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naffeclipse · 11 days

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Charm Brought It Back

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

I am so excited to present this Hocus Pocus inspired AU requested by the lovely @jackofallrabbits! The boys star as the witchy brothers who return once a fated reader lights the starry candle. They simply must show their gratitude! And what better day to post such a spooky and fun fic than on Friday the 13th?!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

You turn the key and cut the engine of your car. With a flick, you turn off the headlights. The beginning of a sunset swoops down onto your ill-adjusted vision. The horizon is drenched in purples and oranges as shadows begin to crawl off of trees and their yellowed leaves. It will take a minute or two for your sight to adapt, but you have tilted and revolved the structure waiting just at the edge of the forest within your mind’s eyes for days now. It’s beyond the dirt road you’ve pulled onto the shoulder of.

Blinking slowly, you find the house’s dark silhouette through the boughs of clustered trees, and you sigh at the beauty of its preserved history.

The building is an artifact dating back roughly to the 1630s. A post-medieval English-style home, it contains two stories with an overhanging jetty and stunning clapboard siding that has survived a little under four centuries of existence. Your eyes catch on the windows and your heart sings at the sight. Diamond-paned casement. And there, decorative pendants of celestial bodies, including iron-casted suns, moons, and overlapping symbols of the two. The steeply pitched roof is common for the era and is more renowned in its descendant the saltbox form, but this style boosts its spooky aura.

The Puritan colonists were the ones responsible for importing the style to America as they landed here on the eastern coast.

It’s no stretch of the imagination to think of witches and execution trials while gazing over the beautiful home. You’re particularly intrigued by the history of the Salem witch trials, and as a historian, you couldn’t deny yourself the chance to enter the building and feed the gnawing need to stand within a piece of history.

Stepping out of your car, a gust of wind carrying the bitter edge of autumn cuts through your brown sweater. You shiver and shut the door as quietly as you can manage. This is hallowed ground. This will supply your ever inquisitive mind which is always looking to the past with a curiosity most insatiable.

You face the home. A footpath lightly serpentines between the trees. Hooligans with destructive tendencies and teenagers on dares will venture here for a spooky, fun time, but are usually caught by the police because the building sits on private property. You asked for permission from the owner of the hundreds of acres of forest land that includes the so-called “Witch House” if you might enter the premises. Given your credentials, you were certain the owner would trust you with exploring the home.

Much to your relief, the owner agreed.

You look up, arms clutching your knitted sleeves to fight the chill of an October breeze, in awe and reverence.

From your pocket, you slip out a wrought-iron key with the symbol of the moon overlapping the sun to form a black eclipse and marvel again at the intricacy of ancient beauty. Your fingertips grow chilled in the late hour. The sun shifts from orange to dark, bleeding red like blood from a heart spilled across the horizon. You walk towards the home.

Perhaps you should have arrived sooner. You were caught in another historical journal depicting the specific timeframe of when this home would have been occupied by its original inhabitants.

The rumors even now speak of curses and cursed artifacts within the building. Some of it is true—you have confirmed with your own scholarly sources. The original owners were a trio of brothers. They were accused of witchcraft and hanged for the crimes. That much is historically documented and verified.

What is fantasy is the tale of the brothers casting a curse with their dying breaths, declaring they would one day return if a virgin lit a starry candle on the anniversary of their executions.

Superstition. Most likely, the fear of the townspeople transcended to their children, and their children, down and down until it became a tale to spin on Halloween night around these parts.

The door is black as you approach it. A stray branch catches on your sweater, pulling on a thread, and you yank yourself free and silently mourn the roughen fabric before returning your attention to what really matters. You must be careful. This entire place is iconic and in need of preservation.

You slip the key into the lock hole and turn it with a thick, heavy click before the black wood door groans and slides inwards as if inviting you into its sphere. You take a breath. Your boots cross the threshold and you enter the home.

As is typical of some homes built in the early seventeenth century, an open hall greets you. In the far back is the fireplace with a cauldron still sitting upon an ashy bed. An original wood-carve table and chairs are set to one side as a staircase climbs up into the darkness of the second level. What little red light leaks inside is narrowed and cut up into diamonds by the panes. To one wall, shelves contain dusty and forgotten cooking utensils, once glimmery copper pots, and dinner dishes with designs considered much too gawky in the Puritan era but it causes you to softly gasp.

Your hand covers your mouth as you gaze around you, overwhelmed with the beautiful intricacies of metallic chandeliers holding half-burned tallow candles, and to the other wall lies a bookshelf covered in cobwebs as if the spiders refuse to let anyone examine such precious reads. Your fingers already itch to gently pry out one manuscript and gaze at the original script of whoever wrote it.

But the light—it’s far too dark now. The red has given way to blue and pale indigo. You squint. You reach into your other pocket for a lighter and flick it on. The tiny flame spouts a delicate light. Never would you dare admit this out loud to a living soul, but you so desperately wish to see the home in its authentic state, lit only by the technology the brothers had at the time: fire.

There are thick, yellowed candles lying on the table and clustered together on the narrow window sills. You have no hope of reaching the metal chandeliers but you do spy a candelabra positioned near the bookshelf on a small end table. You light it first with a careful touch of your lighter flame. The wick catches, even after all of these years. You smile softly, your heart warm within your chest as you bask in the essence of this beautiful place.

A few more candles should suffice.

You slip to the table to light the thick and tall candles. The flames bloom and warm the space in rich light, casting thick shadows from support beams. You almost set your lighter away when you spy one last candle set upon a golden candle holder. The fashioned metal twists and twines with elaborate engravings of shooting stars and slices of sun rays were placed in the corner of the room almost out of sight. The curiosity within you urges you to take a step, then another, and another. You stand in front of the almost forgotten candle.

The tallow is black as midnight. Strange. How did they color this? Embedded within the darkness are speckles of white, splattering the candle like an array of stars. Your eyes stray in search of constellations before shaking your head.

It’s true. There is a starry candle. Perhaps the brothers did dabble in the occult, playing with cards and fortune telling, and being punished with death for their interest in unholy magic.

The wick is dark and untouched as if it were never lit before. You bring the lighter flame closer. Superstition might worry another, but you concern yourself with logic and reason—explanations of humanity rather than inexplicable forces beyond comprehension.

Something stirs from a nearby corner shelf. Two long ears twitch. You catch a glimpse of a rabbit with creamy white fur just before it leaps off of the shelf and directly onto your arm. You yelp. Nearly dropping the lighter, you scramble back as the rabbit hits the floor, collects itself, and sits on its haunches.

Green eyes glare up at you. The rabbit, small and bunny-like, stays firmly between you and the starry candle.

You stand with your chest heaving and your lungs scraping out air, almost burning your thumb on the lighter flame before turning around yourself. Where did the woodland creature come from? Did it crawl its way inside like a rat and become trapped within the colonial home? The shot of adrenaline still flowing through your veins leaves your hands shaking.

The rabbit is still watching you with uncanny eyes. Prey animals so rarely stare back at bigger, larger threats. Perhaps it’s a pet. A runaway pet that somehow ended up here, of all places.

You slowly offer out your hand, keeping the lighter away in your other, as you take a step towards it.

It thumps a foot once, as if in warning, then bounds away. You watch it disappear into the house, still reeling from the fright it gave you.

If Michael was here, he would have laughed and told you to leave with him, now. He never wanted you to go here, especially alone, but you shake such ominous warnings away. He said curiosity killed the cat. You disagreed. This house is a part of history, not a curse. Witches are mere stories, conjured out of historical unrest and the longing to blame bad luck and tragedies upon an individual or three.

There’s always an explanation for fear superstition or mistrust. It’s far more sad than it is spooky.

You shake your head, smooth out the creases in your sweater, and face the starry candle again. The lighter flame flickers softly as you draw near it.

It is the anniversary of the brothers’ executions. You remember now as the shadows from other candles drape over you like a veil. You are also a virgin.

You laugh to yourself, covering your mouth as you do so. Look at you! You’re getting so worked up because a rabbit jumped at you.

It’s only hocus-pocus.

You tilt the lighter until it engulfs the wick. The flame catches, and you at last snap the lighter shut and return it to your pocket. Your eyes squint slightly at the candle. The wick snaps and bursts into sparks. The flame is not yellow or orange or even blue—it’s pure white like a comet streaking across the sky.

A crack of thunder splits the night sky with a bellow so monstrous, you feel like a child again, fearing a storm. You drop low to the ground, shielding your head as if the very world was going to fall upon you. A spark cracks in the fireplace, conjured out of ash underneath the cauldron before it burns hot and bright. The cauldron immediately begins roiling and bubbling with water. Laughter, great and terrible, and filled with the most jester-like joy sweeps over the room.

The pulse in your ears drowns at any sense but the need to hide. You scramble into the corner, tucking yourself behind the stand of the starry candle and hunker down. Holding your breath, you grab a fistful of your sweater while clutching your chest, and watch the door to the almost 400-year-old house fly open.

Three figures stride inside, looking about the place with wide eyes and disk-like heads framed in jutting adornments not unlike sun rays or shrouded in a heavy, dark blue hood.

“Brothers! We’re home!” The first one, tall and dark with deep red hues to his form, accent in sharp orange sun rays and an eclipse upon his face, turns to face his brother with bright, cat-like yellow eyes. “Isn’t it glorious?”

Another figure steps forward, yellow and off-white. Pale eyes beam. His head is crowned in bright sun rays as well. His spindly fingers twindle together in exuberant energy while he glances about the room eagerly. “Oh, yes, yes! More than anything! It’s as if we weren’t gone for more than a day—though the dust and cobwebs beg to differ.”

He draws a claw—you suck in a sharp breath—along the table’s edge and rubs his taloned fingertips together in disappointment.

“We must get to cleaning at once.”

“No,” the last figure fixes his hood with silvery digits. Golden jewels hang down the back of his unusual skull, the last and most prominent adornment a thick, golden star pendant. His eyes cast around the room, scarlet, and searching. “We must thank the little mouse who lit the candle.”

He flashes sharp teeth within his wide mouth, shaping it into a hungry grin. You gulp.

“Where are our manners?” The red and dark one twists back to the room with a flourish of his arms. His yellow gaze sweeps over the shelves and floors with a blade-like glint. “Of course, we must thank one so lovely.”

A dark cape drapes about his person. Underneath, a white flowing shirt hangs loosely to his lithe and slender figure, causing you to balk upon staring at such an exposed chest. The other two are no different, wearing similar shirts and dark trousers, but the hooded one bears a thick, longer cape while the sunny figure shares a cape similar to the first.

The yellow one lifts his wrists and frowns at the red ribbons tied around them. Golden bells jingle softly in an ominous chord.

“How terrible a reminder of our current impermanence,” he growls low in his throat, all cheerfulness lost and causing you to squeeze your ribs in fear.

“Patience, Sun,” the red one speaks, though he too casts a narrowed glance to the black ribbons and golden bells adorning his wrists. “We will affix ourselves back to this world in due time.”

“Eclipse, what a delicious creature I smell.” The hooded figure steps deeper into the home. Blue claws scratch at equally blue ribbons knotted to his hand bones but his attention is terrifyingly fixed on the candle stand just above your hiding spot.

You shrink further into the corner.

“Yes, Moon? And how lovely?” Eclipse, you assume, asks. His yellow eyes flash.

“As lovely as the stars,” Moon answers.

You watch claws curl around the wooden side of the candle stand, scratching deeply into the wood before a half-moon face emerges from behind, teeth set like a predator’s upon the sight of a wounded animal. Your heart flutters like a bird with a broken wing.

“Hello, little mouse. Won’t you come and play with us?”

You scream as he leaps behind the candle stand, takes you by the arms, and pulls you to your feet. You struggle to free yourself, crying out as he grabs hold of your wrists and fixes you firmly in place.

“My, how sweet,” he purrs in a dangerously low voice that rolls in the back of his throat. “You are the darling virgin who lit the candle, no?”

“Let me go!” You thrash but Moon grins in delight, as if you’re simply too precious.

“You deserve proper thanks,” He lowers one hand, forcing you to submit with slightly bent knees. “Here is my gratitude, little mouse.”

You freeze as he brings your hand towards his mouth, and a hundred, horrifying visions of him biting your fingers off or sinking his teeth in your palm send your blood into a frozen sludge of fear.

The witch, however, presses a kiss to the center of your palm. The softness catches the gears in your mind and jerks them to a halt.

“Thank you for allowing us to return once more,” he rasps. His scarlet eyes find yours between the space of your thumb and forefinger, and a strange stirring takes hold of your middle.

“This isn’t real,” you breathe. Dizziness begins to take hold.

This must be a dream, a thought gone wild, or inhaled bacteria triggering hallucinations.

Moon’s grin widens. He lowers your hand, loosening his hold for one precious moment. You rip your hands free of his grasp. A low growl escapes him but you’ve already slipped away, your eyes upon the door and spilling with the need to rush out into the night, away from the impossibilities standing before you—

Arms snatch your waist and lift your feet from the ground. You gasp.

Held in the air, you squirm before a hot breath dusts the shoulder of your sweater. You fall still, your throat bobbing as a mouth presses into the corner of your neck and lays a kiss on the sensitive spot. Gooseflesh prickles up and down your body.

“I assure you, I’m very real, little mouse,” Moon purrs. His hands squeeze your hips once. “And as nice as this… attire is, I would dress you in blues and silvers. You would look proper and powerful, like my brothers and I.”

A squeak escapes you. You shrink against him, caught in his embrace.

“Brothers?” The word rattles out of your throat.

“This is our home,” Moon whispers. “And you are our most honored guest.”

You manage to pry off his hands from your waist. With a sinister chuckle, the blue and silver hands release you. Without looking back, you run, ignoring the twinge in your stomach that whispers it was too easy to get away.

You hardly get a few steps before the sunny one—Sun—steps into your path. He catches you in his arms and spins you in a waltz at breakneck speed, your feet never touching the ground, before stopping without warning as he dips you low. He looms above you, his smile filled with sharp teeth.

“Let me get an eyeful. Oh, yes, you look good enough to eat,” he simpers. His hand splays along the small of your back and you gawk up at him, still trying to regain your balance after the sickness-inducing whirl. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.”

“I just want to leave,” you whimper. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Sunshine,” he laughs, and it echoes with all of his heart—do once-hanged witches have a heart? There is no historical journey to give context to this very moment, you fear.

He lowers his sultry gaze to you. “I wish to only thank you. And I intend to.”

He pulls you back to your feet. You’re still clasped in his embrace like lovers on a ballroom floor. His hand hooks tight to your hip, and his other catches the side of your face. Heat spreads through the marrow of your bones.

On the tabletop beside you, something white moves across the plane of its surface, hunkering behind the thick stack of candles still burning.

His head lowers to your neck. You stiffen as he tilts your head away, opening you to his parting teeth. A tongue, dark and sinuous, flicks out of his maw. A gasp slips from your lips at the wet lick up the column of your throat. Eyelids fluttering, you start to sag as weakness fills your knees. He drags his tongue higher to taste your jawline and finishes at your cheek with a swipe for good measure.

Your hands find him and clutch tightly to his slender arms. He presses his lips to your ear and with a misty warmth, whispers.

“Thank you for—Gah!”

The white rabbit leaps up from the table, squirming directly between you and his chest, breaking you apart. Instinctively, you jump away just as Sun snarls. The heart-wrenching sound shakes your entire frame as he snatches the rabbit by the scruff before it can scramble back from his wretched claws.

“I’ll boil you alive!” he thunders. He steps towards the cauldron, back where Moon leans against the wall, watching the spectacle with an amusing twitch of his grinning maw. Behind you, Eclipse stands at the door like a sentinel, his eyes still hungry and even furious as he follows his brother’s movement to the cauldron.

Sun dangles the rabbit, now struggling and kicking but unable to find purchase against the witch’s hold, above the boiling water of the caldron.

“No!” you cry.

Sun’s eyes widen. He turns back to you just as you close the distance and scoop the rabbit in your arms. His claws, pale-boned and wickedly curved, clench around emptiness. Without thought, you turn and run again though there is little hope as you come to the door. Your boots stamp against the wooden floorboards.

The rabbit in your embrace turns its face up to you and mutters in a woman’s voice, “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

You gawk, stunned before hands catch you by the shoulders. You’re brought to a dead halt. The rabbit leaps from your arms, drops to the floor, and races away into a shadowy corner of the room with only one glimpse of its fluffy tail before you’re left alone.

You twist and face the eldest witch’s attention. Eclipse. His yellow eyes go up and down your body, and you watch in muted shock as two additional arms emerge from the shadows of his cap. He forces you backward, one step after the other until your back is pinned against a dusty wall.

You stare into his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Your pulse pounds in your eardrums.

“I don’t believe this is happening,” you utter.

The witch tilts his head with a wicked grin.

“We’ll make you a believer yet.” He promises, and his deep cords vibrate through your form. “My dear, we simply must thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

His claws slip over your collarbones. Your breath quickens, a stirring you cannot name unfolding deep within your middle. His extra set of hands fall to your hips and begin caressing the bones. Daintily, carefully, his warm fingertips slip just underneath the hem of your sweater, touching your bare flesh. A shiver runs down your entire body, leaving you to squirm.

“Be a good little comet,” he says softly, “Let me pour my gratitude all over you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it was true,” you stare into his face, marked with a red crescent over a dark shadow, and his eyes pierce into the very nature of your being. “You’re back.”

“Because of you,” he rumbles softly in his chest. His grin pulls higher at the corners.

His claws slip over the nap of your neck and card gently into the small, sensitive hairs at the bottom of your skull. You breathe in. His eyes brighten in pleasure before he slips his sharp but controlled talons over the shells of your ears and follows the arch of your cheekbone. His gaze drops to your lips. Your heart thumps and thumps against your sternum so powerfully, you fear he may hear it.

His lips pull over his razor-sharp teeth and you stop breathing.

His other set of hands begins working up the sides of your torso. He rubs slowly and gently, but you squirm despite this. He touches you far too intimately when you have never experienced such affections before. A mewl escapes your lips. You wriggle as he refuses to relent.

In answer, his upper hands lower and capture your hands together in one, and pin them above your head to hold you in place. He coos, chastising. A great roil starts in your stomach and expands upwards until your face becomes pink and flushed.

“Hold still, little comet,” he chuckles, and you whimper. “I’m not finished with showering you in all my adoration.”

“Eclipse,” your breath is harsh and hot.

“It is good to hear my name upon such lovely lips,” his voice lowers, husky and scorching. “I knew a virgin would light the candle. I swore it to my brothers as they set us on the gallows and draped nooses around our necks. You are our light, our savior. How could I ever thank you?”

In his words, his burning stare that singes with sincerity, it clicks into place. All at once, you believe what you are seeing with your own two eyes.

It’s true. He’s back. He and his brothers have returned with magic.

“I have questions,” you say hesitantly in your demureness, “I want answers.”

“Of course,” Eclipse agrees easily. “But first…”

A dark claw brushes your hair back from your face. The flutter in your heart can’t seem to hold still. Eclipse’s grin widens and his eyes soften.

“You have freckles like constellations,” he murmurs in the manner of one gazing at the night sky or one studying an ornate painting.

Before you can shape words to reply, to say anything that might free you from his grasp, his mouth is upon yours. A sound softly catches in the back of your throat. You fall still under his caressing hands still moving below your sweater. He traces the row of your ribs. You have just enough mind to wonder if he feels your skin prickle in your sensitivity. His other hand clasps your wrists tighter. You gasp against his teeth.

He pulls gently, hungrily, taking you as if a bite of honeycomb. You become melted honey, easily malleable between his teeth and then molded by his mouth. His tongue invades you. You moan softly at the claim he lays upon you until you become weak in the knees and almost fall. His kiss seals your fate.

He releases you from his maw. You sink slightly, and his arms fall out from under your sweater to properly catch you. He lowers your wrists, returns your hands, and brushes your hair once more from your face.

A chuckle emits from his lips, and you burn.

“You’ll stay with us, won’t you?” he asks, but he waits for no answer as he scoops you into his arms. Feet dangling, you have no choice but to cling to his shoulders and endure his brothers’ attention as he twists around and faces them.

The rabbit’s right. You are in trouble. Michael warned you. He said curiosity killed the cat.

But charm brought it back.

#naff's writing commissions #witches and rabbits and candles oh my #if michael was there he would be so mad at you for lighting the candle smh #hocus pocus au my beloved #witch!eclipse #witch!sun #witch!moon #charm brought it back #naff writing

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jimilter · 2 years

Text

make-believe it’s hyperreal | jjk. (m)

The Chairman of Jeon Security has finally decided he needs a Vice Chairman to shoulder the responsibilities. You know you're the only one at the company who deserves this post, so if everyone thinks the promotion should stay in the family? Well, fuck that shit; you're gonna get engaged to your frenemy-with-benefits, Jeon Jungkook, and join the damn family! Or, at least – you're gonna pretend to.

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: m (18+)

word count: 20 k

— warnings: swearing + alcohol + misogyny in bulk + reader’s dad’s soul got left behind in the 13th century + unhealthy parental relations + daddy issues? ig? + hints of the beginnings of an emotional breakdown + angsty confrontations + some crying + pining + misunderstandings + insecurities + overthinking + multiple smut scenes + explicit sexual situations (dom!jk, sub!reader, sex against a wall, rough sex, unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f.&m.), kind of a rougH blowjob bec JK likes some teeth action, strength kink, biting, marking, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, spanking, throat fucking, cum eating, face-riding, jungkook is still a Boob Guy™, one (1) playful/loving slap to one (1) boob, breast play, nipple biting, clit biting, pussy slapping, spanking…i think, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms) + A GLIMPSE INTO JK’S POV!!! + oc is sad in almost 75% of the fic :( + jk is sad in the last 5% :(

— note: i knoW it took me too long w this (pt.3 was posted in julY???) and i apologize :( i got busy w too fkn many exams and then a full time job and more exams - ugh. but it's finally done! guys, the first dash of angst in the endless hilarity, are we excited? 👀 i hope y'all like the developments in the story~ 🥺💜

ps. title's from lorde's buzzcut season that makes my heart bleed for no reason <3

in case this is your first encounter with this universe: i would recommend reading at least disaster management to get a better grasp on the characters and setting, but to briefly summarize - jungkook and reader come from chaebol families that are great friends, but they have grown up as rivals even tho reader has always found him hot af. reader is working as vice president and now president at jungkook's dad company, and he has recently (some ~4 years back) been brought on-board as the ceo whom she was earlier tasked to train. now, things have progressed b/w them physically but reader still can’t bear his presence.

— masterlist | taglist | feedback?

↝ the damsel & her knight ⁘ 01 02 03 [04] 05

You wonder if this conversation would still still be so unbearably shitty if your dad didn’t keep interrupting Chairman Jeon with his two cents every five seconds.

Probably not.

“Training is important, of course, but what you receive in your blood – that is unmatched. No amount of hard work you put in can ever make up for what heredity plants in you,” your dear dad articulates with his neck stretched like that of a Siberian crane, gaze haughtily flitting over you and landing on Jungkook. “What do you say, son?”

Barf.

With a roll of your eyes that you hide behind your glass of wine, you look at your father's 'son.'

What can Jungkook say? If he says no, it's disrespectful. If he says yes, that's plain stupid. You’d hightail out of this really unnecessarily uncomfortable dinner party if you were put in a difficult spot such as this.

If only Jungkook’s granddad was alive, he could smack some sense into his son for befriending a misogynist like your father. Jeon Security was created by Grandpa Jeon, after all, contrary to what everyone else seems to think. But that is besides the point, because what really stuns you is how a man as kind and genuine as Jungkook’s dad has managed to hold onto his values in the presence of your dad’s such horribly suffocating opinions.

So much for Chairman Jeon wanting to celebrate his twenty years at Jeon Security.

But to be fair, Chairman Jeon isn’t only celebrating an anniversary. He’s also subtly gearing up to make an announcement, and dread is collecting like lead in your stomach in fear that this announcement might have something to do with the man's resignation. Why else would he suddenly talk about how ‘the next generation should start to prepare well to shoulder the responsibilities soon’?

Dear God. Jeon Security isn’t ready to stand on its own without Chairman Jeon. Besides, how old is the man, anyways? Fifty? Fifty-five, at most? This is no time to retire.

And then your mind flashes back to the pillowtalk you had with Jungkook, a week back. It was kinda awakening – and also somewhat gross and also eventually lost to sex, the way things usually are when they involve this guy – but it had certainly made you pause and think. Granted, you hadn’t thought the proceedings would be so quick or that they would happen in the presence of your dad.

𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐀𝐆𝐎;

"I think dad's tired."

You honest to God did a dramatic double take at the words because they fit absolutely nowhere in the post-coital lethargy you and Jungkook were supposed to be basking in.

Not that you usually talked much after sex; one of you usually fell asleep and the other left. Sometimes you both fell asleep. You never talked, but you especially didn’t talk about your parents because they were far from your heads when you were riding Jungkook’s dick.

As they should have been right now. Your breathing was still labored. Why the fuck was this guy already thinking about his dad?

"His twentieth anniversary as Chairman’s coming up," Jungkook continued with his contemplative gaze stuck to the ceiling; completely unobservant of your disgusted scowl. “He’s been giving these vibes lately, I don’t know… I – I feel like he’s gonna retire.”

That had you sitting up in alarm. “What? Reti—what? Why? What’d he say?”

Jungkook raised an amused brow – looking sexy as fuck with the way he had his thick ass arms folded beneath his head; nearly managing to distract you from your present distress – but then he gave an exhale and shook his head. “Nothing, actually. But… he keeps bringing up talks of responsibility with me, you know?”

With a snort, you twisted around and rested your head over his abdomen, lying perpendicular to his body. “And that is unusual?”

He slapped at your bare breast in admonition, and you rushed to hide the way your breath hitched at the action which wasn’t even imbued with any sexual intent. But then his palm stayed, loosely cupping your boob, fingers massaging the plump flesh until your nipple had pebbled, and then his fingers moved to play with the nub.

At this point, you were holding your breath to keep your reactions from slipping.

“It’s kinda unusual,” he gruffly murmured, other hand disappearing behind your head, and then you heard the distinct rasp of him stroking his cock. “You know, Prez… When it comes to it, you’ll make Chairman and I’ll stay CEO…”

You huffed a laugh, mind barely on the conversation anymore. God, and you’d just finished having sex. What about him was it that made you so insatiable? “Uh huh… Guess you’ll get to be under me for once, huh?”

Jungkook gave a slow smirk at your blatant use of his words from a few years ago against him. “Dad adores you. Would have you marry me if he could…”

And there he went talking about his dad again.

You sat up and moved to straddle him, slick pussy pressing his fully hard length against his chiseled abdomen, and hands playfully gripping his wrists. “Shut up about your dad and start practicing your position under me, yeah?”

The rest of that conversation was lost to sounds of skin slapping against skin, Jungkook’s whines and your own whimpers of his name, but – that was the first time it hit you.

Who would assume the throne if Chairman Jeon did retire?

You’d worked your way up at Jeon Security. And Jungkook’s dad definitely did adore you. If it came to pick between you and his son, would he really choose you?

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓;

You come back to the present with a blink – and some really misplaced wetness in your underwear, for fuck’s sake – and realize Jungkook is still fidgeting in his place. For the tenth time tonight, you admire how good he looks in his casual, teal blue sweater – accidentally coordinated with the teal of your dress; this is why you never wear anything but black – and the deep blue jeans he has on.

Guy can wear a three piece suit, fleece pajamas, or nothing at all – he'd never not look good. This is probably why your hook-up at Yoongi's wedding, some five months back, hasn't stayed a hook-up despite the complications continuing this thing brings for you both. Jungkook is just too freaking hot and uncannily, really good at sex.

You fucked again when you went back to your place. And then again when you dropped him off at his. Then he stopped by your apartment on Friday, and as he ate you out on your dining table, you both decided to make this a regular thing.

He is a lot more bearable when he’s ripping orgasms after orgasms from you. Which makes you kind of friends now, you guess, so mayhaps you can be termed friends with benefits. Way better than Jungkook's insistence on terming you his "sneaky link" even though that is essentially what you are, given how absolutely no one knows about your entanglement.

No one at the company, and no one in this room.

Mrs Jeon suddenly clears her throat not-so-subtly, and with a cough, Jungkook finally opens his mouth to respond to your dad.

“W–well, dad,” he begins uncomfortably, and for the first time in your life, you think it actually doesn’t please him to be addressing your father with that title; you know it has never pleased you and the man literally caused your birth. “To be honest, I think Y/N, here, is an example of how there are exceptions to – to your massively valid statement.”

You would laugh at his adjective if you weren’t currently gaping at his praise.

“Ah, yes! Our Miss President has created history in securing deals and sponsors in this financial year!” Chairman Jeon grabs that opportunity to jump in and take command of the conversation back from your father – who now sports a bewildered frown because how could the son he should have had ever disagree with him?

Feeling so murderous towards your own family should be criminal, but here you are.

“Absolutely,” Jungkook’s mom chimes in, eyelids fluttering at you from her position at the other end of the table. “Both my men cannot sing enough praises for you, honey, and I agree.”

And yet your dad fails to catch the memo, huh? Not to be an asshole or, you know, weird, but you seriously do not understand what your mom even saw in him.

The woman herself gives you a small grin from her seat across from you. Your father, meanwhile, has recovered from the shock of his life that Jungkook gave him and is now frowning at the guy’s dad. Oh, no. Here come the Big Guns™ – this is your father’s no-shit-straight-to-business face.

“Jeon. Your son was born into this legacy. He is your family’s future. He has your name.” He looks at his best friend down his nose. “Surely you won’t send a company that carries your father’s name out to… others?”

Others. Marginalized by your own damn father. Ouch.

You lean towards Jungkook’s ear. “Hey?”

He doesn’t move, gaping at your father wide-eyed, one hand fisted around his fork on the table and the other fisted in his lap. But he grunts in response and tilts his head toward you a little.

“Is your dad about to… quit?”

This time he turns to meet your gaze with his troubled one. “I’m so fucking sorry your dad’s an asshole.”

You blink at him. “Not what I asked—”

“I have no such intention.”

You and Jungkook freeze as Chairman Jeon’s words make their way to you. Did he just agree with your father?

“I am not giving the company up,” he shortly reminds your father, a displeased frown downturning the man’s usually smiling mouth. “All I am seeking is support. Help, if you will.”

Oh, so he didn’t agree, just… dodged? Not the most reassuring course of action from your personal point of view, but you guess he cannot curse his best friend out in front of both their kids.

Sometimes you wonder how your life would have been if you weren’t an only child. If you had, say, a brother. Would his presence have mellowed your crass father a bit? Because not all of his frustration stems from misogyny; some of it finds roots in the way you chose to pursue computer science and not business studies like he had wanted.

Sometimes you wonder if your refusal to join your father’s hotel business because it didn’t interest you is where it all started to go wrong.

Yep, that one’s pretty much on spot. But then again, does your father really have to be an – in Jungkook’s words – such an asshole about it?

“It isn’t all about legacy and names,” Jungkook’s dad continues further. “The Vice Chairman has to be someone who knows the soul of Jeon Security. Someone who understands the company and all its people; someone everyone can depend upon. Someone—”

“Someone trustworthy?” Yep, your dad is back again!

Chairman Jeon frowns a bit but nods. “Uh, yes. Certainly. Not that any of my executives are anything less than.”

“Oh, please. The girl who couldn’t be loyal to her own family – you expect her to keep up your legacy, Jeon? You have pitied her long enough, don't make a rash decision that might cost you your company. Family comes first. The Jeon name is bigger than any sympathy you can show my daughter.”

The man whose genetics flow in your veins looks at you with such vitriol, you feel like an insect he’s about to crush under his boot. You clench your fists, curl your toes, grind your teeth, but nothing can stop the jitters in your limbs that make breathing a little difficult for you.

And then Jungkook’s large hand is placed above your tightened fist – and something shifts in you.

You look away from your father and into Jungkook’s eyes. He looks pained, guilty, so immensely sad, but he doesn’t look like he pities you. He does look like he wants to sock your father in the face, and the anger in his gaze gives you power.

Taking a deep breath, you hold it in for a few seconds, and then release it.

Your father doesn’t know shit.

All these years you have busted your ass at work. You have sacrificed the leisures that people your age have indulged in, you have kept yourself focused, you have built yourself up.

And if someone at Jeon Security is capable enough to aid the Chairman with running things, it is you.

More than Jungkook, more than anybody else, it is you that deserves to be the Vice Chairperson. And Chairman Jeon has to know that and agree with it. He has to know how fiercely protective you have been of the company, of the Jeon name and legacy.

The same name that your father is using to manipulate Chairman Jeon with. A name that isn't Jungkook's own, not even Chairman Jeon's own because he got it from his father; the man who actually risked it all by starting this business.

The same name that is so fickle, a girl will take it upon her wedding to Jungkook. She won't have to work hard, make sacrifices, fight misogyny. She will simply fall in love with a boy and become a Jeon – fitting the oh-so-perfect parameter your father has been stressing.

Jungkook's wife will be a Jeon.

Jungkook's wife – probably some airheaded, leggy model, given the guy's taste in girlfriends from his past – will be more fitted to run the company that you are, according to your dear father.

Jungkook's damn wife.

The urge to scream makes a lump form in your throat.

You try to distract yourself by looking down at your lap. Your eyes fall upon the guy's hand that has now entwined fingers with yours. Put a ring on his finger, and nothing else matters, huh?

Put a ring on his finger, and no one questions your capabilities. One ring, and you're suddenly an acceptable part of Jeon Security.

Something is starting in the back of your head.

It is reckless, bitter and completely insane, but your mind has traveled to a dark place. Insecurities and deeply rooted pain that your father has been causing you ever since you picked your college major, it all roils into a twisted mixture of anger and vengefulness.

Right now, you need something to shove in your father’s face and you will do it. Consequences be damned.

While Chairman Jeon is still floundering, flabbergasted at the hatred your father is unashamedly spewing at you, you clear your throat to draw everyone’s attention to you.

And with five pairs of troubled but expectant eyes looking your way, you announce: “It’s a good thing I’m about to become his family too then, dad.”

Your mother is the first to gasp, joined by Jungkook’s mother, while the three men continue to gape at you, clueless as ever. Turning your face to softly smile at a doe-eyed, rounded-mouthed Jungkook, you slowly raise your entwined hands above the table, while softly cupping his cheek with the other.

“We got engaged.”

The room erupts in chaos, gasps and laughs and indignant screams – your father’s, yep – almost drowning the muted, “What the fuck?” Jungkook sends your way. His eyes are still wide in alarm, but you hold your expressions.

Some of the steam clears from your head and you are somewhat beginning to see the ‘what the fuck’ you have caused. But now that you’ve said it, the only way to go is forward.

Mrs Jeon has tears in her eyes, Mr Jeon is smiling proudly, your mother is, oh dear, ugly sobbing into her hands and your father looks very suspicious. His eyes scan both your hands that are in plain sight.

Oh no—

“Where’s the ring?”

Both mothers turn their curious gazes towards your bare fingers as well, giving you confused pouts after their scan. Fuck, you don’t wear any rings. Y don't like rings; they’re too tacky and uncomfortable, borderline unhygienic, and they leave tan lines.

And there goes the rest of the steam away from your head, leaving clarity in its wake. Your rationality comes running back to smack you against your face.

What the fuck did you just announce?

Holy shit, are you crazy?

While you begin to feel sweat rolling down to your buttcheeks, Jungkook gives a very convincingly bashful giggle.

Yours, as well as everyone else’s, shocked gaze lands on him. “Ah, we had decided to keep things secret. And I thought rings would make it too obvious, you know?”

Awe is the word you would use to describe the emotion in your chest. Maybe a bit of adoration, as well. Beyond the respect you have started to show for his intelligence, and the unhinged lust he instills in you, this is the third emotion you admit to having felt towards Jungkook.

The rest of the dinner and dessert go by with you and Jungkook running a secret competition of who can make up more embarrassing stories about the other. Most of them are actual, true events from your lives – just painted in a romantic light that is far from reality.

By the time everyone’s ready to take a leave, the entire conversation about the post of Vice Chairman has been left behind. Chairman Jeon ends up making no official announcement like you'd hoped you would.

After saying goodbyes, you’re waiting at the porch of the gigantic Jeon family estate for the valet to bring your car around, when your dad comes up to stand next to you. Back stiffening, you sneak a glance at his reflection in a metal plate hung on a nearby pillar, only to find him frowning into space.

“This is the best achievement in your life, so far,” he tells you and you freeze. “I wish you both the best. It’s your birthday next Saturday, right?”

Close to shivering from nerves, you manage a jerky nod.

“Hm. Come over on Saturday. Bring Jungkook.”

And then he’s walking back in the house and you’re doubling over to take in long, gasping breaths.

His words mean nothing to you. Nothing at all. At least he believes you’re capable of finding yourself a decent guy to marry, yeah? At least he doesn’t deem you completely good for nothing?

At least he remembers your fucking birthday.

None of those thoughts help, though, exhaustion pulling your shoulders down. The first ever words of appreciation you have heard from your dad in ten years, and even they are to belittle all your achievements in life. Why didn’t he just adopt a child and start afresh after you left for college? Why does he choose to do this?

You can’t wait to get out of here and sleep for, like, 42 hours. Tomorrow’s a Sunday anyways. Maybe you’ll curl up with some Marvel movie, tonight. No stress that Chris Evans’ ass can’t take away.

Just as your car stops in the driveway, though, you realize there is one more stressful confrontation left on your schedule for the day.

Jungkook is calling for you. “Wait up, Prez!

Fuck fuck fuck, you were hoping you’d be able to avoid him for the next century and a half.

But no such luck, because: “I’m not gonna stay here, I’m going back to the apartment. Let me drive you?”

Jungkook rushes out of the house on quick legs, flashing you a momentary glare of pure wrath, contrary to the cheerful tone of voice he just addressed you with, and then jogs down the driveway to his silver Mercedes convertible parked way closer than your limo was. He drives up to the porch of the house and pops the gate open from inside.

“Come on!”

Rolling your shoulders back, you walk down the small flight of stairs and get in.

You really didn’t know Jungkook drove. He looks sexy like this. One hand on the wheel, the other fisted in front of his face, elbow resting on the gate. Eyebrows furrowed. Jaw clenched.

Yeah, maybe he’s a bit angry too.

Five or so minutes of the ride go by in absolute silence. Jungkook’s parents live in the quiet, almost too quiet, outskirts of the city. Both yours and Jungkook’s apartments are quite a long drive away from here.

Not great news, given your current scenario.

“I just wanna know why.”

You almost jump when the words finally echo around you. And then you blink at Jungkook’s frowning face. “Dad was getting too smug. The opportunity was right there – so I took it.”

“Wha—that’s it? You were trying to shut him up?”

“Well, didn’t you wanna do it too?” you challenge him and he rolls his eyes.

“Of course, I did. But not like this, obviously! This is plain crazy, Prez…”

“I was really angry, okay?”

“You—” He breaks off in a tight exhale. “You didn’t think about it for more than five seconds, did you?”

“I didn’t think at all.”

Jungkook gives a groan, long and frustrated, and despite the entire situation, the quality of the sound shoots a prick of arousal through you.

“For fuck’s sake, Prez,” he cries to you, clicking his tongue, “we aren't even dating and you told both of our parents we're engaged. To be married. That you’re about to become my family. What the fuck?”

Well, when he phrases it like that, it makes you wonder what the fuck indeed.

"Did you think of the plan when I held your hand?"

Kind of? You shrug. "I think fast."

"You think too much," Jungkook groans again, and you press your thighs together. "Now what? Can't say we lied because did you see how emotionally they reacted? Your mom fucking sobbed."

You snort at that. "She's ready to bawl her eyes out at the drop of a hat, Jeon. Don't think we can count her."

"My dad looked so proud of us," he adds and you pout.

"That he did."

"We can't even say we broke up because they'll just push us back together."

Jungkook seems to be so desperate to get out of this at the earliest, you would feel offended if you were thinking straight. But the truth is that your mind's still hanging in a limbo somewhere, not fully absorbing everything that's happened, everything you've caused. It'll hit you later, but right now you're just content relishing Jungkook's luxurious car's luxurious seat warmers.

"Let's keep this up for a week or so and then… let it fizzle out," he finally concludes with a nod to himself, quickly looking your way to see you nod as well.

“It’s my birthday next Saturday, though, so maybe a bit longer than a week?”

Jungkook looks at you with wide eyes. “That would be so horrible.”

“My birthday?”

“Breaking up on your birthday!”

You chuckle at the horror on his face. “So two weeks?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay. So this means, in two weeks’ time, we'll say that we hadn't discussed announcing our relationship yet, so we fought over it and, what? We’re taking a break?”

Jungkook shrugs a shoulder. “Taking breaks in a relationship more often than not leads to breaking up, so I’d say that’s a good plan.”

You exhale in relief, resting your head against the cushy back of the seat. “Still gotta figure out how we’re gonna break the news.”

“And to whom,” he adds with a muted curse.

There's silence for a bit which you spend slumped in your seat, looking out at the passing countryside as the car nears the city limits. And then you groan with another realization.

“Your mom’s gonna tell Yoongi, isn’t she?”

“Yep,” Jungkook pops his p like an annoying fucker, but he looks miserable, tugging at his hair with a hand, grimace on his face. “But on the brighter side, this gives us the perfect opportunity to hook up at the office!”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shoot him a scowl and he just rolls his eyes. The fact that Jungkook’s shameless grins have been reduced to eye-rolls tells you how much this has stressed him out. You give a sigh. “We also need to properly plan out the details of our relationship.”

“Our moms are gonna corner us and dig for details within the next seven business days.” He gives a nod. “Let’s go to my place and discuss everything tonight.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason why we’re going to your place?”

“Obviously not. I’m gonna angry fuck you into a wall, probably tie you up? Mayhaps fuck your mouth? And then we’ll talk about it.”

You’re gaping at his declaration, panties flooding with arousal now. “I…”

“This is serious, Prez, focus,” he admonishes as if you are the one making panty-melting promise of sex in the middle of talking about the headache-inducing troubles you have to go through. “We have fourteen days to convincingly be in love and fall out of it.”

You purse your lips in laughter at his dramatic phrasing. “You make it sound like we’re in a rom-com, Jeon.”

“Ah ah, you’re about to be one, too, remember? No more Jeon-ing your way around me.” He finally stops looking worried and cracks a smirk at you. “Time to choose a pet name for your fiancé.”

You snort at his words, but do pay heed to them. He’s right. But you are terrible with pet names. Your last boyfriend, one you had in freshman year of college for three months before academics began to choke the life out of you, used to call you ‘doll’ and you used to throw up a little in your mouth every time the tem reached your ears. He encouraged you to call him ‘honey’ but that shit just wasn’t for you.

It still isn’t.

Is calling your fiancé by his name not good enough?

“I can't get into lovey-dovey terms of endearment, but maybe something like… Kook? It's still your name, but it's also cute."

Jungkook has been looking straight ahead at the road while you pondered his words, but you can see the way he blinks slower when you say the name. Humor and mischief seems to leave his face to make way for traces of something tender. You don’t know what about the name elicits such a reaction from him, but what concerns you more is the subtle loudening of your heartbeat at his very unexpected, extremely soft smile.

A corner of his mouth curling to make a simple flash, Jungkook hums. “That sounds perfect.”

You roughly swallow, uncoordinated and spiraling into confusion. “Wha… why’re you smiling?”

To your utter horror, his smile grows deeper and wider, without losing the distinct gentle quality it has. You’re grateful he’s not looking at you or you’d have to risk jumping out of the moving car.

“What is it?”

“What?” He chuckles, finally moving on from all the mysteriously warm smiling to give you a lopsided smirk.

This is familiar territory. You roll your eyes with a subtly released breath of relief. “What’s cooking up in that head of yours?”

“I’m just thinking you should practice it a little.”

Your brows drop in a confused frown. “Practice… what?”

“Your pet name for me.”

“What do you—oh.”

He’s talking about sex. Of course he is. Jungkook snickers when you scowl at him.

You’re not even annoyed, at this point, just infinitely grateful he’s not being all ooey-gooey and soft anymore. It spooked you so much, you can’t even bring yourself to ask him to clarify what it was about.

“No more yelling out Jeon when you come for me, yeah?”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at his low baritone. “I don’t yell.”

Jungkook gives a hearty laugh at that, setting your cheeks on fire. “You’re so funny, Prez.”

Okay, so you might yell a little, maybe; at least you’re not a screamer.

“Jungkook—I—fuck fuck—ah!” you screech at the top of your lungs, uncaring of who hears, because there’s a deliciously thick and long cock deep inside of you right now, stretching you wildly and nudging right against the right spot within your walls.

Speaking of walls – there is one behind you, currently, next to the door to Jungkook’s penthouse that you barely made past before the guy was pushing his tongue down your throat and pulling your dress up. There was little to no foreplay, because you’ve been dripping wet since the car ride, and Jungkook literally went from sporting a semi to being rock hard with leaking precum within minutes of you sucking on his tongue.

And now he’s got his jeans pushed to his knees and your dress pushed to your hips, strong, bulky arms looping beneath your thighs to hold you open against him as he drives into you with purpose. You feel malleable when he manipulates your body like this, wholly dependent on him for your pleasure. And he revels in this power, moving his mouth down the line of your throat, to sink his teeth into the ballooning flesh of your breasts that he can reach above the neckline of your dress.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sweet,” he breathes through a groan, and proceeds to suck a bruise into your skin.

You can’t be bothered to respond, though, because his hips are unrelenting against yours and you’re close, so fucking close to your high, you can taste it in the air. “J–Jeon—”

He cuts you off with a growl, “That’s not—” He bites into your nipple over the fabric of your dress. “—my fucking name.”

“Jungkook!” you readily sob out, head thrown against the wall, eyes screwed shut, and nails digging into his sweater. “P–p–please—I’m—ah!”

A rough thrust drags you up the wall, jolting your eyes open because you can see your climax looming over you. Jungkook pulls back from your clothed breasts with a grunt that seems to brim with frustration. You’d help him bare them to his skilled mouth if you could find a single neuron in your head that wasn’t focused on the pressure building in your stomach with every thrust of his. And then he’s pushing harder against you, grinding his pelvis into your clit the way he knows you love – and you fall apart. You’re screaming incoherently – almost sobbing, because you’re pretty sure he hit your fucking cervix, you’re that sore – and clutching onto his body to ride out your orgasm.

When the white light finally recedes from the back of your eyelids, you open them to find Jungkook panting heavily. Sweat streaks across his entire face, dotting his hairline and making the wet strands hang in front of his eyes dangerously.

You notice his lids are closed. And then you notice his hands are not on you any more and this guy seriously has you pinned against the wall with the strength of his hips alone. Your pussy gives a clench and Jungkook grunts in frustration again.

“Stop.”

You wanna tell him you didn’t do it intentionally, but you can find neither your voice, nor your breath.

His hands, you finally realize, have been busy digging into the neckline of his sweater to pull the piece of clothing off of him. He’s doing that thing that boys do when they grab a shirt across their nape and tug it off with a single hand. His other hand moves to grip at your waist, and when you see that he has pulled his shirt up as well, you quickly move your own hands to aid him with the removal, sliding your palms up his firm, muscled torso as it is bared when the clothes move up.

Okay, so maybe you’re not entirely helping him.

In a moment, he is heaving rough breaths inches from you, bare chested and sweaty, with droopy eyelids and a thick, hard cock which is still nestled inside of you like it belongs there. The combination of his piercings, his wet hair and his fucking tattoos – the sleeve on his arm and that dragon on his back that peeks past the nape of his neck – makes you wanna lick the guy from top to bottom.

Sighing at the carnal image he paints, you attack. Nails raking down his chest, your tongue moves to lick a strip down his sternum, until you’re close enough to catch his nipple in your mouth and drag your teeth against it.

“Fuck, baby…”

He sounds guttural, and tastes ten different kinds of delicious. His hips snap against yours again, regaining their rhythm as if he never stopped. Nearly delirious from your previous orgasm and the taste of his skin, you dig your claws into the flesh of his shoulders and moan against his nipple.

“W–want you…in my—fuck—in… want you to—ah! Mouth! My m–m–mouth!”

The words that you manage to cry out make barely any sense to you, but they sure do to Jungkook. Even as the head of his cock continues to mark a stain against the deepest spot within your wet channel, pace unrelenting, he chuckles against your forehead.

And it’s not like he’s all that composed himself, breath hitching even as he laughs, but is he going to be a decent human being about it and understand your state of horny delirium? Nope. He’s going to be an asshole and make fun of you.

“Can you—” He pauses to shove your body against the wall and tear your dress up and above your chest with his free hand. “Can you say that again? Preferably as a sentence? Preferably with a please?”

You sincerely loathe him.

Managing the fiercest glare you can when you’re literally bouncing on his dick, you bring your hands up to cup his jaw from both sides. His own eyes jump from your bra clad boobs to your angry eyes. Nails scratching against his scalp and thumbs dragging against his cheekbones, you bite down on your bottom lip to stifle any building moans in you and then clear your throat.

“Your cock. My mouth. Now.” You’re proud of the sternness in your voice, but Jungkook just looks all the more amused, eyebrows raised and lips quirked; all his piercings wink at you. “Isn’t that – isn’t that enough?”

Jungkook pulls out of you and drops your legs to the ground, making you immediately stumble into him. Snorting in humiliating amusement, he lowers himself and lifts you over his shoulder, your naked ass right next to his face – and his, right next to yours. Flailing, you yelp and hold onto his thighs.

“What the—Jeon! What the fuck?”

“It’s Jungkook, for the last fucking time.” He plants a smack against your ass cheek, walking towards his bedroom, and his hand stays there, grabbing and squeezing a fat handful. “I’m carrying you because you can’t walk…”

“There’s – there’s other ways to carry!”

He drops you on his bed. “Oh, are there? Strip.”

You would protest at the harsh command if he wasn’t doing the same. Your eyes nearly glaze over when he shoves his jeans down his legs and bares his meaty thighs. You’re gonna ride them someday. Hastily, you throw your dress, your bra and your mangled panties off your body.

Jungkook stands in front of you, looking like a sex god with his toned body lined with a layer of perspiration and legs spread. One of his hands is pumping his hard length while the other curls around your ankle to tug you to the edge of the bed.

And then you notice the leather belt lying on the carpeted floor next to his feet.

Did he just take it off?

It doesn’t matter because all Jungkook cares about is making you kneel in front of him. “Arms up.”

You hesitantly raise them, frowning in confusion and trying to think past the saliva collecting in your mouth when his angry cock is this close to your lips. Then Jungkook holds onto your hands and walks behind you to pull them down over your back. Cool leather wraps around your wrists, breaking your trance.

“Wh… What is this?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, tightening his belt over your hands and locking them firmly in place over your lower back. You’re flexible but not flexible enough to move your arms.

“Jungkook! Did you—hey! What the hell?”

Smirking at your wide eyes, Jungkook places a finger on your lips to shush you. “Open these lips only when you’re ready for a mouthful of cock, yeah?”

Fuck, he is too sexy like this.

While you’re still reeling, one of his hands goes back to stroking his length, pierced eyebrow hiked up, and the other pinches your nipple to tug at your breast. Wetness drips out of you, making your thighs shake when you press them harder together to relieve some of the pressure.

And then you open your mouth in invitation.

With another smirk, Jungkook cups your jaw and pushes his cock past your lips, slowly. Your moan is instantaneous, as is the way your tongue runs up and down the length, and you close your eyes to fully absorb the deliciously heady taste and smell of him. You've been doing this on the regular for months, but the feel of him on your tongue still makes you thrum with excitement, every time. The urge to please him, make him lose all control and shoot his release down your throat seems to have only increased over the time you have spent with him.

Your eyes meet his own across his toned, sweaty body, mouth suctioning on him tightly until he breaks the stare by rolling his eyes to the back of his head. Then you get to work, moving your head on him the way you have learned he loves.

Jungkook’s groans of appreciation reach you through the fog of your own desire, and you redouble your efforts, making way for him to reach your throat.

“Yessss,” comes his hiss. “Lemme fuck your throat – just like that…”

His hips snap against your face with purpose, the head of his cock meeting the back of your throat, roughly. The room fills up with the echoes of your combined moans, heavy breathing, and the lewd sound of your lips drooling a wet mess on Jungkook.

“Fuck, fuck, gimme your teeth, baby,” he murmurs through a whine, and you’re a goner.

He’s a kinky, filthy, freaky piece of shit, and you can’t get enough of him.

Slowly and smoothly, you pull your lips away from your incisors and allow the blunt, flat edges of your teeth to glide delicately across his velvety skin. Jungkook gives you a litany of unintelligible curses in response, gripping your hair so hard, you wince in discomfort.

But then a broken call of, “more,” tumbles past his wet lips, and any pain is wiped right out of your head. You grant him another scrape of your teeth, very alert and attentive about it no matter how hard he tugs at your head. And given the pain that is building at the base of your skull, he tugs pretty fucking hard.

Looking up, you aren’t surprised when you find his eyes screwed shut, brows furrowed and lips pouted. He’s lost – floating away in another world, and you aren’t sure if he even realizes what he’s making you do to him.

Sometimes you wonder if you both need a safeword between you. He looks so out of it, is this really safe? What if you couldn't control yourself either?

But he trusts that you will; that you can.

And so you do.

Even though he hasn’t stopped tugging and pleading for more, you decide that this is enough thrill for the night, and shield your teeth behind your lips again. When his eyelids part and he frowns down at you, as you knew he would, you move your head down on him and swallow around his length.

Your eyes water and breathing stutters, but the throaty groan of your name that Jungkook releases is absolutely worth it. Both his hands cup the sides of your head, and he uses your mouth like a toy, moving you up and down his cock like a cocksleeve. It makes your mind go numb with desire.

"Yes, yes, Jesus—fuck! You're – you're so fucking good to me, Prez," Jungkook grunts between wheezes of breath.

Maybe you are, but you want to be better – you want to make him lose himself.

You thrust your chest up and shut your eyes, kneeling in a proper posture to allow Jungkook to fuck your face. His breathing gets more and more haggard and shorter, until he's gasping your name. His hips stutter with his release, all of which he fucks down your throat in messy thrusts.

When he finally pulls out, you wheeze in a huge gasp of breath and watch him stumble back to the bed on unsteady feet. Leaning back on his elbows, he flashes a lazy grin at you.

"You okay?"

Nodding, you shuffle towards him on your knees and turn sideways. "Just… wrists are probably numb, but the rest of me is—fuck!"

You gasp in surprise when Jungkook leans down to push two fingers into you. His face hovers above yours for a second before he's pulling you into a kiss.

"You're fucking dripping, baby… how's that okay?"

He doesn't allow you a moment to answer as his fingers work up in you, curling just the right way to make your hips stutter and the walls of your pussy to pulsate around his digits, an orgasm tearing through you.

"Fuck! Kook!"

"Yeah, baby, that's like a good girl," he praises you with a flurry of kisses sponged against your forehead and the crown of your head, while your brain collapses on itself from blinding pleasure. "Let it all out…"

When you finally come back to your senses, Jungkook greets you with a small smile, holding you firmly in his lap. He's already working on removing the belt from your wrists.

"Better?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile that pushes at your lips at his soft eyes and the fluttering kisses he brushes against your wrists. "Tremendously."

Giggling, Jungkook stands up, still holding you in his arms, and carries you to the bathroom to clean the two of you up. He's attentive and delicate, running a warm, wet washcloth across your body to clean any and all fluids off of it. The two of you take turns to pee and take care of some more personal hygiene, and eventually retire to his bed, falling face-first into it, side by side.

Laughing at each other, you snuggle under the covers, still fully naked, and let your legs entangle together as you find a comfortable position to sleep in. Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body feels thoroughly drained, but the cogs in your brain refuse to stop turning.

You flop to your back and exhale. “Should we make a spreadsheet?”

Jungkook lifts his head to gape at you with clueless eyes. “Uh…”

“About the details of our… relationship,” you clarify with a grimace. “We need to be consistent to keep things believable and steady."

He looks at you with barely concealed mirth and then breaks out into laughter. "You're something else, Prez…"

"Okay, have you met our moms?" You scowl at him when he winces at the reminder. "Exactly. I'm making a spreadsheet and sharing it with you."

As ridiculous as it sounds, it actually turns out to be very convenient once you get started. You list down everything you can think of, from the place you had your first kiss, to your future plans. You both decide to stick as close to facts as you can because you're both bad at remembering stuff, so your first kiss is placed under the trip to Vegas, and the actual proposal is pinned on Yoongi's wedding day. You do have to lie about some other stuff, though, because you've never even gone on a date with Jungkook. But even all of that stuff you manage to substitute with occasions that have occurred in the real world, just not under a romantic context; exactly the way you did at the dinner when this damn announcement was made.

It's nearing three in the morning by the time you two finish up editing the file on your phone. You toss the device at Jungkook and roll away, yawning with your entire mouth so wide open that your eyes water.

"Add your email to this so that you can peek at it whenever you need to," you almost mumble due to how sleepy and tired you are, eyes shut and head nestled into a fluffy pillow.

"I think I'm gonna remember it," Jungkook claims, unsurprisingly, and you click your tongue.

"Don't rely so much on your brain, Jeon, we both know it can't be trusted."

He just laughs and is silent for a few seconds. You hope he's actually sharing the file with himself. Seemingly done, Jungkook gives a loud exhale and turns to spoon you, which you allow mostly because you're too tired to protest – but partly also because he's warm and cozy and the weight of his arm over your waist actually lulls you deeper into sleep.

"You aren't going home, right?"

You snort at his ridiculous question. "I'm literally inches away from death, right now…"

"Good."

Your brows furrow a little at the unexpected response, but you actually are literally too tired to spend another moment doing anything but losing yourself to some delicious sleep.

So that's what you do.

People at the office have taken you and Jungkook really well. Too well, you’d say, if the squeaks, awed sighs or giggles that the two of you receive any time you so much as smile at the other are anything to go by. It's almost as if everyone at Jeon Security has been rooting for you and him. Much like the pair of your parents. Ugh.

Director Min and Jungkook’s assistant are the only two people that don’t look at you with actual heart eyes.

Yoongi has been mostly nonchalant, but he has shown curiosity about when this thing between you and Jungkook even began when he works in such close quarters with the two of you at all times. Man, if only he knew what went down at his wedding reception; he’d probably never invite the two of you to any of his wedding anniversary parties.

Haeri, on the other hand, expresses her shock at the rapid development, especially from your end when she has very closely witnessed the way you have been at Jungkook’s throat at all times. Beyond your concocted it just happened gradually, there isn't much you can explain to her; but she has enough workload on her that she moves on from suspecting and settles on vaguely appreciating your relationship very soon.

So yeah. Everyone loves the fact that you’re together.

But to you, personally, pretending to be Jungkook's fiancé is turning out to be a lot more tiresome than sneaking around with him used to be. Earlier, you just had to stay strictly professional at work and ensure your schedules were free when you met up at each other's places. Now, though, you are actively seeking out prying eyes to go be disgusting in front of them, intentionally. Jungkook is relishing the way everyone is eating it up, the way you absolutely expected him to.

It's been three days of this bullshit, and you already wanna step on Jungkook's foot with your heel when he takes your hand in the empty elevators.

"Jeon."

"There's a camera here!"

His eyes are innocently wide but his lips are twitching. You really wanna step on his shoe.

"Jeon, you know—"

"It's Kook."

He's smirking now, and you just give up, tipping your head back against the wall of the elevator to release a groan. “Your dad’s not gonna view the fucking security camera feeds, Kook.”

There’s that soft look on his face again. Why does he react this way to you calling him that? Sometimes you feel like there are parts of Jungkook you will never be able to figure out. Not that you are actively trying to.

“You don’t know my dad, Prez.”

“Oh, so you’re Kook but I’m still Prez? Where’s your loving pet-name for me?”

His soft smile grows, if possible, even softer and borderline affectionate. Something a lot akin to panic rises up in your chest, but you immediately push it back down because this is Jungkook. His definition of “affection” is just glorified roasting.

But then his fingers squeeze yours tightly.

“Prez’s always been my loving pet-name for you.” There are actual sparkles lighting up his eyes, now, and try as you might, you cannot tear your gaze away from their innocent shine. “But I can always call you baby.”

The sparkles are embers now, challenging your fucking sanity because a shiver runs down your spine at the rumble in his voice when he articulates the one name he loves to call you in bed. Fuck.

You’re saved from having to respond – but he knows you were dumbstruck because his cocky-ass smirk is back on his face – when the elevator announces its arrival on your floor.

“Are you gonna walk me to my office?” You sarcastically bat your eyelids at him with a huge, saccharine smile as the two of you step out together.

“Of course. And leave you with a ‘have a nice day’ kiss, too.” His smile looks exactly the same as yours feels – but his eyes twinkle, and you suddenly wonder if he is, perhaps, enjoying this. “I’m an amazing boyfriend.”

Your face drops into a deadpan. “You’re my fiancé.”

His eyes widen in blatant panic. “That’s…what I said?”

“Je—Kook, my lovely lover boy,” you coo at him, freeing your hand to place both palms on the lapels of his suit jacket and lean closer to his ear under the ruse of brushing a kiss to his jaw – you actually brush a kiss to his jaw because it looks too sexy to resist, but that wasn’t your original intent – and in a lowered voice that is close to a hiss, you finish your sentence with: “get your shit together!”

Jungkook, who seemed to be melting into your embrace initially, especially after the peck you planted on him, straightens into attention at the scolding. Face scrunched in a wince, he nods at you. “Right.”

“I’ll see you after work?” You’re smiling again, this time with actual humor and very reluctant but inevitable fondness because he looks kinda cute when frustrated.

“Mm hm, and I’ll drive you home.”

You both know what that means, and the way Jungkook swipes his tongue across his bottom lip to confirm that sends a jolt of arousal through you. That’s twice since morning and it’s barely nine am. Good God, you’re a horny mess.

Chuckling at your obvious stiffening, Jungkook waves his fingers at you in goodbye and walks off into the direction of his office. You heave out a loud exhale and turn to walk towards your own—

Only to pause in your steps.

Min Yoongi stands in your direct line of sight, eyeing you weirdly. He is sipping from a cup, wedding band glinting, and has his other hand folded into the pocket of his pants.

Casual, laid-back, regular Yoongi.

Not consistent with the narrowed eyes he's giving you, though.

Self-conscious, you run a hand over your hairdo, wondering if your bun is lopsided, and then down your pencil skirt, wondering if it is stained. Yoongi's eyes don't stray from your face, though, and that prompts you to pay around your lips to check for any smudged lipstick. Not that you were involved in any lipstick-smudging business, this morning, given the fact that you and Jungkook stayed at your own places, last night, and so arrived at the office separately.

So why the unnerving staring from Director Min?

By the time you've crossed the twenty-something feet that spans from the elevators to the door to Yoongi's office he's standing next to, you are wearing a squint of your own.

"Good morning, Director Min."

Yoongi's lips twitch into a smirk. "Good morning."

You scowl at him. "What's with the stare?"

"What's with the over the top PDA?"

“You weren’t supposed to be looking,” you lie because everything you and Jungkook do publicly is absolutely meant for the public's viewing pleasure.

But then you pause to wonder if the kiss you secretly planted on his jaw was even clear enough to be witnessed? You doubt anyone but you and Jungkook even knows it happened, and the sense of secrecy sends a very unwelcome and really unwanted thrill through you.

Is your brain melting down because what the fuck? You barely tolerate the guy, what the hell is your body getting all excited about?

You are not enjoying this. At all.

“Fair,” Yoongi allows with a roll of his eyes. “We have four meetings today, back-to-back, so snap out of your lavender haze soon. And for God’s sake, hire a new assistant!”

“I will, let me just—”

“Ohhh, now I see it,” he cuts you off with raised eyebrows and wide eyes and you are wholly clueless.

“Literally what? Why’re you being so weird today?”

Yoongi shakes his head, looking all awed, until his cheeks lift up and he breaks into giggles that make his shoulders jump. It’s a very jarring sight, a guy as quiet and intimidating as Min Yoongi laughing like this.

“Director Min…are you going clinically insane?”

“You fired poor old Jimin because Jungkook got jealous!”

You gape at him.

No, that is not what happened!

Jimin quit because he was done rioting against his parents – he didn’t even need the job, he only interviewed to make a point and you just helped him along. Jungkook had gotten pretty annoying around the time, but you wrote it off as a classic case of Jungkook needing attention and acting out when not receiving it.

He wasn’t… jealous, was he?

Why the hell would he be? You were barely into a month of sleeping together when that happened, and you both literally fought every single time after sex.

But maybe this can work in your favor; it adds more credibility to your story.

You turn your chin up at Yoongi. “So what if I did?”

A small smile plays on his lips. “So nothing. I’m just surprised I didn’t see it, because you’ve been pretty obvious, huh?”

What should you even say to that? Obvious? When nothing even is there? You don’t know if this is naïve of Yoongi or just ignorant, but you take it with a pretend grin.

“Time to get your prescriptions updated, Director Min.”

The day proceeds normally, after that, exhausting you to the bone because sitting through meetings after meetings is never not hell. But after the recent successful launch with the Lims' project, Jeon Security has been the talk of the town and everyone wants to collaborate with you in whichever form they can.

The proposals are endless and so is the shit on your schedule.

You've accepted your fate and canceled all your extracurricular plans – ones not involving Jungkook, of course, because he's gonna crawl into your bed no matter what – for the coming few weeks. You might even have to stay past working hours because you have a bulk of emails to answer at the end of the day, everyday, when you've been running between meetings all day long.

God, you miss having Jimin around.

It's a little after five and you and Yoongi have just returned from an hour-long session in the conference hall, ambling towards your respective offices with droopy eyes and a desperate need for coffee. Just as you start the machine placed in the sitting area in your personal space, your phone pings with a text message.

Kook 💍 are you going to your parents' for your birthday? your mom told my mom i'm invited too? prez, i literally can't please you have to understand

You give a deep sigh, pressing two fingers to your temples. It's not that you don't understand, because God knows even you don't wanna go. But Jungkook not going would give your dad just that much more incentive to mentally torture your.

↳ Today's a Tuesday, we have three days to talk abt this ↳ Why're our moms in a hurry? ↳ I'll come over tonight and we'll talk ↳ Okay?

Kook 💍 sure i still won't say yes, but sure

Well. You'd just have to convince him.

Except – you couldn’t. You were unable to.

Tuesday night came and went, but Jungkook was unmoving. Similarly on Wednesday and Thursday – which really took you aback.

You knew he would put up a great fight, and you were prepared to convince him with a solid blowjob or two. But you did not expect the extent to which his vehement protest went. Man was immune to all your charms.

And on Friday night, he even refused to hang out with you, claiming you needed your beauty sleep to recharge yourself for tomorrow. Dude left you alone to fend for yourself with a lame ass happy birthday text and disappeared on you.

Okay, no, that's a lie. He didn't really disappear, you had a long winded conversation on facetime where he actually managed to convince you with some solid logic.

He said he feared he'd end up getting into a physical brawl with your dad if he went, and absolutely refused to even entertain the prospect of sitting back while your father tore you down. Which you both knew he'd do.

That, and you also had some personal fears of your own. Your dad would definitely take Jungkook aside to have a private conversation, and knowing him, would probably spew shit that would be poisonous enough to ruin the night – and potentially your bond with Jungkook – really bad.

So you ended up going alone, telling yourself, repeatedly, that they were your parents, at the end of the day. They won't crush you under their boots like a bug.

Now, as you drive back home a little before midnight, you feel nothing short of crushed like a bug under some heavy, stomping boots, so who's the fool?

You. It's always you.

With a groan, you leave your car in the lot and drag your high heeled feet up the elevators, to your apartment. When darkness greets you at home, it feels more metaphoric than it is.

Parents shouldn't be this exhausting. What happened to all the love they promised to give you for life?

After a warm shower to relax your tense muscles, you don one of Jungkook's five sizes too big hoodies that he's left at your place atop some fluffy, fleece pajama pants, and reach for the bottle of dated whisky Yoongi got you as a gift. It was surprising to you that he remembered your birthday, and you gave an actual gasp when he presented you with an actual gift at the office, yesterday. Sweet guy. Sweeter gift.

Extracting the box from one of the chic shelves in your kitchen that are usually empty, you look at the sleek design and wonder how expensive this is. It looks very high-end.

You can't really read the name on the gorgeous black and golden bottle and decide that you don't really need to. It begins with a K and Yoongi told you it's Irish. That's more than enough for you to decide to save it for special occasions.

The way today's events have been making you feel as if you've been placed in a hydraulic press, though? Definitely qualifies as a special occasion.

Carefully opening the seal, you take a whiff and hum.

"You're way too fancy to be poured into a glass, baby," you murmur to the bottle like a completely normal human being. But this is your first conversation of the day where you're certain nothing hurtful will be said to you back. "How about I splash you into some hot chocolate, hm?"

The bottle, regretfully, doesn't respond, and you take that as it's reluctant acquiesce to your plan. The moment you reach for a packet of instant cocoa mixes stashed away in another one of your highly unused cupboards, your doorbell rings.

Now. It’s well past midnight, close to one am. If someone has reached up to your apartment without you having to buzz them into the building at such an odd hour, it must be someone familiar.

A couple of possibilities cross your mind, but there’s one that sticks with a concerning amount of hope to it. Your hands get clammy at the nervousness that blossoms in your chest, and you absolutely do not allow yourself to explore it, at all.

Swallowing, you walk up to the door and pull it open.

Jungkook is dressed in a cozy looking gray hoodie and dark cargo pants, prescription glasses on and all jewelry taken out. He looks warm and…delicate. Gentle.

His lips, simple and soft without his signature ring in them, curl up in a small, kind smile. Your own part to let in a large gulp of air to fill up your lungs that you now realize were emptying out for a while.

They had been empty for a while; for hours. Tight and tired and heavy, but without any air.

The heaviness finally lifts and the tightness finally unclenches to allow relief to flood in.

It makes you feel alive again. It scares you to death.

"What—"

He interrupts your question by producing a small box in front of his face. "Happy birthday, Prez."

Your jaw drops. "What? Is that a…"

"A gift, yeah. To celebrate? And – and tell you I'm sorry that I wasn't with you today?" He scratches his head with his nose scrunched up. "Despite the conversation we had last night… I feel like I should've been there with you. So, I kinda figured you'd need a booster to get your serotonin levels back to normal, and here I am!"

Tears prick at your eyes, unprompted and uncontrollable, and you press yourself against him, winding your arms around his waist for a desperate hug. Jungkook accepts you with an inhale of surprise, but then walks the two of you in and kicks the door shut behind you.

"Hey, hey – are you okay? What's going on, Y/N, talk to me…"

His usage of your name jerks you out of your sudden vulnerable moment, and you pull away with a watery chuckle, turning your face away to swipe under your eyes.

"It's – it's nothing, just—um, I'd been… Th–this is a surprise," you finally manage to say, forcing another chuckle out.

Jungkook frowns at you, obviously concerned and not really buying the way you brushed off actually crying into him, but tugs his lips up in a small smile. "That was the intention."

"But it's past midnight," you point out, trying to dissipate the heaviness that has suddenly descended upon the atmosphere. "You're late."

Jungkook's face scrunches up in a guilty smile, and you have to swallow against how adorable he looks like this; all soft-edged and open-hearted. "I know I'm technically a day late, but my grandpa used to say that it's still your birthday, even past midnight, if you don't go to sleep. You're allowed to celebrate for as long as you stay up."

A burst of laughter escapes you at how ridiculous and yet fitting of him this is. "You've totally been exploiting that clause, haven't you?"

Jungkook giggles his characteristic high-pitched giggle, and you have to hold back a frown at the way this doesn't irritate you the way it used to.

It sounds kind of cute, in fact, and that is so, so scary.

"That is absolutely true," Jungkook easily affirms your speculation with a cheeky grin as the two of you walk into your living room. "This one time, for my thirteenth birthday, I stayed up till six am. Watched, like, five movies that night. And then got sick."

You give a snort. "Sounds like you."

"Hey—why am I being insulted when I've literally got you a present?"

Jungkook follows you to your couch and settles down with his legs crossed beneath him, facing you, while you sit in a similar position opposite him. "Are you saying calling you you is an insult? That's all I did!"

An actual pout forms on his lips. "No, you stereotyped me. When I'm just this nice, thoughtful guy who brought you a birthday gift I know you'll like!"

You can't contain your own giggles at how petulant he is acting, bringing up the gift he got you in literally every sentence. With a roll of your eyes, you forward both your hands towards him, palms up. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Let's see this amazingly perfect gift of yours."

In the time you've spent knowing Jungkook, there are a certain number of fun facts and behavioral habits that you absolutely, truthfully know about him. His obsession with experimental lattes; his talent at singing; his hatred for all things peanuts even though he isn't allergic to them; the weird line he walks between being a people pleaser and yet not caring about his social image. There's a number of them. One of which is also his confidence while interacting with people, which is so strong and tough that it more often than not falls into overconfidence territory.

And so, it comes as a shock to you when you see hints of hesitation on his face.

Is he nervous? About a birthday gift? For you? Jeon Jungkook?

You shake your head in disbelief, a tiny spurt of laughter leaving you. "Jungkook…?"

Pursing his lips with an evident blush on his cheeks, he presents before you a small, dark blue box with a familiar, iconic swan imprinted on it, the word Swarovski gleaming underneath. Jungkook ceremoniously lifts the lid, in an imitation of a proposal because his sense of humor is dumb, and unveils a pair of delicate earrings – a diamond stud dropping from a slightly larger diamond stud, everything set in white gold.

They're absolutely stunning. And certainly your type; something you can see yourself wearing.

They're definitely too much.

Your gaze fluctuates back and forth between the beauty of the obviously very expensive jewelry and the guy who's gifting it to you with his lower lip in his mouth. Now there's no denying that he's nervous about this.

Which makes sense. Jungkook has never gifted you anything on any of your birthdays before. He has barely ever wished you, usually just sticking to remarks about how you're turning more geriatric every year, when you're both literally the same age.

After all that joking around, this feels extremely large.

Swallowing, you try to find words to express the gratitude – and the persistent shock – that you feel, right now, but come up empty. It's complicated, a little overwhelming. You're not technically feeling awkward, but this is definitely unexplored territory for you both, so maybe you’re a little…out of sorts?

This isn’t a gift from the bane of your existence Jungkook – it is from your tentative friend and pretend fiancé Jungkook. How the hell are you supposed to navigate this situation?

Something about your fidgeting hands, wide eyes and gaping mouth must have given your confusion away, because the guy suddenly snorts, dissolving into laughter.

“You look like you’re holding your breath,” he says with a huge, easy grin on his face; the teasing does nothing to calm you down, though, and Jungkook takes one of your hands in his to give it a quick squeeze. There’s a sincere smile on his face this time. “You can let go of the pretense for a moment. Just react how you normally would without the whole engagement thing.”

It’s nice of him to try to take the pressure away, but you’re still at a loss. He, though, looks cozier and cuter by the minute, resting sideways against the back of your couch, a grin on his face and fucking stars in his eyes.

You do what is the only sane thing to do, then – lean forward and press your mouth against his.

Jungkook releases a breath of surprise but responds to the pull of your lips eagerly, cupping a palm around the back of your neck to support your head as you deepen the kiss. His tongue curls around yours and your teeth bite into his bottom lip – which feels different without his ring, but definitely just as delicious – and then you pull away.

Lips glistening and eyes hooded, he lowly chuckles inches away from your face, sending your heart racing faster than the kiss did. “Very unoriginal but I appreciate it.”

In the middle of rolling your eyes, you catch the way his lips are twitching up in that adoring smile you've seen him sport an awful lot of times in the past few days. And paired with the rest of his soft but sexy aura, it does something to you.

Something dangerous.

Your ears are heating up with a rush of blood that you can feel expanding down to your chest. It’s suddenly too hot. It’s suddenly too much, all your nerve endings singed but aware. Your very breath seems to scratch against your lungs.

Oh, God.

You know the sensation. It’s been a while since you’ve felt it, but you can still recognize the signs of having a crush. Because this is exactly how you used to feel around one particular individual back in high school, the last time you ever allowed yourself to feel anything for anyone.

Fuck. A crush?

You thought you’d just gotten more tolerant of him, but… do you actually like Jungkook? Romantically?

Holy shit?

Unaware of the emotional crisis you’re internally going through, the guy plants a small, playful kiss on your pouting lips. “This was only one half of the gift, though. Wanna sit on my face?”

A huff of laughter leaves you, breaking through your daze enough to make you move – but not enough to stop you from thinking.

Jungkook carries you to your bedroom, like he’s done multiple times in the past, and settles against the headboard, like he’s done multiple times in the past. But even as the two of you pull each other’s clothes off as you regularly do, something doesn’t feel so regular to you.

Every single breath and look and touch of his goes straight to your head, air thick with tension and something a lot like affection between you two.

“Up, up, come on,” he husks against your thigh, sitting shirtless against your headboard while you kneel between his spread legs, fully bared. Something about the power dynamics that your states of undress create arouses you that much more. “I want you to suffocate me, okay?”

He says it with such a straight face, a chuckle escapes you. “We’ve done this before, Kook.”

“Mm hm, but tonight’s more important than any of the previous ones, yeah?” Oh, he doesn’t know how true that feels to you. Although the way his lower lip is tucked between his teeth and eyes are so sparkly, it almost seems like he does. Until he winks, “I wanna die between your legs tonight, okay?”

Rolling your eyes, you push at his chest to shove him down on his back. From this vantage point, his eyes immediately shoot to your dripping center. The way he licks his lips at the sight is enough to make you come untouched – but those cherry red buds of his are beckoning to you and you’re not about to pass up the opportunity to occupy the sexiest throne you’ve been presented with.

The two of you moan in unison when your pussy meets his lips, and Jungkook's tongue is immediately reaching out to lick into your channel before you've had the chance to even catch your breath.

"F–f–fuck!" a stuttered gasp escapes you when he wraps both his arms around your thighs and seals his mouth to you.

Although this isn't the first time you've sat on his face, this particular sexual act isn't that common between you two. It's somewhat reserved for special occasions. When Jungkook wants to celebrate or thank you or, like now, comfort you, he offers your pussy his lips to grind against.

And each time it happens, beyond the general self-consciousness of worrying about suffocating him, the experience is always a ride to remember for you.

"Mm hm," he hums against your sensitive skin, tongue traveling far deep into you. "Taste so fucking good, baby…"

You never knew you had a thing for praises until Jeon Jungkook called you a good girl, on an otherwise random night. Since then, hearing him appreciate the bare minimum about you arouses you to insane heights.

"Fuck, Kook, you're so fucking good at this…"

He laughs against your delicate flesh. “Yeah? That why you’re making me do all the damn work?”

Your eyes jump open in a shocked affront, peering down between your thighs to meet Jungkook’s hooded gaze. “Wha—”

“Fucking ride my mouth,” he hisses out, eyes narrowed, right as one of his palms thwacks a loud slap against your ass, making your body jump up on his face. “That’s what you’re sitting here for.”

Heat flows through your veins, your state of arousal heightening to the point where a thrum enters your body and your eyes begin to water. You’re beyond forming words now, not with the way Jungkook’s sexy fucking eyebrows jump at you mockingly even when you should be the one with the upper hand given your position.

This man really has you wholly ruined. The least you can do is ruin his face for him, right?

And so you clench your jaw in determination and grip the headboard with a new ferocity, jamming your hips against his face in an attempt to shut him up and momentarily smother him at the same time. But all he does is squeeze the plump of your ass and groan against you some more, so you just throw caution to the wind and begin to rock on him.

He supports your ass with one hand and brings the other to cup your boob, his favorite part of your anatomy, pinching your nipple between a finger and a thumb. Breathy whines and short curses leave you with every jump your pussy makes against his mouth, but Jungkook is so fucking active in all of it, you wonder how he doesn’t run out of stamina. Or, fucking hell, his breath.

The combination of his gaping mouth and his tongue that still somehow manages to lick at your exposed clit has your toes curling and the pressure in your stomach building up at an insane speed.

Panting, you look down at your glorious throne, only to find his eyes squinted in a smile. He winks at you when you meet his gaze.

“Fucking fuck, Jungkook, you’re crazy,” you cry out, rolling your eyes in wonder mingled exasperation when you hear him him chuckle.

He suddenly grips you in place, then, stopping your motions that were beginning to make your thighs burn a little. How did he know when to that, you have no idea, but you can only sob his name when he scrapes his teeth against your clit. The mixture of pleasure and pain is insane, and makes you scream.

“You’re… how does that feel so – so good, Jeon, you’re—fuck!”

Out of nowhere, he rips his mouth off of you. Gasping out a complaint, you glare down at him.

“What the fuck? I was so close!”

He is glaring right back at you, you realize, and before you can make sense of it, both his arms shove your legs away from his shoulders and down his body, situating you over his abs so that he can sit up and wrap an arm around your waist, only to switch positions with you and press you down into the soft mattress of your bed, with him hovering above you.

“You seem to have a problem remembering my name,” he grunts with his teeth barred, rage in his eyes.

Before you can even begin to trace back to what you said, he sits up with your legs still wrapped around his waist, and brings a hand down to land directly on your clit.

"Fu~ck—Jungkook, what—"

"Ah, yes, there is it," he coos, a condescending pout on his lips. "What's my name, baby?"

You glare at him with tears of arousal spilling down your cheeks. If you weren't sure he'd edge you to the brink of insanity, you would have challenged his smug ass right back, right now. But you're helpless against Jungkook's truly unmatched skill set when it comes to overstimulating you, so you grit your teeth and shut your eyes.

"Jungkook."

When he doesn't move, you open your eyes to find him raising an amused eyebrow at you. "You sound like you hate me, Prez."

"Yeah, well, I hate what you're doing to me! Will you—ah!"

Another slap lands on your clit. "Stop addressing me by my family name and I'll do something you'll love."

You can't help the sob of frustration that leaves you. "Sure. Jungkook."

He winces at your high-pitched voice. And another slap is rounded against your pussy, though this one doesn't make your body jolt that hard. "Okay, less evil-witch vibes, maybe?"

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook, if you don't make me come—"

"Now that's what I'm talking about! Desperate, with just the right stroke of assertive." He grins at you, now pressing his hand down to massage at your nearly oversensitive clit with the pad of his thumb.

With his other hand, he unwraps your thighs from around him and slowly crawls down until his face is at the level of your pussy. You rise to your elbows in surprise. "What, you're not gonna fuck me?"

He smiles at you from between your legs. "This is your birthday present, Prez. Now let me eat this pussy like it deserves to be eaten."

There is no reason why out of everything you've done with this man, it's his sincere smile and the expression of him wanting to eat you out that should set your cheeks on fire. But that is what happens, your entire face flaming up when Jungkook seals his promise with a wink and presses his mouth into your waiting wetness.

You're a mess of tears, arousal and an unnecessarily loudly beating heart when you reach your climax – and you don't think you can explain why it suddenly feels like you would lose something very important if Jungkook ever walked away from you.

Dealing with a pair of cum-heavy balls when a gorgeous, sexy, available and willing girl is next to you is one of the most painful situations a man can land himself in. Jungkook will be the first to admit it.

But, he can see the red rims around your eyes and as much as he’d like to take credit, he knows the tears have their origin in something other than the mind-numbing orgasm he just gave you.

He’s also feeling guilty about bailing on you so he wants to cut back on orgasming to punish himself in a way, too. But even if he got a do-over, he knows his answer will be the same. Your dad is literally trash and makes Jungkook’s fingers twitch with the urge to form a fist. His temper is literally always Switzerland, but your dad might just have unlocked a new trait in him because every single time the man is mentioned, quoted and/or even so much as vaguely alluded to – Jungkook sees red and has to regulate his breathing.

So being in the man’s house while putting on his best behavior to ensure a good impression? Yeah, no. There would have been carnage.

He knows he did the right thing because he wasn’t ready, but his guilt persists. Because even though you created this whole situation by being impulsive and angry, he… he's just never been good at leaving you be. To let you deal with stuff on your own when he knows he can be there for you.

Jungkook has a very obvious soft corner for you.

He does, definitely, maintain riling you up as one of his hobbies. Not only that, he even considers his biggest pleasure in the world – except for when he's inside of you because that's a whole different world – to be driving you insane with irritation and anger over things he could very easily prevent from happening. He most certainly has a kink for your scowls; it stirs his insides and makes his dick come to life when you shoot daggers at him.

That is all very true. But what is also true, is that beyond all of that, Jungkook cares about you. You matter to him and it pains him to see you hurt. He has never, in his capacity, ever tried to emotionally hurt you.

Challenging your sanity? His fucking jam. But it tortures him to see you actually upset, even though you probably think it’s all playful and meaningless to him.

Now, with you having stolen his gray hoodie that he wore earlier instead of changing into one you were wearing – which, as a matter of fact, was another one of his hoodies – and him in just his sweatpants, the two of you have moved back to the living room where you are preparing some hot chocolate you'd planned earlier. And telling him all that went down at your parents'.

"He actually said that?"

"He'd said that at your parents', last Saturday too."

Jungkook shuts his eyes and exhales, trying to calm himself down.

What is wrong with your father? He gets that the man must be upset you didn’t join his business – but there has to be a limit, right? How can his bitterness permeate his love for his daughter to this extent that he would willingly find ways to hurt you in the worst ways?

You’re the President – and standing in line to be the Vice Chairperson – of one of the leading cyber security companies in the country, right now, which is not an easy feat to achieve. How can your father look at you and not feel his heart burst with pride?

But first, Jungkook needs to ensure that you don’t let the insecure man’s words get to you.

“What you have achieved in half the number of years your dad has lived is huge, Prez." He raises a finger to point it at you, firmly. "Don't you ever doubt that.”

“Thank you.” You give him a faint smile that twists his heart. “It’s not like I’ve ever had a drive to make him proud, you know? I’m okay with his disappointment because I’m proud of myself. But he isn’t okay with my confidence. He’s always trying to make me feel as if I’ve done something wrong…as if I am doing something that’s disgraced him or our family, and I should be ashamed?”

Jungkook doesn’t wanna conclude that the man does this out of jealousy, but there is literally no other explanation to be derived.

You enter the room with two steaming cups of chocolate. "It's spiked with whiskey because I need it."

Chuckling, Jungkook accepts the mug and takes a whiff. "That smells expensive."

"It is." You give an impressed nod. "Yoongi's gift."

"Figures."

You’re both silent for a while, sipping at your respective mugs, and then Jungkook clears his throat to finally respond to your earlier words.

“I think you hurt your dad's ego by making it big without his help,” he tells you with raised eyebrows. “And now he retaliates by hurting your emotions.”

You snort into your cup. "Am I supposed to seek comfort in the fact that my own dad wants to deliberately hurt me?"

Jungkook nibbles on his lip, subconsciously looking for his lip-ring before remembering that he took it off along with his eyebrow piercing, this morning, when he'd been trying to convince himself to go with you. He ended up losing that debate, obviously, but then just didn’t put the jewelry back in.

He doesn’t know how to comfort you, honestly. Usually, he sticks to just listening and allowing the other person to speak their heart out. Usually, that feels like enough help.

Right now, though, he wants to do something more – something to wipe that sadness right off of your face. Doesn’t know what, though. So he just looks at your balled up form on the other side of the couch you’re both sharing.

You turn to meet his gaze, your own vulnerable and broken. He tips his head back, frowning. And something in his expressions must do something to you, because you’re crawling across the space to get to him, the next moment, and nestling into his side without a word.

Though this isn't the first time you've lounged together on a piece of furniture, something about the settings makes this occasion feel more intimate. Almost as if the two of you are cuddling.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook distracts himself from that line of overthinking by bringing his focus back to – belch – your dad.

"You know, sometimes," he begins, slowly, bringing his free hand to run through your hair, “people you love can refuse to love you back. It’s unfair and it hurts like a bitch – but it’s very hard to escape from. Sometimes, there’s nothing to be done; sometimes you just have to accept that some situations are beyond repair.” He pauses to inhale. “Sometimes people just…don’t understand. They refuse to. And you keep getting hurt over, and over, and over again…”

Your head very slowly turns to meet his gaze, and his heart aches when he sees the tears that brim your eyes.

“The only way you can protect yourself is by detaching yourself. I know it sounds harsh, but… isn’t self-preservation always harsh?” He gives a small smile when you nod at him with rounded eyes. “You have to release yourself from the hold your dad has on you, baby. He is disappointed in you? Disappointed by what – you being a smart, level-headed, successful woman who could very well be running an empire she wasn’t even born into?"

He sees the way your bottom lip quivers and his hand moves from your scalp to the fluttering bud, thumb pressing against it as he shakes his head. You don't deserve this hurt. Especially at the hands of your own father – someone that Jungkook imagined would have been the proudest in the world when looking at you.

“If he isn’t man enough to be proud of you, his loss. You’re magnificent either way.”

Jungkook knows he's damn proud of you.

Overcome with an emotion that tightens his chest, Jungkook abandons his hot chocolate on the coffee table and turns to cup your face in his palms, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. Your eyes slide shut in acceptance of his touch, face tilting to nuzzle your cheek into his hand.

“I thought I’d gotten used to the taunts.” Your eyes stay shut but your eyebrows furrow with your words. “I’m usually stronger than this. Just…I really didn’t expect him to call me useless, you know? To say that I’m only good enough to snag a husband who is an heir to—”

“Don’t repeat it,” Jungkook softly murmurs, leaning in to plant a kiss to your shut eyes that are now leaking tears again. “Everyone knows it’s bullshit, even your dad.”

You nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “It’s… it’s so hard facing him, Kook… And it shouldn’t be…”

His heart gives a clench at the name you use, like it always does, but exhaling slowly, he moves his arms to wrap them around you and pull you against his chest. “No, it shouldn’t be. And I can’t change that, but…” He swallows, realizing the implications of what he is about to say – but when your tear stained cheek rubs the salty water against the flesh of his chest, he knows he absolutely means it. “But I can ensure that you never have to face him alone anymore, baby. Ever.”

When you move your head to rest your chin against his pectoral, he expects to see confusion on your face. Instead, he is met by a soft smile that is so full of adoration, it makes him catch his breath. Your skin has turned a few shades darker in places as a result of blood rushes caused by your crying, but you look so pretty to him – prettier than you ever have.

Unable to resist, Jungkook leans down to press his mouth against yours in a chaste kiss. You don’t shut your eyes and neither does he, smiling against your lips when you scrunch your nose.

“Those are some big words,” you whisper, voice light but eyes wide and – hopeful? Shit, Jungkook fears he’d agree to some pretty stupid shit if you asked him with that look in your eyes. “Are you sure?”

His heart is pounding when he nods. “A hundred percent.”

You release a giggle, almost as if you’re joking around, but he can see the way a fog of uncertainty lifts from your gaze and confidence takes its place. Jungkook grins at you, winking for good effect, and hugs you to his chest again. You plant a kiss to his warm skin, and he stifles a shudder.

“If I fall asleep,” you murmur, lips moving against his body, “please don’t wake me up?”

What?

Do you… wanna sleep like this?

On the couch – with him? In his arms?

His heartbeat stutters when you exhale and bring an arm to curl around his torso, nails dragging against his waist as if to clutch him to you.

Jungkook closes his eyes, thinking of all the times you have willingly hugged him. Outside of this pretend engagement, he doesn’t recall a single instance of that happening.

He opens his eyes and peers down at your cutely bunched up form.

No one is watching you two, now. Obviously. There’s no one around to put on a show for. You could kick him out and go back to the comfort of your hot chocolate and Marvel movies.

But you aren’t doing that; you’re holding onto him, choosing to seek comfort in him.

This can’t not mean something.

He smiles to himself, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes.

So maybe he’s liking this a bit too much. But he can tell that you don’t hate it either.

The second week of your ‘relationship’ begins with a bang – literally, because you and Jungkook fuck on the couch at, like, eight o’clock on Sunday morning. But also metaphorically, because your mothers accost you with a visit to your place, something you and Jungkook predicted to happen even sooner so they’re basically late.

You and Jungkook shower at around noon, obviously taking longer because you fuck during that too, and while you get ready in a decent dress, he storms through your wardrobe to look for his clothes. He chases you around the bedroom for a bit upon realizing how many of his hoodies you’ve actually stolen from him – which leads to the two of you making out on the floor, because he’s shirtless and you’re in a dress that makes access all the more easy.

When your mothers finally arrive with their binder of questions about every little thing they can quiz the two of you about one another, it comes as a surprise to you both as much as it does to them how well you are able to manage.

"Oh, oh, and what happened in Vegas?" Mrs Jeon leans forward on the couch with a sly smirk. "Haeri told us something… interesting happened?"

"You've been talking to my assistant, mom?" Jungkook gapes at the woman.

"Of course, I did! You two sprung such a huge announcement upon us – we had to ensure that you weren't faking it!"

Jungkook breaks into coughs, while you busy yourself by taking huge gulps of the wine your mom has brought along.

She did raise her eyebrows when you decided to serve it right then, at literally two pm in the afternoon, but she probably understood what you'd be subjected to so she gave up. That's the thing about your mother; she understands a lot and gives up a lot. If she had even half the amount of boldness that Mrs Jeon is full of, you wouldn't suffer at your father's hands so much. It hasn’t escaped your notice how your mother is pretending as if yesterday didn’t happen.

"Is that true, Y/N?"

You blink into focus at the question, meeting your mother's wide eyes. You look sideways at Jungkook and his eyes are wider than your mother's. You pause.

And then hazard a shot in the dark: "Uh… yes?"

Both women give loud gasps with their hands pressed to their chests. "You both first kissed in Vegas! I can't believe it!"

You grimace when your mom pulls a handkerchief out of her bag, dabbing it at the corners of her eyes as she sniffles. "Well, it just…"

"Just happened," Jungkook finishes for you, grabbing your hand in a desperately tight grasp. "What – what did Haeri say to you?"

"That you got drunk and did something reckless," Mrs Jeon reveals with a chuckle.

You subtly glance at the man and his pursed lips seem to be holding back laughter. Honestly, kissing you would have been less permanently damaging for him than getting all these tattoos and piercings is.

The conversation moves through more loops, the two of you seamlessly pulling stuff out of the spreadsheet you’ve prepared and memorized, until Jungkook's growling stomach interrupts your party of four.

Mrs Jeon checks her phone and gasps. "Oh dear, is it five already? Time flies when you're having fun!"

Jungkook rolls his eyes so hard, you fear his eyeballs would fall out.

You bid the two women goodbye, soon after, and settle onto your couch with some reheated leftover fried rice and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. It's sorely lacking your comfort character – Chris Evans' ass, yep – but Jungkook's hands massaging your boobs sort of makes up for it.

Until he's pulling you beneath him and guiding his cock into you just as the final fighting scene of the movie reaches its climax. And then you're fucking against the background score of Fleetwood Mac's The Chain.

"I'm really fucking done playing secretary for you."

You flutter your lashes up with a wide, sweet smile aimed at a scowling Min Yoongi standing at your office's doors.

"No, don't smile at me, hire an assistant!" He scoffs. "Or better yet, don't go missing from your office without informing anybody. We know you're in your honeymoon phase but can you not keep your hands off of each other for a few hours?"

"You're just bitter ’cause your wife doesn't work here," you say without missing a beat, and with the way Yoongi's cheeks flush pink, you know you've nailed it. A loud laugh escapes you. "Yoongi, you jealous baby!"

He just sighs. "Do you or don't you wanna know what Chairman Jeon wants?"

You straighten in your seat and raise your palms up in surrender. "I'm sorry – please be a dear friend and convey the message?"

"He wants you to see him in his office."

"What? Wha—why didn't you lead with that?" You shoot out of your seat and quickly collect your bag to rush out of the office.

Yoongi hollers with laughter behind you. "Hire an assistant!"

Through the elevators and up to your boss' floor in record time, you pause before the huge double doors and correct your breathing pattern before you can knock.

"Come on in, Prez!"

Wait—

Jungkook's in there?

Frowning a little, you push the doors open tentatively and find the guy sitting in one of his dad's guest chairs opposite the man's huge ass desk. You drily swallow and walk up to the other vacant chair.

The Chairman is busy with something on his computer, and Jungkook's face is grim.

Your nerves immediately short circuit.

"Um, good morning, sir."

Chairman Jeon gives a nod, but his expressions don't change – and he doesn't look at you. You turn to eye his son with questions in your gaze, hoping to see something on his face. But Jungkook's a blank slate, business-like with an impenetrable mask on.

"Congratulations."

You jump at Chairman Jeon's sudden words.

Clearing your throat, you look at Jungkook again, only to find his face twisted in a wince. What the hell?

"Tha–thank you, sir."

Chairman Jeon frowns at you. "Oh? Won't you even ask what the congratulations are for?"

More confused than ever, you blink at the man – and then at his son who now has a palm covering his whole face. You kinda wanna run out of here. "I… Certainly for the… engagement…?"

A hum comes from the older Jeon as he removes his reading glasses and steeples his fingers beneath his chin. There's a very knowing look on his face that makes you wanna hide behind a hand like Jungkook.

He eyes both of you for a couple of seconds. "The engagement, hm? Is there even an engagement to congratulate you for, kid?"

Chills run across your body, freezing the blood in your veins and turning you to stone.

He knows.

He somehow found out.

This is why Jungkook looked the way he did.

Your ruse is over.

There is a white noise in your head that makes it difficult for you to even contemplate how he might have come to know. Panic builds up in you and you clutch the leather armrests of the chair with your nails, digging into them to ground yourself.

But nothing works.

It's over.

You can kiss the promotion you did this for goodbye forever. It would be generous of Chairman Jeon to let you continue in your current role, to be quite honest.

Oh fuck, what the hell has happened…

"I take that silence as a no," Chairman Jeon continues with a sigh. "What, then, could I possibly be congratulating you for?"

You hang your head with a wince, not unlike Jungkook, and mumble, "For being a giant idiot?"

He laughs, then, filling the frigid air with familial warmth. You and Jungkook both look up in surprise.

"Two giant idiots, because this one could have snapped you out of it instead of playing along." He points a finger at his son, and Jungkook juts his lower lip out in a pout. "But, no. I knew the engagement wasn't true the moment you impulsively announced it, Y/N."

Both you and Jungkook give dramatic gasps – and then glare at each other in reprimand.

"What – what do you mean, dad?"

"It was quite obvious with the way she suddenly blurted it out," Chairman Jeon explains with a wave of his hand. "Both of your mothers are too emotional and her father is too self-absorbed to see the signs."

You feel so ashamed, you want the floor to swallow you up. "Chairman Jeon, I'm so so—"

"Nothing to apologize for, kid," the man cuts you off with a sad smile. "I wouldn't have known how to handle myself had my dad said half of the words yours did."

Your eyes water at the parental affection in Mister Jeon's gaze. Why didn't he adopt you when you were babies? Maybe you and Jungkook would have become friends if you were forced to be step-siblings.

No, but knowing him, man would have probably seduced you into some sinful, forbidden trysts.

"What you did happened at a family dinner, personal and outside of the office. The repercussions for your lies – if you aren't able to get out of them easily – will be handled by us, as a family." Chairman Jeon frowns at you both. "None of that reflects upon your hard work at the office, and hence, it would be unfair to have it tamper with the decisions that are made about your future with the company."

Your mouth begins to fall open as pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place. Jungkook's hand reaches for you, fingers entwining with yours as Chairman Jeon's smile returns.

“I'm congratulating you for your new role, Miss Vice Chairperson. You begin tomorrow. Take today to move to your new office on this floor."

Everything fades away then, Jungkook's hand being the only thing that anchors you to this world. Tears flood your eyes, then flow down your face, small sobs making your body shake as you tentatively rise to your feet and give a deep bow to the Chairman.

"S–sir… I… th–thank you, sir…"

"This role was always going to be yours, kid. No matter what anyone said to me."

Jungkook helps you walk out of the office on jittery steps, and once you're outside – he crushes you to your chest with a sob of his own. You hold onto his dress shirt and allow yourself to dissolve into loud, wracking wails.

"You did it, you did it, you fucking did it," Jungkook mumbles into your neck, lifting you off the ground to twirl you around. "You did it!"

When he places you down and wipes at your face, you waste no time in pulling his own tear streaked face down for a kiss.

"Wanna escape into the janitor’s closet to celebrate?" he mumbles between pulls of teeth, tugging you to him. "One final time as fiancés?"

You giggle at the invitation, but allow him to pull you into a closet next to his office on the floor.

That evening, things officially go back to normal.

You and Jungkook stage a fight right outside the elevators on your floor, after which you angrily tell Yoongi that he was brave for marrying a 'rich spoilt brat' because you could never do that. He gapes at you and you just storm into your office.

Belatedly, it occurs to both you and Jungkook that people will connect the called off engagement to your promotion, but you both couldn't care less. You'll still be getting into each other's pants – hopefully more often than before, given your new office's proximity to his.

Haeri looks more concerned than ever when you go up to Jungkook's office to collect your 'special pens' that he'd borrowed. You don't even fucking know what that's about so you just grab a handful of stationery from his drawer and storm out.

Admittedly, breaking up ends up being a lot more fun than you'd anticipated.

Eventually, when you go back home at the end of the day, Jungkook follows you back to your place for 'some celebratory dicking down' as he eloquently terms it. There is a lot of dicking down that ends up happening, until you're spent in each other's arms, laughing at the ridiculousness of your situation at 1 am.

"And now I will officially hire an assistant and get rid of Yoongi's taunts," you confess with a snort, at which Jungkook turns to look at you.

"Not a runway model this time, hopefully?"

You narrow your eyes at him, recalling Yoongi's words from last week. "Why? Jealous?"

There's a fire burning behind Jungkook's eyes at your words, and you eagerly anticipate the yes he'll give you. You wanna discuss it, too.

Because yes, things have gone back to normal, but something has shifted between you two over the span of these eight days. Especially after Saturday night, when you cried in his arms and he made you feel like the most cherished and precious human being in the world. A line was crossed that night – you can never go back to claiming to 'hate' him. Not when you're standing very close to the exact opposite emotion on the wheel.

His words accompanied by his soft kisses and softer looks echo in your head.

If he isn’t man enough to be proud of you, his loss. You’re magnificent either way.

He's magnificent, too, and you wanted to tell him so, that very night. You were so overcome by your grief that you missed it. But you're ready to do it now – ready to bare all that has been building up in you, if only he'd give you the indication you're looking for.

A familiar fond smile overtakes his face. "Why? Do you want me to be?"

Your eyes narrow. If this is the game he wants to play, you can definitely one-up him.

"How about I tell you that tomorrow – in that janitor’s closet that is strategically equidistant from both our offices, hm?"

His eyes darken and you revel in the power that gives you. "I can get behind that…"

You giggle at his breathless voice and then move to straddle his naked body with your equally bare one. "Wanna get beneath me, first?"

"Always a pleasure, Miss Vice Chairperson."

Jungkook really, truly, thoroughly likes you.

He does.

Shit, he really does.

He has admitted it to himself and he’s ready to admit it to you. Confess it to you. When just thinking about it makes his stomach churn with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, he wonders how the hell is he gonna stand before you and actually say the words?

But he will do it.

It has been a long time coming, these feelings. Something has been developing beneath the surface since you both started sleeping together. Even before that for Jungkook, in fact, because the way riling you up and watching you get mad used to make him feel cannot exactly be dismissed as just harmless fun. He was endeared.

In fact, to be very honest, he believes you have actually endeared him for a very long time. The past few days he spent as your pretend fiancé, though? They solidified it for him. Made him more certain of where his heart is, and gave him a much needed insight into where yours could possibly be. Because he isn’t courageous enough to stay unfazed in the face of brutal rejection from you. Or maybe he likes you too much? Either way, it would devastate him if he told you he cared about you and you laughed in his face.

Jungkook bites back a physical shudder at the imaginary scenario.

But no. That’s not gonna happen now. Because now he knows it hasn’t all been just meaningless sex for you. Even if last night’s jealousy conversation and Saturday's sleepover didn’t basically spell it out for him, he had slowly begun to realize the way things have changed between you both. He knew you’d grown to respect him during his time as the CEO, and he knows you’ve grown to maybe, kinda, somewhat like him during his time as your fake fiancé.

He takes a deep breath and corrects the collars and cuffs of his blue and white pinstripe shirt beneath his beige suit jacket as he walks to your new office on Tuesday morning.

Peering through the glass wall, he waves at you, barely holding back a giggle at the delighted grin you flash at him. You're dressed very prettily today, as per usual, in a baby blue button-down formal shirt and a darker pencil skirt. You both really end up accidentally coordinating outfits more often than not.

Jungkook isn't very sure how he's gonna talk to you – he hasn't prepared a script, not even a vague outline – but he's very confident in what he feels. And looking at the sparkle in your eyes, it seems like you are as well.

Isn’t that enough?

Inhaling, he pushes the door open to greet you with a loud, cheery, “Hey, happy first day, Miss Vice Chairperson!”

Your face glows with an adorable blush and Jungkook takes the liberty to lean across the desk to plant a peck on your cheek. “Wha—Kook!” you gasp in surprise, but then just laugh. “We broke up yesterday. Have some shame!”

Winking, he sits across from you. “I will, once we’ve visited the janitor’s closet.”

A hand comes up to cover your mouth, and Jungkook wonders if you are covering up a gasp or a giggle. Knowing you, it’s probably the latter. Then, lowering your voice, you lean across the desk and whisper: “It’s barely even nine. We were fucking till two.”

This time Jungkook gives an exaggerated gasp. “Wow, woman, fucking your fiancé the day you broke up with him? Where’s your shame?”

You throw your head back in a laughter and Jungkook just sits back with his eyes wide and lips curved up, admiring you. His concentration is broken when your phone suddenly rings on your desk. It’s Yoongi. You accept the call and put it on speaker.

“Good morning, Director Min, this is your new VC speaking!”

Yoongi's wince echoes around your office, making Jungkook bite back a snicker. "Good morning, new VC, can we not scream at nine am, please? I haven't even finished my first coffee of the day…"

"Don't you have a coffee maker at home?"

"We do, but Nari hoards it."

Jungkook stifles another laugh, and mouths 'trouble in paradise' to you. You give him a stern glare even as your lips twitch, and he feels his heart swell up with adoration. Damn, you're perfect.

"What I was going to say before you so rudely screeched in my ear," Yoongi speaks over your teasing coos, "is that you've got a visitor."

You sit up straight. "A visitor? Who?"

"Ah… He – he told me not to say."

Jungkook frowns at you and you mirror his expressions. You gaze into space, seemingly straining your brain. "Is it… a friend?"

"Mm hm, he says he is."

Your eyes suddenly widen. "Wait, is it Jimin? Tell me it's Jimin!"

The scowl that scrunches up Jungkook's face is almost reflexive. He knows it's immature and irrational, but the sheer relief in your voice that the mere thought of seeing Park Jimin brings out, makes Jungkook wanna punch the man.

He hopes Jimin isn't here to see you. Or, holy fuck, to join you as an assistant again. Jungkook has nearly ran the guy over with his car in the past, and he won't hesitate to do it again – perhaps even succeed this time.

Yoongi doesn't make it any easier with his ambiguous, "Maybe, maybe not. I'm not supposed to reveal it."

"What the—are you being held at gunpoint?" You squint at your phone. "Cough twice if you need rescuing, Director Min!"

But the guy laughs. "Please just come down to my office and see for yourself. And, uh, bring CEO Jeon as well…if it's okay with you."

Whoops, Jungkook nearly forgot about the break-up. Wow, will the two of you have to put up a hatred act in front of your colleagues? After yesterday's very ceremonious fight, you may have to.

And you haven't even revealed anything to your crazy mothers yet. Let alone your clinically insane father. Shit, even thinking about it tires Jungkook out.

"No, it's fine. I can be professional when I want to, Yoongi."

"Mm hm, we'll see about that when you get here and meet this guest…"

Okay, now Jungkook is very curious. You don't have some estranged sibling that he doesn't know about, do you?

Disconnecting the call with a roll of your eyes, you pout your lips and frown at him. "Who the hell could it be?"

Jungkook scratches his cheek. "A...friend?"

"Friend." You look at him with a deadpan as the two of you walk out of the office. "I don't have friends, Kook. Thought you knew that."

Well, yeah, he does. He, Yoongi and Haeri are the closest people to friends you have in your life because you spent all your teenage years with barely any social interaction. You had a boyfriend for a couple of months, but you’d treated Taehyung as more of a burden than someone you had an emotional connection to. He doubts the guy would be gutsy enough to come see you all these years later when you dumped him on Valentine's Day.

There was a TA in your post-grad college that you were close to, but Seokjin cut off all connections with you after you graduated. So – wait, this guest person could be him. But if it is, he has some balls of steel to be barging into your workplace and then planning a surprise reveal. Like, what if you're not happy to see him? Jungkook doesn't think you will be.

And then there was that one guy in high school. A year senior. Handsome, cheerful, always smiling and dazzling everyone with his charming persona. Your crush.

Jungkook roughly swallows when memories of high school rush back to him.

He does not necessarily feel threatened by the thought, because what does a high school crush mean when you're in your late twenties? But at the same time, it could mean a lot to someone who doesn't have a lot of people in her life.

"I really hope it's not fucking Seokjin, that asshole literally ghosted you," he grumbles, earning a surprised laugh from you.

"You know, it's uncanny how well you know shit about me." You side-eye him, and he winks at you.

"It's because of the BFF juice our parents fed us as kids."

It's actually because your moms always gossip about each other's kid and then tell their kids about it, and you both know it, so you just giggle at his joke. He used to make fun of you for being a loner. But looking at you now, holding the second most prestigious rank in a company you joined at an entry level – being a loner sure has paid off.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook glances at your face which is drawn tight in curiosity, and tries to relax himself about this guest thing. Even if it is Jimin, or that guy from high school, it's going to be fine. Today is an important day. Today is the day Jungkook's going to tell you how he feels about you, and you're going to tell him you feel the same.

It's going to be fine.

As you both step out of elevator and begin to near Yoongi's office, Jungkook tells himself that in the face of everything that's been building up between the two of you, you probably don't even remember the name of a stupid, high school crush—

"What the actual—Jung Hoseok?"

—or maybe you do?

Maybe it's all not going to be that fine, after all…

Everything seems to slow down – his steps, his breathing, the time – as a tall, handsome, extremely well dressed guy steps out of Yoongi's office and literally sweeps you off your feet with the force of his hug.

Right in front of Yoongi.

Right in front of Jungkook's wide eyes and gaping mouth.

Your giggles topple over themselves, spilling around your body that is raised above the ground and is being spun around by an equally giggly Jung Hoseok, and it becomes hard and harder yet for Jungkook to take a single more step further.

He stays rooted to his place, briefly meeting Yoongi's eyes that look just as surprised as his own, before even that stare breaks when Hoseok carries you inside the office and drops you in one of the chairs, both of your giggles never pausing for a single second.

What the hell?

Here he was, wondering if you even remembered Hoseok's name, and there you are – laughing with the guy, painting the perfect picture for two estranged lovers' reunion.

Wait, are you estranged lovers? Jungkook knows nothing of the sort, but…

There's a limit to his knowledge. Maybe you and Hoseok are exes and maybe you kept the relationship so secret, even your mom doesn't know. Which is how he never found out. You're good at keeping relationships secret, after all; he would know.

He stays standing a few feet away from the door, still watching the way the you and Hoseok talk with very similar, theatrical hand gestures, laughing endlessly. He never thought that the brightness in your eyes could ever make him feel anything short of elated, proud and at the top of the world. But right now? It hurts.

Because the luminescence of your gaze that Jungkook spent the past week and a half celebrating has nothing on the sparkles that you direct at Hoseok's own generally bright aura. If this is how wide your grin can be, Jungkook must have been doing a shitty job of making you smile so far because you never looked half this happy with him.

His throat suddenly constricts over a lump of emotions when it hits him – harder and sharper, more painful than anything he has felt in his entire life:

You've never looked half this happy with him.

You really haven't.

God, what the fuck has he been doing? What the fuck has he been thinking?

It has been a gigantically stupid misunderstanding, hasn’t it?

You hate him. You have hated him since you both were six, and Jungkook has only worked to cement those very emotions in you over the past twenty years.

Did he honestly think that you'd grown to like him, that you'd overcome every negative emotion you have felt over two literal decades in a mere week, and, what? That you'd magically fallen for him as hard as he has? That you would… actually want something with him the way he does with you? Why would you? Whatever it was you were gonna say to him last night must have been a misunderstanding. A huge, stupid misunderstanding because he obviously must have misread you with his rose tinted glasses.

Because you? This version of you, carefree and happy and…borderline in love with Hoseok? You could not possibly be talking about having any feelings for Jungkook.

Fuck.

All the courage Jungkook had worked up in this time spent with you, basing off of your delicate smiles and blushing cheeks and the vulnerable moments you'd shared with him – it all comes crashing down.

You do not feel the same.

He’s alone.

His eyes are burning and it's difficult to breathe all of a sudden. He needs to stop looking at you. He needs to leave. He needs to…not fall for you any deeper than he has.

He needs to stop feeling.

But like a perfectly venom coated blade aimed at the perfect moment, you look up and catch Jungkook's gaze, happiness spilling off your entire face. He attempts to tug his lips into an excuse of a smile, but he knows he has failed because his lips fucking quiver with the effort of keeping his emotions in check.

But you keep grinning the way you were. You don't notice his fake smile. Which just goes on to confirm for him how little of him you know; how little he matters; how little he means.

And as if he needed literally anything more, you raise a hand up to wave at him, yelling out: “Jeon! Look who’s here! Come join us!”

He doesn't know what's worse, the ease with which his family name rolls off of your tongue as if you didn't spend all these days calling him by a name that was so special to him, or the fact that you probably never realized what your calling him Kook meant to him.

His head, his eyes, his heart hurts. A bit too much. More than it should.

So he seals everything beneath the row of his teeth that he flashes at you, and walks up to Hoseok to forward a hand for the man to shake. "Hoseok hyung."

Hoseok, bless his soul, grabs his hand and gets up to pull Jungkook into a hug. “Ah, man, it's been years! You’ve changed, Jaykay!”

You scrunch your nose at him playfully when Hoseok sits down again. “Has he?”

Your hand on Hoseok’s shoulder looks like it belongs there. And the grins you both share have no room for a third person. Even Yoongi looks awkward as heck.

Jungkook needs to get out of here before he bursts a vein.

"You, uh, you guys obviously have a lot of, um… catching up to do," he fumbles through his sentence, sending a desperate look towards Yoongi. Given the fight you both staged yesterday, the older man seems to be interpreting Jungkook’s discomfort under a whole different light, but it works. “Director Min, you wanna grab a coffee?”

Yoongi gives Jungkook's shoulder a comforting squeeze before quickly shaking Hoseok's hand, and then walks out of the office after him.

When Jungkook looks over his shoulder, your eyes are shut in laughter again. A painful smile twisting his own lips, he breathes in and turns away.

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