursing through you. He takes a careful step forward, guiding you back until your spine meets the door with a soft thud. The sensation of being pinned between him and the door sends your pulse racing, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

You lift yourself slightly, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle as the kiss grows hungrier, more intense. A soft moan escapes your lips when his hands find your hips, his grip firm as he pulls you closer, leaving no space between you.

The way he touches you, the way he kisses you... it’s as if he’s trying to make up for every second he’s been away, for every moment he’s made you doubt how much he cares.

And in this moment, all the pain and confusion fades, replaced by the undeniable certainty that neither of you ever stopped wanting this... wanting each other.

His hands slide down to your bare thighs, and with one swift motion, he lifts you effortlessly, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist.

The action feels natural, like it’s something you’ve done countless times before, yet the intensity now is undeniable. Holding you securely, he deepens the kiss, and carefully reaches for the doorknob, twisting it.

He pushes the door to your room open with his foot, his focus never wavering from you. Each step he takes feels heavy with anticipation, and when his knees meet the edge of your bed, he pauses. He pulls back, his breathing ragged as he looks at you… your hooded eyes, your swollen lips. It’s a sight that leaves him breathless as always.

"I… I missed you." he confesses softly, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I missed you too." you whisper in return, your voice barely audible but carrying all the longing you’ve been holding in.

The words seem to undo him. Carefully, he lays you down on the bed, his gaze traveling over you, lingering on the his tshirt that’s ridden up your thighs. The soft lace of your underwear peeking through catches his eye, and it’s enough to send his mind reeling.

He exhales sharply, trying to steady himself, but the sight of you… so vulnerable yet so inviting, makes restraint feel impossible. His dick twitches and suddenly his jeans feel unbearably tight, a physical ache that mirrors the emotional pull you have on him.

With a soft groan, he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. They’re soft and inviting, but you welcome the intrusion of his tongue eagerly, arching your neck to deepen the kiss.

He slides one hand down your thigh, his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear before gripping the waistband firmly. You gasp into the kiss as he tugs them down your legs, your hips bucking off the mattress, seeking more contact. He chuckles into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip playfully before breaking away.

The absence of his mouth is quickly replaced with his hands, which slide up your thighs to help you remove his tshirt that you’re wearing. He throws it on the floor, his gaze drawn back to you.

He hovers over you, a hungry growl escaping him as he sees you bare. Your breasts are on full display, nipples perked and sensitive. He licks his lips, aching to taste them. His head dips forward, a moan escaping him as his tongue meets your skin.

"Fuck." he groans against your skin, your nipple flicking against the tip of his tongue. "Kook…" you whisper breathlessly, your head falling back against the mattress.

He grins against your breast as he begins to suckle, teasing you with his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, and you can’t help but pull at him as your body starts to tremble with pleasure.

His hands slide down your sides, one finding the curve of your hip as he urges you to spread your legs wider. He takes advantage of your compliance, moving further down the bed so that he’s situated right between your thighs.

His breath tickles your core as he presses soft kisses up the inside of your thigh. You shiver at the sensation, your body arching off the bed in anticipation. He can feel the heat from between your legs, radiating up towards him, and he can’t help the way he growls as he pulls your thighs wider, settling his face between them.

You mewl in delight as he breathes a stream of warm air across your cunt, your fingers threading into his hair again. He nuzzles into you, his tongue parting your slit, tasting the sweetness of your arousal. A moan escapes you, your hips rocking up into his mouth.

His tongue works you over slowly, lapping at your clit in lazy circles. He alternates the pressure between light and hard, watching as you writhe on the bed. Your moans echo through the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your body wetting for him.

He sucks one of your lips into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it playfully as his hands slide up to toy with your breasts. "Kook, fuck." you gasp, your legs trembling around his head.

He groans, his tongue finding the entrance of your core and slipping inside. You cry out as he fucks you with his tongue, his moans vibrating against your inner walls. He works you over like this, licking you until your body is aching for him to fuck you.

When he finally pulls back from you, he’s breathless and his face is covered in your arousal. He grins at you as he stands from the bed, taking off his hoodie and unbuttoning his jeans before pushing them down his hips.

His erection springs free from his boxers, thick and hard as it juts out between his legs. The sight of it makes you squirm, your thighs clenching with anticipation. He chuckles as he runs a hand up his length, stroking himself slowly.

"Kook..." you whisper, your voice trembling just slightly, betraying the simmering heat inside you.

His gaze snaps to yours instantly, dark, unreadable, yet brimming with an intensity that pulls you in. "Yes, baby?" he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent, as his hand continues its slow movement along his length.

You swallow, your breath catching as you hold his gaze, feeling the weight of his attention settle over you like a physical touch. "Let me ride you." you say, your voice steady, though beneath the words, the fire within you crackles.

His movements falter for just a fraction of a second, his lips parting, as though the words are on the tip of his tongue, but nothing comes out.

Instead, his eyes darken, his gaze locking onto yours with a hunger that makes your pulse race. The corner of his mouth lifts, a faint smirk playing on his lips, a mix of adoration and desire that only intensifies the heat between you.

"Are you sure, baby?" His voice is softer now. You nod, your breath shallow, and as if drawn by an invisible force, you prop yourself up on your elbows and shift closer to him. Your hands move instinctively, tracing the taut lines of his chest and shoulders.

You feel his breath hitch under your touch, and in that moment, his restraint begins to unravel, visible in the way his muscles tighten and relax beneath your fingertips.

"Then come here." he says, his voice dropping lower, thickened by the raw emotion threatening to swallow him whole.

He slides onto the bed, his body sinking into the softness, and his hands fall to your hips. With a tenderness that contradicts the hunger in his eyes, he guides you above him. His touch is firm, yet reverent, like you’re something fragile, something precious he can’t bear to mishandle.

As you straddle him, the tension between you coils tighter, thick and suffocating in the best possible way. The air hums with anticipation, each breath you take only drawing you closer to the inevitable. Your hands rest on his chest, steadying yourself as you position yourself over him.

The way he looks at you... like you’re the center of his universe, sends a shiver down your spine. It ignites something deep inside you, a burning desire that only he can satisfy, something you never want to extinguish.

Without a word, you lift your hips and, with a single fluid motion, take him inside you. The gasp that escapes both of you is perfectly synchronized, and for a brief moment, time seems to stand still.

Your eyes lock, a quiet understanding passing between you as you stay there, savoring the overwhelming sensation of him filling you up completely, allowing yourself to fully absorb the way he stretches you out.

And the minute you begin to move, his hands slide around to your ass, holding on tight as you gradually increase your pace, bouncing on him.

His head tips back, the tendons in his neck standing out like he’s fighting a battle for control. "Fuck... baby... fuck…" he groans, his fingers flexing into the soft flesh of your ass, gripping you so hard you're sure he'll leave bruises later.

But honestly, you don’t mind. For all you care, he can mark you wherever he wants from now on.

His grip only heightens the pleasure building inside you. Every thrust, every movement of your body, feels so good, it's almost too much to bear. The moans escaping you grow louder, your breathing turning into ragged pants as you climb closer and closer to your peak.

He’s watching you intently, his eyes searing, his jaw clenched tightly as he struggles to contain himself. It's like he can't get enough of the sight of you riding him, your body moving up and down on him.

You look like a vision to him... a goddess brought to life. The way your skin glistens with a faint sheen, catching the soft glow of light. The elegant curve of your neck as it arches, the delicate shimmer along your collarbones, and the way your body moves in perfect harmony with his... the way your bodies become one every passing second, each moment feels like worship, leaving him utterly spellbound.

Your fingers trace a lazy path down your cheek, lingering on the sensitive skin of your neck. A shiver runs through you as they descend further, finding their way to your breast.

You gently squeeze the flesh and watch him closely, noticing the way his gaze darkens as you continue to move up and down, your body impaling itself on him, taking him in deep. He watches, captivated, as you play with your nipple and the way your other breast bounces, a barely audible groan escaping his lips.

His hand reaches out, his fingers tracing the outline of your breast before closing around it. The pressure is firm but gentle, a spark igniting deep within you. He squeezes, a low growl rumbling in his chest, and you arch against him, a silent plea for more.

"Keep going, baby." his voice is a rasp, like he's being torn apart from the inside, but it’s you who’s falling apart. Your body tightens, your inner muscles clenching around him and soon you feel your climax approaching.

You’re overcome by the need to release, to let go, and as you do, he feels your pace faltering and takes the opportunity to flip you over. Your legs wrap around him as he leans forward, his elbows braced on either side of your head.

"Fuck... look at you." he mutters, breathing you in. He kisses down the column of your neck, his lips and tongue trailing over you before he finds your mouth.

He devours you, the kiss deep and all-consuming while his hips mercilessly snap into you, each thrust hitting deeper and deeper as he fucks you through your orgasm, trying to reach his own high. "I fucking love you... fuck." he says, his pace growing more and more animalistic.

He moves in and out of you with an intensity that makes it feel like he’s going to split you in half. Each thrust hits deeper and deeper, the sound of his skin slapping against yours, echoing in the room.

You can’t even respond, your body feeling like a shell of itself. Every inch of you is throbbing for him, your orgasm building up inside of you again until it’s almost unbearable. You’re aching to release again, your body strung so tight that it feels like you’re going to explode.

“Ah, fuck…” you moan, your hips rolling up into his. His hand drops down to your waist, his palm rubbing against the sensitive skin of your stomach before he slips down further.

He circles your clit with his fingers, teasing you with feather-light touches that make you squirm. "I... I love you, Kook." you moan, your voice trembling, raw and filled with emotion, as your thighs fall open in surrender. The words hang in the air, powerful and unguarded, hitting him like a tidal wave.

For a moment, Jungkook falters, his rhythm slowing as your sudden confession sinks in. It’s the first time he’s hearing it, and it undoes him completely. His dark eyes meet yours, wide with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

"Say it again." he breathes, his voice cracking slightly, his movements still but his hands firm on your hips. "Please... say it again, baby."

"I love you." you repeat softly, the words spilling out as naturally as a breath, your heart in your throat. He lets out a shaky exhale, his grip tightening as if grounding himself in the moment. "God, Y/n..." he whispers, his forehead falling to rest against yours. "I love you too... fuck... I love you so much."

His lips capture yours in a kiss again but this time it’s desperate yet tender, pouring every unspoken feeling into you as he resumes his pace, each thrust a physical manifestation of the emotions neither of you can fully articulate as his thumb brushes your clit before pressing down and rubbing it in fast circles. The connection between you feels infinite, as if nothing in the world exists outside of this moment.

Your body tenses up immediately, your muscles locking tight as you clench around him. He doesn’t even pause, his hips rolling into yours as you orgasm around him. He buries his face in your neck, groaning into your skin as he finally releases right into you, filling you up until it spills out around him.

“Oh god.” he moans, his hips finally slowing. He’s still pulsing inside of you, his breathing harsh as he kisses down your neck. Your cunt still contracts around him, his cock twitching with the aftershocks of his own release. He holds himself there, his cum dripping from where he’s still lodged inside of you.

His body collapses gently onto yours, both of you tangled in each other, your breaths uneven as you try to steady yourselves. Your arms instinctively wrap around his sweaty shoulders, pulling him closer as you stare up at the ceiling, your chest still heaving, your body still trembling in the aftermath.

You feel his lips press softly against your shoulder, a tender, lingering kiss meant to ground you both. He stays there for a few moments, his touch soothing, his presence anchoring.

"I love you." he murmurs, his voice soft yet resolute, as though he needs you to hear it again, needs you to know just how much he means it.

This time, he slowly lifts himself, propping up on his elbows to look down at you. His dark, expressive eyes meet yours, filled with something deeper than words could ever capture.

"I love you too." you reply, your voice equally soft, a smile spreading across your face as the weight of everything you've been through to reach this moment hits you all at once.

The corners of his lips tug upward, mirroring your smile, and before you know it, a quiet laugh escapes, your giggles mingling with his. It’s light, pure, and unrestrained, despite the insane sex you just had.

A moment later, he rests his forehead against yours, his grin playful. "So…" he begins. "Which Kdrama is your post-orgasm clarity telling you to watch today?"

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

my masterlist <3

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