shlutting banging-tan

By the time you get back to the apartment, Madrid is still holding onto the day's heat.

It lingers in the stone stairwell, in the brass handrail touched by a hundred hands, and in the rented apartment itself despite every window being thrown open. The ceiling fan pushes the air around more out of politeness than effectiveness, a necessity now that the AC had decided to stall since yesterday. 

Jungkook drops his key onto the little ceramic dish by the door and disappears down the hallway without a word. You toe your sandals off. There's a faint ringing in your ears from the earlier soundcheck. Not unpleasant, but just the residue of bass vibrating through your ribs for the better part of an afternoon.

A minute later, you hear the bathroom tap running. You occupy yourself with some mindless channel flicking and an ice lolly. The heat in Europe was incredible. 

"Hey, baby?” Jungkook calls from inside a short while after. “Can you grab me a towel please?"

You pull one from the rack outside the bathroom before nudging the door open with your shoulder. He takes it with a distracted thanks, already rubbing it through his hair.

"One more down,” you say. “You survived the heat." 

"Barely."

"You looked pretty alive out there."

"Trust me, I wasn't by the end,” he laughs quietly, drying at the back of his neck. "This sun is something else."

You think about the stadium, rows upon rows of empty seats waiting to be filled tomorrow, and the white stage reflecting every bit of afternoon light. The crew darting around with clipboards while Jungkook wandered across the platform in black cargo pants and absolutely nothing else, lifting bottles of water from coolers, chatting with the dancers, gesturing to the enthusiastic crowd gathered around the platforms, stretching between songs as though sixty thousand plus people weren't about to lose their minds over rehearsal footage.

He hadn't seemed aware of it, or maybe he'd simply learned there was no point thinking about it. It was hot, so he had opted not to wear a shirt. End of story.

He emerges from the bathroom still towelling his hair. You catch sight of him the moment he walks into the room, and your breath hitches before you can pretend it doesn't. He’s shirtless, fresh from the shower, droplets of water still tracing lazy paths down his skin. His dark hair is slightly damp, falling across his forehead in a way that makes him look effortlessly handsome. Every movement is relaxed, almost unaware of the effect he has on you.

Your eyes wander before you can stop them.

His shoulders are broad, his arms toned from countless hours of training, and the definition across his chest and stomach catches the light with every step he takes. It's not just that he's fit, it's the quiet confidence he carries without trying. The tattoos winding down his arm only make him more captivating, each one feeling like another piece of the man you've come to know.

You smile to yourself because he's still the same person who laughs so cutely at his own jokes, steals bites from your plate, and reaches for your hand protectively without thinking.

He notices you staring and a slow, teasing grin spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "What?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head, trying to play it off, but your flushing cheeks betray you. "Nothing."

He raises an eyebrow, taking another step closer until he's standing right in front of you, treating your nose to the woodsy scent of his shampoo mixing with the scent of him. "Nothing?" he repeats, clearly unconvinced.

You can't help but laugh. "Stop it."

"You don’t want that really," he says with a smug little smile. “I can tell.”

He's right of course. 

You roll your eyes, but your gaze drifts back to him anyway. Not because he's topless, or because anyone would agree he's incredibly attractive, but because he's your boyfriend, the person who can make your heart race with nothing more than a doe-eyed smile.

You reach out, resting a hand lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He immediately covers your hand with his own, his expression softening into something tender and affectionate. For a moment, the teasing disappears. It's just the two of you, standing close enough that everything else fades into the background.

You smile up at him, still wondering how you had gotten lucky enough to call him yours. And then you notice it, his skin slightly pink across the tops of his shoulders. You frown. "You might have caught just a bit too much sun."

"Hm?"

"Turn around,” you instruct, making twirling motions with your hand. 

He does without asking why. You disappear into your overnight bag and find the bottle of aloe gel some sixth sense had insisted on packing.

"You packed that?"

"I've met you."

Jungkook huffs, almost childlike. "You make me sound so predictable."

He could be so endearing, but you force yourself to remain resolute. He already got away with too much with those big, round eyes that widen at you so innocently. "You wore sunscreen on your face and nowhere else,” you chide softly. “Didn’t you see the ferocity of that huge, bright thing in the sky?”

He chuckles sheepishly. "Uh... I thought about it, but the staff didn’t bring it up, so I guess I forgot about it. Sorry."

You tut mildly. "Thinking about something isn't the same thing as doing it, Koo,” you say. “You can’t rely on the staff for every little thing. They’re dealing with seven of you all at once you know. Sunscreen isn’t optional, it’s a necessity.”

He huffs a laugh. "I know, I know,” he says. “I got it.”

He earns a side eye for that. 

“But I did have a jacket,” he protests, unable to let it drop. 

“Fat lot of good that did,” you quip. “You might as well have gone without for all the protection that gave you.”

You squeeze cool gel into your palm. Jungkook flinches the second it touches his shoulders. "That's freezing!” he complains, pulling back and scrunching up his face. 

"I'll remember to heat it for you over an open flame next time,” you retort unsympathetically. 

He does look super cute though. 

"I’d appreciate it,” he plays along, equally unfazed. 

"Koo—," you warn seriously. “You’ll burn if I don’t do this, and whose fault will that be?”

"Okay, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice softer now. “I’ll keep still. Go on.”

He stands there while you spread the gel carefully across the tops of his shoulders, over the place where the straps of a backpack would sit if he'd been carrying one. He smells faintly of clean soap now, underneath the salt left from the afternoon.

"You missed a bit,” he grins. 

"You say that very confidently,” you smile back sweetly. “—For someone who forgets to put on sunscreen in over ninety degrees.”

He nods solemnly, accepting the verdict. “Yeah…”

You laugh. He’s adorable when he actually loses out to you, his pierced lips pouting alluringly. You wonder for the millionth time if he knew just how sexy he was. 

"There,” you announce, rubbing in the last of the lotion into him. “All done.”

Jungkook rolls one shoulder experimentally. "That’s better."

"You'll thank me tomorrow."

He wanders into the kitchen while you screw the lid back onto the bottle. You hear the fridge open then close, then open again. 

"What are you looking for?" you ask curiously, sauntering towards the sounds. No day was complete without Jungkook having at least five different fridge raids at various points. It bordered on comical sometimes. 

"I don't know yet."

"That’s helpful."

"I'll know when I see it."

You find Jungkook staring into the shelves with complete concentration, one hand braced against the fridge door, his muscular arm on show. You resist the urge to go over and run your hand along it. 

"You've got fruit,” he announces. 

"Yes, you know how much I love my fruit,” you reply. 

"And iced tea."

"Mmhmm."

"Water."

"Are you going to give me a full inventory of the fridge, Koo?”

He considers this a moment before finally responding. "Not exactly. I'm just trying to decide,” he states. “But I haven’t reached a conclusion yet.”

You lean against the doorway, watching him in fascination. "I think rehearsals have melted your brain."

"They definitely melted something,” he mutters, eventually emerging holding a peach. "The winner."

"Strong choice."

"I've been thinking about it since lunch."

"You've been thinking about peaches for four hours?" you echo in disbelief. 

Jungkook shrugs. "You know what it’s like when I want something. I commit."

He rinses it under the tap before taking a bite. Juice immediately runs down his thumb, and you contemplate rushing over and sucking it off his skin. Instead, you efficiently tear off and hold out a paper towel to him. 

He takes it without looking. "Thanks."

"You would've wiped that on your trousers."

He laughs. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

You shoot him a look. 

The sun has begun slipping lower by the time you carry two glasses of chilled water out onto the balcony. Compared to the fast-paced bustle of the day, things seem different now, far less hurried and tranquil. People are appearing at café tables that had sat empty through the hottest part of the afternoon, the light summer evening breeze welcoming as music crackles from an apartment across the street.

Jungkook settles into the chair opposite yours but then seems to decide that chairs aren’t for him. Deftly, he slides onto the tiled floor instead, back against the wall, one knee bent as he messes his hair boyishly with one inked hand. You swallow, heat rising in you. Why did he have the ability to make everything look so illegally, sizzling hot. 

"You know," he says after a while, "I think I like this city most around now."

A couple walks slowly below, sharing a paper bag of cherries, and someone whistles for a dog. “I think I know what you mean,” you agree, looking over at him. 

He looks so pensive and there’s a calmness that stretches over his handsome features that are painted golden by the last rays of the setting sun. He looks stunning. 

You sigh. "You don't get evenings like this at home very often.” 

"No."

He watches a flock of birds wheel between rooftops. "I forget people can just be sometimes."

You smile into your glass. “Sometimes.”

“I was thinking—,” he begins. 

“Oh no,” you interject quicky. “Anytime you start a sentence with that, I somehow end up on trips that involve multiple shopping bags."

"I bought one cookbook."

"You bought four."

"There were recipes!” he exclaims. “I needed them.”

"They were in Spanish, Koo."

"I like a challenge,” he grins, tipping his head back against the wall.

"I knew there was a reason that I needed to pack an extra suitcase,” you state. 

"Did I ever tell you how brilliant you are?”

You shake your head. "I just had a feeling."

The breeze catches his hair, which is drying fast. Without the stage lights, in-ear monitors and microphones, Jungkook looks younger somehow, carefree. Less like the person the stadium had watched this afternoon and more like the one who insists on buying chocolate bars because they’re ‘so yummy’. 

You reach over to brush away a tiny feather that sits on his shoulder. It must have drifted onto him without either of you noticing.

He glances up. "What was it?"

"You were under attack,” you say, holding the feather up between two fingers.

He grins like a little bunny and your heart flutters. "My bodyguard."

“Of course,” you say, blowing him an air kiss and watching as he blushes. "You know you walked across an entire stadium barefoot today?”

"The floor was clean."

"You also stole three electrolyte drinks."

He pulls a face. "I don't think 'stole' is fair."

“They were Seokjin’s! Can’t you just own it?” you say. “I saw you. So did Jimin. He’s just too nice to say anything.”

“Alright, I may have borrowed one or two. I was thirsty and mine were warm.”

You laugh hard enough that your water almost spills. “Borrowed?” you guffaw. “Where do you come up with this stuff?” 

"I’ve been waiting to hear you laugh all day,” he says softly, throwing you entirely.

"Were you?" you ask, surprised. 

“Yeah, I was,” he replies. “I know it’s not easy being dragged around in all this.”

“As long as I’m with you, I’ll be fine,” you tell him, suddenly sober. 

He reaches out, almost absent-mindedly, and hooks two fingers around your wrist. Your chair is too far away, and you slide down onto the floor beside him instead, nestling in automatically towards his body. Neither of you says anything, listening to the sounds of a guitar that drifts in and out with the breeze as a church bell marks the hour. 

Jungkook turns to you. "I'm glad you came,” he says gently. “I know that sounds obvious and probably corny.”

You blink. "No, it doesn't."

"I just—" He searches for the right words. "Some places are nicer when someone else remembers them too."

You look out across the city glowing amber in the last of the sun. "I'll remember."

His thumb brushes lightly against your skin, causing a delicious shiver to run up your spine. Then he leans in and his lips meet yours for a moment, warm and tender and full of love. "Tomorrow's going to be loud," he murmurs. "I'm borrowing five quiet minutes now."

You smile. "I think you've had more than five."

Jungkook glances at the fading sky. "You're right,” he concedes. “But I might need another five.”

You laugh softly. "Greedy."

"Maybe a little."

“Hey, Koo—” you whisper, your hand travelling across the expanse of his lean, muscular torso, loving the smooth heated feel of his skin beneath your fingertips. He’s so fine. “You know everyone’s gonna be going crazy, right?”

He chuckles lightly. “Probably,” he says. “It still takes some getting used to.”

“It’ll be worse this time,” you tell him. “You were shirtless.”

He stills for a beat, gathering you closer and placing a kiss at your crown. “Does it bother you?”

You shake your head. “No, not really,” you reply. “I know what it is you do.”

“Really?” He sounds slightly disappointed and you look up at him questioningly. “What?” he says defensively. “Can’t I be a bit gutted my girl isn’t jealous about other people staring at my body?”

You smile. “But it’s me who gets to touch it, Koo, right?” you say knowingly, your hand going lower to caress over his bare abdomen. “—Every. Single. Night.”

He grins back. “And day,” he adds huskily. 

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth this time, softer than before. Then your forehead, and then your temple. Each kiss is slow and unhurried, like he's collecting moments instead of spending them. 

Meanwhile, the sun dips lower and shadows stretch across the skyline as you rest your head against his shoulder. His arm settles naturally around your waist, words becoming unnecessary as the evening folds around the two of you. 

“I mean it, Y/N,” Jungkook says, voice laden with sincerity. “I am glad you came. There’s nobody else I want beside me more.”

You feel so fully content as Madrid slowly trades sunlight for the first glow of its streetlamps, the warmth of Jungkook’s body beside you as you feel his kisses on your brow. 

“I love you,” he whispers by your ear. “Home, here, anywhere and always.”

You look into his eyes and smile. “Same.”

thanks for reading ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

"Let's check out the beer house tonight." Hanni said, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "I heard it's packed with rich people on Fridays."

Your brows knitted together. "A beer house?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Hanni's lips. She swept her dark hair into a messy bun before pulling out the chair beside the table, giving the seat a light tap as she gestured for you to sit.

The moment you settled across from her, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned in…There was a familiar gleam in her eyes—the kind that only appeared whenever she had a new scheme brewing. 

"It's one of the most popular beer houses in the city," she explained. "The drinks alone cost more than what we spend on groceries in a week. People who go there don't think twice before throwing money around, which means they're exactly the kind of people we're looking for."

You couldn't help but picture it.

Crowded tables, loud music and half-empty bottles scattered across polished wooden counters. Men laughing far too loudly, their faces flushed from alcohol, expensive watches gleaming beneath the dim lights while thick leather wallets bulged inside the pockets of tailored trousers.

You frowned, unease settling in your chest.

"I'm pretty sure it'll be full of drunk old men, Hanni." you rested your chin against your palm. “Doesn't that sound a little... dangerous?”

Hanni dismissed the concern with a careless wave of her hand.

"They'll be too wasted to notice us," she said with a shrug. "Besides, those are the guys with money. A few missing bills won't even cross their minds."

She leaned even closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to reveal the greatest secret in the world.

"Just give them a sweet smile," she said, the corners of her lips curling into something dangerously playful. "Make them think you've taken an interest in them. Laugh at their terrible jokes, let them believe they're charming..." 

She snapped her fingers between the two of you. "And before they even realize what's happening, you've already walked away with their wallet—or better yet, their credit cards."

A life built on stolen fortunes, calculated manipulation, and carefully crafted deception.

The words no longer sting the way they used to. They've become as familiar as your own name, each one another thread woven into the person you've become. What once filled you with guilt now slips through your fingers as though it was never yours to carry.

Perhaps that's what desperation does.

It doesn't ask you to become someone else. It simply teaches you how to live with the stranger you've become.

Earlier that evening, you and Hanni gathered everything you had stolen throughout the month, laying each piece across the small wooden table between you.

"We only gathered six hundred dollars this month, Y/N... This won't be enough."

A phone, a handful of jewelry, two wallets, and a watch clattered against the worn wood before settling into a messy pile.

"This won't cover this month's rent..." she let out a weary sigh, her manicured nails tapping absentmindedly against the tabletop as she stared at the stolen valuables and the few crumpled bills scattered between them. "And we still have enrollment next month."

Your lips fell into a pout. "But the jewelry I stole is real gold."

You reached for the bracelet, turning it beneath the light. The polished links gleamed against your fingers.

Hanni only sighed again, the exhaustion in her expression deepening.

"It's low-karat gold, Y/N. And there's barely enough of it to be worth anything." she rubbed her temple before glancing at the rest of the pile. "If you manage to steal more next time, maybe we'll actually get something decent for it."

You looked back down at the bracelet, the weight of her words settling heavier than the gold resting in your palm.

You weren't born into wealth…from kindergarten until the day you graduated high school, scholarships carried you through your education. Without them, you doubted you would've made it that far. 

College was different.

Moving out had seemed like the responsible decision at the time. Renting a small apartment near the university was cheaper than spending money on transportation every day between your hometown and campus, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for more than they were already giving. 

So you packed your clothes into two worn-out bags, hugged your mother goodbye, listened to your father's endless reminders to eat properly, and promised them you would be fine.

Your father spent his days baking homemade bread before the sun had fully risen, while your mother worked quietly as a bookkeeper, carefully balancing numbers that never seemed to balance in your own household. Together, they earned just enough to keep food on the table and a roof over your heads.

Needs always came first.

Wants became something you learned to admire from a distance.

Yet, strangely enough, you never felt deprived.

Your home was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where everybody knew everybody, but it was always filled with warmth. 

While your classmates spoke about family vacations abroad, arrived at school carrying luxury handbags, and replaced perfectly good shoes simply because a newer pair had been released, you found comfort in simpler things. 

The smell of freshly baked bread lingering in the kitchen before sunrise. The sound of your father humming while kneading dough. Your mother's gentle voice reminding you not to skip breakfast, even when she knew you were running late.

You loved that life.

More importantly, you loved the people who gave it to you.

Which was why, when college came, you couldn't bear the thought of asking them for more. Every dollar they handed you felt heavier than the last, weighted by sacrifices they never spoke about but could never hide. 

You watched your father work longer hours. You noticed your mother's tired eyes after another day spent staring at ledgers and receipts. They never complained…not once—but love has a way of revealing exhaustion long before words ever do.

So you promised yourself that you would become lighter.

You moved out. You searched for part-time jobs. You told yourself that no matter how difficult life became, you would survive without asking your parents to carry you any farther.

You really believed honest work would be enough.

Finding a cheap apartment hadn't been easy, and if there was one stroke of luck you could still thank the universe for, it was meeting Hanni.

You found her through a post looking for a roommate. She needed someone to split the rent, and you needed somewhere you could actually afford. 

The apartment sat only a few minutes away from the university, saving you the transportation costs you had spent countless nights calculating over and over again.

Hanni turned out to be easier to live with than you expected. She wasn't the type to spend recklessly or chase after things she didn't need. Like you, she stretched every dollar until there was nothing left to stretch. 

For the first few months, you lived off your savings.

Each rent payment made the envelope thinner. Each grocery trip reminded you that numbers disappeared far quicker than they were earned. You searched for work every chance you got, walking into cafés, convenience stores, restaurants—any place with a "Now Hiring" sign taped to the window.

When a fast-food restaurant finally hired you as a server, you thought things were finally looking up.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been so relieved. The excitement, however, didn't last very long.

The paycheck barely reached your hands before it already belonged somewhere else. Half disappeared into rent. Another portion went to groceries, transportation, and the endless expenses college quietly demanded. 

Scholarships covered your tuition, but not everything else. There were laboratory fees, books that professors insisted were mandatory, printed materials, projects, uniforms, and countless little payments that no one ever warned you about.

The money came in. It left even faster.

And no matter how carefully you budgeted every cent, by the end of each month, you always found yourself staring at the same conclusion.

It still wasn't enough.

Hanni, however, never seemed to struggle the way you did.

For reasons she never fully explained, she always had money tucked away somewhere. Not enough to live lavishly, but enough to ease the constant pressure that settled on your shoulders every time rent was due. 

Naturally, you asked where all that money came from. Hanni would only shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as though the answer amused her.

"I have a lot of sidelines," she'd say, never bothering to explain any further. 

It was vague enough to end the conversation, yet suspicious enough to keep your curiosity alive.

Eventually, you stopped asking…but you never stopped noticing. 

One afternoon she'd come home carrying the newest phone model, casually placing it on the kitchen counter while she searched the refrigerator for something to eat. 

The following day, it would already be gone. 

Sometimes it was a watch. Other times it was a gold necklace or a designer wallet. The items constantly changed, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared, but you never questioned her. 

It wasn't until the two of you had grown close enough that she finally trusted you with the truth. 

You remembered expecting disgust to settle in your stomach the moment she confessed. Instead, all you felt was curiosity. 

Hanni told her story so casually, as though she were recalling an ordinary childhood memory instead of admitting to a crime.

She learned how to steal when she was still a little girl. Whenever she picked up a toy at a store or tore open a packet of snacks while trailing beside her mother, no one questioned her. People rarely suspected children, and Hanni learned that long before she understood the weight of what she was doing.

What started as childish curiosity slowly became instinct. Instinct became skill, skill became confidence, and confidence eventually became survival. 

By the time she reached adulthood, stealing was no longer something she occasionally did—it was simply how she made a living. 

She wasn't born into comfort either. Her family had struggled just as much as yours, if not more, and perhaps that was why you found it difficult to judge her. 

You knew what it felt like to lie awake at night wondering how another month would pass. 

You knew what desperation looked like because you had seen it reflected in your parents' exhausted smiles, hidden behind reassuring words they never truly meant. Maybe that was why her confession never horrified you.

Desperation has a peculiar way of changing people.

Because somewhere deep inside, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you understood exactly why she had chosen this path.

"You should blend in. Don't wear those ridiculous jackets or black caps." Hanni chuckled, uncapping the marker in her hand before turning to the small whiteboard hanging beside the refrigerator. 

She drew little stick figures and arrows as if she were giving a university lecture instead of teaching you how to commit crimes. There were circles around the words confidence, timing, and exit, each one underlined twice before she tapped the marker against the board. 

It sounded embarrassingly simple…but it wasn’t.

Your first theft had been nothing more than a granola bar from a convenience store, yet your hands had trembled so violently you almost dropped it before reaching the exit. Your heart pounded against your ribs with enough force to convince you everyone around could hear it.

Every customer who glanced in your direction felt like security in disguise, every beep from the cashier sounded like an alarm, and by the time the automatic doors slid open behind you, your palms were slick with sweat around the tiny snack bar you had risked so much to steal.

Hanni, meanwhile…walked out carrying a bottle of wine, two bags of cheetos, and three packs of mini m&m's tucked somewhere beneath her oversized cardigan. She looked utterly unbothered, stopping only to ask whether you wanted to eat at the nearby park before either of you went home. 

You remembered staring at her with your mouth slightly open, unable to understand how someone could steal so much and still have the composure to worry about dinner.

She only laughed. "It gets easier."

You hated how right she was.

Over the following weeks, your trembling hands gradually learned to stay still. You learned that people rarely questioned someone who acted like they belonged. 

Confidence, Hanni often said, was the greatest disguise anyone could wear, and manipulation was nothing more than convincing people to believe the version of you that benefited them most. 

You practiced smiling at strangers. You practiced maintaining eye contact. You practiced walking away without looking back.

Little by little, it became easier to silence the guilt.

Two months later, you could finally say you were improving. Your movements were steadier, your excuses more believable, your lies smoother than they had ever been before. 

Even so, whenever you compared yourself to Hanni, you still felt like an amateur watching a professional at work. She stole with an ease you doubted you would ever possess.

"Hanni, I'm not good at seducing people... you know that." you let out a groan, dropping your forehead onto the table with a dull thud. 

For all the confidence you had slowly learned to fake while stealing, anything involving men was an entirely different story. 

You have no experience.

Your thefts still involved people, but you always kept your distance…especially from men. You waited for moments of carelessness, slipping valuables from unattended bags, distracted shoppers, or pockets left carelessly exposed before disappearing into the crowd.

It was safer that way. The rewards were smaller, perhaps, but it meant you never had to charm, distract, or make someone lower their guard just to steal from them.

After all, you were still an amateur.

Romance had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford. 

While your classmates spent their weekends going on dates or gossiping about their newest crushes, you spent yours calculating expenses and wondering whether instant noodles could count as dinner for the fourth night in a row.

Hanni had pointed it out countless times before.

According to her, manipulating people wasn't always about lying. 

With men, it was about making them believe they had a chance with you. 

The problem was…you had no idea how to do that. 

You didn't know how to flirt, how to bat your eyelashes, or how to laugh at someone's terrible jokes without making it painfully obvious you were pretending. The thought alone made your stomach twist into nervous knots.

Hanni rolled her eyes, dismissing every excuse before you even had the chance to finish making one.

"Oh, stop it." she waved a hand dramatically. "You're very pretty, Y/N. Don't give me that bullshit! Just smile at them…one cute little smile and I guarantee they'll be tripping over themselves to impress you."

You buried your face deeper into your arms."But, Hanni—"

"No buts." she sprang to her feet before you could protest again, practically skipping toward her bedroom. A moment later, she returned with two shopping bags swinging from her hands, the grin on her face growing impossibly wider.

"Besides, I already bought us dresses for tonight." she giggled.

Oh, you were doomed.

"This is so short," you complained, tugging at the hem of the black spaghetti-strap dress for what had to be the tenth time. Every time you managed to pull it down another inch, it simply rode back up the moment you took another step, as though the fabric itself was determined to embarrass you.

Hanni had insisted on doing everything herself. Your hair fell in loose, natural waves over your shoulders, soft enough to hide the nervous rise and fall of your breathing. She had done your makeup too, dusting the slightest touch of glitter across your eyelids that shimmered every time the streetlights caught your face. 

Even before you reached your destination, your feet were already protesting against the thin, strappy heels wrapped around your ankles, each step reminding you that beauty demanded sacrifices you had never volunteered to make.

Hanni glanced at you before letting out an amused laugh. "I can't see your panties from here, so you're fine."

You shot her an unamused look, earning another laugh from her.

Unlike you, Hanni looked completely at ease. 

Her dark green off-the-shoulder dress hugged her figure effortlessly, paired with matching heels that clicked confidently against the pavement. Her hair was swept into a messy updo that somehow looked intentionally elegant rather than rushed, and with the confidence she carried herself, no one would ever guess that the two of you struggled to pay rent every month.

Together, you looked exactly like the kind of girls who had never worried about money a day in their lives.

Which was almost funny.

Because hidden beneath expensive-looking dresses and carefully applied makeup were two women desperately hoping to walk away with someone else's wallet, watch, jewelry—or anything valuable enough to buy another month of survival.

"Okay, let's order a drink first and look around," Hanni said, her voice barely audible beneath the chatter spilling out from inside the beer house as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

You followed closely behind, your heartbeat already beginning to pick up.

You had spent the entire walk convincing yourself that the place would be filled with loud, drunken old men slumped over tables, too intoxicated to notice a missing wallet or an expensive watch. Instead, your expectations dissolved the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim amber lights.

The place was crowded…not just with old men, but with all kinds of people. Groups of friends occupied long wooden tables, raising glasses every time the football match playing on the massive television reached an exciting moment. Couples sat tucked away in quieter corners, talking over bottles of beer, while businessmen who looked as though they had come straight from the office loosened their ties and laughed with colleagues over overflowing pitchers.

Your gaze drifted toward the long wooden bar stretching across one side of the room, shelves behind it neatly lined with bottles you had only ever seen locked behind glass displays. The smell of grilled meat and fried food lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter scent of beer, while a small band adjusted their instruments on the stage, preparing for the night ahead.

You quietly took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous flutter building inside your chest. 

You had been stealing for two months now, yet every new place made you feel like it was your first all over again. The fear of getting caught never truly disappeared—it only learned how to hide beneath your smile.

Hanni walked through the crowd without a hint of hesitation, weaving between tables before claiming two empty seats near the stage. When the server approached, she greeted him with an easy smile, the kind that belonged to someone who had come for nothing more than a quiet drink after a long week.

"Two draft beers, please."

The server nodded before disappearing toward the counter.

Hanni waited until he was out of earshot before her eyes swept across the room once more, lingering only for a second before the corner of her lips slowly lifted.

"I found your table." Hanni raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling into a knowing smile.

You pouted, instinctively following her gaze as your eyes wandered across the crowded beer house. Round wooden tables filled nearly every corner, occupied by groups of men laughing over clinking bottles, scattered glasses, and the remnants of another round.

Of course she'd choose men. You had long grown used to Hanni's reasoning.

Men were easier to distract…and according to her, far easier to manipulate than women.

"Which one?" you asked, squinting as you searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Hanni let out a quiet laugh before leaning closer, her perfume briefly overpowering the scent of beer lingering in the air. "The third table near the bar," she whispered, careful not to draw attention. "They look a little older than us. Not too old, though." 

She grinned mischievously. "I'd say they're giving daddy vibes."

You frowned at her. “Ugh, Hanni!”

Slowly, your gaze followed the direction she had subtly pointed, finally landing on the group she had been watching.

There were seven of them gathered around one of the larger tables, completely absorbed in their own conversation. They couldn't have been much older than Hanni had guessed, perhaps somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. 

Dressed in simple shirts, rugged jeans, and jackets carelessly draped over the backs of their chairs, they looked more like friends unwinding after a long week than the wealthy businessmen you had imagined on your walk there.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about them. Yet the longer you watched, the easier it became to notice the details.

A watch that caught the light every time one of them lifted his beer. A phone left face-up beside an overflowing ashtray without a second thought. Car keys, wallets, and cigarette packs lay scattered across the wooden table between bottles of beer and half-finished baskets of bar snacks, abandoned in the comfort of good company.

They laughed loudly, occasionally teasing one another, while wisps of cigarette smoke curled lazily into the air above them. They were so engrossed in their own little world that they never once looked your way.

"What do you think?" Hanni asked, her eyes never leaving the group near the bar."I say you target that table while I take the one near the door."

Your gaze lingered on the men for another moment before dropping to the table between you. Almost as if on cue, the server returned with your drinks, carefully placing two glasses of draft beer in front of you. Tiny bubbles rushed to the surface beneath a thick layer of foam, the chilled glass immediately collecting beads of condensation.

Hanni thanked him with a smile before wrapping her fingers around her glass. She looked... excited. There was always a certain spark in her eyes before a job, one you had grown familiar with over the past two months. 

While your stomach twisted itself into knots, hers seemed to settle. The closer she came to danger, the calmer she became.

Your fingers traced the condensation gathering around your own glass as you quietly stared into the golden beer. The thought of walking up to a table full of strangers, pretending to be interested in one of them, was enough to make your stomach tighten. 

You had spent the last two months learning how to steal, how to lie without stumbling over your words, how to smile convincingly enough for people to lower their guard. 

But flirting? That was something entirely different.

Still...

You glanced down at the dress hugging your figure before absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over your thighs. Hanni had spent her own money buying it for you. She had curled your hair, done your makeup, and patiently convinced you that you looked like you belonged in a place like this. She had done everything she could to make tonight successful.

The least you could do was try.

The numbers flashed through your mind before you could stop them, reminding you how little time you had left before another payment was due. 

You drew in a slow breath before finally looking back at Hanni, offering her a small smile that carried far more determination than confidence.

"Alright," you said with determination. "I promise I'll do my best."

Her face immediately brightened. "That's my girl!"

She lifted her glass toward yours with a grin so wide it was almost contagious.

"Cheers to that, baby."

The soft clink echoed between you, disappearing almost instantly beneath the laughter, music, and the constant hum of conversations filling the beer house.

Easy…smile, flirt and steal.

After a couple of minutes spent nursing your drinks and quietly familiarizing yourselves with the beer house, Hanni caught your eye from across the table. She gave the slightest nod—a silent signal the two of you had long grown accustomed to. 

It was time.

You rose from your seat, smoothing the wrinkles from your dress before letting your fingers comb through your hair, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. Hanni disappeared into the crowd without another word, already making her way toward her own target, while you headed in the opposite direction, forcing yourself to wear the kind of smile she had spent weeks teaching you. Soft enough to seem approachable…confident enough to belong.

The barstool closest to their table sat empty.

You slipped onto it, offering the bartender a polite smile as he passed by before pretending to study the rows of bottles displayed behind the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention never truly left the table behind you.

Your heartbeat steadied, not because you were any less nervous…but because your mind had finally begun doing what Hanni had trained it to do.

Observe.

A few wallets lay carelessly on the wooden table, abandoned without a second thought by men too engrossed in conversation to notice their surroundings. Your fingers twitched ever so slightly.

Tonight, maybe two wallets would be enough. Any more than that would only invite unnecessary attention.

Your gaze lingered for another second before drifting higher, carefully studying each of the men one by one. 

If you were going to approach someone tonight, it couldn't be just anyone. You needed the one who looked the wealthiest, the one whose watch alone could cover next month's rent, whose jewelry might be worth more than everything you and Hanni had managed to steal over the past few months combined.

You couldn't flirt with all of them. So if you were going to take the risk, you might as well choose the wealthiest one.

Your eyes drifted from one man to another, careful not to linger for too long. 

One wore a pair of silver earrings that matched the chain resting against his chest. Another—the one with dimples that appeared every time he laughed—had an elegant silver watch wrapped around his wrist, the polished metal glimmering beneath the warm lights whenever he reached for his beer. The man beside him looked much simpler, dressed in an ordinary black shirt without a single piece of jewelry to catch your attention, and you dismissed him almost immediately.

You kept looking.

Until your gaze landed on a tattooed hand lazily wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

Silver rings adorned nearly every finger, each one different from the next, and just above them rested a watch that looked far too expensive to belong in your world. Your eyes followed the slow movement of his hand as he lifted the bottle to his lips, only to notice the gold chain disappearing beneath the collar of his dark shirt. 

His ear was adorned with several silver earrings, each one catching the amber light whenever he turned toward one of his friends. When he tilted his head back for another sip, the small silver ring through his lower lip glinted just as brightly.

Then your gaze wandered lower…a pair of Porsche keys hung carelessly from the belt loop of his black jeans, swinging gently whenever he shifted in his seat as though they were nothing more than an ordinary keychain.

You quietly looked away before he could catch you staring, your heartbeat quickening as your fingers curled around the wooden counter.

Target locked.

You immediately order a shot of tequila, not to get drunk, but to act drunk.

Hanni had told you that people lowered their guard around someone who seemed tipsy. A little laugh that lingered too long, a gaze that wandered a little too often, movements just clumsy enough to look believable. It made approaching strangers easier.

You thanked the bartender with a polite smile before resting your elbow against the counter. From the corner of your eye, your attention drifted back to the table.

His back was mostly facing you, making it difficult to study him without being obvious. Every now and then he'd turn toward one of his friends, giving you a brief glimpse of his side profile before looking away again, and somehow those fleeting seconds were enough for you to notice far more than you intended.

His jaw was clean and sharply defined, catching the amber glow whenever he tipped his head back to drink. A straight nose balanced his features effortlessly, while soft strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, shifting every time he ran a hand through them. Every so often, you caught sight of his dark round eyes, softened by the alcohol he'd been drinking, their usual alertness replaced by a lazy heaviness that made them unexpectedly... pretty.

Your brows knitted together. 

You were supposed to be memorizing his belongings Y/N! Not his face!

The bartender slid your tequila across the counter. You murmured a quiet thank you before lifting the glass to your lips, taking only a small sip. The burn barely had time to settle in your throat before your eyes sneakily wandered back toward the table.

"Huh?"  

His seat was empty!

Your brows furrowed as your eyes searched the group, confusion replacing the confidence you had spent the last several minutes trying so hard to build.

"Looking for me?” a deep chuckle sounded from behind you.

Your eyes widened, you turned so quickly you nearly knocked your drink over.

Even with you sitting down, he towered over you with ease, one side of his body leaning casually against the polished wooden counter. Up close, the details you had only managed to steal glances of moments ago became impossible to ignore—the silver rings decorating his fingers, the tattoos stretching over his right arm, the small hoop piercing his lower lip, and those heavy-lidded eyes now looking directly into yours.

The corner of his mouth curled upward…amused.

As though he'd caught you doing something you weren't supposed to.

"H-Hi!" you greeted, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended as you struggled to hide how badly he had startled you.

What the fuck.

For a split second, every lesson Hanni had drilled into your head disappeared. Your carefully rehearsed smile, your excuses, the confident persona you had spent two months trying to build—they all vanished the moment he caught you off guard.

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"May I help you?"

Your own brows drew together before you could stop them, your smile faltering for the briefest moment.

"Hm?"

"You kept looking at me." he chuckled, low and amused.

There wasn't even a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as though he'd caught you staring several times already and had simply decided to humor you instead of calling you out for it. 

Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly, your mind scrambling for something—anything…that would keep your act from falling apart before it had even begun.

Trying to save yourself, you immediately gave him a flirty smile.

"Oh..." a soft giggle escaped your lips, "Was I that obvious?"

You tilted your head ever so slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at him through your lashes exactly the way Hanni had told you to. 

When he took a step closer, your breath hitched. 

His thick black boots brushed against the legs of your stool, and with the way he positioned himself, his broad frame nearly shielded you from the rest of the room. It wasn't intentional…or maybe it was—but suddenly the chatter of the beer house seemed much farther away than it had a second ago.

"Uh-huh," he murmured, the single sound barely above a whisper.

The faint scent of mint lingered beneath the beer on his breath, close enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment. Up close, the gold chain resting against his collarbone shimmered softly, layered alongside several silver necklaces that framed the base of his neck. 

Before your courage had the chance to abandon you…you slowly lifted a hand and rested it around the back of his neck, your fingertips grazing the cool metal chains lying against his skin.

"You're cute," you whispered, biting lightly on your lower lip as your fingers idly toyed with one of the necklaces. Every movement had been rehearsed in your head a dozen times before tonight, yet none of them felt natural now that they were happening. You only hoped he couldn't tell.

Fuck, he’s so handsome up close!

His head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across his face before his gaze slowly drifted downward. It lingered far longer than you were prepared for, tracing the exposed skin above your dress before continuing lower. Instinctively, you fought the urge to tug at the hem that had ridden higher on your thighs.

Don't. Fake it until you make it.

"I am?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk. His tongue swept across the silver ring piercing his lower lip before he leaned even closer, his lips hovering just beneath your ear.

"Yeah," you breathed, forcing confidence into your voice despite the frantic beating of your heart. "Want you."

The words felt foreign leaving your mouth. Still, they had the desired effect.

As his attention remained fixed on the spot where your pulse fluttered, your fingers subtly found the clasp hidden beneath the chains around his neck. 

One careful movement...that was all it would take.

You had barely begun to unhook it when his hand closed firmly around your wrist.

Your heart stopped. For one horrifying second, you were certain he'd caught you.

"Let's go to my car."

What?

"H-Huh? I..."

He lifted his head just enough for your eyes to meet his. The lazy amusement from earlier had disappeared, replaced by something darker. 

"I can't fuck you here."

Your eyes widen, fucking was your limit!

Your gaze drifted to the thick gold necklace resting against his chest... the leather wallet tucked carelessly into his pocket... and the sleek black car waiting only a few steps away.

Fuck it.

You followed him in silence, the cool night breeze brushing against your exposed skin and reminding you just how short your dress was. 

Your gaze remained fixed on his broad back as he unlocked the car, your throat tightening around a nervous swallow.

Earlier, when you had walked past Hanni, you had nearly burst into tears at the sight of her giving you an approving nod, silently cheering you on while she remained at her table, busy charming the men around her.

You couldn't back out now. Not after she'd placed this much faith in you.

The parking lot was quiet, a little farther from the beer house…the music fading into the distance. When he turned around, you gathered every ounce of courage you had left and greeted him with the sweetest smile you could muster.

Your mind raced, thoughts crashing into one another until only three remained.

First, find a way to slip the gold chain from around his neck. The wallet would come next, once he finally let his guard down.

Second, you were not going to fuck him. 

It didn't matter how broad his shoulders were, how unfairly handsome he looked, or how pretty his eyes became whenever he smiled.

Your hormones could cry about it later.

Third, whatever happened tonight... for the love of God, do not get caught.

He looked down at you, one brow lifting ever so slightly when he noticed the faint tremble in your legs.

"Get in."

He pulled the backseat door open for you, and you offered him a small, flirty smile before carefully slipping inside. 

The leather seat gave beneath your weight with a quiet creak, and for the briefest moment, you convinced yourself you'd have a second to steady your breathing, to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts before facing him again.

The hope didn't last.

The car shifted as he climbed in after you, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that seemed to swallow the last bit of space inside the cabin. 

Your pulse faltered, the hem of your dress had ridden higher than you'd intended, exposing far more of your thighs than you were comfortable with, the fabric inching dangerously close to revealing the lace of your panties. Every instinct urged you to smooth it back into place, but you stopped yourself.

Focus, Y/N! You need to seduce him!

You had barely opened your mouth, ready to deliver one of the corniest pickup lines Hanni had relentlessly drilled into your head, when his hand suddenly pulled your hair. 

Your lips parted in surprise as he tugged you toward him, leaving no room for hesitation before his lips crashed against yours.

A breathless whimper escaped you, your eyes widening for only a second before they fluttered shut. His fingers tightened around the hair above your nape, angling your head exactly how he wanted it, his kisses deep, hungry, and impatient.

The bitter trace of beer lingered on his tongue, flooding your senses until your thoughts blurred at the edges. Your body yielded without resistance, melting effortlessly against his as he drew you closer, the strength behind the movement making you feel almost weightless in his hold.

For a fleeting moment, you forgot your mission.

His tongue slipped against yours with practiced ease, stealing every coherent thought from your mind before instinct finally caught up. 

You slowly lifted your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the softness of his hair as though simply indulging in the kiss. Then, careful not to rush…they drifted lower, brushing over the warm skin of his nape before gliding toward the necklace resting against his neck.

“Open your mouth wider,” he rasped, pulling away just enough to speak. A string of saliva stretched between your mouths as his other hand slid around your neck…his long, tattooed fingers wrapping firmly around your throat in a possessive grip.

Your eyes widened…one of your hands remained tangled behind his nape, your fingers still toying with the chain around his neck, desperately searching for the tiny clasp hidden beneath his hair. 

Too distracted to obey his request… he suddenly tugged your hair harder.

A startled gasp escaped your lips, and he seized the opportunity—his tongue slipping hot and messy into your parted mouth, kissing you with a hunger that left you no chance to catch your breath.

You barely kissed him back, surrendering to the pace he set as your mind gradually emptied. Somehow, through the dizziness clouding your head, your fingertips continued their quiet search along the cool metal resting against his skin, praying to find the clasp before he noticed.

“Mmph!”

A soft whimper caught in your throat when he bit down harshly on your lower lip. The hand around your neck tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into your throat until your breath hitched, the pressure almost choking you.

“What are you doing?” he groaned, pulling you away from his lips before effortlessly lifting your entire body onto his lap. 

Large hands settled on your hips, guiding your legs to either side of him until you were straddling him completely, your dress riding embarrassingly higher over your thighs in the process.

“Hmm?” you murmured, blinking up at him through hazy eyes, your lips swollen and glistening from his relentless kisses.

He tilted his head, studying you in silence. 

The intensity of his gaze made something tighten inside your chest. Your confidence, already hanging by a thread, began to unravel beneath his eyes alone, and without thinking, your hands abandoned the necklace altogether, drifting back into his hair as though that had been your intention from the very beginning.

“Kiss me back,” he rasped.

A quiet breath of relief nearly escaped your lips. He hadn't noticed.

You offered him the sweetest smile you could manage before leaning in again, your heart pounding so violently you were certain he could feel it through your chest. You kissed him as carefully as you could, trying to mimic the way he'd kissed you only moments ago, parting his lips with hesitant eagerness, hoping it looked natural enough to fool him.

To your surprise, he let you…he didn't take control or deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply let you explore him at your own pace.

Heat crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming beneath your skin as the realization slowly dawned on you. 

He wasn't following your lead. 

“Baby...” he chuckled between kisses, his tattooed hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, holding your face steady with a firm grip. “You're not kissing me properly.”

Embarrassment rushed through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy, your inexperience laid bare after only a few clumsy kisses. 

Determination quickly swallowed the humiliation. 

Before you could think twice, you leaned in again, kissing him with far more urgency than before, desperate to prove that you knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment he finally kissed you back, a breathless whimper nearly escaped you. 

He kissed you effortlessly, guiding the rhythm while you struggled to keep up, your breaths already turning shallow enough that you were certain you looked seconds away from hyperventilating.

Determined not to lose yourself completely, you bit down on his lower lip, earning a low, gravelly groan that vibrated against your mouth. The sound alone made your stomach flutter. Taking advantage of the distraction, your trembling hands drifted back to the chain around his neck, fingertips carefully searching beneath his hair for the tiny clasp.

Your eyes fluttered shut when he sucked on your tongue, warmth rushing across your ears and down your neck so quickly it almost burned. It was your first time being kissed like this—his kisses were shamelessly lewd, all heat and desperation. Saliva glistened between your mouths whenever he pulled away, only to capture your lower lip again with another lingering suck that stole the air from your lungs. 

Before long, the only sounds filling the car were the quiet, wet presses of your mouths and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.

You couldn't tell whether he was simply that good at kissing or if your lack of experience made every touch feel overwhelming. Either way, the way his hand remained wrapped around your jaw, firmly angling your head exactly where he wanted it, sent a shiver running down your spine.

A soft, helpless moan escaped your lips when you felt him spit into your mouth without breaking the kiss. The sensation sent heat unfurling through every inch of your body, your knees threatening to weaken even from where you sat on his lap. 

Your thoughts dissolved into a haze, and before you realized it, the fingers that had been so carefully searching for the clasp of his necklace had gone slack, your mission slipping further out of reach with every slow, lingering pull of his mouth.

“Grind on me.” he groaned.

Your eyes widened, before you could even process his words, both of his hands settled around the curve of your hips, guiding your body into a slow, deliberate roll against his lap.

“W-Wait—” 

His mouth found your neck, scattering soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. Goosebumps rippled across your body as his lips traveled lower, his grip never once leaving your hips as he slowly rocked them back and forth, drawing helpless whimpers from your lips.

Heat rushed to your cheeks the moment you felt the firm outline of his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.

“Roll your hips, baby.” he grunted.

His teeth grazed your neck before his tongue soothed the sting, the cool metal of his lip piercing dragging lightly over your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut…losing yourself completely as you followed the guidance of his hands, the subtle throbs of his cock impossible to ignore through the layers separating your bodies.

“That’s it,” he praised, looking down at your rolling hips.

“Oh, gosh…” you moaned.

You couldn't comprehend how dirty and lewd this was, grinding against a stranger's cock while convincing yourself that you wouldn't fuck him.

His clothed mushroom tip grazed the apex between your thighs as he guided your hips through another slow rub, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. A wave of warmth unfurled low in your stomach, spreading until it settled heavily between your legs.

Fuck, you were getting so wet.

Your body burned with a growing tension you didn't know how to quiet. The fabric of your panties clung uncomfortably against your cunt. When his hands finally cupped your breasts over the thin fabric of your dress, a shaky breath caught in your throat. 

Your fingers instinctively clutched at his shoulders for balance as he continued to maneuver your body with effortless ease.

“Oh my-”

His lips trailed lower…you sucked in a sharp breath when they reached the swell of your cleavage, your heart stumbling the moment you caught sight of his tongue slipping between the soft curve of your breasts, tasting the narrow valley created by the tight fabric hugging your chest.

“Hmm... so soft,” he murmured.

Before you could even process the praise, he leaned back just enough to gather saliva in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing before he leaned down and let a warm bead of spit fall between your breasts. It slowly trailed down the center of your cleavage, disappearing beneath the neckline of your dress.

A startled gasp escaped you, the shamelessness of it sent another rush of heat coursing through your body.

“Spread my spit, baby.” his voice dropped into a teasing murmur as he brushed a lingering kiss against your cheek. “I want you messy.”

He never stopped guiding your hips, slow, patient rubs against his lap while he watched you expectantly.

You swallowed thickly. It felt as though your body had slipped into a trance, your thoughts muffled beneath the haze he'd wrapped around you. 

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers found the warmth between your breasts, gathering the wetness before slowly spreading his spit across the soft skin of your cleavage, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes following every hesitant movement.

Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the gold chain resting against his collarbone.

The necklace!

For a split second, you wanted to slap yourself. 

You'd become so hopelessly lost in him that you'd nearly forgotten why you were here in the first place.

Trying to keep up the act, you smiled and gathered the warm trace of his spit onto your fingertips before slowly bringing them to your lips. A flicker of nervousness stirred in your chest as you parted your lips, letting your tongue glide languidly over your damp fingers, never once breaking eye contact with him.

His lips parted. “You like it?”

You nodded. “Hmm…”

“Want more?” he cooed, his voice rough with satisfaction. 

Your cheeks heated, a little self-conscious under the way he stared at you before leaning in to kiss you again. You whimpered when he spat into your mouth while kissing you, trying to focus as your hands finally found the chain around his neck. Your fingers worked quickly beneath the curtain of his hair, your heart pounding so violently you feared he would hear it.

Then—the clasp gave. 

Relief crashed over you.

You carefully eased the necklace free, letting the chain slip from your fingers onto the leather seat beside you with a faint clink before your hands returned to brace against his chest. 

Your pulse hammered in your throat, so distracted by stealing the jewelry that you didn't feel his fingers hooking beneath the thin straps of your black dress until they were already sliding down. Cool air kissed your skin a second before you realized the straps had fallen from your shoulders, the dress bunched at your waist, your bra laid bare beneath his dark, hungry stare.

"Ohh—" a moan ripped from your lips when his hands grabbed your tits through the bra, his palms kneading the soft flesh as his fingers pinched and rolled your stiff nipples through the thin lace. 

"So pretty," he praised, his eyes never leaving the swell of your breasts spilling over the cups.

His hand slid behind your back, his fingers flicking the clasp open. Your bra sprang loose, your tits bouncing free, your nipples peaked and aching.

“Keep grinding, baby.” he rasped.

Your hips moved before your brain could catch up, rolling against his lap. His hard cock formed a thick ridge beneath his pants, pressing right against your soaked panties. 

The delicious friction made your cunt leak, slick pooling in the gusset as each slow roll of your hips rubbed your clit across his length until your panties clung to your wet, chubby slit.

“Mhm,” you whined as his mouth locked onto one nipple, his tongue lapping at the bud before sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly while his other hand squeezed your breast, his fingers twisting the neglected nipple until it throbbed.

Wet sounds filled the car—the slurp of his mouth around your nipple and the squelch of your dripping cunt rubbing against his cock through the fabric. 

You forced yourself to look down, your heavy-lidded eyes searching for anything that might help you finish what you had come here to do. Then your thigh brushed against the square outline beneath the fabric of his pants.

His wallet.

You drew in a shaky breath before rolling your hips against him with a little more desperation. A low groan vibrated against your nipple the moment he felt the change in your rhythm, the sound sending another wave of heat through your body. 

A helpless whine slipped from your lips as your own hands wandered over him, trying to appear just as consumed by the moment. Your palms skimmed over his shoulders, down the firm planes of his chest, and lower still, making you swallow hard at the realization of just how toned he felt beneath your touch.

“Ouch,” you whimpered when his teeth suddenly bit into your nipple.

He only chuckled against your skin.

The sting disappeared beneath a lingering kiss before he lifted his head just enough to murmur.

“Slow down, baby. You're gonna make me cum.” 

The teasing words had barely left his lips before his attention shifted back to your breast, his mouth closing around the swollen nipple with harsh, eager suction that made your thighs instinctively tense around him.

Even through the layers of his pants, you could feel how big and hard he was beneath you, the firm outline of his thick cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties with every shallow movement. 

Fuck, focus Y/N.

His wallet had shifted dangerously close to the edge of his pocket, almost slipping free from the constant movement of your bodies.

You rolled your hips against him again…another soft moan escaping your lips as the friction sent a dizzying pulse of pleasure through you. 

“Oh my…” 

For a fleeting second, you almost forgot the wallet, your body threatening to lose the battle your mind was still desperately trying to win.

“Baby…” he groaned harshly.

His hands tightened around your waist, pinning your hips firmly in place before you could move against him again.

Confused, you instinctively tried to move again, but his hand beat you to it. It slipped between your thighs before firmly cupping your pussy over your soaked panties, his palm pressing against your wet cunt as his fingers slowly dragged against the damp fabric. A soft, unmistakable squelch filled the quiet cabin, and your breath caught in your throat.

“I said stay still, fuck.” he whispered, mercilessly squeezing your pussy through the thin fabric until another helpless moan spilled from your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, your mouth falling open as his slow, deliberate touch only made you wetter, the soaked fabric sticking embarrassingly to your folds with every movement of his hand.

A startled gasp escaped you when his free hand suddenly rose to your face, firmly squeezing your cheeks together. 

“Keep your eyes open. Look at what I'm doing to you,” he commanded, his thumb finding your clit through the damp fabric and rubbing slow, lazy circles that sent a violent shiver through your body.

“Oh... gosh,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. 

Your thoughts were beginning to dissolve all over again until something caught your eye.

His wallet had finally slipped free from his pocket, landing quietly on the leather seat beside him. Relief surged through you, and you almost smiled in triumph, the sight nearly distracting you from your mission's success.

Before you could dwell on it, he hooked a finger beneath the damp gusset of your panties, flipping the fabric aside just enough to expose your slick pussy. His fingertips returned, meeting your bare cunt directly, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact tore another breathless gasp from your lips.

Your eyes rolled back as his long fingers slowly rubbed against your sensitive cunt. The cool metal of his rings grazed your slit with every stroke, sending a sharp shiver through your body and drawing another helpless whimper from your throat.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Enjoying yourself?"

You could only nod, slow and breathless, your chest rising and falling beneath uneven breaths. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your face burning from every filthy thing you had let him do to you.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper. "You like my fingers, baby?"

Before you could answer, his middle finger slowly pressed into your tight, untouched hole.

A broken whimper escaped you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your body instinctively tensed around the unfamiliar stretch. For a fleeting second, your hand nearly came up to push him away, your inexperience heightening every overwhelming sensation. But he caught your face first, his fingers tightening around your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him.

He inhaled softly before hollowing his cheeks, gathering saliva in his mouth, then leaned closer and messily spat between your parted lips.

"Swallow."

You obeyed without hesitation, your throat bobbing as you swallowed, your walls fluttering tightly around his finger at the command.

His hand slipped lower, lifting the hem of your skirt before his gaze settled between your thighs. He watched with quiet fascination as his finger slowly disappeared inside your virgin hole before drawing back out again, only to repeat the motion at an unhurried pace.

"You're so tight, baby." he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving your pussy. "When was the last time you fucked?"

The question alone nearly brought tears to your eyes, embarrassment burning through you just as intensely as the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure his touch continued to pull from your body.

“L-Long time ago.” 

As if Y/N! 

He licked his lower lip, a quiet whimper slipping past your lips as the pad of his middle finger reached deeper inside your warm tight hole. His movements remained slow until his fingertip brushed against your spongy spot, the sharp ache of the stretch gradually melting into a pleasure so warm it made your body soften around him.

"Aww, is that why you're so tight, baby?” he whispered.

God, this was so wrong.

“Maybe you need me to stretch your hole again, hmm?" he cooed, lowering his head until his lips wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking gently while his finger continued to work deeper into your tight cunt.

"Y-Yes," you mumbled incoherently, your rational thoughts dissolving as your hips instinctively rolled forward, chasing the slow rhythm of his finger.

The moment he felt you move, his free hand settled firmly around your waist, stilling you with ease. He released your nipple with a soft pop before a quiet chuckle escaped him, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours with unmistakable amusement.

"Patience, baby. I'm still having fun."

A pout tugged at your lips, ready to answer back, but the words never came. His left hand slipped between your thighs instead, slowly parting your folds before drawing back the hood revealing your glistening clit, exposing it completely beneath his dark gaze.

"Wanna suck this clit so bad," he whispered, his gaze fixed between your thighs as your clit pulsed beneath the weight of his stare.

He leaned down and spat over it, a slow trail of saliva slipping down your slit until it met the middle finger buried inside your hole. A helpless whimper caught in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as he spread the saliva over your exposed clit with slow, pressured strokes, every messy rub sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

Both of his hands were devoted to you now. His tattooed fingers continued to work your tight hole with an unhurried rhythm while his other hand circled your swollen clit, spreading your growing wetness together with his saliva. His eyes never left your cunt, watching every tiny twitch, every shiver that rippled through you as though he wanted to memorize your pulsating pussy.

"You wanna cum?" he asked, lifting a brow as he watched your chest rise and fall with uneven breaths. His middle finger emerged coated in a thick ring of your white milky juices before disappearing back inside you, while your legs trembled uncontrollably beneath every slow sweep of his thumb across your swollen clit.

You nodded desperately, “Y-Yes…”

He pursed his lips, studying you for a long moment.

"You sure?"

"P-Please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively rolling in search of more.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" a small smile tugged at his lips, though there wasn't a trace of humor behind it.

Confusion barely had the chance to settle before he slowly inserted a second finger into your cunt.

A loud moan tore from your throat as the sudden stretch stole the air from your lungs. His fingers paused only briefly, allowing your body to adjust before they began to move together, scissoring you open with slow, rhythmic strokes while his other hand never stopped rubbing your clit.

The lingering ache of the stretch gradually melted beneath the mounting pleasure, your body surrendering to it completely. Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his hand, your back arching as your orgasm crashed through you. Your eyes rolled back, your walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers while wave after wave of pleasure left your entire body trembling.

“Well done, baby.” he praised.

Even after the intensity began to ebb, your cunt continued to pulse around him, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks.

Only when your breathing had become nothing more than uneven gasps did he slowly withdraw his fingers from your hole, drawing another helpless whimper from your lips as the sudden emptiness met your lingering sensitivity.

Then he leaned in, his teeth grazed the shell of your ear in a soft bite before his lips brushed against it.

"I’m so proud." he whispered.

As your gaze drifted downward, it caught on the slight opening of his wallet, the sight striking you like a quiet reminder of why you had approached him in the first place.

Your fucking mission.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, gathering what little composure remained before forcing the words past your throat.

"C-Can I drink some water? I'm kinda thirsty," you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs were still trembling from your release, your heart pounding so loudly against your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

You expected him to refuse…Instead, he simply nodded.

"Hmm sure, baby. Let me get it for you."

His tongue swept across his lower lip before he gently tucked a few loose strands of hair away from your flushed cheeks, his touch unexpectedly tender as his eyes lingered on yours.

You swallowed hard, relief flooding through your body so quickly it almost made you dizzy.

"I'll wait for you here," you said with a small smile, leaning forward just enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he stood.

His eyes narrowed, smiling a little, but there was something in them that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

The moment he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him before disappearing into the noisy beer house in search of a bottle of water, you sprang into action. 

You quickly fixed your dress before reaching for the thick gold necklace that had slipped onto the leather seat during everything that had happened between the two of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before darting toward his wallet, still resting exactly where you had dropped it after deliberately sitting on it when you asked for water. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears as your gaze frantically swept across the interior of the car, searching for anything else of value. It didn't take long before your eyes landed on a small, heavy bag tucked beneath the passenger seat. 

Without wasting another second—or even bothering to look more....you snatched it as well, clutching the necklace, the wallet, and the bag tightly against your chest before quietly pushing the car door open.

With shaky, trembling hands, you slipped out of the vehicle and hurried toward the nearest sprawling tree beside the parking lot, its thick trunk shielding you from anyone who might glance in your direction. Only then did you allow yourself to stop, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as you hugged your stolen belongings close, desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart. 

The necklace alone felt expensive in your hands, its weight unmistakable, and you couldn't help but admire the rich gleam of the gold beneath the parking lot lights. 

This has to be high-karat. 

Your eyes practically sparkled at the thought, relief and triumph swelling inside your chest as you silently congratulated yourself. You had actually managed to steal from him without getting fucked... and without getting caught.

Almost.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the thick gold necklace into your pocket, the reassuring weight of it pressing against your thigh. 

Your attention soon drifted to the heavy bag you had grabbed from beneath the seat, curiosity getting the better of you. You crouched beneath the tree and slowly pulled the zipper open, your brows knitting together at the sight of something black and metallic nestled inside. 

Frowning, you reached to get a better look, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

It was a gun. 

What the fuck?

Your hands instantly began to shake. The bag slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed far louder than it should have in the quiet of the parking lot. 

You stared at it in horror before your gaze darted to the wallet still clutched tightly against your chest, your pulse pounding so violently it made your fingers numb.

"Oh God... this is a bad idea," you whispered to yourself, panic clawing its way up your throat.

For one reckless moment, you considered running back, returning the necklace, the wallet, the bag….everything—and pretending none of this had ever happened. 

Maybe you could leave them inside his car before he noticed. Maybe you could still walk away.

But it was already too late.

If there was one thing Hanni had drilled into your head from the very beginning, it was this: once you stole something, you never gave it back. Going back wasn't bravery—it was stupidity. 

And stupidity was exactly how thieves got caught.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened his wallet, your brows immediately knitting together when an identification card tucked behind a gleaming gold badge came into view. 

Your stomach dropped. This wasn't a wallet at all—it was a badge holder. 

A cold chill crept down your spine as your fingers shakily flipped the leather, your eyes scanning every detail printed across the identification. The words blurred together at first, your racing heart making it impossible to focus, until your gaze landed on the line that mattered most.

CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

Rank: Captain  | Name: Jeon Jungkook

For a long, terrifying second, your mind went completely blank, your pulse pounding so violently it drowned out every sound around you. 

"F-Fuck! Oh God—fuck!"

The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper as your hands shook so violently you could barely keep hold of the badge holder. 

Your breathing grew shallow, your mind racing through every possible escape, each one ending worse than the last. 

You stared at the polished badge in horror, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest, when the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached your ears.

Panic surged through your body, and you instinctively turned, ready to run for your life, but a firm hand wrapped around your wrist before you could take a single step.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a quiet chuckle from behind you, amusement lacing his voice.

You froze.

Your gaze remained fixed straight ahead, too terrified to look back at him. Cold sweat trickled down your spine as your heartbeat thundered in your ears. 

The heavy bag still lay on the ground at your feet. The gold necklace weighed against your pocket. And clutched tightly between your trembling fingers was his badge holder, still opened to the identification that had shattered every ounce of confidence you had only moments ago.

You had been fucking caught.

Not just by any random stranger. 

But by a goddamn police captain.

"I got your water, baby," he said, his voice coated in quiet amusement. You flinched the moment the cold bottle brushed against the back of your thighs, the chill a cruel contrast to the heat of your panic.

"O-Officer, I—"

"You forgot something, didn't you?" he whispered against your ear, his grip never loosening around your wrist. 

The bottle of water lazily traced the length of your trembling thigh, as though he had all the time in the world.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs threatened to give out beneath you, hot tears gathering until they spilled freely down your cheeks. Every frantic thought crashed into the next, leaving you unable to form a single coherent sentence.

He leaned in even closer, his warm breath ghosting just below your ear.

"You forgot my wallet, baby." his voice dropped into a slow drawl. "That's my badge holder."

A broken sob caught in your throat. Your future flashed before your eyes in vivid, terrifying fragments. 

You could already see the cold metal of handcuffs locking around your wrists, the flashing red and blue lights, the backseat of a patrol car, a holding cell, your family finding out, your future slipping through your fingers before you had even been given the chance to fight for it. Everything you had worked so hard for, every dream you had stubbornly clung to despite your circumstances, all of it seemed to crumble into pieces in the span of a few unbearable seconds.

You had just thrown your entire life away.

“P-Please, I-’’

"Is my poor baby too dumb, or does that pretty little head of yours just want to get fucked?"

You shook your head frantically, tears spilling faster down your cheeks. "N-No, no, Officer, please... I'm sorry. It was a mistake—"

A startled gasp escaped you when he suddenly spun you around, your back pressing against the rough bark of the tree. Your tear-clouded eyes instantly met his dark ones, the amusement lingering in them only making the panic clawing at your chest grow worse.

He raised a brow, studying your face for a long, agonizing moment.

"Aww, look at you…so scared, baby." he cooed.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Want me to give you a chance?’’ he tilted his head.

Hope bloomed inside your chest so suddenly it almost hurt.

Jungkook took another step forward, his broad frame caging you against the tree until there was nowhere left to run. Your entire body trembled beneath his gaze, your heart pounding so violently you could barely hear yourself think, and you looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, clinging to the smallest possibility that he might actually let you go.

"P-Please, Officer… I-I'm sorry..." you stammered, the words tumbling over one another in your haste. "I-I know it was wrong, a-and that—"

‘’Run.” 

Your lips parted in disbelief.

"W-What?"

He slowly licked his lower lip, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that carried no warmth whatsoever. Stepping closer until there wasn't even a breath of space left between you, he brushed the pad of his thumb across your trembling lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Run, baby. Run as fast as you can.” his voice dropped into a low murmur, his tone as though he were talking to a child. "And when I catch you, I'm gonna take you to prison. I'll fuck you every day behind those rusty metal bars. I'll use your tight little pussy until your hole is gaping and leaking. Maybe I'll even let my comrades fuck you too. We'll take turns fucking that slutty, manipulative pussy of yours."

Desperation made people do reckless things. 

It silenced reason, drowned out fear, and left nothing behind but the instinct to survive.

You spun around and bolted before your mind had the chance to catch up, your legs carrying you as fast as they could through the dimly lit streets. Instead of following the brighter roads, you veered into the narrow, shadowed alleyways, your panicked thoughts convincing you that the light was far more dangerous than the dark. 

People could help you—but the moment they learned why you were running, they wouldn't see a terrified woman. 

They would see a thief.

A criminal…and they would hand you right back to him.

Your lungs burned, each desperate breath sharper than the last, your feet throbbing against the unforgiving pavement as you forced yourself to keep going. When a tall chain-link fence came into view, fear surged through your exhausted body. You stumbled toward it, your shaking hands already reaching for the metal, frantically searching for a way to climb over it.

You never got the chance.

A powerful hand suddenly seized both of your wrists from behind, wrenching them backward before you could react. A startled cry tore from your throat as your body was dragged away from the fence, only to be slammed against it a heartbeat later.

 “L-Let me go!” you cried.

The rough metal dug painfully into your cheek, your breath knocked from your lungs as he forced your arms higher behind your back. Then you heard it—

A sharp metallic click…cold steel closed around your wrist.

You were handcuffed.

He secured the other cuff around the metal fence, leaving your wrists restrained above your head. The cold steel bit into your skin as you instinctively struggled against it, your cheek pressed harshly against the chain-link, the rough metal scraping your flushed skin every time you tried to pull away. The handcuffs refused to budge, each desperate tug only making them dig in deeper.

"N-No... no, please," you cried, your voice breaking into helpless sobs.

Instead of hurting you, he reached up and gently combed a few loose strands of hair away from your face, the unexpected tenderness making your entire body flinch. His fingers lingered for a moment, idly twirling a lock of your hair around them before giving it a soft tug.

"Shh, it’s okay…" he said in a mocking tone.

"I-I’m sorry, please…I’ll do anything—"

The plea died on your lips when you felt him lower himself behind you.

“Anything, baby?” he whispered.

He settled onto one knee before slowly gathering the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until your damp panties were fully exposed beneath the cool night air. His large hands slid down to your thighs, spreading your legs apart with an effortless firmness that left your body trembling against the restraint. 

Your eyes widened as you pulled uselessly at the handcuffs, your legs instinctively trying to close, but there was nowhere to go. A warm tongue suddenly pressed against the fabric between your thighs, dragging slowly over your sticky panties.

His nose remained buried in your tight hole, drawing in a slow, deep breath as though savoring every scent of you. His tongue dragged languidly along your slit from behind, the damp fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation.

"O-Oh gosh-" you cried, fresh tears spilling down your flushed cheeks as you felt him inhale against your clothed cunt again. His tongue swept over you once more, leaving your panties even wetter than before.

“Let me play with you.” he murmured before diving in.

You bit down hard on your lip, another wave of warmth pooling between your thighs despite yourself. More tears slipped from your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure tangling with the fear coursing through your body.

I am not enjoying this, I am not-

A low groan rumbled behind you as he spread your legs farther apart. His pointed nose brushed against your puckered hole, inhaling deeply. 

You craned your neck to look around, but there was no one in sight. Only the lonely yellow glow of a streetlamp stretched across the empty street, casting long shadows around the two of you.

When he flipped your panties aside, you instinctively tried to close your legs, but a startled gasp escaped your lips as his palm suddenly came down against your inner thigh with a sharp smack, the sting urging your legs back open for him.

“Open up for me, baby. Let me taste your little pussy,” he murmured, giving your thigh another light tap as he silently coaxed you to spread yourself wider.

You were getting wetter, but the thought of someone's tongue directly against your pussy was beyond your virgin imagination.

When you still didn't move, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

You felt him rise behind you, the warmth of his body disappearing for only a brief moment before the unmistakable click of metal made your breath hitch. Before you even had the chance to turn your head, the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against your temple.

A broken cry caught in your throat, your entire body trembling. 

“W-What-”

"Spread your legs."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation. The barrel pressed more insistently against your temple, and with another shaky sob, your knees slowly fell farther apart.

A satisfied hum vibrated from his chest. Only then did he pull the gun away, tucking it back into the holster at the back of his belt before lowering himself between your thighs once more. His hands wrapped around them, holding you open exactly how he wanted, and the moment he buried his face between your legs, a deep groan escaped him.

“Oh, gosh!” you moaned.

You were already leaking, his broad tongue dragged slowly up and down your chubby, swollen folds before slipping between them, teasing your slit as it delved deeper, massaging your inner walls with slow, deliberate strokes that only left you wetter.

“Pretty.” he leaned back and spat onto your cunt, watching the thick strand of saliva mingle with your slick wetness. “Do you regret what you did, baby?”

His fingers hooked beneath your outer lips, spreading them apart just enough to watch his saliva disappear deeper into your cunt. He spat again, his gaze fixed on the way it slipped between your folds, leaving your sensitive inner walls glistening.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned shamelessly, the torture only making you wetter.

“Would you let me do anything I want?” he asked, staring at your fluttering cunt.

You bit your lip, feeling your milky juices drip from every degrading thing he'd been saying to you.

“Yes.” you said in a tiny voice.

He chuckled, “You wanted to be used like this, didn't you?” 

He leaned in, his tongue flattening as he licked from your perineum to your clit in one slow, vulgar stroke, spreading his spit until his own drool began to trail down his chin. 

“You wanted this…you sat on my lap, ground your filthy cunt against my cock, acted like a good little decoy so you could rob me. But your hole's been thanking me the whole time, hasn't it?”

You shut your eyes tightly when you felt him continuously spitting on your cunt, your pussy was getting so wet that you felt it dripping on your inner thighs down to your ankles.

He held your folds apart, leaving you completely exposed for his hungry gaze. Leaning back, he watched the way they trembled and pulsed beneath his eyes before leaning down again, his tongue already darting out to lap up every drop of your juices. Each time he swallowed, he would only spit over you again, coating you until you were slick enough for him to start all over.

Your eyes widened as the muzzle of the gun pressed against your inner thigh, cool, unforgiving steel sending a shiver through your body. It slowly slid higher until it settled against your entrance, the tip quickly growing slick with your wetness.

"O-Officer—"

“Shh, you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? To rape your thief little pussy.” he mocked, his eyes fixed on the way the tip of the gun glistened with your milky juices as he slowly dragged it up and down your chubby slit.

Desperation was a frightening thing. 

It stripped away reason piece by piece until all that remained was the helpless anticipation of whatever came next.

When you didn't answer, too absorbed in the feeling of the foreign gun against your pussy, he pressed it harder against you, drawing a pained whimper from your lips as tears stung your eyes.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you," he said firmly, applying just a little more pressure.

"Y-Yes," you whimpered.

He tilted his head. "Yes, what?"

You bit your lip. "Y-Yes, O-Officer."

He hummed in approval before pulling the gun away. His tongue darted out to taste the tip, sucking your wetness from the cold metal before releasing it with a soft pop.

A low groan rumbled from his chest as he buried himself between your thighs once more, diving back into your exposed pussy with relentless hunger. The obscene sounds of slurping, sucking, and the occasional spit echoed through the place, each one making you feel weaker, more helpless beneath him.

You bit down hard on your lip as you felt your orgasm creeping closer. You tried to hold it back, to keep control, but your body betrayed you. 

Every flick of his tongue, every slow suck, every warm trail of spit sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your pussy convulse beneath his tongue. 

“F-Fuck-” you whimpered.

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms ached against the restraints, and your eyes rolled back as the pulsing sensation deep within you grew stronger with every passing second. You wanted to pull away from his mouth, to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but his grip remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted as he sucked out every last tremor, refusing to let you move even as the overstimulation left your body trembling.

“Mhm, you taste so good, baby,” he whispered, leaning back just enough to pinch your folds together, as though squeezing every last drop of your milky white juices from your pussy before leaning in again to catch it on his tongue.

A helpless whimper escaped your lips. Your legs were on the verge of giving out beneath you, your arms still held captive by the restraints while your pussy throbbed with overwhelming sensitivity. As he rose to his feet, his palm landed against your cunt in a careless slap, making you flinch before he lazily wiped the sheen of your juices from the corner of his mouth.

His hand found your hair again, fingers threading through the strands before tightening into a firm fist. He tugged until your head tipped back, exposing the line of your throat, and his lips brushed against your tear-dampened cheek.

“Wanna steal more, baby?”

His grip twisted tighter, pulling your head back until your neck arched painfully. 

He slowly dragged his tongue along the salty trail of your tears, licking your cheek with slow strokes, savoring the taste of your cries as another quiet hum of approval rumbled in his chest.

You whimpered, your body trembling as you felt the hard outline of his clothed bulge press against the plush of your ass. He slowly ground his erection against you, a low grunt vibrating beneath your ear while his hand kept a firm hold on your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to suck and leave harsh bites along your neck.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered, grinding his cock more firmly against your bare ass. “My money? My jewelry?”

“O-Officer-”

His fist tightened in your hair, forcing another helpless whimper from your lips as he dragged his tongue along your throat, feeling the way you swallowed hard beneath him. “You wanted all of it, didn't you?”

His teeth sank into your neck once more as his clothed bulge rutted harder against the cleft of your ass, the seam of his pants catching against your skin with every slow roll of his hips. At the same time, his free hand slipped beneath your dress, yanking the fabric higher before grabbing a full handful of your bare ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"My pretty, pretty thief," he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek as his hips rolled against you with even more force.

He wrenched his pants open just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the heated length slapping against one ass cheek before the other. Pre-cum glistened over the swollen tip as he slowly ground the shaft along the plush curve of your ass, coating your skin with every deliberate roll of his hips.

"Feel that? I'm so hard for you, baby."

A helpless mewl slipped past your lips as you weakly shook your head, your entire body trembling while he continued rubbing against your ass.

“Fuck, you make me so fucking horny.” he grunted.

Your cheeks burned crimson, the same flush spreading across your neck, and another whimper escaped you when he suddenly jerked your head back by the hair. 

"Grind back, baby, or I'll fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You cried harder, your body trembling as you reluctantly began to move your ass against his cock. A deep groan escaped him, his right hand settling firmly on your hip as he looked down, watching the way his hard length slid slowly through the cleft of your ass with every hesitant grind.

He spat over the curve of your ass for added lubrication, and a helpless cry caught in your throat when you felt the warm saliva land against your puckered rim. Despite the humiliation, your pussy only grew wetter.

His tattooed hand suddenly snaked around your waist, trailing lower until it reached your cunt. You gasped as his fingers cupped your pussy before hooking between your folds, spreading your lips apart into a lewd V-shape for him to admire.

“Look down and watch your clit, baby.” he rasped, tilting your head down so your gaze fell between your legs.

“P-Please...” you croaked, your body growing weaker by the second, your pussy aching for more even as the rest of you threatened to give out.

“Wanna be fucked so bad, huh?”

You gasped as his middle finger suddenly pushed between the V-shaped hold of his fingers, slipping inside your tight cunt. Your walls fluttered helplessly around the thick digit as he slowly worked it deeper.

“Oh! Mhmp!” you screamed.

His cock left your ass, the slick tip dragging slowly down until it notched against your entrance, smearing pre-cum and his spit over your swollen folds.

“Gonna fuck you good, baby…you’ve been a very bad girl.” he yanked your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue traced a slow path from your neck to the shell of your ear. “Need to fuck some sense into you, hmm?’’

“Mhmp!” you whimpered.

“Shh... moan for me, baby. It'll feel good.” his finger pressed deeper one last time, stretching your walls before he slowly withdrew it. The emptiness lasted only a heartbeat before he replaced it with the thick, leaking head of his cock, nudging its way against your entrance.

“Ahhh!” you screamed at the sudden stretch, his thick cock forcing its way into your tight pussy until you could feel every pulsing vein dragging against your walls as he pushed deeper.

He thrust halfway, then stopped, watching your cunt spasm around him, a thin ribbon of milky white release clinging to his shaft like a ring. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” he slowly pulled back before driving into you harder, bottoming out in one deep thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass hard enough to make the fence rattle.

“Need to use this cunt every day. Maybe I’ll let my comrades fuck this tight little cunt so they can loosen you up for me, yeah?” he grunted, pushing even deeper until his balls rested snug against your cunt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against the curve of your ass with every shallow grind.

“U-Ugh, p-please...” you screamed, trying to wriggle, but he only answered with a low grunt against your ear. Then, without warning, he withdrew his cock completely.

For one fleeting moment, you thought he was finally going to let you go.

But your eyes widened the instant you heard the unmistakable clink of his leather belt being unclasped.

Your eyes widened as you felt him wrap the leather around your neck, fastening it just snug enough for him to tug whenever your cries grew too loud, cutting off your words with every sharp pull.

“Behave, baby.” he chuckled, easing himself inside you once more while keeping a firm grip on the belt for leverage. Every now and then, he gave it another deliberate tug, silencing your screams as his hips continued to drive into you.

The moment his hips began to roll against yours, your eyes fluttered back, pleasure blooming beneath the sting until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. 

“O-Oh, O-Officer!” a shaky sob escaped your lips, born as much from the humiliation as the sensation itself. Your pussy ached for more, clenching helplessly around his thick girth, betraying you with every pulse.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from behind you. His arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly against him as he circled his hips into yours, each relentless thrust threatening to lift your body off your feet.

“Is my baby enjoying this?” he whispered, giving the leather another measured yank, just enough to cut your sob short. The strap bit into the flushed skin of your throat as his hips snapped forward again, his balls slapping wetly against your cunt with every forceful thrust.

“This is turning you on, huh?”

You shook your head, but your pussy only grew wetter, your cries slowly dissolving into helpless moans as he continued to fuck you from behind.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered.

“N-No, Officer.” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you gave a slow, trembling shake of your head.

“Yeah? You like getting used?”

He gave the belt another sharp tug, cutting off your whimpers before loosening it just enough to let a broken moan spill from your lips. Then he drove into you even deeper, his mushroom tip grinding against your spongy walls until you could feel your own milky juices coating his shaft.

"Gonna lock you up in a cell, baby… you'll be the precinct's little fucktoy."

The moment his thick head brushed against your g-spot, your entire body spasmed around his cock. A harsh groan tore from his throat as your walls clamped down on him, forcing him to pull out almost immediately. His movements turned urgent, one hand fumbling for the keys clipped to his belt while the other steadied you. Your hazy eyes fluttered shut as you felt the handcuffs finally come undone from your wrists.

You thought he was done.

A weak gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly flipped you over to face him, your exhausted arms falling limply to your sides as he stripped away the rest of your dress. Without a word, he lifted you with effortless strength and pinned you against the cold metal fence before guiding his hard cock back inside you. A broken whimper slipped from your throat at the oversensitivity left behind by your previous orgasm, your body instinctively tensing around him as his mouth found your exposed nipples, sucking them greedily while he chased his own release.

Your body bounced helplessly with every powerful thrust, like a toy being used exactly as he pleased. Your tongue nearly lolled from your parted lips, your mind reduced to nothing but scattered pleasure as his larger frame manhandled yours with ease. Low grunts and strained moans vibrated against your swollen nipples, each sound muffled by the way his mouth refused to leave them.

A rough growl tore from his throat as his climax finally overtook him. You felt the thick warmth of his release spilling deep inside your already used hole, his hips continuing to roll against yours in slow, deep motions, as though determined to push every last drop of his cum even deeper. 

“Fuck, baby,” his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your breast, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the lingering waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Some of it trickled down the insides of your thighs, warm against your skin. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to stay open…your body hanging limply in his grasp.

When he finally set you back on your feet, your legs nearly gave out beneath you. Before you could steady yourself, he was already kneeling between your thighs again, firmly spreading them apart as though he hadn't just reduced them to trembling. 

“W-Wait-” you panicked.

A helpless cry escaped your lips when his mouth found your swollen pussy once more, lapping up the mixture of his release and your milky wetness, slurping every drop with relentless hunger. The overstimulation sent your body reeling, your clit already so unbearably sensitive that the moment his tongue slid upward to wrap around it, your pussy pulsed against his mouth, another orgasm crashing through you before you could stop it.

He looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching every twitch and shudder that overtook your body as you came around his mouth. 

You could see the way his cheeks hollowed with every slow suck on your clit, and somehow the sight of his discarded gun and badge lying carelessly on the floor beside him made the moment feel even dirtier—

A police officer on his knees, devotedly eating out the very thief he had caught.

Only when he was satisfied did he rise to his feet. His hand slipped into your hair, gently tugging you toward him until his lips claimed yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you with greedy desperation. Your eyelids grew heavy, your knees threatening to buckle again, your body barely able to remain upright.

You flinched when you felt his hardened cock brush against your inner thighs even as he continued kissing you, a wave of panic surging through your exhausted body. Your pussy already felt swollen and unbearably sensitive, every nerve still humming from the relentless orgasms he had pulled from you.

As though sensing the fear creeping into your expression, he let out a low chuckle, slowly pulling away from your lips to study your face.

"Aww, is my baby tired?" he cooed, the words dripping with mock honey as he nudged your chin upward. 

You shook your head, your body instinctively yielding to whatever he was going to do next.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he bit down on his lower lip, your quiet submission enough to make his cock throb.

"Kneel for me."

Your knees trembled beneath you as you slowly lowered yourself, a startled gasp escaping your lips the moment the swollen tip dragged a lazy streak of pre-cum across your cheek.

"Open up, baby…daddy's not done." he gathered your hair into one hand with a gentleness that belonged to a lover rather than the man standing before you, tilting your face toward his groin, a smile tugging at his lips that never quite reached the darkness in his eyes.

"Clean up the mess you made, hmm? Open wide for Officer."

The swollen head nudged past your lips, and a mock-pitying sigh slipped from him as your mouth slowly yielded around his cock, your tongue flattening instinctively beneath the weight before a helpless gag caught in your throat.

"There, there," he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair. "Suck nice and slow, pretty girl."

He began to rock his hips into your mouth in slow, shallow thrusts, while his free hand continued to pet your hair with a tenderness so painfully at odds with the degradation spilling from his lips.

"That's it, baby," he praised softly. "Tongue flat, like the dumb, cute slut you are."

He pushed his cock deeper until the swollen mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat, the prominent veins along his shaft dragging against the roof of your mouth with every slow thrust, the upward curve making each movement reach even deeper.

"I can give you everything you want, baby," he whispered, a groan slipping past his lips as his thrusts gradually became sloppier, his grip on your hair tightening with every push. Saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth as you fought the urge to choke, wet, muffled gargles escaping your throat each time he buried himself deeper. Your eyes burned, quickly turning red as tears pooled along your lash line.

He cradled your hair once more, the tenderness of the gesture clashing with the relentless pace of his hips.

"I can provide for you... spoil you with all of my money," he murmured, easing himself forward until your nose brushed against the coarse hair at his pelvis. 

He held your face snugly in place for a brief moment before slowly rolling his hips, then gently pulled you back just enough to let you catch your breath, his saliva-slick cock dragging across your flushed cheeks.

"Do you want that?" he asked, tilting his head as he lazily ground his cock against your swollen cheek.

You nodded eagerly, your tear-filled eyes never leaving his.

He chuckled, giving your cheek a light tap with the head of his cock. "Do you understand me, baby?"

You pouted…your cheeks burning red, your eyes swollen, your lips wet with his precum. 

“Mhm..” 

“Mhm?” he chuckled.

He bit his lower lip as he stared down at you, quietly admiring the mess he'd made. “Cute.” 

Without warning, he yanked your head forward until he was fully seated inside your mouth, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as his balls slapped against your chin with each shallow roll of his hips.

"Gurk—gurk—"

You choked around him, tears immediately spilling down your cheeks, but the only response he gave was a deep groan as he slowly began to fuck your face, each thrust forcing another muffled gargle from your throat.

"Fuck, baby...I'm gonna cum."

He pulled out just enough to lean down and spit onto your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, the loose belt still hanging around your neck, its end dragging through the dirt every time your head was forced forward.

You gagged helplessly around him, your cheeks hollowing as your eyes rolled back, your head rocking back and forth with every relentless thrust while he used your mouth however he pleased. And when you felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts growing rougher and increasingly sloppy, he suddenly pulled free with a low groan. Before you could even catch your breath, he hauled you to your feet, one arm wrapped firmly around your body as he guided his cock against your cunt, his other hand positioning himself before pushing his hard cock back into your tight hole.

“I’m gonna cum inside baby, a reward for being a good little toy for daddy.”

A broken cry escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering the moment he came. Thick, warm spurts filled you one after another while your body trembled from the lingering overstimulation, his hips continuing to jerk and roll against yours as he emptied every last drop inside you.

"These are worth thousands, Y/N! Oh my God."

Hanni's eyes widened in utter disbelief, her gaze sweeping across the worn wooden table as though she couldn't decide which stolen treasure to look at first.

A thick leather wallet, its compartments stuffed with crisp bills. Heavy gold necklaces lay tangled together beside matching rings, each piece gleaming with the unmistakable richness of high-karat gold. A limited-edition watch rested nearby, its polished face catching the kitchen light with every slight movement. And a duffel bag overflowed with expensive perfumes, bottle after bottle worth more than most people's monthly salary.

A slow smile tugged at your lips as your gaze wandered over Jungkook's belongings scattered across the table.

You never told Hanni that you'd gotten caught. 

Instead, you let her believe everything had gone according to plan.

Desperation has a way of rewriting your morals. It convinces good people to cross lines they once swore they would never touch, somehow making it feel like the only choice left.

He had given you far more than you had ever planned on stealing.

Tucked beneath your bed, hidden inside an old shoebox, were stacks of cash and signed checks worth enough to keep you comfortable for a long while—buying you the time to find a better path for yourself.

You hadn't even told Hanni about them.

Not because you didn't trust her, but because you knew the moment she saw that kind of money, questions would follow. Questions you couldn't answer without admitting where it had come from. So you kept the cash hidden, the checks tucked safely beneath it, and carried the secret alone.

He still hadn't turned you over to the authorities, even though it was painfully obvious he'd known exactly what kind of person you were from the very beginning.

From the moment he'd let you reach for the clasp of his necklace, he'd already known.

No high-ranking police officer—especially not a captain…would've failed to notice what you were trying to do. He had seen through you from the very beginning, long before you'd ever managed to slip a single thing into your hands.

Why did he let you?

You smiled seductively, slipping the watch and wallet beneath your dress before taking another sip of your now-warm beer, your gaze lingering on your target, who was far too drunk to notice the way your attention had never truly been on him.

Perhaps you hadn't changed.

Because here you were, stealing again…chasing the same thrill, the same rush, while somewhere beneath every excuse you made for yourself, another reason quietly waited.

Maybe you wanted to see him again.

You left the crowded club with the stolen watch and wallet hidden beneath your dress, weaving through the lingering crowd until the music faded behind you. The cool night air greeted your flushed skin as you made your way toward the smoking area, where you and Hanni had agreed to meet.

You had been stealing for six months now. 

You managed to steal from a shopping mall, a restaurant, a boutique, and even a high-end store—your usual targets where men were rarely involved.

Tonight, you decided to try flirting again…attempting to seduce someone despite the fact that your only experience had been with him.

Before you could even pull out your phone to text Hanni, someone pushed you against the cold brick wall.

Familiar dark, round eyes stared back at you, the same pierced lips curled around a cigarette as smoke drifted lazily into the night. Tattooed arms caged you in on either side, leaving nowhere for you to go.

Your eyes widened.

Seeing him dressed in the crisp navy uniform of a police captain stole the air from your lungs. 

Gold captain's bars gleamed from the epaulets on his shoulders, while a polished metal badge rested proudly over his chest. His duty belt sat low around his waist, crowded with the familiar weight of handcuffs, a radio, holster, and the rest of the equipment that came with his authority. The neatly pressed fabric, the black tie tucked beneath the collar, the nameplate pinned above his pocket—it all transformed the man you remembered into someone far more intimidating.

Power looked infuriatingly good on him.

Before you could utter a single word, his left hand slipped under your dress. Your breath caught as his fingers found the watch and wallet strapped against your thigh with effortless precision.

“Looks like my baby didn't learn her lesson, hmm?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

© 2026 ggukiebar, all rights reserved

Everything Jeongguk does has some sort of musicality to it. Even the way he kisses feels melodic. He’s the only person who can play you like a fiddle, or the only one you allow to. 

“It’s open,” you holler from the kitchen. 

It isn’t the norm for you to keep your door unlocked, but you already knew he was coming. Not because you two talked about it beforehand or because he texted you on his way over. This is just what you two do, and have done, for two years shy of a decade now. 

Light shines in from the street lamps outside when Jeongguk enters your house, drops his bag, and kicks off his shoes. The sounds are understandably familiar given how many times this exact scenario’s played out. And just like clockwork, a couple seconds after the door clicks shut, you feel two warm, strong arms wrapping around your middle. 

“This all for little ole me, huh?” Jeongguk whispers where his lips are grazing your neck. 

You hear him inhale your scent and contentedly hum between his soft kisses along your throat, leaving you to fight off the urge to totally melt into him. 

“Why would it be? Is today a special occasion or something?” 

He chuckles into your skin. It’s low and deep, making it obvious how tired he is, but still as bright as ever. 

“Oh, not really. Just Bangtan’s golden anniversary.” 

“Ah, I see.” While he continues to paint your neck in affection, you add the finishing touches to the seaweed soup you made. “Well, I’ll have you know you guys don’t own the date June thirteenth.” 

“No?” 

His cheerful giggles tickle your ear and cause your head to tilt, unintentionally giving his mouth more space to work. 

“Nuh uh. It also happens to be my, um, my grandma’s cat’s birthday,” you retort.

It’s such a stupid joke, but hearing Jeongguk’s loud laugh is enough to tell it again and again. 

“My apologies,” he drawls with a final peck. “To the cat.” 

By the time he turns you around in his arms, you’re giggling, too. It’s par for the course whenever you’re together, just like his hands caressing the bare skin of your waist below your top. 

He looks so unbelievably handsome, even with evidence of fatigue written all over his face. His black hair’s gotten longer since you last saw him, but it’s parted on one side to show off his forehead and pretty, doe eyes. 

On instinct, you reach up to comb through the front pieces and Jeongguk instantly wilts. His eyes close, shoulders drop, and muscles relax, bringing his body an inch closer to you.

“You didn’t have to come, you know.” As if to directly counter your statement, one of his arms loops around your back. “It’s been a long two days, no?” 

“Missed you.” 

His response is so quick it’s almost like muscle memory and you have to fend off the butterflies in your stomach as a result. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You could’ve stopped by tomorrow or something.” When Jeongguk shakes his head with a slight pout, it triggers your memories of him doing the exact same thing as a kid. He hasn’t changed at all since you two grew up together here in Busan, even though it feels like a lifetime ago. “Ggukie.”

“I…” His eyes open again and a smile slowly breaks out across his face as he surveys you. “I didn’t wanna wait. I needed to be with you tonight.” You can’t resist mirroring his expression. “Is that alright?” 

After a long inhale, you nod. 

“It’s always alright.” 

That’s apparently all he needs to hear because he kisses you without missing a beat. It’s mundane and regular to feel his lips against your own. Of course, it is. He was your first kiss as a teenager and you’ve lost count of how many you’ve shared since then. 

Jeongguk’s lips are consistently soft, pleasant, and gentle. He kisses you like it’s the first time even in the middle of your raunchiest affairs. Sometimes he’s so delicate you forget the type of relationship this really is. 

To be fair, Jeongguk doesn't treat you like just some friend with benefits or a random situationship. The years of familiarity between you garner a much deeper respect than that. But that also allows your heart to occasionally get the wrong idea. 

He isn’t yours, and you’re not sure if he ever will be. Which is okay. All you ever want is to have him in your life and whether that’s platonically or romantically, you don’t care. The only thing you could never withstand is losing him altogether. 

Although, it’s a lie to say you won’t miss the feeling of his hands on your spine and your chests pressed together if your relationship suddenly becomes friendly. His long fingers occupy the majority of your back whenever he holds you like this, encompassing you in his presence until it’s all you can think about. Not to mention how his mouth guides your own open so he can slip his tongue inside. 

This is how he gets you every time without fail. You can be completely focused on something, but as soon as his lips are on you, it’s game over. 

For instance, the meticulously planned meal on the counter behind you.

“Jeo — Jeongguk,” you murmur between kisses. “The food’s getting cold.” 

He just laughs at your feeble attempt to stop him. 

“You have a microwave for a reason, no?”

His head tilts to the opposite side so he can kiss you with more fervor, but you push on his chest to force him back. He looks cartoonishly offended by your actions and you have to lace your fingers together just wipe the frown off his face. 

“You’re really choosing pussy over food? That’s a little out of character.” 

“Nah, not when it’s you,” he argues. “You gotta know by now you’re my favorite meal.” 

An embarrassingly bright blush creeps in which you try to hide by glancing to your left, but Jeongguk knows you too well. He uses your chin to turn your head before smiling like a devil because of how pink your cheeks are. Leading you to swat his hand away and pivot in the opposite direction. 

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” 

You barely make it two feet before he catches you with a single arm, tugging you into his chest while you squeal and pretend to fight back. Jeongguk triumphantly cackles in return as he carries you to the couch and flops onto his back, bringing you down with him. 

The position leaves all your most sensitive areas wide open and he takes full advantage by tickling you wherever he can reach. It’s no different from when you were kids on the playground, although back then the behavior wasn’t inundated with sexual tension. Because despite him making you screech and flail, a tender heat follows his fingers where they dance across your skin. His lips are also right beside your ear and the puffs of air from his laughter spreads goosebumps all down your arms.

“Ggukie,” you whine, but he ignores the protest.

Well, partially. He stops tickling you, but only so his hands can slide beneath your shirt to feel your bare skin. One arm fully wraps around your stomach to keep you close while the other sneaks upwards until he finds your bra. His fingers push the material up so he can grope you unimpeached, eliciting a quiet moan when he begins massaging your breast.

In the meantime, he starts kissing your neck again. And like a true musician, he marries the tempo of his hand and mouth so every peck coincides with a firm squeeze. It turns your brain to putty and all you can do is let him keep touching you like his own personal piano. 

“God, you’re so warm.” His lips are dangerously close to your weak spot, the skin right before your shoulder that always makes you squirm. “This is always what I miss the most.”

“Oh, so you don’t miss my company? Just my body?” 

Jeongguk giggles and it’s so damn cute you almost forget your tit’s engulfed in his palm. 

“Of course, I do,” he assures you. “I miss everything about you. All the time.”

You hate when he says shit that makes your heart race. It isn’t fair because you can’t respond in kind or else you risk scaring him away. 

He’s the one who asked for this arrangement; to be able to stroll through your door whenever he’s in town and have you all to himself until he has to leave again. It’s not like you mind. You’ll give yourself to him any day of the week if he asks, but it means there are boundaries he’s allowed to push and you aren’t.

Still, you find ways to skirt around your limitations.

“I missed you, too. It’s been so long.”

“Mm. When was the last time I was here? March?”

“Yeah.” Before you can finish your sentence, he switches to your neglected breast and repeats his ministrations. “Right before the album dropped.” 

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I didn’t mean to neglect you.” 

His lips move to your earlobe and it sends a familiar chill down your spine. 

“S’okay. I’ll forgive you as long as you actually touch me,” you tease. 

When he laughs again, you swear it’s like everything in the world just feels right. 

Rather than responding, Jeongguk trails his other hand down your torso until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He doesn’t dip his fingers beneath the fabric, though, instead choosing to fiddle with the buttons while you grow increasingly more impatient.

“Gguk.” 

“Hmm?”

Along with a dry chuckle, you twist your upper body so you can see him.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” 

You could drown in his responding smile. 

“No.” His hands move to your hips as he sits you both upright. “But I do know you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Even though you’re in a less compromising position, you’re still between his legs with your back half against his chest.

“For starters, you made me seaweed soup to celebrate the special occasion,” he answers. “And you know I just got done with back-to-back concerts. So I’ll be two seconds into fingering you when you hit me with, ‘no, Ggukie, you deserve to come before I do.’”

Unfortunately, his impression of you is spot on, but you can’t let him have a complete win.

“Eh, five seconds.” 

Perhaps you deserve the reprise of his tickle attack, but you still try evading it by standing to create more distance between you. The only problem is Jeongguk’s arms are long enough to catch you, allowing him to force you onto his lap so his hands can torture you for however long he pleases. 

Which is thankfully not long at all, because once you’re straddling his thighs, his fingers creep underneath your shirt to yank it over your head. Your bra’s his next victim, joining your top on the floor before he leans in to suck your nipple into his mouth. 

“Oh,” you gasp as one hand sinks into his hair. “Fuck.”

He hums around your nub while pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

You would let him play with your tits all night if only you had the time. He’s an expert at bringing you pleasure with his fingers, teeth, and tongue. Alas, he’s right about you wanting him to come first. It’s only fair after how hard he’s been working lately. 

As much as you’d love to let him keep going, you use your grip on his scalp to pull his head away from your chest so you can kiss him. His mouth’s warm and swollen from his efforts, making it all too easy to nibble on his bottom lip until you hear a low groan. 

Jeongguk’s hands are already on a different quest now, too, moving up and down your bare back and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Eventually, one of them glides up into your hair where he turns your soft strands into a mess of knots. 

It’s not like you mind, by the time you two are done your hair’s usually unrecognizable. 

“You should be proud, Ggukie.” You leave his mouth alone to pepper his sharp jaw with kisses. “Thirteen years is a long time.” 

He breathes out a laugh.

“Are you proud of me?” 

The question halts you. Not because of the words themselves, but their sincerity. You lift your head so you can see his eyes and just like you expected, there’s a glimmer of expectation in them.

“I’m always proud of you.” Your fingers in his hair begin to brush some locks away from his face before trailing down his cheek. “And I always have been. Since the day you left for Seoul.” 

A nostalgic smile graces his lips.

“You mean when I kissed you goodbye at the train station?” 

It was your first kiss, his as well, and although it was nothing more than a millisecond-long peck, it stopped your heart. 

“Oh, I’ve never been prouder of you than in that moment.”

His grin grows before he cranes his neck for another kiss, albeit much more chaste than its predecessors. 

“I can’t thank you enough for always being here,” he remarks. “And I’m not just talking about the sex. I know you know that, but I wanna make sure you understand how much you mean to me.” 

It’s so hard getting sentimental without your shirt on because then he can see your whole chest and neck flushing with affection. 

“I know,” you tell him.

Jeongguk sighs and lets his head fall forward into your sternum where he places a couple gentle kisses. 

“You smell nice.” 

The unexpected compliment causes you to snicker. 

“Yeah?” He nods. “Well, surprisingly, you do, too.”

“Because I showered, you brat!”

He’s forced to glance up again when your laughter makes his resting place shake too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind. There’s a wistful smile on his lips as his eyes flit around your face. 

“It’s because you’re expecting to get your dick sucked, isn’t it?” As much as he tries to hide it, the lopsided smirk that forms immediately gives him away. “You greedy bastard.” 

“Oh, please, like I’ve ever stepped through your doors and not gotten my dick sucked.” 

Alright, you suppose that’s fair. 

“Whatever. It still shouldn’t be expected.” 

His tongue hits the roof of his mouth. 

“So it’s not happening?” 

“I never said tha —” 

“Then why aren’t you on your knees yet?” You gawk at him before smacking his chest, leaving him melodramatically clutching his left pec. “I was kidding!” 

“No, you weren’t,” you challenge. 

After another moment, he drops the act and lets his hands roam your hips. 

“I mean, don’t you think I deserve it? Thirteen years of working day in and day out. The least my best friend can do is let me fuck her pretty little mouth.”

It’s genuinely diabolical how wet you become from his words alone. 

“You have a sick interpretation of what best friends are for.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, just tilts his head to one side while waiting for you to give in, because he knows you will. You always do because you want him just as badly as he wants you. That’s why this arrangement works so well and has lasted this long. 

Like clockwork, you roll your eyes and drop to your knees in front of him. It produces an overconfident grin as Jeongguk sinks into the couch and spreads his legs apart to make room for you. 

“And yet, here we are,” he comments. 

You gaze up at him with a fiery glare, but it’s contrary to how your hands are already undoing his belt buckle. He pitches his hips up to help you pull his jeans and boxers down, revealing just how hard he is after everything you two have gotten up to so far. 

His dick’s so pretty; long and thick with big veins running down his shaft. You haven’t even touched him yet, but he’s twitching and leaking precum all over his cockhead. 

“No wonder you’re so demanding tonight, you look like you’re about to bust.” 

He groans when you place your hands on his thighs instead of touching him where he clearly needs you. 

“Please, sunshine, I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day.” 

“Oh?” Your fingers inch higher, but not nearly close enough. “How so?”

“Y/N.”

“If you tell me, I’ll give you what you want,” you sing-song.

Jeongguk’s head falls back onto the cushions as another sound of protest passes through his lips. He must realize you won’t give in, though, because he eventually looks down to hold your eye contact. 

“Since the moment I woke up this morning I’ve been picturing all the different positions I wanna put you in. Could barely focus during soundcheck because of how badly I need you.” 

Well, that was a bad idea because now you’re freaking drenched. But you still gotta maintain a little dignity.

“Is this one of them?”

Before replying, he slowly nods.

“Of many.” 

You sure like the sound of that. It also seems particularly mean to continue torturing him. Not to mention how terribly you want him after months apart. It isn’t the longest you’ve gone without seeing each other, but any amount of time is tough when he’s the only person who knows how to make you feel good. 

So, you move your hands up to give yourself enough leverage before leaning in to kiss his tip. His whole body lurches from your touch, but once your tongue darts out to collect his precum, he relaxes against the couch cushions.

At the same time you moan over his familiar taste, he groans and tosses his head back again. His fingers find your scalp and latch onto your hair, simultaneously pulling it away from your face and giving him an anchor. 

You don’t waste time, not like how you normally do by dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. Tonight you immediately take his head into your mouth while letting spit drip out to lubricate him. 

Jeongguk’s clearly happy with the decision because you feel a harsh tug on your hair as well as his thighs clenching beneath your hands. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he mindlessly encourages you. 

Except it actually almost stops you in your tracks. He’s never called you baby before, or any pet name, at least not during a sexual encounter. Maybe while trying to tease you or in a general manner, but never like this. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, though, so you chalk it up to him being deep in the throes of pleasure. 

After pushing the comment from your mind, you inhale through your nose and sink lower, swallowing another inch of length as Jeongguk loudly moans above you.

“God.” While you focus on not gagging, his free hand combs more of your hair back so he can see your lips stretched around his thick cock. “You have no idea how good this feels, sunshine. No one does it like you.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, eliciting another deep moan. 

Before his praises can distract you any longer, you take in one last gulp of air and force your head all the way down to his pelvis. Both you and Jeongguk choke, but surprisingly, his own lasts longer than yours. You’re used to having his dick deep inside your throat, so although it’s been a while, you only need a moment to adjust. 

On the contrary, Jeongguk’s practically losing his mind. Both of his hands land on your head as he endlessly groans and pants your name. 

“Oh, fuck. Jesus… fuck.” It’s hard not to laugh at how seemingly mesmerized he is. “Y/N, baby, please move. Need you so bad.” 

Another one? How does he expect you to give him the blowjob of his dreams when he keeps calling you that? 

Luckily for him, you’ve been doing this long enough to overcome his abnormal behavior. 

You already know exactly how he likes it; slow, sloppy, and wet. Jeongguk’s an attention whore and loves knowing all of your focus is solely on pleasuring him. Hence why you begin leisurely bobbing up and down while using the tip of your tongue to trace the underside of his cock. 

He sighs in relief and you can feel all his muscles unwinding, giving you quite the confidence boost. Jeongguk’s always responsive in these situations, but he seems particularly drunk on you tonight. 

Besides the actions of your tongue and lips, you alternate between moaning and humming whenever his tip sinks deeper into your mouth. You also repeatedly let more spit roll down his shaft, which creates a sinful cacophony of sound when mixed with Jeongguk’s whines and groans. 

“Shit. Oh… my god.” 

When you glance up, all you see is a sharp jawline and pretty neck. But it isn’t long before a pair of shiny, doe eyes meet your gaze. 

Jeongguk’s pupils blow wide when he realizes you're watching him and you even feel his dick twitch inside your esophagus. Soon enough a proud smirk appears and one of his hands traces your profile until he’s caressing your cheek.

“You look so beautiful, sunshine.” He pulls on your hair to bring your mouth back up around his head and you instantly understand the silent memo. Rather than swallowing his length again, you circle and tease the sensitive ridge of his tip with your tongue. “That’s it. Always s’good for me, aren’t you?”

After humming and batting your eyelashes at him, you feel another sharp jolt from his cock. You take it as your cue to keep going and even start massaging his balls that are covered in your drool. In response, Jeongguk shouts a string of curses and his fingers scratch your scalp as he struggles to stay sane. 

You’ve done this enough to know he’s close, but you need a break before you can finish him off. Following one last lap of your mouth, you let your hand take over so you can replenish your oxygen.

“Goddamn,” he huffs as his eyes follow your finger’s movements along his shaft.

“Where do you wanna come?”

His focus shifts to your face again, so you send him a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, sunshine, you already know where.”

“You never know,” you counter. “My tits look pretty good tonight.”

Jeongguk snickers. 

“They always look good.” The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and using his grip on your face to guide you closer. “But I wanna fill you up right here.” 

There’s no need for clarification because he kisses you to explain himself. It’s messy and amorous, not only because of how swollen your lips are, but because Jeongguk shoves his tongue inside your mouth. 

You both moan and more precum leaks from his tip as your wet muscles tangle together. If you aren’t careful, he might come before you even wrap your lips around him again. 

When you finally pull back, a string of saliva stretches between your mouths that Jeongguk swipes away. He leaves his thumb there for a moment, pressing down on your bottom lip before slipping his finger between your teeth. 

Even though you know what he wants, you playfully bite down on his knuckle instead. Following his shocked yelp, you both burst into laughter.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he scolds you. 

“Well, this brat’s still got her hand around your cock.” 

You squeeze his head to make a point, causing Jeongguk to hiss and yank on your hair in retaliation. 

“Can we change that?” As if you two weren’t just teasing each other a second ago, he gently cradles your face again. “Will you let me paint your pretty throat white?” 

If only you could muster a witty response, but all you can manage is an aimless nod that leaves him smirking as he sits back against the couch once more. 

There isn’t any reason to wait, so you let your hand drop back down to his balls before encasing his head between your lips. You immediately bring his entire length inside your mouth again, picking up where you left off without any hesitation. 

Similarly, it doesn’t take long for Jeongguk to teeter on the brink of ecstasy. After only a few strokes, you feel his balls tighten and then his hot cum floods your mouth. His release makes him groan so loud you actually worry your neighbors will hear, but you also don’t care when you’re busy swallowing his seed. 

Jeongguk always tastes good and you can’t resist moaning while moving up and down his shaft to collect all his cum. 

“Holy shit, baby,” he gasps as you continue lick and suck throughout his climax. “Fuck, don’t stop.” 

Not like you need to be told twice. You love breaking him off just as much as he does. 

Once he’s practically devoid of semen and you’re out of oxygen, you release his cock and sit back on your heels. Jeongguk melts into the couch afterwards, including his eyes rolling back as his whole body relaxes. 

“Good?” 

He humorlessly laughs.

“The best fucking head of my life.” 

In the middle of you pridefully giggling, Jeongguk hooks his arms under your shoulders to hoist you back up. But you have other plans, and before he can manhandle you into his lap, you grab the bottom hem of his shirt to pull it off. 

He’s so fucking sexy it makes your head spin, especially after how much he’s been working out on tour. You could spend hours just running your tongue along his abs if he’d only let you. 

“Oh, is this what you want?” 

Instead of waiting for a response, Jeongguk tugs your jeans and panties to the floor in one smooth motion before guiding you to straddle him again. 

As if he wasn’t wet enough from your blowjob, your cunt lands right on his dick and all the essence you’ve been leaking since the moment he stepped inside your house lubricates him even more. 

“Oh, my god,” you whine, causing him to smile over his effect on you.

“You get this wet just from sucking me off, sunshine?” Despite how embarrassing it is, you nod. “Good. Want you to be nice and soaked when I fuck you.” 

“Ggukie, please.”

“Yeah, is that what you want? For me to fuck you just right? Like I always do?”

“Mmhm.”

Based on past patterns, you expect him to drive his cock into you without another word, but his hands just trace your curves while his eyes map your features. 

You’re about to question his hesitation when he delicately cups your jaw, causing your eyebrows to pinch together.

“What if I want more?” He asks sincerely, in complete contrast to a moment ago.

“What?”

Jeongguk inhales and licks his lips.

“What if I don’t want to just see you whenever I’m in Busan? What if I want to see you in my bedroom and my kitchen and lying on my couch?”

“In… in Seoul?” 

He smiles.

“Itaewon.”

If your heart wasn’t about to beat out of your body, your eyes would roll back so far they’d get stuck. 

“Jeongguk, my whole life’s here. My job, my family —”

“I know, sunshine. I do.” His fingertips brush against your cheek and it takes all your willpower not to rest your head in his palm. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy or can happen right away, but eventually…” He looks uncharacteristically nervous and it makes you hold your breath in anticipation. “Eventually, I want your face to be the first thing I see when I come home at the end of the day.” 

The air you were keeping captive disappears in an instant as you digest his words. You desperately want them to mean exactly what they sound like, but you’re terrified of misinterpreting the situation. 

Except when you focus on how Jeongguk’s looking at you, with starry eyes full of wonder and hope, you don’t believe you are. Which elicits quite possibly the biggest smile you’ve ever worn before you lean in to kiss him. 

Jeongguk catches on quickly, his fingers on your face sliding into your hair so he can keep you close. Your own hands move from his shoulders to his neck while his opposite arm circles your waist. It doesn’t even matter that you’re naked, all your attention’s on the fluid movement of your mouths and how undeniably happy you are. 

“I’m so crazy about you, Y/N,” he whispers to your lips. 

Although you delightfully giggle at first, you soon pull away to smack his chest. 

“What took you so damn long, huh?” 

He momentarily gawks before parroting your laughter.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just didn’t think I’d be able to handle it all.” 

“I wouldn’t have cared,” you protest. 

“But I would’ve. I needed to make sure I could be an idol and the boyfriend you deserve before asking you to be anything more than this.” 

As much as you want to fight him on it, there’s no going back now, and all you truly care about is having a future with him. 

“And you feel like you can do that?” 

You trust him to be everything you deserve and more, but you want to ensure he won’t be spreading himself too thin for your sake. 

“I do. More importantly, I want to,” he clarifies. “I want you so fucking bad, and not just sexually. I wanna cook you dinner, take you out for ice cream, and go on walks near the Han river.” 

“Oh, I’ve never been there.”

“I know! I’ve been dying to take you for years.” 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Jeongguk this excited about something, and your possible life together being the reason is more than you could ever wish for. 

“I want that, too,” you declare. “I’ve always wanted you, Ggukie.”

When he smiles in response to your confession, it feels like the entire world around you falls away. In fact, you barely register him closing in for another kiss. And you certainly don’t realize he’s flipping you over until you feel the cushions on your back. 

Nothing else really matters after that, anyway. You two have had sex so many times over the years it’s the last thing on your mind in comparison to the future. 

Not to say you don’t thoroughly enjoy yourself when he puts you in all those positions he mentioned earlier, but all you can think about is what sex will be like in a shared bed. One you’ll wake up and fall asleep in together, for many years to come. 

To you, he was an arrogant, over-inked asshole who treated the apartment complex like his personal, twenty-four-hour playground. He dressed entirely in oversized black streetwear, smelled like a combination of raw tobacco and expensive leather, and also possessed a smirk that made you want to commit violence.

To him, you were a hyper-organized, stuck-up brat. He’d told you as much during your first real interaction three months ago, when you had politely, then not so politely, asked him to turn down his music at 3 AM.

"You need to unclench, Princess," he had drawled, leaning against his doorframe with a silver hoop piercing glinting in his lower lip. "Life is too short to spend it being a stuck-up brat."

Since then, it had been a war. You left precise, passive-aggressive notes on his door about tenant regulations. He responded by using those exact notes as coasters, leaving ring stains on the paper before taping them back to your door. If you glared at him in the hallway, he would just give you a lazy wave in return.

Tonight, however, was pushing you past your limit.

It was a Friday, hitting a miserable 1:45 AM. You had a gruelling performance review at work at nine o'clock that same morning, and your brain was fried. You had tried earplugs. You had tried white noise machines. You had tried burying your head beneath three different pillows.

But the noise from 4B was relentless. It wasn't the tattoo machine tonight. It was music, some R&B track that felt like it was pumping directly into your cerebral cortex, accompanied by the distinct, high-pitched moaning of a girl.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your eyes snapped open in the dark. Your jaw clenched so hard it ached. The moaning echoed through the wall again, followed by the low rumble of Jungkook’s laugh.

That was it, that was the final straw before your sanity snapped. Throwing your blankets aside, you slid out of bed. You didn't care that you were wearing an oversized, faded college t-shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder and a pair of grey sleep shorts. You didn't care that your hair was a chaotic, unruly nest. You were driven entirely by sleep deprivation and pure, unadulterated fury.

You stormed across your dark living room, yanked your front door open, and stepped out into the chilly, fluorescent-lit hallway. You found out that the music was even louder out here. You marched over to the door and raised your fist, slamming it against the wood with a force that threatened to splinter it.

"Jungkook!" you shouted over the bass. "Open the damn door!"

For a minute or two, nothing happened. Then, the music abruptly cut out, dropping the hallway into a ringing silence. You stood there, breathing heavily, your hands curled into tight fists at your sides.

Then the lock clicked, and the wooden door swung open.

Jungkook stood there, and the sight of him only fuelled your irritation. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung very low on his hip bones. His torso was a breathtaking, intimidating canvas of dark, intricate ink that wrapped around his ribs, a sprawling pattern that climbed his left side, and a sleeve that covered every inch of his right arm down to his knuckles. A few stray strands of damp, dark hair fell over his eyes.

He looked completely unbothered, his dark eyes raking over you, scanning your messy hair, your bare legs, and the angry flush creeping up your neck.

"Well, look who it is," Jungkook murmured, his voice raspy with a sleepiness that didn't match the hour. He leaned his heavy shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. "The midnight inspector. Am I using too much oxygen in my apartment, Y/N?"

"Turn it off," you breathed, your voice shaking with the effort to keep from screaming. "Turn the music off, Jungkook. Shut the girl up. Shut yourself up. It is almost two in the morning."

Jungkook let out a mocking chuckle, tilting his head. "It's Friday. Some people actually enjoy their lives. You should try it sometime. Might help with..." He gestured vaguely to your rigid posture. "...whatever it is you have going on."

"I have a career going on!" you snapped, taking a sharp step forward, invading his space. The scent of him, that heavy cologne, hit your senses instantly, making your stomach do a strange flip. "Some of us don't make a living by stabbing people with ink and sleeping until noon. I have an actual life to attend to tomorrow, and your complete lack of basic human decency is ruining it."

Jungkook’s smile vanished. The playful, mocking glint in his eyes hardened into something sharp. He straightened up from the doorframe, instantly towering over you. He took a step out into the hallway, forcing you to back up half a step until the heel of your foot hit the opposite wall.

"A basic lack of human decency?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped closer, completely eclipsing you in his shadow. "You've been looking down your nose at me since the day you moved in, Princess. You think because you wear a blazer and work in an office that you're better than me?"

"I know that I’m better than you," you shot back, refusing to break eye contact even as your heart began to beat frantically against your ribs. You could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest. You could see the subtle rise and fall of his collarbone, the small scar on his cheek, the absolute intensity in his big eyes.

"You're a brat," he whispered, leaning down just enough that his minty breath fanned across your forehead. "A spoiled little brat who likes to complain because she has nothing better to do. You love this. You love coming out here and picking fights with me."

"I hate you," you hissed, your nails digging into the palms of your hands. "I hate everything about you. I hate your music, I hate your stupid tattoo machine, and I hate the fact that I can hear your revolving door of guests through my wall."

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping down to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to your eyes. A tension dropped over the hallway, friction that had nothing to do with noise complaints and everything to do with the fact that you were both hyper-aware of how little clothing the other was wearing.

"Hey, Kook? Everything okay out there?"

A soft, feminine voice called out from inside his apartment. A pretty girl with brunette hair, wearing one of Jungkook's oversized black t-shirts, peeked her head around the corner of his entryway.

The spell broke.

Jungkook didn't look back at her. His eyes remained locked on yours, his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. The intensity in his gaze was almost bruising, a silent, furious challenge.

"Yeah," Jungkook said, his voice rough and strained as he finally took a step back, breaking the suffocating bubble of space between you. "Everything's fine. My neighbour was just leaving."

"Turn it down," you said one last time, though the fire in your voice had died down into a shaky whisper.

Jungkook didn't answer, he just gave you one long, unreadable look, one that made your skin prickle with a chill, before backing into his apartment and shutting the door hard enough to rattle the frame. A second later, the hallway fell into absolute, dead silence. You stood against the wall for a full minute, your knees trembling slightly. You breathed in the lingering scent of his cologne, your chest was tight and your mind was racing. 

You hated him. You absolutely hated him with every single bone in your body. 

But as you walked back into your dark, silent apartment and crawled back into bed, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop as you thought about the girl he was with. With a furious mind, you eventually fall back asleep, hoping to never see anything like that again.

You wondered how much lack of sleep the human body could survive off of without going clinically insane.

Your performance review at nine o'clock had been an exercise in acting. You had smiled, nodded, and talked about your quarterly goals through exhaustion, all while a pounding headache stabbed at your skull. Every time your boss praised your "attention to detail," your mind flashed to a pair of unreadable eyes and a heavy tattoo sleeve illuminated by the flickering hallway light.

By the time you unlocked the main entrance to the apartment complex at 5:45 PM, you were running on pure survival instinct. Your feet ached from your stupid heels, your shoulders were tense, and all you wanted was a hot shower, a bowl of instant ramen, and to watch Love Island.

The universe, unfortunately, had other plans.

When you stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor, your path was entirely obstructed. Right in front of your door, not 4B, but your door, 4A, were three massive, heavy-duty cardboard boxes. They were bound in rough packing tape and stamped with a bold logo.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your purse dragging against your thigh. Your eyes dropped to the shipping label.

Recipient: Jeon Jungkook / Ink & Iron Studio

Address: 402 Genevieve Lane, Apt 4B

"Are you kidding me?" you muttered to the empty hallway.

The delivery driver had carelessly put the packages at the wrong door. You looked over at door 4B. You doubted that Jungkook was even home, assuming he was out doing annoying, reckless things.

With a frustrated sigh, you dropped your purse. You couldn't just leave them out here; the building management was notoriously strict about hallway obstructions, and if anyone got fined, it would likely be you since they were stacked against your door. Crouching down in your pencil skirt, you gripped the sides of the top box and hoisted it. It was incredibly heavy, filled with what felt like solid metal components, likely tattoo machines, power supplies, or heavy jars of ink.

Groaning under the weight, you unlocked your door, pushed it open with your foot, and began the agonizing process of dragging Jeon Jungkook’s packages into your entryway just to clear the walkway. By the time all three boxes were sitting inside your pristine, minimalist apartment, your hair was falling out of its neat clip and a fine sheen of sweat coated your forehead.

You slammed your door shut with a loud sigh, locked it, and promised yourself you would make him beg for them later.

An hour later, the hot shower had done little to soothe your frayed nerves. You were dressed in a pair of silk pajamas, ones that made you feel slightly put together, and were just waiting for your water to boil on the stove when a knock rattled your front door.

It was a firm, demanding sequence that echoed through your quiet living room, and you instantly knew who it was. You walked over to the door, pulling the silk lapels of your shirt a little higher, and swung it open.

Jungkook stood under the hallway light, but he didn't look like the chaotic, shirtless disruptor from the night before. He wore a crisp, black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the intricate details of his forearms, and a pair of reading glasses was pushed up into his messy dark hair. He smelled like rain and the distinct, expensive scent of fresh leather.

He had his phone out, but his head snapped up the moment the door opened. His dark eyes instantly raked over you, taking in the smooth silk of your pyjamas, and the bare skin of your legs. A subtle shift occurred in his expression, the irritation fading into something heavy and focused.

"My tracking email says my shipment has arrived," Jungkook said, "And considering my doorstep is completely empty, I figured my favourite brat took them hostage."

You decided to completely ignore that last part, even if the sound of him calling you his made your stomach swirl with butterflies. Leaning against your doorframe, you crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on the exposed skin of your legs. "They were dropped off at the wrong door, Jungkook. But because I actually care about building regulations, I dragged them inside so we wouldn't get flagged by management."

Jungkook’s eyes flicked past your shoulder, spotting the three large cardboard boxes sitting stacked neatly in your entryway. A slow, infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Look at you," he drawled, stepping closer, completely ignoring the unspoken boundary of your threshold. "A good Samaritan. And here I thought you hated me."

"I do hate you," you shot back quickly, your voice perhaps a bit too breathless. "I dragged them in because I didn't want your garbage associated with my apartment number. Take them and get out."

Jungkook took another step forward, crossing the threshold entirely. He entered your apartment without an invitation, his heavy combat boots clicking against your polished hardwood floors. The sheer size of him suddenly made your entryway feel microscopic. He was too large, too loud, too much for the quiet, curated space you kept.

"Nice place," he murmured, his eyes scanning your neat living room, the perfectly aligned throw pillows, the single candle burning on the coffee table. He looked entirely out of place, like a dark ink stain on a white canvas. He turned back to you, leaning his hip against your entryway table, "A little sterile, don't you think? I’m not surprised though, it matches your personality."

"Get out of my apartment, Jungkook," you scoffed, your hand gripping the edge of your shorts. He was barely six inches away from you. You could see the faint shadow of stubble along his sharp jawline, and just how plump his bottom lip is.

"Make me," he countered softly.

The words weren't a threat; they were a direct challenge. The air between you turned heavy, filled with the unresolved situation from the previous night. The memory of him looming over you in the hallway, his bare chest inches from your face, flared to life in your mind, making your hands twitch.

Jungkook noticed. His gaze dropped to your chest, watching the rapid rise and fall of your breathing beneath the silk, before travelling back up to lock onto your eyes. He tilted his head down, his voice dropping into a quiet whisper that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

"You're shaking, Y/N."

"I'm angry that you’re violating my space," you lied, your jaw tightening as you stared back at him, refusing to let him see how much his presence was rattling you. "Just take your boxes and leave."

Jungkook didn't move. He reached out, his large, tattooed hand hovering just inches away from your face. For a terrifying, exhilarating second, you thought he was going to touch you, that his fingers were going to slide against your skin, possibly caressing you. Your eyes widened slightly, your body freezing in anticipation, your core pulsing with a spike of heat.

But he didn't touch you. Instead, his fingers brushed against the stray strands of hair that were clinging to your cheek, gently tucking them behind your ear without his skin ever actually making contact with yours. The sheer restraint of the gesture was agonizing, a physical tease that made your pulse skyrocket so much that you thought you were going to have a heart attack.

"You're all talk," he whispered, his eyes staring into yours with a terrifying amount of certainty. "You pretend you can't stand the sight of me, but you're hyper-aware of every single thing I do. You like me, baby. It's the only time you actually let yourself feel something."

"You don't know anything about me," you hissed, your hands curling into tight fists against your sides to keep from reaching out and shoving him, or pulling him closer.

"I know you've been thinking about last night," he murmured, his face coming so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. He smelled so good it was dizzying, an intoxicating pull that was corrupting your common sense by the second. "Just like I have."

Before you could process the confession, before you could fire back a retort or even question him about his words, Jungkook abruptly straightened up. The intensity broke instantly as he stepped away from you, reaching down to grab the heaviest box from the stack.

He lifted it effortlessly, his biceps flexing against the fabric of his shirt, the tattoos shifting dynamically with the movement. You prayed in that moment that he didn’t just catch you ogling his biceps.

"I'll take the rest of these off your hands," he said, his tone shifting back to that lazy, casual tone, though his eyes still held a lingering heat. He walked out into the hallway, setting the first box down by his door before returning for the second.

You stood frozen by your open door, your skin practically vibrating from the near-miss of his touch. You watched him silently as he moved the remaining boxes, his broad back shifting under the crisp black fabric of his shirt.

When the last box was cleared, he stood in his own doorway, looking back at you across the narrow expanse of the hallway. He pushed his reading glasses down onto the bridge of his nose, the frames casting a sharp shadow over his dark eyes.

"Thanks for holding onto my package, Y/N," he said, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his face as he emphasized the last word. "Have a good night. Try to get some sleep."

He stepped into apartment and shut the door, the click of his lock echoing in the quiet hallway.

You stood there for a long moment, staring at the blank wood of his door. Your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird, and your lower stomach was tight with an unfulfilled ache. You walked back into your apartment, slamming the door shut and locking it with a trembling hand.

The water on your stove was boiling over, but you didn't even notice. You leaned your back against the door, closing your eyes, completely consumed by the realization that the war between you was no longer about noise, and it was spiralling out of your control.

Jealousy was an ugly emotion. It didn't slip into your life quietly; it tore through your chest, making a mockery of you.

What made it entirely unbearable was its absurdity. You had no right to feel jealous. Jeon Jungkook was not yours. He was a chaotic, frustrating man who lived on the other side of a paper-thin wall, and was a man you actively claimed to despise to anyone who would listen. Yet, over the last forty-eight hours, the unwanted emotion had taken up permanently in the pit of your stomach, intensifying every time you heard his door click open or caught the distant sound of a feminine laugh.

The tipping point arrived on Saturday evening.

You had given up on trying to relax in your apartment. The silence felt less like peace and more like an interrogation, something that left you entirely too much time to think about the weight of his gaze, the sound of his voice, and the agonizing restraint of his fingers tucking your hair behind your ear. Driven by a restless need to escape your own thoughts, you had left the building around 9 PM to walk to the 24-hour market down the street, buying things you didn't need just to kill the time.

When you pushed through the glass doors of the apartment lobby to return, the universe decided to test the last small bits of your sanity.

Jungkook was standing by the mailboxes. He wasn't alone.

She was beautiful, painfully, effortlessly so. She wore a cropped leather jacket that matched his dark denim and possessed a confidence that shouted she belonged in his world. She was laughing, her head tilted back, her hand resting casually against the broad expanse of Jungkook’s chest. Her manicured fingers traced the fabric of his shirt, right over the spot where his heart beat, and Jungkook was looking down at her with an expression that you had never seen before.

Your footsteps halted on the polished tile floor. For a single, irritating second, the breath was completely knocked from your lungs. The surge of jealousy that hit you was so violent it made you dizzy. You wanted to march over there, rip her hand off his chest, and kiss him right in front of her.

Instead, your fingers tightened around the plastic handles of your grocery bag until your knuckles turned white. You forced your chin up, your expression hardening into a mask of pure ice, and began walking toward the elevators.

The sound of your sneakers against the tile cut through the quiet lobby.

Jungkook’s head snapped up instantly. The relaxed, easy smile vanished from his face the moment he looked at you. The shift in his demeanour was instantaneous; his shoulders squaring as his gaze tracked your movement across the room. He didn't look at the woman anymore. He didn't listen to whatever she was saying. His focus was entirely pinned to you.

But, you didn't look back. You stared straight ahead at the metallic doors of the elevator, pressing the button with a sharp jab.

Through the reflection in the polished steel doors, you watched the woman say something to him, pouting slightly as she noticed his detachment. Jungkook didn't even glance at her. He muttered a brief response, his eyes still burning a hole into the back of your head from across the lobby.

When the elevator doors finally opened, you stepped inside and turned around. For a fraction of a second, your eyes clashed with his across the expanse of the lobby. Then, the doors slid shut, leaving you alone in the quiet metal box.

The retaliation came less than twenty-four hours later.

On Sunday evening, a male colleague from your work, Eun-woo, offered to drop you off after a grueling, multi-hour project. Eun-woo was everything Jungkook was not. He was polished, predictable, and exceptionally polite. He parked his sleek sedan directly in front of your apartment building, killing the engine to turn and smile at you.

"You look exhausted, Y/N," Eun-woo said softly, reaching across the console to gently pat your forearm. "You've been working too hard. Let me take you out for dinner tonight. No talk about quarterly projections, I promise."

You opened your mouth to politely decline, but before the words could leave your lips, a sensation washed over you. It was that familiar, prickling heat on your skin, the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

Your eyes naturally drifted past Eun-woo’s shoulder, looking toward the concrete steps of the building entrance.

Jungkook was standing there.

He was wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood pulled down, his dark hair messy and windswept. He had an unlit cigarette resting between his lips, and his hands were shoved deep into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He wasn't moving. He looked like a statue carved from stone, his head tilted slightly downward, his eyes completely cold, and fixed entirely on Eun-woo’s hand resting against your forearm.

The look on his face was one you had never seen before. It wasn't the teasing, arrogant smirk of your neighbour. It was the glare of a man watching someone touch something that belonged exclusively to him. The animosity radiating off his frame was so strong it seemed to warp the very air around the car.

Eun-woo, entirely oblivious to the guy staring at him through the glass, smiled warmly. "What do you say?"

"I... I can't tonight, Eun-woo," you stammered, your voice breathless as you kept your eyes locked on Jungkook. "But thank you for the ride. I'll see you in the office tomorrow."

You practically scrambled out of the passenger seat, grabbing your purse and stepping onto the curb. The moment the car door slammed shut and Eun-woo pulled away, the space between you and Jungkook shrunk.

You walked up the concrete steps, your heart in your throat. Jungkook didn't move an inch to let you pass. He stood directly in the center of the double doors, forcing you to stop a mere foot away from him.

The scent of him, wrapped around you instantly, suffocating your anger and replacing it with a dizzying tension.

"Step aside, Jungkook," you said, your voice tight, though you hated the slight tremor that betrayed your composure.

He didn't move. He slowly took the unlit cigarette from his lips, holding it between two ink-stained fingers, his jaw clenching so hard you thought you saw a muscle twitch beneath his perfect skin. 

"Who the hell was that?"

The sheer audacity of the question sparked a defensive fire in your veins. You glared back at him, scoffing loud while your chest rose and fell heavily. "None of your business. Move."

"It becomes my business when I have to watch some boring, predictable suit touch you," he hissed, taking a step forward, his massive frame completely blocking the entrance to the building. "Is that your type, Y/N? Safe? Predictable? Someone who asks permission before they even look at you?"

"At least he has manners," you spat back, your hands curling into fists against your thighs as you fought the overwhelming urge to press your palms against his chest just to feel the thud of his heart. "At least he doesn't treat his apartment like a revolving door for whatever girl that happens to breathe in his direction. Go back inside, Jungkook. I'm sure your friend from last night is waiting for a call back."

Jungkook’s eyes flared, satisfaction flickering through the anger in his gaze. He let out a breathless laugh that sounded entirely devoid of joy.

"Oh," he whispered, stepping so close his chest brushed against yours, trapping you against the cold metal railing of the steps. "So that's what this is. You’re jealous."

"I’m not jealous!" you lied, your voice rising slightly under the weight of the suffocating proximity.

"You are," he corrected, his voice dropping into a whisper that felt like a physical touch against your skin. He leaned in, his lips close to the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your cold skin. "You were practically burning a hole in the back of my head last night, baby. I could feel you from across the room. You hated seeing her hand on me. Admit it."

"You're so delusional," you gasped out, your head tilting back against the railing, your eyes widening as you stared up at his sharp profile. The urge to reach out, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss, was so overwhelming your entire body ached with it. Your skin was screaming for the contact he was withholding.

"Tell me I'm lying," Jungkook commanded, his gaze dropping to your mouth, his own breathing heavy and ragged. His hand twitched at his side, his fingers flexing as if he were fighting every instinct he possessed to keep from grabbing your waist. "Tell me you don't want to rip my shirt off every time you see me. Tell me you don't think about me when you're lying in your bed alone, touching yourself."

He whispered that last part, like he knew that he caught you red handed. Your face instantly burned, a stupid blush filling your cheeks. "I hate you," you whispered, the words losing all their venom, sounding more like a desperate plea for mercy.

"Good," Jungkook growled, his eyes locking back onto yours with a terrifying amount of intent. "Keep hating me. Because the moment you stop, Y/N, I'm not going to let you walk back into that apartment alone."

Then, he moved away. His chest heaving as he stared down at you for one last, agonizing second. The restraint between you was a thin wire, vibrating so violently it threatened to snap both of you in half.

Without another word, Jungkook turned, shoved the glass doors open, and walked into the building, leaving you standing on the concrete steps in the freezing air, gasping for breath, completely consumed by a fire that you never signed up for.

You had lost the argument the moment your friends showed up at your apartment door carrying a garment bag and a bottle of cheap prosecco. Driven by what they called a "mandatory intervention for a workaholic," they had stripped you of your comfortable sweatpants, forced you into a sleek black dress that clung to your curves like a second skin, and dragged you out into the weekend night.

Now, standing in the middle of Prism, one of the city’s exclusive, packed clubs, you regretted every single life choice that had led you here.

The environment was definitely an assault on the senses. Neon blue and magenta strobe lights cut through a haze of smoke, flashing in sync with an industrial beat that vibrated through the soles of your strapped heels. The bass was a physical force, thumping against your heart.

Spitefully, your brain immediately made the connection. It felt exactly like apartment 4B on a Saturday night.

"Come on, Y/N! Take a sip!" your friend shouted over the roar of the crowd, shoving a vodka cranberry into your hand. "You’ve been a ghost all week. Live a little!"

You managed a smile, taking a swallow of the bittersweet alcohol. The drink burned its way down your throat, doing absolutely nothing to soothe the restlessness that had been clawing at your insides since your conversation with Jungkook on the building steps. You felt entirely out of place among the sea of hot bodies. Your mind was a long loop of dark irises, the smell of cigarettes, and the memory of his broad chest brushing against your own.

Desperate for a moment of peace, you stepped back from the edge of the pulsating dance floor, leaning your shoulder against a cold, mirrored pillar near the VIP lounge. You took another slow sip of your drink, your eyes aimlessly roaming the layout of the club.

And then, your heart completely stopped.

Situated in a semi-private leather booth was a group that looked like they had crawled straight out of a high-fashion editorial. They were effortlessly cool, heavily tatted, and radiating an aura of untouchable arrogance.

Sitting right in the centre of them, a glass of amber whiskey held loosely between his fingers, was Jungkook.

The breath caught in your throat, a violent surge of shock rushing to your face. He was stripped of the oversized streetwear and the studio gear. He was wearing a midnight-black silk button-down shirt, the top three buttons casually undone to expose the sharp lines of his collarbones and the ink that climbed up the side of his shoulder. A silver chain caught the flashing neon lights, glinting against his chest. His dark hair was styled as a mullet, exposing the brutal symmetry of his jawline.

He was surrounded by his friends, likely the other artists he hung out with, but your eyes didn't linger on them. They snapped instantly to the woman sitting on the armrest of his booth. She was a striking beauty in an incredibly short silver dress, leaning down to whisper something into his ear, her hand resting casually on the back of his neck.

Dread bloomed in the pit of your stomach, so intense it made your hand tremble against your glass. The same toxic, nauseating jealousy from the lobby bloomed to life, hotter and more dangerous than before. You watched, your jaw clenching, as Jungkook took a slow sip of his drink, his face expressionless as the woman laughed at something his friend said.

As if he somehow sensed the weight of your gaze, Jungkook’s head turned. His dark eyes cut through the flashing strobe lights, scanning the crowded floor below with a lazy, bored detachment, until they hit the mirrored pillar.

Until they hit you.

The shift in his demeanour was instantaneous. The bored, relaxed slouch vanished as his posture went straight. He didn't blink, only because his gaze locked onto you with the force of a vice grip, his eyes that were almost terrifying under the flashing blue lights. He raked his eyes down your body, tracking the sharp line of your collarbone, the tight fit of the black dress, and the bare skin along your legs.

The woman in the silver dress reached down, trying to draw his attention back to her, her fingers brushing his jaw. But, Jungkook didn't even look at her. With a cold, dismissive flick of his wrist, he brushed her hand away, his focus entirely on you.

The silent, cross-room standoff was constricting. The music roared around you, and you were sure that your friends were already on the dance floor, but the space between your pillar and his booth felt completely devoid of air. You raised your chin, giving him a cold, defiant glare, refusing to look away first.

“Hey, beautiful. You look like you’re having a miserable time.”

The unfamiliar voice shattered the connection. A tall, well-dressed man in a fitted grey shirt had materialized in your space, leaning against the pillar beside you with a confident, practiced smile. He held a fresh drink out toward you. "Can I buy you something better than whatever that is?"

You blinked, trying to clear the fog of Jungkook’s gaze from your brain. "No, thank you. I'm okay with this drink" you said, your tone polite but icy.

The man didn't take the hint. He took a step closer, invading your personal space, his hand coming up to rest on the mirror just above your shoulder. "Come on, just one drink. A girl like you shouldn't be standing alone in a dark corner."

Before you could fire back a sharp rejection, a shift occurred in the atmosphere.

"She said no."

The man in the grey shirt froze, looking up slowly. Jungkook was standing there. He had somehow left the VIP section with a terrifying amount of speed, and the look on his face was enough to make the other man visibly pale. Jungkook loomed over you, his chest expanding with an angry breath, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark trousers. 

"You got a problem, man?" the guy stammered, trying to maintain his bravado but failing miserably under Jungkook’s presence.

"Yeah," Jungkook replied, taking a slow step forward that forced the man back a foot. "I have a problem with you breathing my air. Walk away. Right now."

There was no negotiation in his tone. The man in the grey shirt looked between Jungkook’s ink-covered hands and the look in his eyes, swallowed hard, and retreated into the crowd without another word.

The moment he was gone, Jungkook turned on you.

The anger radiating off him was so strong it made your skin prickle with a terrifying sensation. Before you could speak, his large hand shot out, his ink-stained fingers gripping your wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was stubborn, completely unmoving as he dragged you away from the pillar, pulling you through the crowded venue toward the corridor that led to the private restrooms and emergency exits.

"Jungkook, let go of me!" you gasped, your heels clicking frantically against the floor as you tried to pull back, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

He didn't answer until he had dragged you into a secluded part of the hallway, away from the prying eyes of the club-goers. He shoved open a door, pulling you into a quiet stairwell where the music was reduced to a muffled heartbeat through the walls.

He released your wrist, turning around to face you, his chest lifting under the black shirt. He slammed his hand against the concrete wall beside your head, leaning down until his face was a mere inch from yours, trapping you entirely within the shadow of his body.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle ticked violently beneath his skin. "You wear a dress like this out in public? You let random bastards back you into a corner?"

The hypocrisy of his anger made your own frustration explode. You pressed your palms against his chest, feeling the thud of his heart beneath the silk, trying to shove him back, but he didn't move an inch.

"I can wear whatever I want, Jungkook!" you shouted back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and desire. "I don't belong to you! Why don't you go back to your VIP booth? I'm sure the girl in the silver dress is missing her hand on your neck!"

Jungkook let out a scoff, his eyes dropping to your mouth before snapping back to your eyes, a possessive satisfaction flickering through the fury in his gaze.

"You were watching me," he whispered, his voice dropping into a rough tone that made your core pulse with heat. He stepped closer, his thighs brushing against the thin fabric of your dress, pinning you against the cold concrete wall. "You hated it. You hated seeing her touch me."

"I don't care about you," you lied, your breathing ragged, your fingers curling into the silk of his shirt. "I don’t care about the girls you’re always with.”

"You're a liar, Y/N," he growled, his hand leaving the wall to cup the side of your jaw, his rough, calloused thumb pressing firmly against your chin, tilting your head up. The contact was electric, a blinding rush that made your knees tremble. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down your spine. "You've been losing your mind over me all these months, just like I've been losing my mind over you. I look at you in this dress, and all I can think about is ripping it off your body."

"Then do it," the words slipped from your lips before your pride could stop them, a challenge born from months of agonizing restraint.

Jungkook froze, his breath hitching against your skin. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his pupils completely dilated. He was waiting for consent, something that gave him the permission to touch you however he wanted. In response, you gave him an eyebrow raise, challenging him.

Jungkook didn’t answer with words. The last thread of his restraint snapped with a beautiful finality. Before you could even inhale, his mouth crashed down onto yours.

It was a violent claim, a collision of months of frustration and denial. He tasted like expensive whiskey and cigarettes, his tongue forcing its way past your mouth with a bruising hunger that made your head spin. His hand clamped around your throat, with a firm pressure that anchored your head against the wall, forcing you to take the absolute depth of his mouth.

You groaned into the kiss, your hands flying up to his chest, your fingers clawing desperately at the midnight-black silk of his shirt. You ripped at the other buttons, wanting the barrier gone, wanting the tattooed reality of his skin against yours. A few buttons scattered across the concrete floor with a sharp, clicking echo, exposing the hard, carved lines of his chest.

Jungkook tore his mouth away from yours, his breathing a ragged, broken wheeze. "You asked for this," he growled, whispering against your skin. "I’m not going to hold back now.”

He didn't even touch the zipper of your dress. His fingers hooked into the hem of the sleek black fabric and yanked it upward with a brutal, impatient force, gathering the material around your waist and leaving your bare legs completely exposed to the chilly air of the stairwell. His large hands, rough and searing hot, slid up the inside of your thighs, his palms scraping against your sensitive skin with a friction that made you shiver.

When his hand hit the centre of your lace underwear, he let out a satisfied chuckle. You were already dripping, the thin fabric completely soaked through.

"Look at you," Jungkook muttered, his thumb rubbing heavily over your swollen core through the wet lace, your hips arching off the wall automatically. "Wet for me in a dirty stairwell. Tell me how much you hate me now, Y/N. Say it while you're shaking in my hands."

"Jungkook—fuck, please," you gasped, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and ripped them down your legs, discarding them carelessly on the concrete steps.

He stepped between your knees, his massive, denim-clad thighs forcing your legs wide apart. He fumbled with the belt of his trousers, the metal buckle clinking loudly in the quiet space. He shoved his pants down just enough to free his length, and the sight of his thick cock already leaking with pre-cum sent adrenaline through your body.

Jungkook didn't ease you into it. He grabbed your right thigh, hoisting it up over his hip, anchoring you against his broad frame. He guided his tip to your dripping entrance, paused for a fraction of a second to lock his eyes onto yours, and pushed himself inside you.

The fullness of him stretched you open so fast that a breathless cry tore from your throat. Your eyes widened in temporary shock, your walls clamping around him, desperately trying to accommodate the size of him. Jungkook froze, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as a shudder wracked his entire body. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his face ticked, a deep, guttural groan vibrating right against your collarbone.

"Fuck," he panted, his voice a strained, broken sound. "You're so tight... Wrap your other leg around me. Now."

You obeyed blindly, your pride entirely incinerated by the blinding rush of pleasure. You hooked your left leg around his waist, lifting yourself completely off the floor. Jungkook caught you effortlessly, his large hands locking onto the undersides of your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising touch that you were sure were going to leave dark marks on your skin.

With your legs wrapped around him, Jungkook began to move.

The pace was frenzied, driven by a rawness that had everything to do with possession. He pulled back until his tip was nearly sliding out, only to pound himself back into you with a slamming force that made the breath hitch in your chest. Every single thrust was deep, hitting your G-spot with brutal precision that made your vision blur into white spots.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the isolated stairwell, competing with the muffled, distant heartbeat of the club’s bass through the heavy service door.

"Jungkook, wait—it's too much," you sobbed out, your head tossing back against the concrete wall as your orgasm began to build. Your core was pulsing, the stretch of his big cock pushing you to the absolute brink of sanity.

"I'm not stopping," he growled, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming harder and more accelerated. He leaned forward, crushing his bare chest against your sensitive nipples through the ruined fabric of your dress. He grabbed your jaw with his one hand, forcing your face up, his eyes burning into yours. "Look at me. Don't close your eyes. I want to see you come."

You held his gaze, your mind completely shattered. He was consuming you, erasing every single boundary you had spent months building.

The orgasm started deep within your core, a sudden tightening that clamped around his length like a fist.

"Jungkook—I'm coming—I'm going to—"

"Do it," he commanded, his voice breathless, his lips twisting into a smirk, as he delivered more desperate slams, driving his pelvis flush against yours. "Come for me, Y/N. Take all of it."

Your orgasm crashed over you with the violence of a physical blow. You screamed his name into the empty stairwell, your body convulsing, your walls rippling around him in intense waves. The sensation of your release was the exact breaking point Jungkook needed. With a moan, he drove himself into you one last time, pushing his cock as deeply as possible. His cock pulsed within your heat as he filled you, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he gasped for air like a drowning man.

The silence that followed was broken only by the loud, echoing sound of your tangled, ragged breathing.

Jungkook didn't let you down immediately. He remained buried deep inside you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his skin slick with sweat, his heart hammering. His hands slowly relaxed their bruising grip on your thighs, his fingers gently tracing the marks he had left behind on your skin.

Slowly, the haze of lust began to leave, leaving behind a hyper-aware intimacy that felt completely foreign.

He pulled out with a soft, wet sound, a breathy sigh escaping his lips as he adjusted his clothing, his movements uncharacteristically quiet. He reached down, picking up your ruined underwear from the steps and sliding them into his pocket before turning back to look at you.

You were leaning against the wall, your dress still bunched around your waist, your chest heaving, your legs trembling so badly you could barely stand.

Jungkook didn't say a word. He reached out, his hands gently grasping the hem of your black dress and pulling it back down, smoothing the fabric over your hips with a tenderness that completely contrasted the violence of the last ten minutes. He reached up, a thumb gently wiping away a stray tear of overstimulation from your cheek, then he kissed your lips softly.

"Come on," Jungkook whispered, his voice still raspy, his fingers tangling with yours as he pulled you toward the exit door. "We're going home. And you're staying in my bed tonight."

The taxi ride back to the apartment was pure agony. His large palm was wedged between your thighs, his fingers damp with your own fluids, pressing hard against your swollen core every time the car hit a bump in the asphalt.

You had to bite the collar of his shirt to keep from crying out in the back seat, while Jungkook stared out the window, his jaw clenched so tight the wire of his jawline looked sharp enough to cut.

“Jungkook… I can’t—” you whispered against his collarbone, drool leaking out of your mouth. His fingers kept teasing your clit, ruthlessly edging you. You were convinced he just wanted to see you cry.

But before he could let you finish, the taxi stopped to a halt, right outside your apartment complex. The moment his apartment door slammed shut behind you, his restraint snapped again.

There was no walk to the bedroom. Jungkook grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, shoving you face-first against the matte-black kitchen island. Your palms slapped against the cold stone counter to catch your weight, your breath hitching as he immediately crowded your back, his massive, solid chest flattening against your spine.

"Jungkook—"

"Quiet," he growled, his voice a quiet rasp.

He didn't waste a single second. His hands hooked into the waist of your black dress, pulling the fabric up until it sat bunched around your ribs, leaving your lower body completely bare to his gaze. He reached down, grabbing your hips with a bruising grip, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh.

You heard the sharp snap of his belt loosening, the zipper of his trousers tearing open. He guided his cock right against your dripping pussy, rubbing his swollen tip against you twice until you were sobbing into the stone countertop, begging for the impact. With a tilt of his hips, Jungkook drove himself into you from behind.

He buried his entire length into your pussy in one deep thrust. The force of the entry rattled you, a loud, broken wail tearing from your throat. Your hips buckled under the weight, but his hands locked onto your waist like iron bands, holding you perfectly in place, forcing your body to take every single inch.

"Fuck, this pussy is so tight for me, my dirty slut," he whispered against the back of your neck, his breath scalding hot.

He began to pound into you with a brutal emphasis. Every stroke was a clapping impact of his pelvis against your ass, the sound echoing loudly in the kitchen. He pulled out until only his tip remained inside your slick walls, then slammed back in, bottoming out against you with a force.

Your hands slid wildly on the smooth kitchen island, unable to find traction as his relentless pace drove you forward with every thrust. Jungkook reached forward, his large hand tangling ruthlessly in your messy hair, pulling your head back so your spine arched painfully, beautifully into him.

"Look at the mirror," he commanded, his voice filled with lust, nodding toward the reflective glass of his studio across the room. "Look at what I'm doing to you."

Through your blurred, tear-filled vision, you saw the silhouette of his body looming over yours, his heavily tattooed right arm flexing as he pinned you down, the contrast of his dark ink against your pale, flushed skin. He thrusted harder, his cock rubbing against your internal sweet spot with every shallow strike until your brain short-circuited.

Before you could reach the precipice of an orgasm, Jungkook pulled out with a wet sound. You gasped at the emptiness, your body shivering from the loss of heat, but he wasn't done.

He grabbed your arm, dragging you off the counter and pulling you backward into his adjoining tattoo studio. The room was illuminated by the glow of his lights. He shoved you back against the floor-to-ceiling mirror that lined the wall, the cold glass sending a shockwave through your overheating skin.

Jungkook dropped to his knees before you.

Your breath caught as his hands clamped around your thighs, forcing them wide apart. He buried his face straight into your dripping core, lapping up your wetness with an aggression that made your head toss back against the glass. He sucked your swollen clit into his mouth, his licking at the sensitive nub until you were screaming his name, your fingers clawing at his dark hair to pull him away before you lost your mind.

"Jungkook, please—no more, I can't—"

He ignored your pleas. He rose to his feet, his lips slick with your wetness. He looked completely unhinged, like someone else had taken over him. He grabbed your right leg, hoisting it up and draping your knee over his broad shoulder, opening you up completely.

He aligned himself and drove back inside you, using the wall to pin you completely.

This position allowed him to go even deeper. Every thrust was a severe plunge that filled you to the absolute brim. The cold glass of the mirror rattled behind your back with every slam of his hips. Jungkook’s hand locked around your throat again, his thumb pressing hard against your pulse point, just barely cutting off your air.

"You think you can look down on me?" he panted, his face inches from yours. "You think because you're stuck-up and perfect I wouldn't do this to you? You're mine, Y/N. Every single part of you."

"Yes—fuck, yes—Jungkook—"

The friction was blinding. You began to squeeze around him in uncontrollable spasms. Realizing you were about to come again, Jungkook pulled out at the last second, refusing to let you finish. You let out a frustrated, angry cry, but he grabbed your waist, throwing you onto his low, leather tattoo table.

He crawled over you like a shadow, forcing you onto your back. He grabbed both of your ankles, shoving your knees all the way back to your chest, folding you completely in half. It was a position of vulnerability, leaving you entirely exposed to him. He looked down at you, his chest glistening with sweat, his tattoos shifting dynamically as he braced his weight over you. He lined his tip up with your soaking, convulsing entrance and slammed down with the entire weight of his torso.

The depth was staggering. A loud sob tore from your throat as he filled you, his cock stretching you past your limits.

"Look at me," he growled, his voice a raw, broken rasp.

He began to move in devastating strokes. He wasn't pulling out anymore; he was grinding his pelvis against yours, his thumb slipping against your clit with every drive. You locked your fingers into the leather edges of the table, your head rolling side to side as your entire body vibrated with a white-hot, blinding pleasure.

"Jungkook— please. Please, let me come!”

“Apologize first. Apologize for being a brat to me all these months. Tell me how badly you wanted my cock inside you.” he rasped, slapping your cheek.

Your head snapped to the side, the pain adding more intensity to your pleasure. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Jungkook! I wanted your cock so badly,” you cried out, tears cascading down your cheeks

"Good girl. Now come for me," he ordered, his pace getting faster, a sprint toward his orgasm. "Take it, baby. Take my cum."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to yours as your second orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tsunami. Your walls clamped around him, dragging him over the edge with you.

With a moan, Jungkook delivered more thrusts, before his cum flooded your pussy, filling you to the brim as he pulsed inside you over and over again, his forehead dropping against yours as you both collapsed into the ruined, sweat-soaked darkness of the studio.

The thuds of your hearts were the only sound left in the studio, a stark contrast to the music that usually filled the space. The heat radiating between your bodies was prominent as the initial shock of the orgasm began to leave. Jungkook remained above you for several long minutes, his forehead still pressed against yours, his breathing a ragged, trembling rattle that gradually slowed down.

When he finally shifted, pulling out of you with a soft, wet sound, a cold shiver immediately raced across your skin. You let out a small, involuntary whimper at the loss of warmth, your overstimulated muscles twitching.

Jungkook didn't say a word. The intensity that had consumed him moments ago seemed to evaporate, replaced by a stillness. He slid off the leather tattoo table, his bare feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. Through the dim light, you watched his silhouette move across the room. He looked entirely different now; the sharp edges of his posture had softened.

You heard the rustle of fabric, followed by the sound of running water from the small sink in the corner of his studio. You lay there, completely paralyzed by pleasure and exhaustion, your legs still trembling slightly against the leather surface. The reality of what had just happened began to settle into the marrow of your bones, leaving you feeling entirely exposed.

When Jungkook returned, he was holding a dark towel soaked in warm water. He knelt down beside the low table, his dark eyes fixed entirely on your face, searching your expression with an intensity that made your breath hitch. There was no smirk on his face. The arrogant, untouchable exterior he wore like armour was entirely gone.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice incredibly hoarse, "Let me clean you up."

Before you could even think to protest or hide yourself, he gently caught your ankles, straightening your legs out with a soft touch. He began to wipe away the sweat and the messy aftermath of his cum from your inner thighs. His hands, the same ones that had pinned you down, were now incredibly careful, moving with a light precision as if he were afraid you might break under his touch.

Every stroke of the warm towel sent a completely different kind of shiver through your body. It wasn't the white-hot spike of lust, but a deep, aching warmth that made your chest tighten.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. His thumb brushed against the soft skin of your hip, right over the faint red marks where his grip had been bruisingly tight. "I went too hard."

"I'm fine," you breathed out, your voice small and raspy from all the moaning you had done. "I'm not glass, Jungkook."

A small, genuine breath of a laugh escaped his lips, though it looked more like a sigh of relief. He finished cleaning you, tossing the towel aside onto a nearby stool. Instead of stepping away, he reached down, sliding his arms beneath your back and knees, and lifted you effortlessly into his chest.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his collarbone. He smelled like sweat, but you secretly didn't mind. He carried you out of the studio, walking past the cold kitchen island where the war had officially begun, and carried you into his bedroom.

His bedroom was a surprise. Given his chaotic lifestyle, you had expected a disaster zone of discarded clothes and empty takeout containers. Instead, it was tidy, dominated by a massive bed covered in charcoal-grey silk sheets. The only light came from a lamp on the nightstand, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

He laid you down onto the mattress with immense care, immediately pulling the duvet over your exposed, shivering skin. You curled into the bed, your eyes tracking him as he walked over to his dresser. He pulled out an oversized, faded black cotton t-shirt and returned to the bedside.

"Here," he murmured, pulling the blanket back just enough to help you slide your arms through the sleeves. The fabric was massive on you, hanging past your thighs and swallowing your frame, completely soaked with his scent.

Jungkook disappeared into his bathroom for a brief moment, returning after a quick second. He was wearing nothing but a loose pair of soft sweatpants, his dark hair damp and messy against his forehead. He didn't look like the menacing guy from apartment 4B anymore; he looked completely human, stripped of the bravado and the spite that had defined your entire relationship.

He slid into the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a moment, a lingering tension hung in the air. You were both so used to fighting, so used to using words as weapons across the threshold of your doors, that the quiet intimacy of a shared bed felt foreign and dangerous.

You lay on your side, staring at him. He laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his jaw working as if he were trying to swallow a mountain of unspoken words.

"Y/N," he started, his voice cracking slightly in the quiet room. He turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes wide and completely unmasked under the amber light. "I need to say something."

You didn't interrupt. You just pulled the blanket higher up on your chin, watching him.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words coming out in a rush. He reached out under the covers, his large hand finding yours and wrapping his fingers securely around your smaller ones. "I'm sorry for the things I said, and everything else I've done. I was... I was entirely out of my mind."

He let out a long, ragged breath, his grip on your hand tightening.

"I've been losing my mind since the day I met you," Jungkook confessed, his gaze dropping to your intertwined fingers before rising back to your eyes. "You thought I was trying to annoy you with the music and the girls, and at first, I was just being a complete asshole. But after that first night you knocked on my door, when you were standing there looking so furious and so completely out of my league, everything changed. I didn't know how to get your attention.”

A soft smile touched his lips, though his eyes remained entirely serious. "I just wanted an excuse to see you come back to my door and yell at me again. Because any attention from you was better than you looking right through me."

Your heart did a violent flip in your chest. The honesty of his words was breaking down every defence mechanism you had spent months building.

"You called me a brat," you whispered softly, your voice completely devoid of the old malice. "You told me I was stuck-up."

"Because you’re so perfect, and it terrified me," Jungkook replied instantly, leaning closer until his face was only inches from yours on the pillow. "You have your life together. You have the career, the structure. I convinced myself that you looked down on me because it was easier than admitting that I was completely beneath you."

He reached his free hand out from beneath the covers, his fingertips gently brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that made your eyes prickle with tears.

"But I don't want to fight with you anymore, Princess," he murmured, his voice dropping into a soft, vulnerable register that felt like a direct caress to your soul. "I don't want to hear you through a wall anymore. I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the second you told me to shut the hell up months ago."

The confession hung in the quiet space between you, heavy and beautiful. You stared at him, taking in the softness of his eyes, the absolute sincerity in his features, and the slight tremor in his hand as it rested against your face. He was completely exposed, giving you all the power to crush him if you wanted to.

But you didn't want to.

"I'm sorry too," you whispered, a small, tearful laugh escaping your lips as you moved your head to press your cheek firmly into his palm. "I was stuck-up. I looked down on your world because I was jealous of how free you were. I spent so much time hiding behind my schedules and work because admitting that I wanted something would mean admitting that I didn't have everything under control."

You reached up, your fingers tangling into the damp strands of his dark hair, pulling him just a fraction closer.

"I don't hate anything about you,” you confessed softly. "I love you too. I’ve been entirely miserable without you."

The relief that washed over Jungkook’s face was instantaneous and breathtaking. A massive, brilliant smile broke across his face, the boyish, dazzling smile he usually hid behind his arrogant smirks. He let out a joyous sigh , immediately throwing himself at you, covering your body with his.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice thick with happiness as he buried his face into your neck, peppering your skin with soft, fluttering kisses.

"I love you, you idiot," you laughed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he rolled over, pulling you with him until you were lying flush against his chest, your heads resting on the same pillow.

"Good. Because you're stuck with me now," he muttered against your lips, before pulling you into a kiss. It was sweet, and incredibly deep, a gentle sealing of a contract you had both been waiting to sign for months.

When he finally pulled away, he wrapped his massive arms securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest in a tight, protective cocoon. His long legs tangled with yours under the silk sheets, his chin resting comfortably on the top of your head.

"The wall has to go," Jungkook murmured sleepily into your hair, his large hand gently stroking your stomach over the cotton of his t-shirt. "First thing Monday morning. I'm calling a contractor to knock the drywall down between 4A and 4B."

"We'll get evicted, Jungkook," you mumbled back, a soft, exhausted smile spreading across your face as your sleep deprivation finally caught up to you.

"Let them evict us," he whispered, his breathing slowing down as he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, his heart beating a steady, reassuring rhythm against your shoulder blades. "We'll just buy the whole damn building."

The wall didn’t come down on Monday morning, mostly because the building management threatened legal action at the mere mention of a sledgehammer, but the physical barrier between apartment 4A and 4B was entirely gone anyway.

Within a week, the deadbolt on your front door remained permanently unlocked. Within three, your living room began to acquire a few distinct artifacts, such as a stray sketch pad filled with intricate charcoal drawings of you resting on your glass coffee table, a pair of combat boots left neatly by your shoe rack, and a continuous, subtle scent of raw tobacco and expensive leather that no longer felt like an invasion, but more like a safety net.

On a hazy evening in July, the heat outside was horrible, but inside apartment 4A, the air conditioning was humming a quiet tune. You were sitting cross-legged on your sofa, a laptop resting on your thighs as you meticulously reviewed the upcoming budget projections. Your glasses were pushed up onto the bridge of your nose, your focus entirely ironclad.

Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

From the other side of the apartment, the door clicked open. You didn't even look up, your fingers continuing to fly across the keyboard, but your heart rate gave a familiar, stupid little skip.

A moment later, Jungkook stepped into your living room. He had just finished an eight-hour tattooing session, and he looked beautifully, completely wrecked. He had shed his shirt, wearing only a loose, sleeveless white tank top that exposed the sprawling canvas of his right arm and the blackwork wrapping around his ribs.

He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. He walked straight toward the couch, his heavy footsteps silent on your plush rug, and dropped his massive frame directly behind you.

"Jungkook, I’m working," you murmured in a breathless, soft tone.

"Don't care," he grumbled, his voice a gravelly vibration that resonated right through your spine.

His large, tattooed arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you backward until your spine was pressed flush against his warm, solid torso. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling against your pulse point, inhaling deeply. His breath was hot against your skin, sending a delicate flush up your throat.

"You smell like vanilla," he muttered, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke. "It's driving me crazy."

"It's just perfume, you dramatic idiot," you laughed softly, tilting your head to the side to give him better access, your fingers finally halting over the laptop keys. "And I really need to finish this report. My boss is—"

"Your boss can wait," Jungkook interrupted, his hand moving beneath the hem of your oversized sweatshirt, his palm resting against the bare skin of your stomach. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles over your skin, his touch so incredibly gentle it made your chest ache. "You’ve been staring at that screen for hours. Let me take care of you."

You let out a long, defeated sigh, closing the laptop and setting it aside on the cushion. The moment the screen went dark, you turned around in his embrace, shifting until you were sitting face-to-face in his lap, your knees framing his hips.

Jungkook’s eyes instantly locked onto yours, the light from your lamp reflecting in his pupils. The lazy, arrogant smirk he used to wear like armor was completely gone, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration that still made you feel entirely exposed. He reached up, his thumb gently pushing your reading glasses down the bridge of your nose before sliding them off entirely, setting them on the sofa arm.

"There you are," he whispered, his rough fingers cupping your jawline, his thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. "I missed you today."

"I was right next door," you pointed out, a small smile tugging at your lips as you reached up to tangle your fingers in the soft, damp strands of his hair. "I could literally hear your tattoo machine vibrating through the drywall at 2 PM."

"Yeah, well, hearing you through a wall isn't the same as holding you," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips. "I kept thinking about how much I wanted to walk out of the apartment, and drag you into my bed. I’m completely ruined, Y/N. You've completely ruined me."

"Good," you whispered, leaning in until your lips were a mere breath away from his. "You deserve it for making my life a living hell for months."

Jungkook let out a low, breathless chuckle against your mouth before he closed the distance. The kiss was filled with a domestic warmth that belonged entirely to the two of you. There was no rush, no desperate battle for dominance, just the steady pull of two people. His hands slid down to your lower back, pressing you closer until there was no space left between you, his heart beating a strong, steady rhythm against your chest.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing a little shallow.

"I bought dinner," he murmured, his eyes still closed as his thumbs traced the line of your jaw. "That little noodle place you like down the street. It’s sitting on my kitchen counter."

"You remembered?" you teased, shifting your weight slightly in his lap.

"I remember everything about you," he corrected softly, opening his eyes to look at you with a terrifying amount of certainty. "I know you take your coffee with too much milk, I know you organize your closet by colour, and I know that when you're stressed, you bite the inside of your lip until it bleeds. I'm paying attention, baby. I'm always paying attention."

His words made your throat tight, warmth expanding in your chest. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder, holding onto him as if he were the only solid thing left in the universe.

"Come on," Jungkook whispered, shifting under you as he easily hoisted your body into his arms, keeping you tucked securely against his chest as he stood up from the sofa. "Let's go eat. And then I’m dragging you to bed, and you're going to let me sleep for twelve hours straight."

"Only if you promise not to play music at 3 AM," you mumbled into his neck as he carried you across the threshold into his apartment.

Jungkook kicked his front door shut behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway. He looked down at you, his bunny teeth showing as he smiled.

"Deal, Princess," he murmured, kissing your temple softly. "From now on, the only noise in this apartment is going to be you."

because this man — the cocky frat boy, the popular fuckboy — is also the same man who claims to love you more than anything. or at least, that's what he's been telling you for the past few weeks.

yep, it’s been a few weeks since that night at your place, since the conversation that finally cleared up all the misunderstandings. since the shower together. since the soft words under the blankets. things feel different now. more lighter. but still a little scary. it's not quite official, but definitely not casual anymore.

and valentine’s day is creeping up soon!!

your not-really-official man has been talking about it nonstop. every time you see him he drops some new excited comment about it, like a kid who just discovered the holiday existed. you swear you were the same when you were a teenager, but watching jungkook — tall, tattooed, built like he could throw you over his shoulder without trying (he does) get all giddy about hearts and flowers makes you laugh every single time.

you know jeon jungkook has never dated before. he admitted that himself. said he didn’t do relationships, but when you tease him about it now, he just shrugs with that little smirk and says, “the right woman changes everything.”

it’s cute. super duper cute. he’s adorable.

he’s also very silly. way more comfortable with you these days. he’s started bringing you flowers almost every day. sometimes it’s a proper bouquet, sometimes just one single stem he picked up on his way to you. he's even started writing little... love letters. or at least that's what he insists on calling them, despite the fact that they're really just tiny handwritten notes.

and the funniest part? he sends them through his frat brothers like some kind of ridiculous messenger service.

“precautionary” he calls it. because he wants all of them to know you’re taken. even though you’re not… not yet, at least.

and at the end of every letter he signs it as your “secret admirer.”

oh this silly fuckboy.

well. not fuckboy anymore.

but you’ve gotten used to it. it’s his nickname now — because he’s your fuckboy.

you’re sitting on the worn couch in the middle of the chaotic living room right now, legs tucked under you, watching jungkook across the room as he argues with one of his brothers about something stupid (you're so sure he’s annoying them on purpose).

the place smells like cheap beer and cologne, music thumping low in the background. it should annoy you. it definitely used to. but somehow, knowing he’s yours makes the whole scene feel.. kinda different. kinda okay.

he notices you watching him and his expression shifts instantly. the confident smirk softens into something warmer, his eyes brightening as if you’re the highlight of his entire day. he cuts his conversation off without finishing and heads straight toward you, settling onto the couch right beside you. without a second thought, he lifts your legs and drapes them over his lap, one hand settling comfortably on your thigh.

“hi, darling,” he murmurs, voice quiet and meant only for you.

“hey, secret admirer,” you tease, lightly poking his chest.

he smiles wide. “you got today’s letter already?”

“i did. ‘your smile makes my dick twitch’ is kind of a new one.”

jungkook laughs, the sound warm and bright. he leans in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “it’s true though. you’ve ruined me and my dick. it used to be calmer.”

“you were never calm,” you whisper back, smiling. “horny fuckboy.”

“i was, a little,” he says, kissing the tip of your nose. “until i met you.”

you giggle, the sound soft and fond. then you tilt your head, curious. “how did you convince liam to send me the letter today, though?”

he smirks, looking proud of himself. “i got that aura, darling. nobody questions me.”

you give him a look.

he chuckles. “what?”

“tell me.”

jungkook laughs again, then mimics the whole thing in a dramatic voice. “i told him to do it. he said no. i gave him the glare… and he went ‘o-oh okay fine…’” he even adds a fake scared little stutter for effect.

your brows furrow even as you smile. “how do they even find you scary?”

he shrugs, then suddenly flexes both biceps right in front of you, veins popping a little. “they find these scary.”

damn. hot.

you roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “put those away, you weirdo.”

he drops the pose, still grinning. then his expression softens a bit. “oh wait, darling, i just remembered something.”

“yeah?”

“you know valentine’s day is in a few days, right? i’ve been thinking about it a lot. and i want to do something special for you. like, something better than flowers and letters.”

you raise an eyebrow. “better than your secret admirer campaign?”

“wayy better,” he says, eyes sparkling with excitement.

you smile.

then his tone turns serious.

“___, let me take you out. properly. please. there will be no frat house or frat parties involved. it's just going to be me trying to be the best future boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

your heart does that stupid fluttery thing it always does around him now. you play with the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling warm.

then you bite your lip. suddenly feeling a little shy. “okay, you and me.”

he grins in victory, immediately leaning in to kiss you slow and sweet, right there on the couch like he doesn’t care who sees.

there’s something about jungkook that makes the rest of the world disappear so easily now. the music, the scattered beer cans, the random guys playing games in the corner — none of it matters. you’re making out with him in the middle of his frat house, surrounded by his friends, and strangely, they all act like they suddenly forgot how to look in your direction.

because jungkook’s reputation has apparently made them smart enough to mind their own business.

your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently as the kiss deepens. he makes a low sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting high on your thigh. the kiss turns hotter, a little messier, his tongue brushing yours like he’s been waiting all day for this. you smile against his mouth, completely lost in him.

until —

“ahem.”

hoseok clears his throat loudly right behind the couch.

you flinch hard, pulling back so fast your lips make a soft smack. heat rushes to your face instantly. you look away, embarrassed, fixing your dress even though nothing is really out of place.

hoseok stands there with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “i was the one who called ___ here to study with me, you know.”

jungkook smirks, not even slightly sorry. his arm stays draped around your waist like he’s claiming territory. “what are you, a little kid? you can study by yourself.”

you slap his chest lightly. “jungkook.”

“ow, what?” he laughs, rubbing the spot like you actually hurt him. “i’m just saying. priorities, hyung.”

a few snickers ripple through the living room from the guys pretending they weren’t watching.

hoseok shakes his head, clearly done with both of you. “we have tests coming up, and i could really use some help right now.”

you nod quickly, still a little flushed. “yeah, okay sorry. let’s go.”

jungkook groans dramatically, tightening his grip on you when you try to stand. he pulls you back down for one more kiss, then another, deliberately dragging it out. “five more minutes,” he mumbles against your lips, being extra clingy just to annoy hoseok. “c’mon, she’s my girl. you can’t take her away.”

“jungkook,” you laugh, pushing at his chest again.

he finally lets you go with a heavy sigh, but not before stealing one last quick kiss. “text me when you’re done. i’ll come carry your books or something.”

hoseok rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful. “yeah, yeah, we’ll let you know. come on, ___, let’s go.”

you manage to escape jungkook’s arms and follow hoseok walking toward his room. the moment you’re a few steps away, you glance at him.

“is lexi coming?”

hoseok lets out a small sigh. “not tonight. she’s going on a date with jackson wang.”

you blink, genuinely surprised. “wow… jackson? really?”

“yep,” he says, pushing open his door. “apparently everybody’s falling in love these days.”

you chuckle, nudging his shoulder. “jealous?”

hoseok scrunches his nose. “i have more important things to do before i indulge myself in romance. cuz i'm a busy guy, you know.”

you grin, unable to resist teasing him a little more. “you must be really busy at frat parties then.”

he looks at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “yeah, sometimes.”

you laugh, shaking your head as you step into his room.

· · ─── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ─── · ·

valentine’s day came around pretty fast.

you’re sitting in the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, city lights flickering softly across your face as the streets blur past. the burgundy dress you chose hugs your body gently, the thin straps resting on your shoulders while the neckline dips just enough to reveal a subtle hint of cleavage. your hair falls loose and flowing around your shoulders, and you’d gone for a softer, prettier makeup look tonight — a touch more blush on your cheeks, a delicate shimmer across your eyelids. you wanted to feel different. special even.

you wanted him to look at you and feel something shift in his chest.

and he did.

you can tell by the way his eyes keep drifting from the road to you, lingering a second longer each time. even now, his gaze flickers over again.

it makes you smile, because the truth is, you had felt the exact same way when you opened your door earlier tonight.

jungkook had shown up in a black tuxedo.

and the moment you saw him standing there, you had burst into surprised laughter.

not because he looked bad.

god, it was quite the opposite.

but because the two of you had always been casual wear people. hoodies, jeans, lazy days in oversized shirts. so, seeing your jungkook dressed up like a gentleman had completely thrown you off balance in the best way.

he had blushed hard, ears turning bright red, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. but you quickly stepped forward, cupped his face with both hands and told him he looked ridiculously handsome.

and that reassurance turned into a heated little makeout session right there on your doorstep, his hands were gripping your waist, your fingers were messing up his perfectly styled hair.

and! now you’re here.

you glance over at him while he drives. you notice that his fingers are tapping rapidly against the steering wheel, almost frantic, like he’s seconds away from a full panic attack. his jaw is tight, shoulders tense.

you reach over and gently place your hand on his shoulder.

“jungkook… what’s wrong?”

he glances at you, and just the sound of your voice seems to relax him a little. you notice the way his shoulders drop slightly.

“i’m nervous,” he admits quietly.

you pull your hand back a bit and tilt your head, watching him. “what happened?”

he lets out a heavy sigh mixed with a groan, eyes still on the road. “what if you don’t like it?”

you blink, confused. “the date?”

“fuck,” he mutters, nodding. a red light appears ahead and he slows the car to a stop. “yeah. what if it’s embarrassing? i’ve never done this before. i was so fucking excited, but… i barely know about the real romantic shit people do on dates. i tried searching up everything but i still feel stupid. what if it’s too corny? i know i can be cheesy sometimes but i really want today to be good for you, you know? we’re not even officially dating yet, i know but i— fuck, i just… i want to be the best version for you so i thought... this date... shit. am i making sense?”

you don’t let him spiral any further.

you quickly unclick your seatbelt, lean across the console, and cut him off by pressing your lips to his. your palm rests gently on his cheek, thumb brushing his skin.

thank fuck it’s a red light.

jungkook melts into the kiss almost immediately. all that nervous tension seems to pour out of him as he kisses you back, one hand leaving the wheel to cup the side of your neck. it’s soft and deep and a little desperate, like he needed this more than he realized.

when you finally pull back and settle into your seat again, he lets out a long, shaky sigh, forehead briefly resting against the steering wheel.

you smile softly, heart feeling way too full as you look at him.

“jungkook…”

he sits up a little straighter and turns to look at you, the passing streetlights catching the nervous flicker in his eyes. the red light still holds the car in place, giving you this small pocket of time where the rest of the world feels paused.

you reach over again, this time letting your fingers brush gently along his jaw, thumb tracing the sharp line there.

“breathe,” you whisper, voice warm and steady. “it’s just me. you don’t have to be perfect tonight. you already are.”

jungkook lets out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch like it’s the only thing grounding him. his eyes soften as they meet yours, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away under your gaze.

“i just… i really don’t want to mess this up,” he admits quietly. “this is important to me. you’re important to me.”

your chest tightens with affection. you lean in again, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips — softer this time, full of reassurance instead of heat. he kisses you back like he’s pouring every unspoken feeling into it, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your face.

when you pull away, you rest your forehead against his for a moment, noses brushing.

“you’re already doing everything right,” you murmur against his lips. “just be you. that’s all i want tonight.”

the light turns green, but jungkook doesn’t move right away. he stays there, eyes closed, breathing you in like he needs one more second of this before continuing the drive.

finally, he pulls back with a small, shy smile — the kind that makes your stomach flutter every single time.

“okay,” he whispers, voice a little rough. “for you… i can do that.”

he shifts back into his seat, one hand reaching over to intertwine with yours, resting it on your thigh as he starts driving again. the nervous tapping on the steering wheel has stopped. instead, his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, steady and warm.

you watch him for a while longer, the city lights dancing across his sharp features and the crisp lines of his tuxedo, and you realize something quietly beautiful — he may be nervous, but he’s trying so hard. for you.

and that alone makes this the best valentine’s day you’ve ever had.

· · ─── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ─── · ·

the rest of the night turns out to be exactly what you both needed: perfectly imperfect.

jungkook had planned the whole thing with way too much effort. first stop was this tiny italian place he swore had the best pasta in the city. the moment you walked in, he pulled your chair out like a gentleman, then immediately knocked over the candle on the table as he was trying to look smooth. the wax spilled everywhere. he panicked, and tried to clean it with his tuxedo sleeve, and ended up with a big white stain on his jacket. you laughed so hard the waiter came over thinking something was wrong.

“this is why i don’t wear fancy shit,” he groaned, but he was still smiling, cheeks pink.

you wiped a tiny bit of wax from his sleeve with your napkin, and told him it made him look even cuter.

he blushed.

crazy. honestly.

by the end of dinner you were both full, laughing, and slightly messy.

after that he drove you to this quiet rooftop spot he had apparently scouted weeks ago. fairy lights strung up everywhere, a little blanket spread out with snacks and a cheap bottle of wine. it was cheesy as hell and you loved it.

you sat there for almost two hours, wrapped in his jacket because the night got chilly, feeding each other strawberries and chocolates that you got him, and making up ridiculous stories about the people walking below on the street.

the city hummed below you, but up there it felt like only the two of you existed.

it was perfect.

then later, when the wind got too cold, he drove you around the city with the windows down, playing your favorite playlist and singing off-key just to make you laugh.

he even stopped at a convenience store at midnight because you mentioned wanting ice cream. so, he came back with three different flavors, and a bag of chips.

by the time he pulled up in front of your apartment, it was late. your feet hurt from your heels, your lipstick was long gone, and his bowtie had completely disappeared somewhere during the night. you both looked a little wrecked, but happy. so happy.

he walked you to your door like a proper gentleman, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels.

“so… did you have fun?” he asked, suddenly shy again.

you smiled up at him. “best valentine’s day ever.”

his whole face lit up.

and before he could say anything else, you grabbed his hand and pulled him inside with you. the second the door clicked shut behind him, the energy in the room shifted.

jungkook’s hands found your waist instantly, backing you gently against the wall as his mouth met yours. the kiss was slow, like all the nerves and excitement from the night had finally boiled over into something hotter. you sighed into it, fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against your lips.

he kicked the door fully shut with his foot, never breaking the kiss, and walked you backwards down the short hallway toward your bedroom. your hands moved over his shoulders, pushing the tuxedo jacket off. it fell somewhere behind him with a soft thud. his fingers found the zipper of your dress and slowly dragged it down, the sound loud in the quiet place. his lips never left yours, hungry and desperate after the whole night of holding back.

when you reached the bedroom, he pushed the door open with one hand, still kissing you, and shut it behind you both with a quiet click. the moment it closed, something shifted. he walked you straight to the bed and spun you around so your back hit the mattress. you landed with a soft bounce, dress already slipping off your shoulders.

jungkook stood at the edge of the bed for a second, eyes dark as they dragged over you. his bowtie was long gone, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair messy from your hands. he looked wrecked in the best way possible.

“fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “i’ve been thinking about this all night. watching you in that dress… knowing i’d get to take it off you.”

you propped yourself up on your elbows, smirking even though your heart was racing. “then stop staring and do something about it.”

he chuckled, and crawled onto the bed over you. his hands slid the dress down your body, peeling it off slowly like he wanted to savor every inch of skin he revealed. when it hit the floor, he sat back on his heels and just looked at you in your underwear, eyes hungry.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, almost reverent. “i still can’t believe you’re mine.”

you reached up and tugged him down by the collar of his shirt, kissing him hard.

he groaned into your mouth and kissed you deeper, tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed everywhere — your waist, your breasts, your hips, your thighs. he broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking a mark right below your ear that made you gasp.

“i’m gonna take my time with you tonight,” he murmured against your skin. “we’ve got all night, baby. just you and me.”

his hands slipped behind your back and unclasped your bra with surprising ease. he pulled it off and immediately dipped his head, mouth closing around one nipple while his hand cupped the other. you arched into him with a soft moan, fingers threading through his hair.

“jungkook—”

“i know, darling,” he whispered, switching to the other side, tongue flicking and sucking until you were squirming underneath him. “let me hear you.”

then he kissed lower, down your stomach, until he reached the waistband of your panties. he hooked his fingers in them and looked up at you, eyes dark and asking.

“can i?”

you nodded, already breathless.

he dragged them down your legs and tossed them somewhere behind him. then he settled between your thighs, spreading them wider with his hands.

“so pretty.”

you moan at his words.

the first slow lick up your center made your whole body jerk. you hear him groan like he was the one being touched.

“fuck, i love how you taste on my tongue,” he muttered, voice muffled against you. “i could stay here all night.”

and he did.

for what felt like forever, he licked and sucked and teased, tongue circling your clit in slow, strokes before dipping lower to fuck into you. your hands fisted in his hair, hips rolling against his mouth as you moaned his name over and over.

“jungkook— oh my god— right there—”

then he slipped two fingers inside you while his tongue kept working your clit, curling them just right until your thighs started shaking around his head.

when you came, it was with a broken cry, back arching off the bed as he worked you through it, licking you softly until you were twitching and oversensitive.

he crawled back up your body, kissing you so you could taste yourself on his tongue. you reached down and palmed him through his pants, feeling how hard he was.

“your turn,” you whispered against his lips.

you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips for a second, just grinding down on him slowly while you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. he watched you with hooded eyes, hands gripping your hips.

“what did i say? you’ve ruined me.” he groaned when you leaned down and kissed his chest, then lower, following the line of his abs.

you undid his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. his cock sprang free, hard and leaking at the tip. you wrapped your hand around him and gave a slow stroke, watching his face.

“been wanting this in my mouth all night,” you said, voice low and teasing.

his head fell back against the pillows. “fuck, baby—”

you took him into your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around the head before sinking lower. jungkook’s hand immediately found your hair, holding you gently but it was still firm. the sounds he made — low groans and breathless curses — went straight between your legs.

you love it. so fucking much.

you bobbed your head, taking him deeper each time, hand working what your mouth couldn’t reach. and he was so vocal, praising you the whole time.

“just like that— fuck, your mouth feels so good— you’re so perfect—”

when you pulled off to breathe, you looked up at him through your lashes and smiled. “you like that?”

“i love it,” he rasped.

you smile.

“come here.” he pulled you up and flipped you both so you were on your back again. he kicked off the rest of his clothes and settled between your legs, cock rubbing against your slick folds.

“you’ve started taking the pill, right?” he asked again, always checking, even now.

“yes,” you breathed.

“so we’re good?”

you nod.

“okay, fuck.” he breathes out as he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried deep. both of you moaned at the same time. he stayed still for a second, forehead pressed to yours, just breathing.

“you feel so fucking good,” he whispered. “so tight around me. i can never ever get used to this, darling. it’s like the first time all over again.”

he started moving — deep, steady thrusts that made the headboard tap lightly against the wall. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. the room filled with the sound of skin on skin, your moans, and his low grunts.

“harder,” you gasped.

he gave it to you, hips snapping faster, one hand sliding between you to rub your clit.

and embarrassingly, you came again with a cry, clenching around him. he fucked you through it, pace stuttering.

“inside? are you sure?” he asked, voice strained.

“yes oh my god, inside,” you moaned. “please—”

he buried himself deep and came with a groan of your name, hips jerking as he filled you. he stayed there for a long moment, kissing you softly, both of you catching your breath.

but you knew, he wasn’t done.

after a few minutes of lazy kissing and soft touches, he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach. he lifted your hips and slid back inside from behind, this angle hitting even deeper. you moaned into the pillow as he started moving again, slower this time but no less intense.

“you take me so well,” he murmured, leaning over you to kiss the back of your neck. “my perfect girl.”

his hand reached around to play with your clit again while he fucked you. you came a third time like that, legs shaking, his name spilling from your lips.

he pulled out and turned you onto your side, spooning behind you. he slid back in and fucked you slow and deep, one hand on your breast, the other between your legs. the angle was intimate, his mouth right by your ear as he whispered how much he loved you, how good you felt, how he never wanted to let you go.

you reached back and tangled your fingers in his hair, turning your head to kiss him messily over your shoulder.

when he came again, it was with your name on his lips and his face buried in your neck.

you both stayed like that for a long time afterward, breathing hard, bodies tangled. he eventually pulled out gently and turned you to face him, pulling you into his chest.

“you okay?” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

you nodded, smiling sleepily against his skin. “more than okay. that was… a lot.”

he chuckled, the sound warm and fond. “good kind of a lot?”

“the best kind of a lot.”

he pulled a blanket over both of you and held you close, one hand stroking your back in lazy circles.

“i love you,” he said quietly, like it still surprised him every time he said it out loud.

you smiled into his chest, suddenly shy. “i love you too, fuckboy.”

he laughed again and kissed the top of your head. “i love hearing you say that, darling.”

you stayed like that for a while, just breathing each other in, hearts still racing from everything that had just happened. the night wasn’t over yet — you could already feel him starting to get hard again against your thigh — but for now, this quiet, warm moment felt just as important.

jungkook shifted slightly, tilting your chin up so he could look at you properly. his eyes were soft, a little dazed, but full of so much love it made your chest ache.

“round... i don't know, three or four? in a bit?” he asked, voice low and teasing, but there was real hope in it too.

you grinned. “give me five minutes and then you can have me however you want.”

his smile turned wicked. “however i want, huh?”

“mhm.”

· · ─── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ─── · ·

you both collapsed, breathing hard.

he stayed inside you for a while, just kissing you softly, both of you catching your breath.

then after a few minutes he pulled out and rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him so you were draped across his chest. his hand stroked down your back, lazy and affectionate.

“best valentine’s day indeed,” he mumbled sleepily.

you smiled, already drifting off. “definitely.”

and just like that, the night faded into quiet, warm cuddles and soft breathing, both of you tangled up together under the blankets, hearts full and bodies spent.

after a while his fingers started tracing lazy patterns on your back and waist. “you really liked tonight?” he asked softly, voice husky from everything you had done.

“i loved it,” you whispered, pressing closer to his chest. “the spilled candle, the ice cream in the car, the way you forgot to give me the bouquet you bought…” you chuckle, before continuing. “i loved all of it. especially the part where you kept calling me baby while you fucked me.”

he let out a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest. “i was trying to be romantic. clearly failed at the bouquet part.”

“you didn’t fail at anything,” you said, tilting your head up to look at him. “you tried so hard for me. and that’s what made me fall in love with you.

he stared at you, like he can't believe you're saying it.

“i don’t need perfect, jungkook. i just need you, all of you. with your fuckboy charms and silly little love letters.” you tease him.

he stared at you for a long moment, eyes softening. “you have no idea what you do to me when you say stuff like that.” his hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. “i’ve never done any of this before. the dates, the flowers, the trying to be someone’s boyfriend. and i thought i wouldn't be able to, you know? but with you.... fuck, it just feels so right.”

you kissed his palm. “you’re doing great, baby. better than great.”

he smiled again at the new nickname, that shy little flush creeping up his neck. “if you keep calling me that, i'd do anything for you. no limits.”

“yeah? you promise?” you teased, nuzzling back into his chest.

“promise.” he pulled the blanket higher around you both, arms wrapping tighter. “we’re not official yet, but… i want us to be. when you’re ready. no rush, of course. i’ll keep bringing you flowers and writing terrible letters until then.”

you traced a finger over one of his tattoos on his arm. “we are figuring it out. and tonight felt like a really good step. i don’t want anyone else, jungkook. just you. just us being stupid and happy together.”

he pressed a long kiss to the top of your head. “me too. no more running. no more overthinking. just us, yeah?”

you hum.

“happy valentine’s day, darling,” he whispered as he pressed kisses to your head.

you chuckle. “happy valentine’s day, baby.”

the room grew quiet again, only the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. his hand kept stroking your back, slow, soothing and loving.

and then, you make a ... decision. like you always do, recklessly. because why not? you love jeon jungkook.

you lift your head from his chest and smile at him, heart beating a little faster as the words finally come out.

“jungkook,” you whisper, fingers tracing his jaw this time.

“mhm?”

“will you be my boyfriend?”

he stares at you for a second, eyes wide with shock, like the question caught him completely off guard in the quiet afterglow. his mouth parts, breath catching.

then a huge grin breaks across his face.

“i— are you— oh, darling— holy fuck... yes!”

───────────────────────────────────

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗

a/n: thank you for reading worst behavior. thank you for staying with me through all these months. it was chaotic, fun, and honestly a little insane at times, but i'm really glad i got to share this story with all of you. i hope you had as much fun reading it as i had writing it.

and before we move on, there are a few things i want to say.

yes, i know the last few parts were rushed. very rushed. i know i could've done so much more with the story. my main focus from the very beginning was always their friendship, them getting to know each other, becoming comfortable around each other, and eventually becoming best friends. that's the part of the story i loved writing the most, and because of that, a huge portion of the fic ended up focusing on it.

at one point i considered expanding their actual relationship a lot more, but i eventually realized that doing so would require many more chapters, and if i kept extending the story, i wouldn't have time to work on other projects i want to write. so as much as i didn't want to let go, i had to accept that some stories eventually need to end. even if they're messy.

am i fully satisfied with everything? not really. there are definitely scenes and plot points that i wish i had written differently. but i also don't want to be too harsh on myself. worst behavior taught me a lot over the past six months. i learned so much while writing it, and i think i grew a lot as a writer because of it.

when i first started, i was mostly writing simple stories. then i leaned even harder into the chaos and unseriousness. now, i feel like i want to challenge myself more and explore a more descriptive and stylized writing style in future fics. whether i succeed or not, i want to try, and i want to see where that takes me.

and to the people who were upset that the plot was unserious and corny... respectfully, did you read the warnings? i told you from the beginning that this was a silly fic. even mentioned that there was gonna be no serious drama and also talked about my characters being.. "corny", that it was on purpose. so what exactly were you expecting from this fic? constant angst and drama? i’m sorry but please. read the notes/warnings.

oh, and: the hoseok and jungkook lore is something i might come back to in the future. if i do, it'll probably be posted as extra chapters or bonus content. but for now, worst behavior has officially reached its end.

thank you for reading.

thank you for supporting me.

You’re exiting the kitchen with a large tray of scones balancing on your palm which you gracefully slide into the display case to replace the empty one. After rising to your full height again, you spot him in the doorway and your eyes light up like fireworks. 

“Honey? What are you doing here?” 

Before he can even open his mouth, you scurry across the room to him. He naturally extends his arms out and pulls you in close once you barrel straight into his chest. 

“Thought I’d surprise my beautiful wife at work,” he explains. 

His lips find your temple before you unravel yourself from his embrace. 

“Aren’t you too busy for that?” 

“Eh, maybe. I’m never too busy for you, though.”

Your responding smile is just as radiant as always, and the lovesick gleam in your eye is something he’ll never tire of witnessing. 

“But how do you know I’m not too busy for you?” You retort with a smirk. 

Jungkook playfully clicks his tongue a couple times like he’s scolding you.

“That's something I never wanna hear.”

“Well, I’m a business woman now. So you don’t have much say in the matter.” 

With your hands placed proudly on your hips as they are now, you look like a sweeter-than-candy version of Wonder Woman, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards. 

“Fair enough, business woman. Are you too busy for me?”

After momentarily pursing your lips in thought, you smile and shake your head.

“Nope.”

He tsks at you.

“Put me through all that heartache for nothin’.” 

Jungkook steals your hand so he can lace your fingers together while you holler at Jennie about leaving for a bit. He follows suit by waving at her with his free hand where she’s standing behind the counter, to which she enthusiastically returns the greeting. 

It lifts his spirits to see such a massive smile on Jennie’s face. He feared she would never wear such a bright expression again, but it seems she’s found new fulfillment by helping you manage the bakery. 

“So, where are we going?”

The two of you are strolling hand in hand down the street adjacent to the building, your arms lazily swinging between you. 

“Thought we could just walk around together, maybe grab some coffee,” he proposes.

His answer causes you to stop short in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Did you do something bad?”

“Huh?”

“Jae, the only time you’d ever leave the office for lunch was to meet with Kookie once a month. Let alone just to go on some afternoon stroll with me,” you declare. 

He debates over his reply while beginning to tug you along with him again. 

“You’re right, but I think it’s about time I change that.” His hand squeezes your own. “We’re both working now and that means less time to spend together at home.” 

“You gonna make this a little routine, then?”

“I’d like to,” he firmly states. “Anything I can do to see your gorgeous smile more often, I will.”

The blush creeping onto your cheeks and up your neck is precisely why he canceled all his early afternoon meetings to spend time with you. Moments like these are priceless and he understands now more than ever how fleeting they are. 

“Speaking of routines, there’s one you stopped doing after we lost Kookie that I’ve been really missing lately,” you announce. 

“Hm? What’s that?”

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip as though you’re embarrassed, which is both adorable and heartbreaking, considering you shouldn’t ever find it hard to tell him how you feel. 

“Well, you know how you used to bring me home a new bouquet every Friday? I didn’t mention it sooner because everything’s been such a whirlwind the last eight months, but I seriously miss smelling flowers every morning when I come downstairs.” 

Jungkook mentally smacks himself in the forehead. Of course, he vividly recalls your kitchen table always having a fresh flower arrangement in the center. Not to mention Jaehyun spoke about it plenty over the years. 

He even remembers how his twin would waltz into the house on Friday evenings with a massive bouquet in his hands and shout, “Happy Friday, beautiful!”

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry.” He pauses and turns to face you. “I never thought of it once this entire time.”

“I know. It’s alright.”

“But it isn’t. My grief shouldn’t prevent me from treating my wife how she deserves.”

His comment causes your eyes to roll.

“Honey, you treat me better than I could ever hope for. The flowers? They’re far above and beyond your duties as a husband. That’s why I didn’t bring it up before.”

“Above and beyond or not, it’s something I’ve done for you for years and it shouldn’t just stop because I have a lot on my mind.” Jungkook sighs while encasing your hands between his own. “I promise to do better and you’ll start regularly receiving your flowers again this week.”

You smile and acknowledge his vow with a nod before giving him a quick peck. 

The stroll lasts another half hour or so, including a brief stop for drinks to sip on during your trek back to the bakery. Jungkook kisses you goodbye outside the entrance, out of view from any customers, but waits for you to safely step inside before returning to his own workplace. 

Upon arriving at the office, he immediately begins digging around old files and notebooks for the name of the florist Jaehyun used. He imagines his brother had a weekly service set up with them and Jungkook wants to reestablish it if possible. 

In the end, he finds absolutely nothing, and has to ask Jimin for assistance. Unsurprisingly, his twin’s longtime employee already has the name on hand and scribbles the information on a sticky note for Jungkook. 

After work, he heads straight to the florist shop that’s thankfully about equal distance away from both the office and house. 

Just like the bakery, a bell dings overhead when he enters the building and the sound causes an older lady behind the counter to glance up.

“Ah! Jaehyun, dearie, I wondered when we’d be seeing you again!” 

It only makes sense she recognizes him, Jaehyun probably saw her once a week for the last three or four years whenever he picked up the bouquets. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he remarks while weaving through the shop towards her. “We had a death in the family and suddenly all my usual routines got thrown out the window.” 

“Oh, I know, dearie. I saw the news in the paper after it happened. I’m so sorry about your brother,” she tells him as her hand comfortingly covers his own where it’s resting on the counter. 

Jungkook offers her a small, warm grin.

“Thank you.”

“You know, I’m a twin myself.”

His eyes widen in pleasant surprise. He doesn’t think he’s come across another twin since losing his own.

“Really?”

“Mmhm. Identical, too, just like you. She passed away a couple years ago.”

It’s hard to hide how his breath catches in his throat. For eight months he’s felt so unbearably alone it’s been like carrying around a physical weight. But here’s someone who knows exactly how he feels, even if the circumstances differ.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly offers.

She merely waves him off.

“It was old age, nothing like what you went through.” Her expression shifts from professional to caring; almost motherly. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Going from two to one.” He nods, in complete awe of her speaking his own emotions aloud. “No one else understands, do they? I mean, they try, but it’s impossible. You’re with this person from conception and then all of the sudden… nothing.”

A stray tear sneaks out from the corner of Jungkook’s eye which he quickly wipes away, but she still notices and sends him a sympathetic, understanding look in return. 

“It’s indescrible,” he replies. 

“It is.”

“Other people can’t even begin to comprehend what it’s like walking around as just a half. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been cut right down the middle and I’m bleeding out.”

Her head curiously tilts while she surveys him for a moment.

“Is that how you view yourself, dearie? As half a person?” Another nod. “Well, that’s not true. You and your brother were two separate, distinct individuals. Although I’m sure your bond was much stronger than most siblings, you didn’t complete one another, you complimented each other.”

It takes a second for her words to sink beneath his skin and flow through his veins. He rolls the notion around in his mind a few times and when it finally solidifies, Jungkook feels like he’s been hit over the head with a metaphorical brick. 

His entire life, he’s always viewed him and Jaehyun as two halves of a whole. It never even occurred to him there could be other schools of thought. Rather than two magnets stuck together by a natural force, from her perspective, they’re closer to parallel lines moving at the same pace. 

Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels a tissue being pushed into his hand. The kind gesture brings a smile to his face as he thanks her with a curt bow before drying his eyes. 

“I’ve never thought about it like that,” he confesses.

She smiles as well.

“It appears so. I hope the fresh perspective helps, dearie, I really do.”

“It does. Thank you.” 

When his grin broadens, she reaches out to pinch his cheek, causing him to giggle and scrunch his nose. 

“So, what brings you in after so long?” 

Jungkook sighs. 

“Well, my lovely wife misses her weekly flowers and if I’d remembered sooner myself, I would’ve been here ages ago.” 

“Ah, I see. Do you want to return to the old schedule? I use whatever seasonal flowers we have and you pick them up Friday before closing time?” 

He enthusiastically nods while clasping his hands together in a prayer position.

“You’re a lifesaver. Yes, please.”

She chuckles and types on her computer for a couple minutes before meeting his gaze again.

“Done. We’ll see you on Friday,” she announces.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”

If it weren’t totally inappropriate, he would leap across the counter to hug her. Not only did she solve his problem with you, but her words of wisdom were some of the best he’s ever heard. 

The interaction leaves Jungkook with a genuine pep in his step as he strolls towards the front door after returning home. His good mood lingers beyond the threshold as well, especially when he finds you at the stove cooking dinner for two. 

“Hi, honey!” 

Rather than greeting you, he snatches your waist from behind to yank you into his chest. You squeal and kick your legs in mock protest, but he ignores you in favor of aggressively kissing your cheek. 

“I missed you so much,” he proclaims into your skin. 

“We saw each other a couple hours ago.”

“Still too long.” 

You giggle and smack his forearm so he’ll let you go. But once your feet are back on earth, you spin around in his arms for a slow, lingering lip lock. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I missed you, too,” you confess. 

Jungkook smiles into the kiss before breaking it to tuck some hair behind your ear.

“It always does.”

This is the typical affection that occurs between you two and after eight months, it’s as easy as breathing for Jungkook. 

Ever since you had sex for the first time two months ago, you’ve both been clingier. You were already a handsy couple before, but the deeper bond forged through intimacy amplified the urge to always be near each other. 

Following that night, neither of you have been able to resist one another. In the last eight weeks, Jungkook can count on one hand how many days you haven’t had sex. It doesn’t just happen in the evenings, either. Sometimes he wakes you up in the morning by kissing his way down your torso until he reaches your center. On weekends, you often pause whatever afternoon activity you’re doing to force him onto the couch while sinking to your knees. 

You’re making up for lost time. Although, for you it’s about six months and for him it’s been almost sixteen years. 

Despite having a full blown mental breakdown after making love to you for the first time, Jungkook hasn’t had any issues since. He simply lives alongside his guilt like it’s a roommate inside his head, just as he does with the grief and loneliness of being without Jaehyun.

It’s a good thing because you’re fairly insatiable, and if his emotions were still giving him pause, it would be impossible to please you.  

Like right now, when you begin guiding him out of the kitchen and towards the living room with a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

“Sweetheart…”

“What?” You nonchalantly shrug, but your smirk reveals your true intentions. “Dinner takes over an hour to cook in the oven.” 

“You know, at one point you might just milk me dry,” he warns.

“Says the one who always asks for another round,” you counter after reaching the couch and shoving him down. 

He plops onto the cushions with a low grunt, but he’s grown accustomed to this song and dance, and his eyes follow your every move as you straddle his lap. 

His hands immediately start to crawl up your spine while you focus on kissing and biting his neck. Your hips are already rolling into his, causing his dick to strain against his slacks. Regardless, he doesn’t hesitate to mirror your movements so you can feel how hard he’s become just for you.

“Not my fault your pussy’s so damn addicting.” 

You giggle and lift your head.

“You’re right, baby. I’m so sorry for having such a tight, wet cunt.”

Jungkook loudly groans while his eyes roll into his skull.

“Fuck! You just love driving me insane. Don’t you?”

“It’s only, like, my favorite pastime,” you quip.

Your lips meet before the banter can continue as your bodies work in tandem to provide friction to your most sensitive areas and nerve endings. After a little while, Jungkook sneaks his hands beneath your shirt to pull it over your head, but you sever the kiss and stop him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, concern evident in his features. 

“Nothing. I’m just on my period at the moment and for whatever reason it’s really, really heavy.”

His head tilts in confusion.

“Like abnormally heavy?”

“Yeah. The cramps are killing me, too.” 

“Well, don’t orgasms help with cramps? Let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

He goes to kiss you again, but you maintain the distance between you by leaning away from him. 

“What?”

There’s a sharp edge to your tone like you suspect he’s messing with you and you’re not in the mood.

“What?” 

His iteration comes out much more clueless. 

“Jae, you’re the most squeamish person I know. You can’t handle the sight of blood at all. Let alone touch it.”

Shit.

Jaehyun did get pretty queasy around blood. Which is a shame because period sex feels fucking fantastic and his twin should’ve gotten to experience it at least once while he was alive. 

“Right, right.” Jungkook nibbles on his lower lip while his mind scores through different explanations he can use. “I guess once you wake up in the hospital next to your dead brother, that stuff just doesn’t really bother you anymore.” 

You grimace and reach up to card your fingers through his hair. 

“Are you sure? I’m more than happy just to help you out.”

He nods.

“I’m positive, baby. But I’m a little concerned about your period being so bad.”

“I mean, it happens to the best of us,” you claim.

Perhaps he simply doesn’t have enough knowledge on the matter, but he hates the idea of you being in pain or discomfort. 

“Alright. Just promise me you’ll go to the doctor if it doesn’t let up.”

You reassuringly smile.

“I promise.”

Jungkook’s hand rises to cradle your head so he can guide you closer for a kiss. You two quickly pick up where you left off, starting with him removing your top and tossing it aside on the couch. His shirt’s the next victim and then your bra, soon leaving you both nude from the waist up.

Your soft, warm skin brushing against his own is one of his favorite feelings in the world and he presses on the small of your back until there isn’t any space left between you. The two of you proceed to lazily make out and dry hump for some time, but you both eventually grow too needy and start maneuvering so you can strip your pants and underwear off. 

Once the rest of your clothes are strewn across the furniture, Jungkook’s hand slips between your legs where he glides his fingertips through your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he notes as his lips travel across your jaw and down your neck.

“I think that’s all the blood, honey.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Two of his fingers push into your hole and you naturally arch towards him when he begins curling them. “Still feels fucking amazing. And so damn tight.”

He continues to slowly fuck you while maiming your throat with his teeth and tongue. The airy whimpers he elicits are music to his ears and he’ll do anything to keep hearing them. Which is why he glances up for an explanation when you suddenly grab his wrist to stop him.

“I want your cock,” you answer the silent question.

As if Jungkook could ever deny you. 

“Yeah, baby? You gonna ride me exactly how I like?” 

Following a nod, you kneel and wrap your hand around his dick to pump him. He’s already rock hard, just like he always is as soon as you touch him, but the grip still helps lead him towards your cunt as you descend again. 

When his head passes through your tight circle of nerves, you both groan, and the pleasure only increases the farther you sink down his length. 

“God, you’re so fucking big.” 

Jungkook snickers.

“Don’t act like you forget. I was balls deep in you just last night,” he retorts.

“I know, but holy shit. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how full you make me feel.” 

The sentiment is certainly shared because having his cock buried deep inside you still frazzles his brain every time. It’s especially true at the moment, since your pussy’s extra swollen and sensitive due to your period. 

He would sit here with your bodies intertwined forever if you let him, even without any movement or friction. It’s heaven on earth and he’s positive he’ll never get enough.

“No? Not even after all this time?” 

Your responding chuckle is fractured by a moan when he rocks his hips forward to send his cock straight into your g-spot.

“Yes. I’ll be eighty and still babbling about how much I love your cock.”

Jungkook genuinely cackles, causing your chest to shake along with his due to the proximity.

“Ditto.”

You join in his laughter before the noise gets muffled by your lips meeting again. Since you’re both still smiling, your teeth scrape against each other until you manage to find your footing.

While your mouths partake in an amorous dance, you begin dragging your hips across his lap. The fluid motion allows your cunt to seamlessly move up and down his shaft and it isn’t long before his velvety skin is coated in arousal with a creamy, white ring at the base. 

You’re goddamn prolific at riding dick, and Jungkook doesn’t have to do much but sit there and watch you bounce. Even so, he still lets one hand roam your spine while the other tugs on your hair. He also takes control of the kiss by nipping at your bottom lip and conquering your mouth with his tongue. 

“Shit, baby, you’re doing so well,” he encourages you. “Taking this big cock like you were made for it.” 

His words make you keen as your body instinctively speeds up. The pace isn’t too fast, not like how he pounds into you after a particularly hard day, but it’s enough to leave you both panting between kisses. 

Whatever the tempo may lack, you ensure it’s made up for by consistently sheathing his entire cock inside you. His tip keeps hitting your cervix at the conclusion of each stroke and feeling your pussy swallow him whole over and over is beyond divine. 

“It’s s’good, baby. I won’t last,” you admit. 

“Already?” Jungkook teases before dipping down to kiss your neck and shoulder. “You used to be able to keep up with me.” 

He feels your muscles tense above him and giggles in accomplishment. You may be an expert at riling him up, but he knows precisely how to push your buttons, too. 

“I’m sorry, which one of us came barely a minute into the last blowjob they received?” 

With a gasp, Jungkook lifts his head again to stare at you in faux offense.

“How dare you use that against me! You had my balls in your mouth, what did you expect to happen?” 

You boisterously giggle while tossing your head back. 

“All I’m saying is don’t dish it if you can’t take it, Mr. Jeon.” 

“Ha! Let’s see about taking it, shall we?” 

Without warning, Jungkook flips you onto the couch before driving his dick right back inside your cunt. A sinful squelch accompanies the sudden action, but it’s nothing in comparison to how zealously you both moan. 

“No fair.” Your lips form an adorable pout he has to refrain from smooching. “I wanted to keep riding you.”

“If you can hold out a little longer, I’ll let you sit on my dick all night,” he offers. “Mrs. Jeon.” 

You wordlessly accept his challenge by wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist so you can force him closer. It leads your lips to naturally reconnect at the same time Jungkook begins rocking into you at a steady pace. 

Even though he’s the one who mentioned holding out, the new position is already propelling him towards the edge of ecstasy. Between your walls fluttering around him, your limbs clinging to him, and your tongue inside his mouth, he’s a goner. 

After just a couple more minutes, both of you are breathlessly whining and digging your nails into one another's skin. Jungkook’s strokes are as deep as ever despite not being that fast and it’s clear nothing can prevent either of you from crashing headfirst into an orgasm. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, to which he concurs with a mindless nod. 

As a final push, Jungkook trails his hand down so he can circle your clit. You’re already sensitive from all the friction so far and it only takes the slightest touch for you to wail and cream his cock. 

His own release follows with a series of animalistic grunts as his seed floods your cunt and he fucks the liquid deeper inside you. You two continue to grind throughout the climaxes, causing the wet sound of Jungkook thrusting into your drenched, swollen hole to echo around the room. 

“Jae… baby… it’s too much.” 

He stops as soon as he hears your quiet whimper, but remains nestled between your walls while he catches his breath. 

“Are you alright?” 

Jungkook rises to his elbows so he can see your face before pushing back the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. Rather than answering, you just nod and tug him down for another kiss. He smiles into the lip lock, leading you to do the same regardless of how tired you are.

After pulling out and finding a rag to wipe down you, him, and the couch, which is thankfully leather, you both get redressed in a comfortable silence. Then you return to the kitchen to check the oven while he heads upstairs to file away his work stuff. 

When he returns to the first floor, you’re busy setting the table since the food only has a few minutes left to cook. 

“You know, I had the strangest dream last night,” you announce after placing the final fork. 

“Hmm? What about?”

“So, you know the bench right across from Kookie’s headstone?” Of course, he does, it’s one of the reasons they chose the location. He, you, and his parents all agreed and the four of you usually visit the cemetery together about once a month. “I was sitting there with him just like I have in some of my other dreams. We were talking about the bakery, how Jennie’s doing, etc. But when I said, ‘I love and miss you, Jungkook,’ this confused expression crossed his face and he told me, ‘I’m not Jungkook.’” 

The actual Jungkook, the one standing a couple feet away from you, chokes on the grape he just nabbed from the fruit bowl in the kitchen. Never in a million years did he expect his twin to start sending you subliminal messages in your sleep. 

“That’s so weird,” he mumbles while attempting to chew properly. 

“Right? I mean, why would he say that? I get it’s a dream and all, but it’s just so bizarre.” 

He begins racking his brain for a reasonable explanation, even though he knows you won’t actually figure him out based on a dream alone. 

“Maybe he meant he isn’t Jungkook to you. Because you always call him Kookie,” he poses. 

A metaphorical lightbulb seems to flicker on above your head. 

“Oh, I didn’t think of that.” 

Jungkook shrugs as though it was obvious and he didn’t just pull it out of thin freaking air. 

The timer for the oven saves him from the conversation as he joins you in the kitchen to help plate everything. Following dinner, despite him promising you full access to his lap for the remainder of the evening, your period makes that impossible. 

So, you two cuddle in bed together and watch a couple movies before eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

In the morning, Jungkook’s surprised to find you still asleep beside him. You usually wake up hours ahead of him to prepare the day’s bakery menu. 

“Sweetheart?” 

He rounds the mattress so he can sit on the edge near you, where he begins softly combing your hair back.

“Hi,” you croak. 

Your eyes gradually blink open as a weak smile appears. 

“What’s wrong?”

“My cramps came for blood this morning. Pun unintended.”

“Have you taken anything?” You nod while resting your hand atop the one still parsing through your hair. “Should I bring you to the hospital?”

“No, baby. I already called my doctor to book an appointment for Friday.”

“But it’s only Wednesday,” he argues. 

The small grin on your lips grows until he can see your teeth. 

“I’ll be fine. Maddie assured me her and Jennie have everything handled, so I can just rest until I’m feeling better.” 

Jungkook’s hesitant to let you wait two more days, but he’s also aware you’ve suffered through enough periods over the years to trust your own intuition. 

“Alright, but I’m staying, too.”

You shake your head.

“That's not necessary. My mom will come over if I get worse. She’s driving me on Friday, anyway.” 

“Y/N, I’m not leaving you like this.” 

“You are. You’re going to go to work and I’m going to lay here and do absolutely nothing. I assure you, you’ll be far more useful at the office.” 

His head tilts in determination, but your eyes burn with resilience just the same. It’s clear any form of persuasion will fail, so albeit reluctantly, he starts getting ready for work after placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

But he does make you promise to call him if you feel worse, even if your mom comes to keep you company. 

It takes an exuberant amount of effort to coerce him into finally walking out the door and leaving you home alone. Especially when all he wants is to dive back into bed and hold you close until the sun goes down. Alas, he still has other responsibilities to uphold. 

You’re feeling a little better by the time he arrives home that evening, with your symptoms continuing to lessen throughout the day on Thursday and again on Friday morning. 

Nevertheless, Jungkook asks you to call after your appointment and you assure him you will before kissing him goodbye. You wave him off as he strolls towards the car and even though you do it whenever you’re home during his departure, it never fails to make his heart skip a beat. 

“I love you, handsome!” 

An involuntary blush stains his neck, cheeks, and ears. 

“I love you more, beautiful!”

The simple exchange sets his entire day up for success, and he finds himself practically skipping around the office until it hits five. But rather than heading straight home, he stops at the florist to pick up your arrangement. 

He has another quick chat with the owner before paying for the bouquet and telling her he’ll see her next week. The sweet, floral aroma fills the car as he drives home and it feels fitting for the spectacular mood he’s in. 

You never called him after seeing your doctor earlier, but he’s choosing to assume no news is good news. 

Upon arriving home, he locks the front door and kicks off his shoes before strolling into the house with the large bouquet in his right hand. He finds you on the couch with a novel perched between your fingers, so instead of possibly disturbing you mid-sentence, Jungkook kisses the top of your head.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers. 

A second after he goes off to find a vase for your flowers, he hears you set the book on the coffee table and stand up. He’s busy placing the arrangement in water, but can tell you’re now a couple feet away on the edge of the dining room. 

“Jungkook,” you flatly call.

“What about him?” 

He moves the vase to the center of the table before smiling to himself for a job well done. It looks just as beautiful as he remembers it being when Jaehyun was alive. 

“Jungkook.”

His brow scrunches as he turns towards you. 

“Why are you just repeating my brother’s name?”

When he finally faces you, he notices your demeanor’s completely different from this morning. Your face is cold and blank with your arms defensively crossed over your chest. 

“I’m not.” A heavy silence stretches like elastic between you. “I’m talking to you.”

The rubber band cracks like a whip and damn near knocks Jungkook off his feet, but he hides the reaction by shaking his head. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he claims.

A dry laugh shatters the stillness in the air. 

“Of course, you don’t.” 

Your behavior’s making his head spin and his stomach curdle, so he naturally steps closer to you. 

“Baby, what —”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you snap.

Jungkook immediately raises his hands in surrender. 

“Y/N, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Another eerily silence floods the room as he waits with his breath trapped inside his lungs. Then you clear your throat while standing taller in preparation to speak again.

“As you know, I went to the doctor earlier today.” He nods, but intense confusion is still etched into his features. “And it turns out I wasn’t on my period this week, I was having a miscarriage.” 

His heart sinks straight through the floor and buries itself in the earth below. He’s never once considered being a father; not when he was always resigned to loving you without ever being with you. But now you’re telling him you were pregnant, past tense, and the thought makes him ache done to his very bones.

“What?”

You completely ignore him. Your stern expression doesn’t even slightly waver despite the sadness in his voice.

“But see, that doesn't make any sense, because I have to be pregnant first in order to miscarry. And considering my husband can’t have kids, that should be impossible,” you calmly explain. “That only leaves two options.” In contrast to the unspeakable tension of the conversation, you wiggle two fingers in the air. “Either I cheated, which I know I didn’t, or…” You slowly inhale as a scalding fire blazes alive in your irises. “The person I had sex with isn’t my husband.”

The world feels like it’s crumbling into ash all around him. This can’t be happening; there can’t possibly be something so unavoidable in his path. Not when he’s spent the better part of a year successfully hiding the truth from you. 

Could Jaehyun really not have kids? His brother never mentioned fertility issues, either on his or your behalf. Jungkook always assumed you two were simply waiting to have kids. 

Even though this obstacle is astronomically larger than the previous ones, he knows he can overcome it. He has to, for you. 

“Those are not the only logical explanations,” he counters, keeping both his voice and body relaxed so you don’t suspect him any more than you already do.

“No? Please, enlighten me.” 

Jungkook feigns confidence on the outside while reaching into the very depths of his mind for an answer.

“Well, the doctors could’ve been wrong.” 

Your eyebrows rise.

“About what? Me having a miscarriage?”

“Or me not being able to have kids.”

“Oh, please, they were not wrong,” you retort. “If you were actually the person there during the diagnosis, you would know that.”

His head feels like it weighs two tons and it’s difficult to even think straight when his anxiety sounds like blaring sirens. 

“Miracles happen everyday, Y/N.”

“Miracles? That’s what you’re going with?” 

He groans and runs his fingers through his hair.

“What else do you want me to say, sweetheart? Because your theory sounds fucking insane!” 

“No, it doesn’t!” You shout. “And Jaehyun would never say something like that to me!”

“I am Jaehyun!” Jungkook yells right back.

“Like hell, you are!” You take two large strides towards him before recoiling, like you forgot you don’t want to be that close to him. Then all at once, the anger seeps from your face and your shoulders slump. Tears collect along your waterline as your lip begins to quiver. “Kookie, please… please don’t lie to me anymore. I don’t think my heart can take it.”

Hearing his nickname fall from your lips in such a somber, defeated tone yanks him into reality. The reason he did this in the first place is because of you. To keep you happy and save you from experiencing the same grief he had to endure. But now you’re standing ahead of him looking like a mere shell of yourself, and he can’t convince himself this is right anymore. 

So, he takes a deep breath and counts down from three in his head.

“You’re right,” he confesses. “I’m not your husband.”

Your eyes widen dramatically, and Jungkook realizes you never expected him to actually admit it. That despite your determination and adamance, you wanted him to prove you wrong; to conjure up a reasonable explanation that could quell your doubts. Because if he’s not your husband, then that means…

“No.” It starts as a quiet epiphany, but then Jungkook watches in horror as you crumble into a ball, your knees scraping against the floor while your forehead meets the wood. It almost looks like you’re praying, which you very well might be. “No, no, no, no!” Each repetition grows louder until you’re desperately sobbing the word. Your whole body shakes from the immense force of your cries and soon enough, the short syllable turns into a gut wrenching scream. “No, Jaehyun!” You choke on his name as though it physically hurts to say. “My baby!”

Your shrieks are brutal and ear piercing, throwing Jungkook completely off balance. He can’t think, can’t breathe, and certainly can’t move. Leaving him no choice but to stand there and witness the exact nightmare he was trying to prevent in the first place. 

It honestly sounds like your vocal chords are being torn from your throat as you alternate between screaming, weeping Jaehyun’s name, and more helpless denials. He’s never heard anything so horrible in his entire life and it’s utterly paralyzing. Everything he did was to avoid this moment, but now you’re on the ground wailing in front of him and he’s totally useless. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how much time passes, too crippled by his own mind numbing emotions and your cries of agony, but he eventually manages to kickstart his brain. 

“Y/N.”

On pure instinct, he tries to close the distance between you. Except when you register the movement, you instantly sit up and shuffle back before standing to further expand the gap. 

“Don’t you dare come near me,” you state with your arms out. 

The defensive stance makes his heart shatter and his lungs tear.

“Y/N,” he pleads. 

“You’re a fucking monster.”

Despite calling himself that in the past, it kills him hearing it come out of your mouth. 

“No.”

“How… how… how could you?” Your frame’s still rattling from all the raw emotions as silent tears cascade down your face. “How could you do this to me? Lie to me, manipulate me, betray me like this? You… you stole my grief from me!”

“Y/N, please —”

“All this time, I should’ve been grieving my husband. Eulogizing him, visiting his grave, remembering our time together. But instead you let me waste it all on you!” Jungkook’s never even seen you angry before, let alone like this. The fury in your eyes is borderline animalistic. “And for what? So you could take over his life? Were you so jealous of him you had to go this far? To steal his house, his car, his job, his fucking wife?” 

“No, that’s not why —”

“But it isn’t just his life. You stole his death, too,” you proclaim. “Jaehyun died protecting you and this is how you repay him? By claiming the act as your own?” Your rage seems to be simmering into a bleak calm, but that’s actually scarier, because it feels like the person he knows and loves is fading away. “He deserved to be mourned. He deserved to have a funeral, to be remembered and prayed for, to be buried under a headstone with his own goddamn name on it!” Jungkook opens his mouth to argue, but you don’t let him. “But you took all of that away from him and now I…” You gasp for air as fresh tears escape your eyes. “I’ll never get to say goodbye,” you declare in a fractured voice. “He’s been all alone in that cemetery for eight months while I was busy playing house with his fucking brother.”

Your monologue not only rips his soul in half, but causes you to break down all over again. That’s when Jungkook realizes his face looks the same as yours; swollen eyes and cheeks stained with tears. 

“And there were so many signs,” you note between sobs. “I knew you weren’t Jae the second I got done hugging you at the hospital, but I needed you to be him so badly I gaslit myself into believing you were. Besides, the idea you would ever do something this horrendous was just unfathomable to me. So whenever your behavior didn’t make sense or you couldn’t remember something you should’ve known, I ignored it.” 

He can’t even begin to digest your words, no matter how much he wishes he could. His only thought is that he needs to fix this. It’s his duty to heal your heart and save whatever may be left of your relationship. 

“I… I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

The despair in your eyes flickers out to make room for more wrath. 

“You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“No, I…” Jungkook inhales to gather his thoughts. “I didn’t do it to steal Jae’s life. I did it for you.”

“For me?”

He nods.

“Yes. To protect you from the truth. I didn’t want you to ever have to feel what I was feeling at that moment. I couldn’t let you lose Jae.”

His explanation makes you scoff.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to stand there and pretend you’re some selfless hero. You did this for you and you alone, Jungkook.”

“But I didn’t, Y/N. All I could think about after finding out he died was how you would react and how much pain you would be in.”

“Ha! Well, look at me now!” 

“I know, okay?” He isn’t even cognizant of his body moving towards you until you take a matching step back. It creates an even deeper wound in his chest seeing you repeatedly inch away from him. “I know it wasn’t right, but I didn’t have any other choice. I never should’ve survived that crash. Jaehyun was supposed to be the one to walk away, not me. This was all I could do to fix it.”

You disagreeably shake your head.

“Your survivor’s guilt isn’t an excuse to play with everyone’s lives like this,” you argue. “I mean, did you even think about your parents? Or Jennie?”

“No,” he answers without hesitation. “The only person on my mind was you. Just like always. You’ve been my first thought in the morning and my last in the evening for fifteen years.” 

His confession doesn’t seem to register with you like he thought it would, given how your eyebrows kiss in confusion.

“What? Why?” 

“Why?” Jungkook gawks. 

“Yes!”

He laughs to himself, although there isn’t an ounce of humor present. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” When you shake your head again, he braces himself to finally admit the secret he once swore he’d take to the grave. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since the moment I stepped foot in that classroom all those years ago. And I tried to stop it, tried and tried to get over you, but it was fucking impossible.” 

Jungkook has no clue what to expect in terms of a reaction. Maybe shock, horror, or disgust. But he certainly doesn’t think it will be absolute, unadulterated anger.

“That’s what this is about?” You yell at the top of your lungs. “Your brother bites it and your first thought is to take what you’ve always wanted?” 

“What? No!” The possibility you believe he would ever stoop so low leaves his hands shaking at his sides. “My feelings had nothing to do with it!”

“Oh, so you getting to fuck me whenever you want was just an unintended consequence?” 

“That’s not…” He pauses to take a deep breath, although he’s finding it hard to keep his lungs inflated. “Yes, my feelings were obviously a factor, but they weren’t the reason for my actions.” 

It’s your turn for an empty, heartless chuckle. 

“You can lie to yourself all day, Jungkook. But you’re done lying to me.” 

When you turn to grab your coat and bag hanging near the door, he panics and rushes forward.

“Where are you going?”

You face him again with a look of total disbelief, as though you’re shocked he thinks he has any right to ask you such a question. 

“I don’t know. I just need it to be far, far away from you.”

There’s a burning sensation in his chest that’s spreading into his veins and he has to bite back the whimper clawing up his throat. 

“No, please. We can still fix this.” 

“This? There’s no ‘this’ to fix!” Jungkook can feel you metaphorically slipping out of his grasp when you place one hand on the doorknob. “We’re not a couple, Jungkook. This marriage doesn’t belong to you. My real husband’s lying six feet underground and I’ve been a widow for eight fucking months without even knowing it. All because of you.”

Before he can find another avenue to stop you, the door flies open and you disappear from his sight. The loud slam when it closes makes him jump as the first sob erupts from his lungs and he slowly drops to his knees. 

“Y/N,” he weeps, despite you no longer being there. “Wait.”

Jungkook buries his face in his palms as his emotions pummel into him like rampant, merciless tsunami waves. His oxygen is long gone, there’s an incessant ringing in his ears, and his vision is shrouded in tears. 

Your name slips in between his cries like an undertow, pulling him so deep he can’t see the surface anymore. 

He has no sense of how long he stays in the position, but his head is pounding by the time he finally glances up. Based on where the sun is outside, or lack thereof, he thinks at least an hour has passed. 

Of course, you’re his first thought once the dust clouding his mind settles. He immediately checks your location to ensure you’re somewhere safe and finds your contact photo at the cemetery. 

It only makes sense that’s where you went. Who else would you run to at your darkest hour besides the man you love? 

The real man you love. 

No matter how well Jungkook was able to fool himself into believing what you two had these last few months was authentic, you’re right. There’s nothing between you and him but a paper house.

His fingers begin typing you a message before he can think twice. It isn’t anything of note, just a couple sentences stating he’s going to pack and stay with his parents so you can return home without having to worry about crossing paths. 

Shortly after hitting send, a new thought dawns on him. His parents. You finding out the truth was one thing, but he can’t even imagine how hard it’ll be telling them. 

Once he throws some clothes and toiletries into a duffle bag, he trudges down the stairs to survey the first floor. 

Jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll ever stand here again, not after what he’s done. It isn’t just the home where you and he lived together, either, but where his beloved twin once resided. Most of his memories of the three of you from the last five years took place in this house. By now, it’s become more akin to a physical piece of his soul than a mere building. 

The ghosts of you and Jaehyun seem to dance around the various rooms; mirages of him helping you bake in the kitchen or covering your eyes for you during a scary movie. But they’re soon replaced by visions of you and Jungkook instead. 

He wishes he could claim he regrets his choices, and a piece of him does, but he can’t wholeheartedly say so. Not when you were content, comforted, and fulfilled while he was pretending to be your husband. No matter how decimated your relationship is now, he can’t bring himself to paint your time together in a negative light.

On the drive to his parents’ place, Jungkook pictures the worst case scenarios for their reactions in his mind, and he’s downright terrified of any one of them coming true. Because if he loses his parents as well, what would he have left in this life? 

Even after arriving, he waits in the car for a burst of courage to propel him towards the house. The problem is this confession’s inevitable no matter how long he lingers outside. There’s no unwinding this wheel; all he can do now is face the music. 

As the front door swings open, he hears his mother humming to herself in the kitchen at the end of the hall. It’s mundane and something he grew up listening to around the house. If it’s the last creature comfort he gets to experience at his childhood home, he supposes it’s a good one. 

“Jae? Is that you, sweetie?” 

Jungkook halts upon reaching the threshold of the room.

“No,” he quietly responds. 

She giggles, clearly assuming it’s a joke, but when she turns around to find him looking as though all the life’s been drained from him, her face falls.

“Darling, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

An anticipatory moment stretches for what feels like an entire eternity while Jungkook wills himself to open his mouth. 

“I’m…” His hands are shaking so violently he has to squeeze them into fists. “I’m not…”

“Jaehyun?” 

While she maneuvers through the kitchen to reach him, he fills his lungs with enough air for the weighted confession. 

“I’m not Jaehyun.” 

The world freezes just like pausing a film. At least, everything except his mother’s pupils which are trembling in shock and astonishment. 

“What did you just say?”

Fresh tears are already blinding him.

“I’m not Jaehyun,” he repeats as his voice breaks across his twin’s name. 

“You’re… Jungkook?” The very second he lifts his chin to nod, she gasps and throws her arms around him. His body involuntarily buckles once he’s inside her warm, familiar embrace while his hands cling to her like a life vest. “Oh, my baby.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever cried this hard. It’s as if hugging his mom reverted him to a child who’s just fallen and scraped their knee. The overwhelming comfort of her presence unlocks all the emotional tension within him, freeing it for the first time since he woke up in that hospital room.

“I’m sorry,” he wails into her shirt. 

“Shh, shh.” She keeps kissing the side of his head and despite the affection healing something deep inside, it makes him cry even harder. “You have nothing to apologize for.” One of her hands moves to cradle the back of his head. “I’m just so happy you’re alive. I’ve missed you so, so much.”

“But Jae… Jae’s dead. He’s been dead all this time. He died saving me and then I fucking stole everything from him,” he explains. “I got Y/N pregnant. That’s how she found out the truth. Because she lost the baby, and since Jae couldn’t have kids…” 

“Oh, sweetie.”

“He never told me. Why wouldn’t he tell me?” He feels like he’s speaking utter nonsense, but the words are just pouring out of him after being trapped in his chest for so long. “I hurt her, mom. I’ve loved her since we were kids, but I still lied to her and betrayed her trust in the worst way imaginable. I kept her from grieving the man she’s loved since she was fifteen.” The longer he talks, the more his guilt bears down on him like a cage that’s one size too small. “I’m such a monster.”

His mom delicately separates the two of them and as soon as they come face to face again, her own eyes fill with tears. 

“No. You’re not even close to a monster.” 

“No one else would be able to stomach doing something so awful.”

“That’s not true,” she argues. “People have committed far worse crimes than trying to help the ones they love.” When his mouth opens, she lifts a finger to silence any retort. “Even if their methods were misguided.” 

“He must hate me, right?” 

She shakes her head. 

“Never. Jaehyun could never hate you.”

Jungkook sniffles before drying his face with his sleeve.

“I think this might be the exception,” he claims.

“No, my darling.” Her fingers caress his cheek, right where his scars are, and he automatically leans his head on her palm. “I’m sure he isn’t the happiest with you at the moment, but he also knows you better than anyone. So, I think he understands why you did it, even if he disagrees.” 

“Mom, I fucked his wife. Repeatedly.” 

She chokes on a dry chuckle. 

“I said he probably isn’t happy with you, didn’t I?” 

The sound of his mother’s laugh eases both his heart and mind, even if just a little. 

“What about you? Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” she assures him. “How can I be when I thought you were dead, and now you’re standing here in front of me?” 

“Because there’s still only one of us.”

“Yes, and I’ll have to work through that on my own time. But for now I just want to cherish my baby being alive.” 

Jungkook can’t help but smile. 

They end up gravitating towards the couch, where he stretches across the cushions with his head in her lap like he would do as a kid. He and Jaehyun used to fight over the coveted position all the time. 

Her fingers gently comb through his hair as she listens to him explain everything from the moment he decided to pretend to be Jaehyun, to the second you walked out the door. She doesn’t give her opinion unless asked, but hums in acknowledgment every once in a while so Jungkook knows she’s paying attention. 

“I just don’t get why Jae never told me he couldn’t have kids. I mean, did he not trust me with something like that?” Jungkook muses.

“No, sweetie, it didn’t have anything to do with you,” she clarifies. “Your brother was just so ashamed when he found out. He felt like he was letting everyone down; Y/N, your dad and I, her parents. He thought it made him less of a man, no matter how much we all assured him that wasn’t the case.” Jungkook gazes up at his mom as she speaks. “He even begged Y/N to leave him so she could find someone who could give her children.”

“No, he didn’t,” he gawks.

His mom nods. 

“As you can imagine, she totally lost it on him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so mad, especially at Jaehyun, of all people. Being a mother’s always been her dream, but only if Jaehyun was the father. She didn’t care whether it was natural or through adoption, but the only person she ever wanted to raise a child with was him.” 

“How come whatever condition prevented him from having kids doesn’t affect me, too?” 

“It’s environmental and develops after birth, so that’s why you’re in the clear.” He hums and turns his head back to the front so his mom can continue carding through his soft, black strands. “In fact, when the doctor found out Jaehyun was a twin, she suggested they ask you to donate for artificial insemination.” 

Jungkook nearly falls off the couch when he chokes and twists his entire body around so he can face his mom.

“You’re joking.”

She cackles.

“No, not even a little.” Her head shakes as she recalls the whole debacle. “The doctor told them it would be biologically the same as having their own child, since your DNA is ninety nine percent identical.”

“Oh, I bet Y/N loved hearing that,” he teases. 

“Jaehyun said she almost burned the doctor’s office to the ground.” The two of them share another laugh. “Your brother actually didn’t mind the idea, but like I said, biology didn’t mean anything to Y/N. Only he did.” 

It’s easy for anyone who knows you to understand your negative reaction. Nothing in the world mattered to you more than Jaehyun, and it only makes sense that if you couldn’t have kids with him, you wouldn’t want them at all. 

The thought causes Jungkook’s heart to start aching again because on one hand, your unconditional love for his twin is the very reason he took his place, but it’s also what makes the truth so much more devastating. 

“He knew, you know,” his mom professes. 

“Knew what?”

Her lips form a pout like she’s debating whether or not to elaborate.

“That you were in love with Y/N.”

Jungkook genuinely does flop right over the edge of the couch this time. His left side meets the ground with a thump as his mom gasps and leans forward to check on him.

“I’m okay,” he groans while sitting up. 

“God, you haven’t changed one bit. Have you?” 

He smiles before standing and sitting down beside her. 

“Apparently not.” 

“I don’t even know how you pulled it off. You two were such opposites,” she notes. “I mean, when I look back on the last eight months, it seems obvious. Even you and Y/N’s interactions were different.”

“How so?” 

She thoughtfully sways her head side to side.

“Y/N and Jaehyun moved like the earth and the moon. They orbited around each other, complimented each other, and relied on each other. But you and her were more like waves crashing against a shoreline. There was a push and pull as though you took turns guiding one another. High tide and low tide.” 

When people claim mothers know everything, his mom proves them right by a long shot. She somehow notices every little detail no matter how small and it genuinely amazes him. 

But he can’t focus on her words of wisdom with the massive elephant still in the room.

“Wait, we need to rewind,” he states.

Of course, she knows what he’s referring to, and clears her throat to explain.

“Darling, your brother knew you better than he knew himself. Just as you did with him. You really thought he couldn’t tell you had feelings for Y/N?”

“Yes! I mean, why didn’t he ever say anything? Or throw a damn punch?” 

She chuckles again. 

“Like I said, because he knew you. He was certain you would never try to steal her away regardless of your feelings. He was also sure Y/N would castrate you if you ever even attempted to.” 

Jungkook echoes her laughter. 

“That’s what you meant, then? When you said you think he understands?” 

“Absolutely. He knows where your heart lies, sweetie. That you wouldn’t do something like this out of malice, selfishness, or jealousy. It obviously doesn’t make it right, and he might cash in that punch once you join him upstairs, but I’m sure he doesn’t see you as the monster you claim to be.”

The words permeate his mind as he ponders whether or not he can agree. On the surface, he recognizes her point, but his guilt’s still too thick to wade through. 

“That’s what Y/N called me,” he tells her while fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “She’ll never want to see me again.” 

His mom reaches out to tuck some hair behind his ear, prompting him to meet her gaze. 

“Yes, she will.” 

“You didn’t see her face, mom. She looked afraid of me. Or repulsed, at the very least.” 

She sighs and drops her hand so she can cover his own. 

“Didn’t you hear all those wonderful things she said about you a couple months ago? She loves you, Jungkook. Maybe not how you wish she would, and it’ll definitely take time, but I have no doubt she’ll forgive you one day.” 

All Jungkook can do is hope she’s right. Because he truly doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you forever. Until then, he just has to focus on cleaning up the mess he made. 

Speaking of, the sound of the front door opening and his dad calling for them ends their conversation. Jungkook looks towards his mom with fear written all over his face, but she simply reassures him with a smile. 

His dad doesn’t take the news nearly as well as his mom did. There’s screaming, an abundance of questions, and even a door slam when his dad needs some fresh air. But once the initial shock wears off, he hugs Jungkook tighter than humanly possible while whispering how much he loves and missed him.

Now that his folks know, the next step is to tell the world. The three of them spend the evening contemplating all their options before settling on claiming it as a business move. 

The official story printed in the press the following morning is that after finding out Jaehyun died, his dad worried people in the industry would question whether Jungkook could fill his shoes without any prior experience. So, they decided to let Jungkook prove himself under the guise of being Jaehyun for a pseudo-transition period. 

Of course, the entire technology world goes crazy. His dad spends multiple days fighting with board members and shareholders alike over his poor decision making. But like all news, it simmers into just some strange family drama after a couple weeks. 

Jungkook doesn’t leave the house much during that time and according to his mom, who you still regularly contact, neither do you. Apparently Jennie and Maddie have been running the bakery together in your absence while you rest and grieve on your own terms. His mom also informs him you told Jennie the truth shortly after the article dropped, so she’s the only person outside of family who knows. 

A month goes by in the blink of an eye and unfortunately, he has to return to work next week. Despite all the rigmarole, the board eventually decided Jungkook’s leadership has been exemplary these past eight months, and he should remain in his position as CEO. 

Given that real life’s about to start up again, and very soon, Jungkook swallows his nerves and ventures outside to visit the bakery. Not to see you, but to finally face his best friend for the first time since the news broke. 

He arrives just before closing time so there won’t be any customers around. Jennie also isn’t anywhere to be found, but he decides to enter the building anyway by using his spare key.

His eyes map all the different desserts and adorable decor around the room as he waits for her. Everything’s still so you even though you probably haven’t stepped foot inside the building in a month. It makes his heart throb because he just misses you so damn much, but he knows it’s his own fault you aren’t here. 

A recognizable doodle on the chalk board behind the counter is currently holding his interest, so he doesn’t hear anyone approach until they clear their throat. 

“Scout’s honor, huh?” 

Jennie’s voice automatically causes his head to whip in her direction. She looks exactly the same as she always does; beautiful, radiant, and headstrong. 

Once her comment clicks in his mind, his shoulders slump forward and he sighs from deep within his chest. 

“Jen, I —” 

Before he can even begin his spiel, she interrupts by colliding with him in the center of the bakery. He grunts in surprise, but still naturally pulls her body closer by her waist. His other hand cups the back of her head while her arms wrap around him so tightly she almost chokes him. 

She buries her face in his neck, but it doesn’t muffle her quiet sniffles very much. The sound prompts Jungkook to return her affection by nuzzling the side of her throat. 

“I’m so fucking happy you’re alive,” she whispers. 

Jungkook starts beaming following a huge sigh of relief.

“Me, too.”

They simultaneously pull apart and without thinking, Jungkook wipes a stray tear away with his thumb once her face reappears in his view.

Her eyes grow wide when his finger grazes her cheek, but her expression soon relaxes into one of content. And armed with the newfound awareness of her feelings, he also realizes it’s full of love. 

It’s strange being here with her. Even though he’s seen her numerous times throughout the last few months, it doesn’t feel like he did because he wasn’t technically himself. 

“I’m so sorry, Jen,” he tells her. “I never… I never meant to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever want to do, but I just… got lost, I guess.”

“I know.” She’s wearing her signature smirk and Jungkook can’t resist mirroring it. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I already understand.” 

“You do?”

“Kook, you were going through the worst possible moment of your life. You made a mistake. I mean, it was a huge one, but I can’t claim I wouldn’t have done the same in your position.” 

Although he feels an enormous amount of relief because she isn’t furious with him, a part of him wishes she was.

“Sure, but I still lied to your face and let you believe I was dead. Not to mention when I sat here and listened to you confess your feelings for me like it was nothing.”

She simply shrugs. 

“Yeah, that was pretty fucked up, but it wasn’t a secret or anything,” she states. 

“Huh?”

“I would’ve told you how I felt if you’d asked.” 

Jungkook shakes his head to prevent any more confusion from infiltrating his mind.

“What are you talking about?”

Her eyes roll like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

“It wasn’t a secret, Kook. Me having feelings for you changed absolutely nothing between us. The only reason I never told you is because it would’ve been pointless.”

“Why would it have been pointless?” 

“Uh, because you’ve been head over heels in love with Y/N since forever?”

That response nearly knocks the air out of his lungs. 

“But you said you didn’t know who I had feelings for when I asked you that night!”

She laughs while crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Of course, I did. I wasn’t going to out you to who I believed was your brother and her husband.” Jungkook’s mouth forms a little O and it causes her to laugh again. “I’m fairly certain everyone but Y/N was well aware.”

“No shit. Mom told me even Jae knew,” he replies.

Jennie gasps.

“Are you serious?” He nods with a disbelieving chuckle. It still doesn’t really compute in his brain, either. “Damn, your brother was a saint. I would’ve kicked your fucking ass.”

“That’s what I said!” 

They share in more giggles and suddenly it’s as if no time passed at all. Being around Jennie always feels like coming home, and he sincerely hopes she knows that and agrees with the sentiment.

Then again, there’s still so much left to apologize for even baring the current situation. He honestly doesn’t know where to start, but he promised himself he would try. 

“Jennie?” She raises her eyebrows to show she’s listening. “About your feelings… I’m sorry. I should’ve considered how certain things might affect you, even if I didn’t know you were in love with me at the time. All those late night hook ups and trauma dumps. I can’t imagine what those must’ve been like for you. I used you and your body to make myself feel better and best friends should never treat each other like that.” 

“Kook, that’s not —”

He stops the interruption by throwing his hand up. 

“I know you’re going to say it’s fine, but it isn’t.” Once she concedes with a short nod, he continues. “The truth is, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make myself love you back. You’re fucking perfect, Jen. But even if I could force myself to reciprocate, it wouldn’t be fair to you. My feelings for Y/N are unalterable and no matter what, you would always come in second place. And you don’t deserve anything even close to that. You deserve someone who’ll cherish you and worship the very ground you walk on.” He sighs. “I wish it could be me. God, you have no idea how badly I want to love you. And I’m so fucking sorry I can’t.” 

His best friend looks shell shocked by the time he’s done talking, but she immediately returns the favor when in lieu of a verbal response, she clutches his head with both hands. Before Jungkook can register the sudden movement, she’s already yanking him down to her level for a kiss. 

It’s gentle and chaste. Neither of them even move their lips or attempt to deepen the connection. Although Jungkook does lightly cup her face and caress her cheekbones with his thumbs. 

She pulls back first, but they both keep their eyes closed for a second longer than the kiss itself. It doesn’t feel romantic, even though in any other circumstance it should. Jungkook also understands why she did it without her explaining herself. 

It was a thank you, an I forgive you, an I missed you, an I love you, and a “you’re my best friend” all wrapped into one. Maybe even a farewell to the possibility of ever being more. 

“You’ve never hurt me, Kook,” she assures him. “Every moment we’ve spent together, platonic or otherwise, I’ve utterly adored. My feelings for you are like an underwater current. They aren’t something I agonize over or think about often. They just… exist; a part of me in the same way my love for my other friends and family is.”

He smiles after her proclamation fully sinks in. 

“I love you, Jen. I truly don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

A matching grin appears on her lips. 

“Dead in a ditch. Easily.”

They both laugh again as the seriousness of the moment passes to make room for a new chapter in their friendship. One without any misunderstandings or secrets weighing either of them down. 

Jungkook assumes those are the only amends he’ll make this week, but shortly after leaving the bakery, he checks his phone and finds a text from you on his screen. 

You want to meet at the cemetery this Saturday to talk. 

Honestly, he can hardly believe what he’s seeing, and he even blinks a few times to check if the message will disappear. When it never does, he swiftly types an affirmative reply and hits send. 

Visiting Jaehyun has been on his list for the last couple weeks now. He hasn’t been to his brother’s grave since everything fell apart and more importantly, he wants to see the new headstone you had installed with the proper name on it. 

Besides redesigning the small monument, you’re also planning a very belated celebration of life on the first anniversary of his death in a couple months. It won’t ever replace losing your chance to give him a proper funeral, but it’s at least something that’ll be dedicated solely to him. 

On the morning of your first meeting in just over a month, Jungkook’s so nervous it feels like his entire body is resting on pins and needles. 

He’s bracing himself for this to be goodbye. In fact, he’s half expecting you to hand him a restraining order and make him sign a visitation schedule for the cemetery so you never run into one another while spending time with the person you both loved most. 

Except when he arrives at his twin’s grave and slowly approaches the bench you’re sitting on, he notices you appear totally relaxed. It could very well be the calm before the storm, but after you glance up and pat the empty space beside you, he stops believing it is. 

Jungkook follows the silent instruction, but neither of you speak at first. You both simply admire the headstone across from you as the birds chirp overhead and the leaves rustle beneath your feet. 

You quietly chuckle to yourself after a while and Jungkook finally gathers enough courage to look your way. 

“I won’t bite, you know,” you tease.

He checks his spot on the bench and realizes he’s cartoonishly far away from you. His ass is actually only half on the seat because he felt it was necessary to leave a comfortable distance. 

“Right,” he sighs before sliding closer.  

“How have you been?” 

The question feels so foreign compared to how you two normally communicate, but small talk is where you have to begin again if your relationship is ever going to be mended. 

“Alright, all things considered.” You hum. “What about you?” 

It’s a stupid thing to ask given the circumstances, but manners are manners. 

“Uh, not the best. Not the worst, either. At least, not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods to acknowledge your response, but every second the air is becoming thicker with tension.

“So —” 

“I —” 

You both awkwardly chuckle while avoiding each other’s gaze.

“You first,” Jungkook offers. 

“No, I insist.” 

It’s difficult deciding where to start, but then Jungkook remembers who he’s talking to. No matter what’s happened between you two, you’re still you. He knows he can ramble or stutter for hours and you’ll still understand him somehow. 

“First of all, the headstone looks beautiful.” 

Following the compliment, you both look towards the monument just a few feet away. It’s relatively the same as before in terms of design, except it now reads “Jeon Jaehyun” and rather than “beloved brother, son, and friend,” it lists “beloved husband, brother, and son.” 

You initially only wanted to change the final word, but his parents insisted what Jaehyun was most proud of was being married to you. 

“Thanks.” In a surprise twist, you giggle for a second and Jungkook can’t help but feel his spirits lift. “They asked if I wanted to keep the old one. And I almost said yes so I could, like, smash it with a mallet or something. But I realized that might not be very conducive to my healing.”

Jungkook genuinely cackles at your admission and as if it’s second nature, you parrot the laughter. The moment is so mundane it’s almost like nothing’s changed between you at all. 

“Damn, I wish you’d said yes. I would’ve loved to see that.” 

“Of course, you would. You’re the only person I know who’d find enjoyment in watching their own headstone get demolished.” 

“I mean, duh. That’s metal as fuck, Y/N.” 

You snicker with a familiar shake of your head.

“Next time you die, I’ll be sure to grant your wish.”

The smile on his face simply refuses to disappear. Not when you two are chatting like old times and the negative energy surrounding you is gradually fading away. 

“Will you?” He asks, bringing the conversation back to a more serious tone. “I mean, next time I die, will you be there?”

His question makes your eyebrows pinch together.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Jungkook shrugs. 

“I honestly thought we were coming here to say goodbye. That you’d never want to see me again, but were at least willing to give me some closure before you leave my life for good,” he explains. 

The words have barely left his mouth when you begin vehemently shaking your head.

“Jungkook, no,” you clarify. “No matter what, you’re still my best friend. There’s no reality where I wouldn't want you in my life. Even if I still need time to forgive you and move on, I’ll never say goodbye.” 

He doesn’t register himself crying until you shock him by reaching out to swipe at the lone tear on his cheek. Your touch causes his entire body to tense, but it has the complete opposite effect on his soul, which relaxes for the first time in a month. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he cries. “I know it isn’t enough, and that it’ll never be enough, but I am. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted. Everything I did was supposed to prevent that from happening. It may be hard to believe, and I understand if you don’t, but my feelings for you had no bearing on my decision. I’m sure it sounds confusing, but I never wanted you for myself. Yes, I’m in love with you, and I have been for more than half of my life. But the one person I love more than you is Jaehyun, and I would’ve never dared to take something so precious away from him. Especially when you made one another so fucking happy.” He pauses in case you want to interject, but you just gesture for him to continue. “If I had wanted that, I wouldn’t have taken his place after he died. I would’ve just comforted you in your grief in order to get closer to you. Me pretending to be Jae was so you two could stay together, not so I could have you. And I know that doesn’t make any sense and it’s so fucking twisted, but it’s the truth.” You encourage him with a nod when he checks in with you again, prompting Jungkook to take a deep breath. “When the nurse told me Jae was dead, all I could think about was how wrong that was. Not only was he always my better half, but he had so many people who needed him. Then I thought about you, and how I was feeling at that moment. And Y/N, I couldn’t let that happen to you. The idea of you experiencing the same devastating loss I was going through made me sick to my stomach. All I wanted, my only goal, was to shield you from that pain. In my mind, I had to keep Jae alive because he’s the one who deserved to live.” He sighs. “I’ve done a lot of reflecting this past month and I’ve come to realize that, although you were on the forefront of my mind, there were also other factors involved in my decision. The truth is, I’ve always hated myself for being in love with you. I saw myself as this leech constantly feeding off you and Jae’s relationship. I know that isn’t the case, but I felt so much shame about not being able to get over you. And I loved Jaehyun so fucking much, but the problem is, I think I might’ve hated myself more than I loved him. Which led me to believe I was making the right choice in keeping him alive and letting myself die.” Finally, he twists his upper body so he’s facing you head on. “I know none of this makes it right, and that you don’t owe me any forgiveness, but I needed to tell you. Again, I’m so, so sorry. There’s no amount of apologies that can ever make up for what I’ve done.” 

Once he concludes his speech, you blow air out of your mouth and thoughtfully nod. 

“I know,” you nonchalantly respond. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows rise and he looks around like someone will appear out of thin air to explain. 

“You… do?”

You ever-so-slightly smile at him.

“Yeah. The day I found out the truth, that the love of my life was dead, it felt like being sucked into a cyclone of vicious, excruciating emotions. I could hardly think straight. But after mulling it over these last few weeks, I understand your reasoning. I certainly don’t agree, and wish more than anything that you’d never done it, but I can see why you did.” 

“Oh.”

“And I’m actually just as angry at you for a different reason than lying to me,” you confess. His eyes go wide and you know him well enough to understand it means you should explain. “I am so, so mad at you for choosing to deal with Jaehyun’s death alone. Grief is meant to be shared. The only way someone can get through something so horrible is by leaning on their community. But you decided to hold it all on your shoulders without letting anyone else help carry the weight for you. Do you know how much that breaks my fucking heart, Jungkook?” He shakes his head. “You lost the most important person in your life and yet you stomached everything on your own so none of us had to lose him. It isn’t fair. And even more than that, you gave up everything that made you special; chose to live as someone else for the rest of your life if I hadn’t found out. That isn’t okay. Yes, Jae had people who loved him, who relied on him, but so did you.” You rest your hand over his own and Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to ensure he isn’t imagining it. “If I’d known you were the one who survived that day, I would’ve run to you just the same. And I would’ve been okay because I still had you. Minus any romance, we would’ve gotten through it together exactly like we did when I believed you were him.” When you squeeze his hand, he flips his palm up to reciprocate. “I’ve never once compared you and Jae. Obviously, losing my husband is an entirely different level of grief, but it isn’t necessarily worse. You both held the same weight in the world and left a hole in my heart when I believed you were gone. Just like how platonic and romantic love are two versions of one emotion, but despite being so different, can share the same intensity.” 

It takes him a second to process your monologue and he knows it’ll be even longer before he can internalize it. His self-loathing runs deep, and it’s only gotten worse after all this, so any positive feelings directed towards him are met with a hard line of defense. 

“It was an easy choice to make when I thought it would make you happy,” he counters. 

“There can’t be real happiness without truth.” 

Jungkook nods.

“You’re right.” 

You release his hand and turn back towards the headstone with an almost peaceful expression, and Jungkook finally understands. Knowing where the person you love actually is, even if it’s far away from you, is better than blind ignorance. Any happiness you might’ve felt while he was pretending to be Jaehyun is hollow in comparison.  

“Jae’s death wasn’t wrong, either.” 

His eyebrows instantly meet in the middle of his forehead. Of everything he claimed, he didn’t expect that to be what you disagree with. 

“Huh?”

“He died saving your life, Jungkook. How can that be wrong?” He’s never considered viewing it in that light before. “In a split second decision, his gut instinct was to protect you. And I know if your car had been traveling in the opposite direction, you would’ve done the same.” Jungkook fervently nods. “No matter how unfair it is or how much I wish it never happened, you shouldn’t take that away from him by belittling yourself. His death meant something and I know without a shadow of doubt that he doesn’t regret it. Not even a little bit.”

“Eh,” he objects. “Considering I proceeded to sleep with his wife countless times, he might regret not using me as a shield instead.” 

His familiar humor elicits another giggle out of you. 

“Okay. Fair.” 

Once a comfortable silence begins to stretch across the cemetery, Jungkook clears his throat so he can change the subject.

“So, where do we go from here?” 

The question makes you purse your lips, but it also seems like you might already know the answer. 

“This is the hard part,” you state. 

“What do you mean?” 

You start stamping your toes on the ground and rhythmically tapping your thighs. Any sign of nervousness is out of character for you, but Jungkook just waits for your explanation rather than probing. 

“Alright. After ‘you’ died, I automatically expected Jaehyun to be different. Grief that insurmountable is bound to change someone. Which is why I never questioned all the discrepancies I kept noticing while you were pretending to be him. I simply came to terms with the fact that my marriage was never going to be the same.” Jungkook has no idea where your train of thought is going, but he still listens intently. “Because of that, throughout our time together, I felt like I was falling in love with Jae all over again. And even though ‘he’ was different, I welcomed it with open arms. I’ve loved every version of him since we were teenagers, and this was just another iteration.” As you talk, the wheels inside his brain twist and turn until the purpose of your speech finally clicks into place. “But since you weren’t actually Jae, that means the newfound love I feel doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to you.”

If his heart could physically leap out of his chest and start doing cartwheels, it would. Jungkook genuinely can’t believe what he’s hearing. Here he thought this would be the end of your relationship forever, but you’re speaking as if it might be the opposite. 

“You… I mean, you…”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “The problem is, this love is shrouded in well over a decade of feelings for Jae, so they’re too intertwined and convoluted to properly distinguish what I feel for him and what I feel for you.” He isn’t even breathing while he listens to you, but rather holding in his air supply until you allow him to exhale by clarifying. “But I’d like to try. Not now or even soon, because I still have to forgive you and we still need to rebuild what we lost, but eventually, I think we should give it a shot.” 

It’s as though the heavens have opened up overhead and the angels themselves are singing a song of celebration. He actually worries he didn’t hear you correctly because his head’s so high up in the clouds.

“You’re serious?”

“I have one condition, though.”

“Name it,” he blurts out. 

You side-eye the instantaneous response before chuckling under your breath.

“We have to start from scratch. There’s too much history and baggage between us that’ll only weigh us down. When the time comes, I want to go on a first date like we’re total strangers. Ask one another stupid questions about our favorite colors and what we do for a living. Back to square one.”

Jungkook wouldn’t be able to stop himself from beaming if he tried. Because you’re posing the idea as if it’s a bad thing, but he can’t think of anything better than relearning everything he already adores about you. 

“Deal. I’ll even repeatedly pronounce your name wrong so it feels authentic.” Your bright laugh echoes through the air and fills his heart with song. “Y/N, I’ve loved you for so long. I’ll be happy with whatever you give me, even if it’s just an annual call on my birthday and a Christmas card.”

“I want more than that, Jungkook. Even if a romantic relationship between us fails, I never want to lose you.” Like it’s muscle memory at this point, you lift your hand to comb back his hair. “I love you. I’m not entirely sure to what degree just yet, but I do know that’ll never change.”

He cups your hand and presses them both to his cheek.

“Ditto.”

A massive smile might honestly be a permanent feature of his after this and it’s still present when he turns his head to kiss your palm. 

“So, I have this theory,” you proclaim.

“Oh, yeah?” 

You reclaim your hand before fiddling with your fingers in your lap.

“It’s kinda bizarre, but it’s helped me make sense of all my emotions.” Jungkook nods for you to continue. “Okay. It starts with the multiverse. You with me?” He nods again, albeit more tentatively. “Now, let’s assume in all the other universes, you and I, or Jae and I, are soulmates. As in, we’re always meant to find one another and be together. But what if there’s usually only one of you, but here you happened to be split into two as twins. It would explain why you both fell for me and I ended up developing feelings for each of you. Because everywhere else your personalities and traits are combined in one person.”

Well, you’re definitely right about it being bizarre. But in some strange sense, it’s comforting to imagine. Jungkook likes the idea that you, him, and Jaehyun are fated by the universe to always intertwine in one way or another. Or that he and his twin really were one soul in two bodies as he so often described. 

“I think it’s got some legs,” he confidently concludes.

You laugh again before another natural lull in the conversation occurs. It allows for Jungkook to finally admire you up close, which is when his eyes land on something shimmering around your neck.

A gasp escapes his lips upon realizing you're still wearing the pendant he gave you. He was positive you would rip the jewelry clean off after your last interaction. Yet here it is looking just as beautiful as the day he gifted it to you. 

“Why didn’t you take the necklace off?” He asks in awe. 

Your fingers rise to map the familiar outline.

“I tried, believe me. Except whenever I went to undo the clasp, something inside just wouldn’t let me,” you explain. “I’m obviously still very angry with you. There are even nights when I wish I’d never met you. The sense of betrayal and violation I feel because of what you did isn’t going away anytime soon. But sometimes when I remember certain moments from the last eight months, I can’t help but smile.”

His heart soars all over again.

“Really?” 

You smirk and shrug your shoulders like it’s no big deal, but Jungkook’s still far above cloud nine. After a moment, your hand falls from your clavicle and you affectionately gaze at your wedding rings.

“You know, I’m thinking about wearing my wedding band on my right hand and getting the diamond from my engagement ring made into a pendant. Maybe something with a ‘J’ and a sapphire for your guys’ birthstone.” 

Jungkook can already picture it in his head. Everything looks beautiful on you, but something like that would be icing on the cake. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“Me, too.” 

Suddenly, he remembers his own memento he got earlier this month.

“Actually, I have something to show you,” he exclaims. 

Your attention shifts to him as he rolls up his right sleeve and presents his forearm to you. You gasp at the colorful artwork on his skin while instinctively reaching out for a closer look.

“You finally got a tattoo?” 

He’s always wanted one, but when Jaehyun was alive it somehow felt wrong. For whatever reason, he hated the idea of having something that would permanently differentiate them. As though the tattoo would make them less identical or weaken their bond. 

“Figured it was about time.” Your fingers delicately trace along the curves and sharp lines of the ink. But while you’re busy admiring his tattoo, he’s doing the same to you. “It’s a tiger lily. Jae and I’s birth flower.”

“I remember,” you tell him. “You drew this yourself. Didn’t you?”

His eyebrows rise.

“How did you know that?”

You shrug again after one last look at the tattoo. 

“I’d recognize your artwork anywhere.”

Jungkook drew all the time when he was younger until he eventually opened the bar and became too busy for the hobby. Whether a hand-drawn birthday card or personalized painting, he often gifted his art to friends and family alike. He’s always been known for his creative mind in comparison to his twin, but he had no clue you could distinguish his style from other artists.

The notion of you remembering what his brush strokes and shading looks like, even after all these years, causes his heart to beat like a jackrabbit in his chest. In fact, it’s so touching that tears begin to crowd his waterline. 

“You know, you make it really fucking hard not to be in love with you,” he notes. 

That not only pulls more giggles out of you, but a pink blush stains your cheeks and neck. 

“Sorry.” Jungkook smiles while waving your apology off with one hand. “Now I want one,” you pout.

He’s never taken you for a tattoo person, especially since you’re a self proclaimed hater of needles. Although, the devious side of his brain can’t deny how alluring the thought is. Not to mention how amazing one would look on your skin. 

“My tattoo artist was great, I can take you to her if you’re really interested.” 

“Yes, please,” you confirm. “But will you draw it for me?” 

His hand automatically flies to his chest to point to himself.

“Me?”

“Well, duh.”

“You want me to… to draw a tattoo for you?” 

You seem totally endeared by his surprised expression, evident by your eyes crinkling in the corners when you smile.

“Of course!”

Every time Jungkook believes he can’t possibly fall for you more than he already has, you come in swinging with a steel bat straight to his heart. 

“This is where I came after I found out the truth,” you state, changing the subject.

“Yeah…” Jungkook awkwardly chuckles. “I know. I checked your location.” He put his hands out in surrender when he realizes how that might come off. “Just to make sure you were safe.”

Once he hears you softly chuckle in return, he lets his arms fall.

“I probably shouldn’t have been driving, to be honest, because I could hardly see through my tears. Then I got here and immediately fell to my knees in front of the headstone,” you narrate. “I just sobbed, screamed, and apologized until I was too lightheaded to keep going.”

“Apologized?”

You nod while making eye contact with him again.

“Yes, because I should’ve known. Or at the very least, been slower to accept what you were telling me.”

Jungkook isn’t able to see your irises anymore when you glance down at the ground.

“Don’t do that. Don’t victim blame yourself,” he replies. “I lied to you for months.”

“I know. But he was my husband, Jungkook.” A heavy sigh makes your chest rise as you shake your head, seemingly at yourself. “You didn’t kiss or touch me the same. You didn’t smell like him or laugh how he did. I mean, you even tasted different. But I just kept chalking everything up to grief, despite that making no fucking sense.”

“Y/N, the world itself stopped making sense as soon as Jae wasn’t in it.” He nudges your shoulder so you look up. “Besides, I don’t think many rational people jump to someone actually being their dead twin brother when they start acting different.”

The gentle smile that appears makes him hopeful you’ll stop being so hard on yourself about what he did to you.

“You make a good point,” you concede.

Even though he would love to just talk about everything and nothing with you, there’s one more topic he wants to cover.

“Um, do you think it’s a good idea for us to talk about the miscarriage?” He poses. “We don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer.”

“Hmm.” You momentarily mull it over. “Honestly, with so much on my mind lately I haven’t had time to even think about it.” 

“Me, either.”

“Are you alright?” 

Jungkook tilts his head in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Becuase you lost something, too.”

A hum serves as his initial response.  

“I never really saw it like that. I mean, logically I know that’s true, but I was so distraught about what I’d done it almost felt like penance.” 

“Makes sense,” you conclude. “Truth is, my dream of having kids naturally ended as soon as we got the diagnosis. I was perfectly fine with adoption and Jae and I were actually planning on beginning the process later this year.” You shrug your shoulders and meet his eyes. “So when I found out I was pregnant and miscarrying, it didn’t really register with me.”

“You and Jae would’ve been amazing parents,” Jungkook wholeheartedly declares.

A huge smile forms on your lips. 

“Hopefully in another lifetime.” He agrees with a nod. “I’m actually getting my tubes tied this spring.”

“What?” 

Just last month there was a bun cooking in your oven and now you’re burning down the kitchen. He worries you’re only doing so because of him, and that’s the last thing he wants. 

“Jae and I couldn’t have kids together, so even if I do ever fall in love again, it wouldn’t feel right having them with someone else.”

“And your doctor’s willing to do the procedure when you’re still so young?” 

You scoff. 

“No. I had to go to three different practices until one of them was touched enough by my sob story about tragically losing my husband.” You click your tongue with evident indignation. “It’s such bullshit.”

That’s an understatement. Jungkook’s proud of you for standing up for yourself and choosing to do what you feel is right. It’s what you deserve after he took away all your agency.

“It is. I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he tells you. “My mom actually told me about your fertility doctor’s suggestion to ask me to donate.” 

The memory must still irk you because you theatrically roll your eyes.

“Let me tell you, Jungkook, I almost started throwing the clipboards in that damn office.” He laughs while a vision of you chucking office supplies around plays inside his head. “Then Jae had the audacity to ask why it was such a terrible idea!”

The mention of his twin acting so clueless brings a smile to his face.

“He may have been the perfect husband, but he was still just a man.” You chuckle and concur with a short nod. “I’m surprised he didn’t react the same way you did. I can’t imagine him being comfortable with someone shooting my sperm into you given the circumstances.” 

A wave of confusion contorts your features.

“What circumstances?” 

“Oh, my mom also told me Jae knew about my feelings for you.”

It takes a moment for his words to register, but once they do, your jaw drops open.

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope! Trust me, I was just as shocked.”

You click your tongue a couple times before glancing at the headstone again. 

“What the fuck, Jae,” you mutter. “And he never confronted you about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Mom said it’s because he knew I’d never actually try anything and even if I did, you’d kick my ass.”

His mother’s explanation produces a tandem, warm laugh from the two of you.

“He sure was right about that.” 

Jungkook joins you in turning to face his twin’s grave again as you two allow the wind and rustling of leaves to fill the air instead of your voices. 

After a little while, you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder and Jungkook naturally follows suit by mirroring the position. You both stay like that for some time and although he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling, he believes it’s a shared emotion.

For the first time since the night of Jaehyun’s work event, the three of you are finally together again. It’s how things should be, even if you both wish Jaehyun was physically here beside you.

“I miss him so much,” you whisper.

“Yeah.”

It’s difficult for Jungkook to respond with anything else when no words exist to truly capture what it’s like living without him. 

“Everyday I find something new to miss about him. Like yesterday, I remembered how he would always squish my cheeks and shout ‘kawaii’ whenever I did something cute.” A deep, solemn sigh makes your chest rise and fall. “I always pretended it was irritating, but I would give anything to hear him do it again. Even just one more time.”

Jungkook hums in response before an idea flickers inside his head and he sits up to face you. 

“Close your eyes,” he instructs.

“Why?”

You look skeptical, so he flashes an encouraging grin in your direction. 

“Just trust me.”

Although you’re hesitant, you soon straighten your spine and shut your eyes. 

Jungkook takes a second to survey your features without you seeing him do so. Being around you brings him more peace than anything else in the world and he’s just grateful to be sitting here in front of you. 

He recalls almost nine months ago on the morning of the funeral when he spoke to you as himself to cheer you up. It made you feel better back then and he hopes it’ll do the same today. 

His twin used to do this to you all the time, so Jungkook remembers his exact tone of voice and mannerisms.

Following the short reverie, he inhales and gently clutches your cheeks with one hand. He ignores the questioning glance you shoot him. Although, he can’t deny how cute you look with your face all scrunched up. 

After another deep breath, he focuses on his memories of Jaehyun before wiggling your head back and forth. 

“Kawaii!” He mockingly cheers to imitate his brother.  

You immediately beam brighter than the sun as your eyes fly open and a laugh rises from deep in your belly. Jungkook shares in your giddiness, but he also notices fresh tears falling down just above his fingertips. 

“That was spot on,” you assure him. 

Before letting your face go, he wipes away the droplets on your cheeks. 

“It helps when you have the same voice.” Jungkook feels a sense of accomplishment when you chuckle and your smile persists. “I’ll do that for you anytime you want, Y/N. Other stuff, too, if you think of it.” He lays his hand over your own where it’s resting on your thigh. “Just because I’m not pretending to be him anymore doesn’t mean I can’t help keep his spirit alive.”

The grin on your lips broadens.

“I think I’d like that.” 

A silent calm moves through the air and settles over the scene. Even with all the grief and pain between you, it’s clear you both agree about wanting to fix what’s been broken. 

Jungkook still can’t really believe it. He also doesn’t feel like it’s what he deserves, but he isn’t going to question you. His actions already ripped away your independence and free will, whether initially good intentioned or not. So he’s ready to simply stand by your side and follow your lead.

“I’m really happy to have you back. I missed you so much when I thought you were dead.” You rest your free hand on the growing pile of appendages and squeeze, leading him to complete the stack. “My Kookie.”

Your familiar, effervescent smile could heal even his deepest wounds all on its own. Not to mention hearing his nickname pass through your lips again after so long. 

“I missed you, too.” He lets go of your hand so he can tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “My sweet Cupcake.”

By now you’re both grinning like little kids as you rest your head in his open palm. 

You two stay in the cemetery for a little while longer; sharing memories of Jaehyun, catching up some more, and reminiscing about your lives together so far. Jungkook further explains his feelings for you by detailing how contradictory they are at times. In return, you open up about your experience while he was pretending to be your husband and how you’ve been coping with the truth since.

For instance, how it would give you pause whenever he’d slip up, but you could always think of more logical reasons for his actions than him not being Jaehyun. And it was only once you were faced with the indisputable fact of a miscarriage that you couldn’t deny it any longer. 

As you said the night you found out, you needed Jaehyun to be alive, so as long as your brain could rationalize his behavior, you weren’t going to question him. 

You elaborate about how your doubts were subconscious, rather than something running through your head all the time. Jungkook’s someone you trusted, and you also had no idea he had feelings for you, so accusing him of taking your husband’s place was the last thought on your mind. 

In terms of afterwards, you tell him every day’s a different story. Most are full of despair, others are confusing, but sometimes you feel at peace. 

Jungkook actually chooses to remain even after you head home for the evening. Since the daunting conversation with you is behind him now, there’s only one person left to apologize to. 

A few minutes after you leave him alone on the bench, he stands to walk towards the headstone bearing his brother’s name. He hates the sight of it, if he’s being totally honest, because it still doesn’t feel right for Jaehyun to have a grave at all. But he can still admit it’s a gorgeous testament to who his twin was. 

“Hey, Jae,” he greets him while sitting cross legged on the ground in front of the monument. “Is this alright? I mean, I’m not sitting on you. Am I? I figured this is more like when I’d throw myself on your bed while you were studying or something.” Of course, there’s no response, but then again he never needed one even when Jaehyun was alive. They could always communicate without words. “I, uh, don’t really know how to start. Apologizing to our folks, Jennie, and even Y/N seemed fairly simply even though I was nervous as hell. But you? I think you’re the person I hurt most of all. I know that sounds terrible considering they’re here and you’re not, but none of them died so I could live.” A couple tears roll down his cheeks, but he doesn’t bother swiping them away. “Y/N’s right. You fucking gave up your life for me and just like always, I was too damn stubborn to accept it. I lost count of how many times you offered to help me over the years, in a million different ways, and I rejected you every time because of my own insecurities. I should’ve been shouting from the rooftops about what you did for me. Telling everyone I came across how my brother chose to leave everything behind; his accomplishments, his family, the love of his life, just so I’d survive. But instead I threw your sacrifice away like it meant nothing.” He’s crying much harder now, leaving him no choice but to use his sleeve so he can still see. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun. I messed up. I betrayed you. Before your wedding you made me promise to take care of Y/N if something ever happened, and I fucking failed you.” It takes Jungkook a moment to catch his breath, but then he places his hand on the tombstone, right over where the word “brother” is engraved. “I swear to you I’ll uphold that promise from now on and forevermore. I’ll do it right this time; watch over her as myself instead of pretending to be something I’m not. And we can… we can talk about the feelings stuff another time. I’m actually a little peeved you kept that shit to yourself. But anyway, I know you might not be able to forgive me yet and I understand. I just hope by the time we meet again, you’ll welcome me with open arms.” Jungkook stares at the lettering while blinking back more tears before his emotions propel him forward until his forehead meets the stone. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” He sighs and forces his eyes shut, trying to picture his twin sitting across from him. “I’m gonna live the best life possible, Jae. As me. For you. For both of us.” 

Maybe he’s crazy, or sleep deprived, but he swears he hears a faint echo of his twin’s laughter, almost like his response to Jungkook’s apology is: “Of course, I forgive you, you loveable idiot.”

He misses Jaehyun more than any words in the multitude of human languages that exist can describe. His life will always feel like something's missing, but he’s also certain there isn’t a single step he’ll take where his brother won’t be right beside him. 

After that night, you and Jungkook begin to rebuild your relationship brick by brick through visits to each other’s homes or the bakery, running errands together, and going on adventures you never have before. Including you finally teaching him how to figure skate and him taking you on your first ever motorcycle ride. You also try deep sea fishing off Jeju Island, hiking Dobongsan Mountain, and even a weekend trip to Japan. 

It’s all strictly platonic, but just like the last decade and a half, Jungkook doesn’t mind. He’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes, and he won’t complain even if you end up never wanting more. Simply being in your life is all he needs and without his better half, your friendship means more to him than ever before. 

About eighteen months later, three months after the second anniversary of Jaehyun’s death, you finally ask Jungkook if he’s interested in testing more romantic waters with you. To no one’s surprise, he enthusiastically accepts without hesitation. 

You both agree on upholding the deal you made in the cemetery to start from scratch. Jungkook even goes the extra mile by deleting your contact from his phone. His antics send your eyes rolling back, but there’s also an endeared grin on your lips while you re-input your number. 

The day of your first date goes by way too fast. Jungkook swears he just woke up and yet when he checks the clock, it’s already time to get ready. Perhaps it’s because he’s more anxious about tonight than he’s ever been in his entire life. 

There’s honestly no reason to be. You’re his oldest, dearest friend and you always have fun together no matter what you choose to do. Although even that knowledge doesn’t stop his fingers from shaking as he buttons up his shirt and throws on a coat. 

His new apartment is close enough to the restaurant to walk, so he decides to let the fresh air calm his nervous system.

He arrives ten minutes before the agreed upon time, but he’s thankful because even after the brief stroll, he needs a second to slow his racing heartbeat and quiet his mind. 

Jungkook dives face first into the menu as a distraction while he waits. Except it’s hardly any use because he ends up deciding on all his courses within the first five minutes.

His leg incessantly bounces beneath the table before he holds his knee down to stop the movement. That’s when he decides to pray to whoever might be listening to save him from sweating through his clothes.  

If anyone, he believes Jaehyun’s watching over him. Sometimes he’s positive he can sense his twin beside him or hear his voice in his ear. It’s comforting, even if it might very well be all in his head. 

He hopes Jaehyun isn’t upset with him. If he’s still pissed about what Jungkook did immediately following his death, that’s reasonable. What he doesn’t want is for his brother to be angry at him for moving on with you. 

Jungkook’s fully aware he’ll never be able to replace Jaehyun, nor would he want to. His twin wasn’t just your first love, but the love of your life.

Now, that doesn't mean you and Jungkook can’t live a long, happy life together full of devotion. Because if he learned anything from his mistakes, it's that love can manifest in multiple different forms, none of which are any less than another. 

He’s too deep in his reverie to hear the footsteps approaching his table. It takes someone rapping their knuckles against the wood and speaking to grab his attention. 

“You must be Jungkook.”

The familiar, yet distant phrase forces his gaze away from the menu as his head slowly lifts to reveal the person standing across from him. 

You’re smiling, but as soon as your eyes meet, it becomes a smirk while you playfully tilt your head to one side. 

Perhaps it won’t make sense to anyone else, but you somehow look identical to when you two first met and entirely different. Your brilliance, charisma, and beautiful features are all the same, but it’s also clear you’re older, wiser, and more refined.

All Jungkook can think about is how lucky he is to be able to witness so many versions of you. He wishes Jaehyun had the same opportunity, but he’s certain his twin is always admiring you from above. Just as he did every day of his life here on earth.

The memory your words trigger in his brain instantly paints a huge smile on his face and elicits a warm, nostalgic chuckle as he maintains your eye contact.

Despite it feeling like almost a whole other lifetime, Jungkook knows precisely how to reply. 

“You must be Y/N, then.” 

Is a glass of water half-full or half-empty?

You observe the glass, hoping for a revelation or answer — a good distraction from your miscalculations all evening; well, miscalculations in the duration of meeting Jeon Jungkook. Tucking yourself further into your small couch, the corners of your lips tug at the reminder of the boy. The icy glass cools your hot skin, which still remembers the flames he left you surrounded in on the dancefloor.

And those eyes — his always spoke to you without words. 

Eyes smitten and playful all evening, you can’t forget how they morphed into fear and panic when you finally moved on the pathway he laid out for you. Were you wrong to assume he wanted more with you?

“Ah, so stupid.” You slam your eyes shut at the memory, shame heats your cheeks at his rejection — at another loss you’ll need to process on your own. Loss, after loss, after loss. It wears on your bones, empties your soul just like how you empty the glass of water clutched in your hand.

Didn’t matter whether your glass was ‘half-full or half-empty,’ the water will eventually be consumed. Jungkook had a way of overfilling your glass with an abundance of hope; however, you later found out the glass you shared with Jungkook contained holes and eventually left you empty.

No one leaves you empty like Jungkook does. 

Sitting up higher on your couch, you dig your lower back into your armrest, wanting to feel some form of support.

Maybe you should’ve stayed and taken the water Jungkook offered. Wake you up from that drunken state and snap you out of your innermost desires for your friend. You’d probably go as far as blaming the alcohol and the night would’ve just ended from there.

Probably would’ve been a better alternative than pathetically running away. Then again, there was no way you were going to last another second in the venue — not after the way he pulled away.

You know it’s rude to leave in the middle of the party. Can’t even bear looking at your phone since ordering a cab outside the club, opting to place it on silent afterwards. Now, the phone rests heavily on your kitchen counter, begging to be checked on.

You should text him. Tell him you’re safe and use indigestion as an excuse for your abrupt departure — no one would ever find fault in that reason. Another pang of anxiety holds you back from touching your phone. What if he didn’t bother checking on you? Upset with your bad habit of leaving? 

He has all the rights to.

Setting your feet into your house slippers, you’re thankful for the flat cushion after a night of dancing in heels. Bathroom first, then you’ll text Jungkook. The order of events seemed the most logical and definitely not your way of avoiding the inevitable. It’s a solid plan—

You jolt at the series of knocks against your door. Although your building was relatively safe, living alone had its downsides, especially at this hour. The grip on your glass changes and you ready yourself for self-defense. 

Best case scenario? A ding-dong ditcher. Worst? Nope. You don’t want your mind wandering there. 

One eye closed, you peer through the peephole.

The fisheye effect warps your vision, but you could easily make out the person standing facing away from your doorway. The dangly, silver five-hooped earrings were a dead giveaway to your visitor. Felt them graze the top of your hand every time he tilted his head in your touch. Felt them when you wrapped your hands at the base of his nape. They glimmered prettily under the club lights, but they look nearly dull now under your complex’s standard lightbulbs. 

He’s a few steps away, pacing, looking anywhere but your door as if it was the most offensive piece of object … as if your home was the most deplorable place he could be at right now.

And it should be. He should be at his party celebrating his wins and accomplishments, surrounded by people who love and care for him — not on shame’s breeding grounds. Shame nearly has you running to hide underneath your covers, hoping he’d leave if you refused to answer. Rather than give into shame’s call for isolation, your fingers flick the locks and wrap around the doorknob.

“Jungkook?” 

He’s still turned away from you, pacing back and forth in your building’s hallway. No longer styled how it was in the beginning of the night, his hair looks to be run through … whether it be by him or a stranger. 

Couldn’t be you.

Your mouth parts, words lodged in your throat, but you manage to utter, “What are you doing here?”

He lets out a breath. So unstable, you could feel the restraint in his action but he stops in his tracks, head tilting up at the ceiling to will the words.

“Why do you keep doing that?” His voice raises, back still turned to you.

You frown, looking around to see if there was anyone in the vicinity. Definitely not at this hour. Your neighbors should be asleep, which is why you don’t want to make a scene outside your home.

“Jungkook—”

Suddenly, harshly, his back shifts and his body whips around, “Why do you keep leaving me? Is that all you know how to do?” 

You’re standing face to face with his wide eyes and desperate furrowed brows. The hand raking through his hair only showcasing more of the distress forming on his forehead.

Your mind flashes back to your meeting at the milestone party. There was nothing wrong with your departure at that time. A small, but selfish part of you, doesn’t think you were at total fault for tonight’s departure either. 

“Jungkook … please,” you stammer, eyes drifting down to your feet. 

“I-I don’t fucking get it, Pix. I just–”

“Can you come inside?” You ask, looking around once more. And although Jungkook hasn’t made far enough noises to warrant a complaint, you’d rather talk inside the privacy of your home. “We can talk in here. Please?” You plead in a small whisper.

Jaw clenched as he looks at you and over the threshold of your home, he nods.

Citrus, with no more lingering scent of cigarettes, wafts past you. Even if he was upset with you, he’s still respectful in your home as he toes off his shoes at the entryway. He exhales through his nose, finally turning to face you. His jaw ticks, eyes bloodshot for multiple reasons but he’ll blame the alcohol and not the exhaustion of looking for you. 

You can’t meet his eyes, can’t even bring yourself to speak in the comforts of your home.

“You keep doing this.” His voice cracks.

“I-I,” Your own voice wavers at his statement, you fight the lump in your throat as you lie, “wasn’t feeling well—”

“Cut the bullshit.” 

You frown, having never seen Jungkook speak nor act this way towards you. He extends patience and understanding towards you like an additional limb on his body; perhaps, you’ve tested them enough tonight. Still, your own emotions come out just as unsteady and unreasonable.

“You’re being unfair.” You croak.

“I’ve been anything but that, Pix.” He retracts his head, brows furrowed. “You’re the one that left. Like you always do when things don’t go your way.”

Your brows pull together, unable to mask the hurt at the accusation. “What did you expect me to do? You—” Your bottom lip trembles.

“What?” He takes a step forward and you’re once again engulfed in his overbearing scent. The action stunts your train of thoughts, and for a split second, you think he’s almost just as affected.

You’re tired of going in circles, chasing but also running away from what appears to be your own desires.

“You led me on all night.” Voice small, Jungkook nearly misses what you say. 

His frustration morphs into surprise, then guilt at the sudden forwardness of your words.

“I …” His eyes widen at the realization as he chews on the inside of his cheeks. He shakes his head, denying the allegations. “I didn’t.”

“But you did.” You walk past him, lower back leaning against the kitchen island. Arms crossed, you don’t miss how Jungkook’s eyes drop to your breasts pushed together. His throat bobs, hands twitching on his sides as he tries to rack up an appropriate response.

“We were dancing. Having fun.” He reasons. “That’s all.”

Friends don’t dance the way you both did tonight; their touches don’t burn. They don’t leave the party after being deserted from a dodged kiss on the dance floor. They sure as hell don’t stare at you like you’re made of stardust. 

“Okay.” As if whatever happened in the last couple of hours could be reduced to ‘just dancing.’

His throat emits a low growl, patience once again tested. “Why’d you leave?”

Truthfully? There was no alternate reality where you’d stay after his rejection.

Your crossed arms drop to your sides, throat tightening to keep the contents in your stomach from hurling out. You can’t bear the truth, which seems to point at the fact Jungkook has moved on and there’s no more room for you in his life and heart. 

He’s left you behind.

Jungkook fills in the silence with the same words circling in your head, slipping from his mouth now directed at you with an ache you’ve done your best to forget. “You’ve moved on.”

Your face falls, having spent months trying to forget him through hobbies, friends, and even another person, only to find out … nothing’s worked.

Unable to meet his eyes, you mutter, “I had to.” 

“I know.” He says, “I know that.”

The filter on your fish tank acts as a buffer for the silence stretched in the small distance.