🪐

You will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want to be loved.

In your defense (much to Jungkook’s offence), you want to be loved as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. He’s not pathetic in the sense that he’s hopeless, but rather pathetic in the light that you want the entirety of him (stubbornness and occasional dimness included) to rub off on you.

You want to be loved pathetically in the same way that Jungkook never computes his expenses when it comes to self-indulgence yet always calculates when it comes to actual requirements. You want to be loved as wholly by the guy who can get by one DIY dorm dinner at a time by asking for scraps from the whole floor with a grin and his hands cupped in begging.

Jungkook’s one of your friends, if not the best you’ve ever had, and it’s a miracle that you haven’t jumped at each and every available chance to confess your growing feelings for him.

You bit your tongue that one time he bought you "one of those silly blind boxes you like" on a whim from a bookstore he only went inside to in the first place because he was dying outside in the heat, only to open it for you with your eyes closed and earn you an extra rare figure.

You had to physically restrain yourself (read: clasp your hands together in front of you) when Jungkook made you swap your counterfeit, barely-holding-on kitten heels for his trustworthy slides on the way home because your research presentation prior had you pacing nervously.

Every time that he gives you your tax of whatever he ordered (which always ends up being the best variant that your friend group could possibly order for a meal or a sweet treat), you have to etch into your head clearly, with ballpoint pen, that you will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want him to love you.

Every time that he gives you a one-on-one friend outing, just as he does with everyone else from your circle of ten people and counting (you lost count because you figure that all of you are about to outgrow the long table in the library that nobody else could fill), you convince yourself to never tell him how much you want it to be just you.

You figure that you’ll tell Jungkook that you do hold a candle for him, despite not detailing the extent, in this lifetime— maybe even the next time you get a moment alone with him, but you figure you won’t do it now; now, when he’s berating you for just a tiny sacrifice you made that’s minuscule for everything he does for you and everyone else.

“You’re impossible!” he huffs, his annoyance for you being loud enough to stop his faux display of studying and gather attention from everyone else in the library who actually is. Jungkook holds up his phone for you to read, brows scrunched at your look of amusement. “Jimin told me you were lactose intolerant!”

You can’t figure how and why Jungkook and Jimin’s conversation even flitted towards you when you recall clearly that the lactose-filled meal in question was from two weeks ago. You don’t question it because you already know that even giving it a second thought would already be too pompous of you, and you don’t question either why Jungkook looks too devastated at the realization.

“I just tolerated it,” you snort, burying your nose back into your notes, missing the flash of regret in Jungkook’s features.

He doesn’t know whether he’d feel more sorry over the fact that he didn’t know you were lactose intolerant, or that you didn’t speak up at all to preserve his excitement over eating at the restaurant he wanted to try out.

“But why would you?” he sulks, completely foregoing the textbook he has opened on the same page for the last hour.

You know exactly why you did, but you’d rather not tell Jungkook now. 

You’ll tell him some other time, that much you’re sure of, but not now — not now when he’s too devastated over your tummy issues, and not now when he’s just one revelation away from chewing you out over something he has to learn from someone else.

“Your broke ass bought it so I had to,” you murmur, rolling your eyes as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand.

“Foul,” Jungkook immediately chuckles, shaking his head at your retort even if he knows you’re just kidding around (he knows you won’t hurt him like that that), finally opening his laptop.

Jungkook, your friend, finally types on his laptop, yet it’s not for the contribution that he badly needs to put in for a group project.

Instead, he opens up the Google Doc and writes in a bullet point underneath your name, the words do not give cheese acquainted with three exclamation points — along with your name, is the names of your mutual friends and Jungkook’s observations that would come in handy for an outing, a gift, or both.

Jungkook’s that good of a friend, and that’s why you’ll never tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him.

( ♡ ) 

Getting gifts for someone who has a credit card and has no inhibitions when it comes to buying whatever they want is a difficult task.

Getting Jungkook for Secret Santa this year is even harder than the last, and that was when Jin snuck five strips of his name and left more than five of you (you don’t even know how that happened) without gifts, all while he was laughing to himself after he successfully gaslit everyone into thinking that they were all drunk and made the mistake themselves.

You don’t know what to give Jungkook that he doesn’t already have. He doesn’t have a girlfriend the last time you checked and while you can’t exactly wrap yourself in ugly, recycled kraft paper (as opposed to Jimin’s dumb, all-knowing-about-your-hidden-feelings suggestion), you’d rather not drive Jungkook away, even if you don’t know either how to drive him in.

You don’t have the slightest clue to what his ‘surprise me ;)’ scribble underneath his name means and it makes you feel guilty, far more than he ever could have after Jimin’s revelation of your dietary restrictions. 

It’s not the dilemma of who would sit next to who in the large albeit crowded dining table in the cabin that you rented out, nor is it the cooking and wrapping duties that each of you are tasked with that stresses you out this holiday season.

You wish so badly that the largest champagne problem you have at the moment was wondering if your Christmas gift for your nitpicky mom and nonchalant dad back at home arrived in time. You pray that your biggest hurdle is either convincing Namjoon that his room is just cold and not haunted, or breaking off a fight between Eunwoo and Soomin because they keep fighting over whose overpriced film camera will be used for the picture by the tree, or even talking Mingyu down from smacking Jin in his sleep.

The largest champagne problem that you have, even if it’s actually between life and living said life in peace without minding your inevitable heartbreak, is worrying about Jungkook’s gift.

You hold your breath as soon as Hoseok gathers everyone into the living room, your nerves probably getting the best of you because you hear Jungkook hollering to whoever’s closest to the thermostat to adjust it because your teeth kept chattering.

You have nothing to be nervous about, you convince yourself as Jungkook steps up into the middle and awaits with wide arms, your best friend being another victim of assuming that the comically large wrapped present is his (it’s not).

Jungkook doesn’t have any expectations for you to meet, you convince yourself as he becomes even more hyper when he learns that it’s you, so much so that he takes a lap around the backyard with his hands clapping furiously.

You can’t love Jungkook any more than you do now, you realize as you see Jungkook throw his head back in glee when he opens up your gift.

It’s only a Himalayan salt lamp. It’s only a lamp that you didn’t buy for so much. It’s only a thing that Jungkook said to you in passing one time, yet he’s beyond grateful — enough for him to carry you in his arms and take another lap around the backyard.

“God, you love me soooo bad,” he lulls, teasing you mercilessly as he unceremoniously drops you so he could adore the lamp up close. “I always wanted to lick one!”

“You’re so stupid,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at his excitement over something so simple; something so insignificant in the world of thoughtful, expensive gifts.

You affectionately think that Jungkook’s stupid, yet you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

“I didn’t hear a no,” Jungkook hums with his tongue out, eyes wide and flickering between you and the lamp. “Should I do it? Should I? I’m doing-…!”

You put a spoonful of cake into his mouth instead, the whine that escapes his throat still sounding like gratefulness to your ears.

Tonight’s not the night wherein you tell Jungkook how badly you want to be loved by him — not when he’s so preoccupied with his new salt lamp that he keeps daring people to take a lick of, not when he’s the one who’s being convinced that there’s a ghost in Namjoon's room and being bullied into sleeping in.

Not when Jungkook’s being the perfect, lovable friend that he is during the holidays and every other day.

( ♡ ) 

You’re well-aware that Jungkook’s a catch.

You know that he’s a catch and he’ll never live it down, and neither can you.

You’re very painfully aware that Jungkook’s a catch because you’re reminded of it every single day whenever you’re with your friends. You know that atleast two of them were integrated into the group in the first place because they liked Jungkook, and that doesn’t really bother you (more than it should, atleast) anymore. 

Sora’s crush formed out of boredom on Jungkook disappeared as soon as she got a boyfriend, but you understand why her gaze lingered on him in the first place.

Eunji’s crush on Jungkook already dissipated the moment she learned about his GPA, but you get why she had been attracted to his charm anyway.

You know that he’s a catch and that he’s not solely yours either, and the latter makes you humble.

“There’s flowers on your desk again,” you point out, the arrangement irking you for more reasons than one. “Why do you have to be so popular and handsome.. and lovable,” you mumble, the tail end of your mini rant barely being heard by Jungkook because he's too busy admiring his gift.

“What’s that now?” Jin piped up, eyebrows furrowed upon picking up your angry muttering. He's beyond confused, maybe just as much as you are, when you just snarl at him for his unintentional use of supersonic hearing.

“And why do I have to sit next to you even if I have allergies,” you redirect your attention to Jungkook who has to sweep the flowers to a beaten-up paper bag for safekeeping, the item in his backpack being the most used object for all of the admiration towards him.

“Because you’re the best-est friend ever,” he rolls his eyes, the faux pout on his lips surprisingly softening you instead of the opposite. “And maybe I’m the worst-est one to keep putting you through this.”

“You sound so stupid,” you reply automatically, crossing your arms and keeping them there. “But you’re right,” you exhale through your nose, conceding your defeat over willingly letting him put you through this, carrying the blame by yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t only act like this with you anyway. There’s no special treatment, there’s no false hopes being promised — it’s just you genuinely happening to fall for him.

“Come on, just tolerate it! Pinch your nose or something!”

“Why should I? Find another seatmate,” you sulk, making a point to angle your back away from him and towards Jin who’s at your right, doing his best at holding in a laugh over how ridiculous the both of you look.

“Obviously you’re the one with the latest phone so you have to take pictures of me with the flowers!” Jungkook whines, punctuating his sentence with a hand on his hip. He’s sulking because you’re sulking, and you’ve never hated him more at the moment. “Why else would I force you to sit with me?”

Jungkook’s stupid, and so are you, so you’d rather not tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him today.

( ♡ ) 

In all fairness, you thought you would lose nothing.

You thought you would lose nothing because in the first place, you barely expected anything out of Jungkook. Liking him didn’t mean that you were indebted to him, and liking you back isn’t something that he owed to you either.

You weren’t expecting Jungkook to fall on his knees and say something stupid to hint at his mutual love for you (although you did think about it a couple of times), but you atleast expected a little bit of respect from him to try and see the strength it took you to even confess.

You planned it perfectly, even taking a page off his book and making a whole word document for it wherein you spent days typing whatever crossed your mind throughout the day and erasing what seemed the most impossible throughout the night. 

In your word document, you and Jungkook would be out in the snow, skating in an outdoor rink even if neither of you know how to. You figure that you won’t attempt to drag (read: hobble with) him to the middle of the ice because in case he doesn’t like you back, the waddle back to the exit wouldn’t be as awkward; if Jungkook does like you back, you’ll still be hobbling to the exit, albeit happily.

In your word document, there’s a spine of a script that you would say when the day comes. You’ll skim along the lines of how you’ve never been so enamored with someone in your entire life (with the internal note that you’ll dial it back a bit if his expression turns sour), of how bright he makes your days for you, and how he doesn’t have to be obligated to like you back.

In your word document, you’re set. You’ve planned a foolproof blueprint of what would turn out, whether or not Jungkook is set on loving you the way you desperately want to be —

Except now, Jungkook completely undoes everything you’ve ever worked for.

Now, he looks at you with a glint in his eye that looks more apologetic than it is endearing. You don’t even know what led to your heartbreak exactly because one minute, you were just studying, and by the next, Jungkook’s already letting you down even if you haven't had the chance to rise.

You swear on your life that you weren’t giving any signals at all that you were actually about to confess. You were only silent, refusing to talk to him because you were too stressed over your task and that you were scared you would burst into tears if you tried mouthing the formula out loud, yet Jungkook mistakes it for your love.

Whatever you do on a daily basis, whatever you do based on your nature, Jungkook mistakes it for a confession that he wasn’t even supposed to hear until the end of the week.

He wasn’t wrong about the fact that you love him — what he’s wrong about is his assumption that your silence around him when it’s just the two of you, right now while you lose your mind over an assignment as you’re dressed in last week’s sweater and last semester’s horror, is your confession.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook winces, gently patting you on the shoulder as you’re yet to digest his rejection. “But I just don’t think we’ll work out.”

( ♡ ) 

You theorized that getting over Jungkook would be fairly easy on the chance that he rejects you after your confession.

You figure that Jungkook himself as a concept would be drastically difficult to move on from because he was just so lovable. He doesn’t know how to read a room and it’s one of his better quirks when you’re worrying over nothing. He doesn’t know much about knowing when to let up, and it comes in clutch when he’s pushing you to wholeheartedly do an assignment even if you’re already burnt out from crying.

Jungkook, as a concept, is indestructible. He’s the everyday variant of the goodness that some frat guys possess occasionally. He’s the realistic, attainable version of a main lead in a manhwa that’s only perfect 1/4 into the plot. 

He’s the manifestation of every good deed a stranger has done for you, except he’s someone you know with your heart and not just someone you could sketch from memory. 

With that, you also figured that moving on from Jungkook can’t be that hard because he was too out of reach despite being in the same friend group as you. Surely, it wouldn’t be so catastrophically hard to move on from a guy who just gasps for air every five minutes when he’s in charge of cooking in the BBQ hangout (instead of using the exhaust like a normal person), or from a guy who thinks citing references for a paper is only a suggestion.

The funny thing about it all is that you never actually confessed to Jungkook.

Actually (and contrary to the assumptions of the other friends you have from your circle), you’ve never said it to his face that you do have a crush on him. You’re ultimately known to be the friendliest person to ever walk the campus, and while not the most confrontational, they atleast expected for you to confess to Jungkook in your own way.

What actually happened was that Jungkook read through you — he does happen to be right about your feelings for him! He’s the second friendliest person right beneath you, and so the way he rejected you should never sting this much.

Jungkook thought it out meticulously. He read into the way you spent extra attention listening to him with your eyes practically gleaming. He read into the way you’d lag back behind him and hold him by his wrist whenever you were all crossing the street. Hell, he even read into the way you would take a shot at opening the extremely tight water bottle from the vending machine before everyone else.

The funny, tragic thing about it is that whilst Jungkook wasn’t wrong about pinpointing your feelings for him — you never confessed.

Jeon Jungkook, the second, ultimate friendliest man that your university has ever known, rejected you without even hearing the actual words from you.

He’s turned his back on you even before you could reach him, and the realization sinks in you unsettlingly. You never expected for him to like you back because it would be unfair of you, and you knew that; what just happened to hurt you most was that Jungkook didn’t even think twice.

He hadn’t given you the chance to pour your heart out at the very least.

He hadn’t even given you the space to breathe right after the rejection, because he skips and puts a smile on before winking, telling you that he’ll never speak of it again because you must probably be embarrassed.

The funniest thing about it all is that you aren’t embarrassed — you’re actually devastated about it.

It’s an odd event for Jungkook to feel lonely because with such a big friend group, he never thought he’d feel a little empty despite literally rubbing elbows in a circular table. He never thought he’d come to be a little annoyed at Jimin and his routine, playful, borderline offensive banter he’d always have with you at the top of the morning, and he never thought he’d even be more annoyed over the absence of it.

There’s one less laugh in the circle. One less bag strewn underneath the table, one less coffee order written on the notes app, and one less person to look for when hanging out.

You’re missing from the friend group, and oddly enough, Jungkook seems to be the most devastated about it.

“Why is Y/N not here?” he asks in the middle of Jin retelling his drunken fishing story, grabbing the attention of everyone in the table and maybe just about everyone else’s in the common area with the way his voice is frantic. “And why is she there with the new kid instead?”

Everyone flits through separate conversations after Jungkook’s interruption, some even wincing to themselves because although they know about your admiration for the guy and not your confession-that-wasn’t-one, they figure that nothing good could come out of Jungkook sucker-punching the new kid in his head.

“I don’t know, man. Buddy system, maybe?” Jin shrugs, stealing his food because it was obvious that Jungkook’s attention is everywhere but himself and the table.

Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms tightly to the point that even he feels a little suffocated. His entire face is crumpled with hurt, eyebrows furrowed out of frustration when you still aren’t looking at him; when you’re still not looking at him with confusion in your eyes, silently telling him off for glaring.

“Buddy system? We’re in uni. Who the fuck would bully that guy?”

“By the looks of it, probably you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffs, refusing to unclench his fists on his thighs.

“Well, what’s it to you that Y/N’s hanging out with someone new? What are you so heated for?” Jin elaborates, eyes flitting to you again.

Jungkook could only glare at you.

“What are you so nosy for?” he asks defensively, leaning back on his chair in a faux display of relaxation when all he wants to do is to remove the stupid smile on the guy’s face as he watches you talk.

Unlike Jungkook, Yoongi’s not stupid at all — in fact, he’s been vigilantly aware of Jungkook’s glare on the side of his face ever since you sat in front of him.

Yoongi’s not stupid, so he angles himself in a way that Jungkook gets to see him more. He doesn’t know the guy personally, but he does know of him and his “charm” that seems to make everyone go nuts for him. 

If looks could kill, then Yoongi would’ve already had mourners at his feet, but if provocation could poison, then Jungkook would already be frothing at the mouth.

The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t even know about your admiration nor your foiled confession to Jungkook. The latter hasn’t even done anything personally to him. 

All he knows is that you’re in a big friend group and that you chose to sit with him, your friend whom you share a couple of advanced classes with but not a friend-friend like Jungkook is, and that you’re very easy on the eyes and admirable yourself if he thinks about it (he doesn’t need much time to ponder over it) — and, that he doesn’t really like being glared at.

“No really, I insist!” he laughs, pulling out a handwritten reviewer from his backpack with a grin. “I don’t know anybody else who likes making reviewers anymore by hand, so really, you’re just perfect to get them.”

“But you worked so hard on them,” you gasp, eyes already widening in both surprise and awe at the thick stack of papers in front of you. Yoongi’s handwriting and formatting are perfect; there’s no unnecessary calligraphy, the vividness of the highlighter is just right, and there’s even sticky notes at the bottom for additional details and references you could cross-check. “I.. I don’t want you to feel that I’m taking advantage-…”

“But I offered! You didn’t ask for reviewers from me shamelessly like every other opportunist does,” Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back as he slides the papers closer to you. “I’d be a really shitty senior not to give you any help. If anything, I think you deserve even better than-…”

Jungkook can’t resist.

Jungkook can’t take any more of watching you and Yoongi push and pull over whatever topic he can’t hear nor force Jin to eavesdrop on. He can’t take another second of seeing you be so happy talking to a guy that he doesn’t know, so much so that he comes up to you without a second thought.

“Hey,” he greets, his body only turned to you, completely ignoring Yoongi and blocking him off from your sight. “You didn’t order any coffee.”

You angle your body slightly to excuse yourself, except Jungkook conveniently happens to mirror your every move, confusing you even more. “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like it,” you trail, looking up at him in confusion while Yoongi could see right through him.

“Really?” Jungkook replies, the smile on his face being far from amused, eyes narrowed as he tries to catch up with the own annoyance that he harbors. “Because I’m seeing two coffees right now, and one’s in front of you, so…” he trails, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly.

Jungkook’s jaw is still clenched, along with his fists by his sides. He’s standing tall between you and Yoongi with his shoulders squared and his face steeled, the immovable forces that are him and the unnamed pit in his stomach starting to garner attention.

Namjoon has his phone out. 

Hoseok only has one cheek remaining on the seat because he’s ready to stand up and collect bets. 

You’re still sitting, mostly confused, when you realize the attention that’s starting to build towards the three of you.

“Yes, Jungkook. Great observation,” you snicker, the discreet roll of your eyes making him take offense.

“Oh okay, I see. So you were lying by saying that you weren’t feeling it, and I don’t get the hold-up of you-…”

“What did you come here for now, Jungkook?” you angrily whisper, keeping your head down as you retain your gaze on him and lightly tap at the table to indicate to Yoongi for the both of you to move. “It’s a little far-fetched for you to come all over here to pick a fight about coffee.”

Jungkook huffs, turning his head back to Yoongi behind him because he most definitely saw your signal. The lazy, amused gaze of Yoongi is what sets him off even further, the anger in his eyes unmistakable, except you recognize it for only what it is and not jealousy, because Jungkook doesn’t see you like that.

Or atleast that’s what the both of you assume.

Jungkook, your best friend, scoffs loudly.

“You sound so defensive right now.”

( ♡ ) 

You don’t respond much to Jungkook’s calls. 

As a matter of fact, you don’t respond much to Jungkook at all.

You don’t show up whenever he’s present, meaning that you’re only magically available whenever there’s half of your friend group at the most because if there’s more, then the search for the missing members would ensue, then you’d end up squished in a long table next to Jungkook again.

It’s very much like him to form grudges, yet he can’t even tell if he’s capable of having one towards you. Jungkook, with all his chest and afflictions, wants so badly to hate you because you’ve been blowing him off ever since he literally and physically came between you and Yoongi.

He apologized to you for that (and not to Yoongi because he didn’t really matter to him at all), and he doesn’t know the answer for it yet because his messages still remain unread. He’s enlisted the help of your mutual friends on various occasions by trying to get them to give all his little treats for you, yet you refuse them as soon as you catch wind that it’s from Jungkook.

He even tried studying for real in the library in hopes that reverse psychology (he thinks that’s what it’s called) would work and that thinking he doesn’t want you to come would make you do the opposite, yet it still doesn’t work. Jungkook’s already mad that he studied for nothing (he’s more interested in getting you to notice him than to actually learn), but he becomes even more heated to realize that your anger for him is just directed at him alone.

You still talk to your best friends, with the exception of him, and Jungkook has never been more envious of people who are apparently of the same status as him.

Jungkook wants you to drag him like you drag Sora to the nail salon and have you whisper at his ear to tell the nail tech not to cut your cuticles because you’ve been afraid of getting them done since that 1/34th part of a medical drama episode you watched on your phone.

Jungkook wants you to complain to him like you complain to Namjoon when you’re frustrated with a professor whom you’re convinced is only critical to you and no one else, later making him promise not to tell anyone else from your friend group because they like said professor.

Jungkook wants you to run to him as you always did, just because you feel like it. He wants to sit in silence with you again and put his hand on your knee when you’re in the verge of tears just looking at your schedule for the week.

He wants to stand guard again outside the bathroom door of the expensive coffee shop because it’s either the lock is broken or because Namjoon's managed to instill in you the existence of ghosts in cold spots.

He wants to be the Jungkook like you’ve always known, again, because it seems like you’ve forgotten him completely. You have the Yoongi now, it seems like — the smarter, more composed, and more charismatic variant of him that he wants to get rid of because Jungkook never predicted the existence of him.

Even more, Jungkook didn’t even entertain the concept of him being replaced because it was always the two of you together, even in a sea of friends. 

He’s your best friend, your confidant even, but nothing more — all Jungkook feels is that he’s even less than the status the both of you are assigned to be. 

He’s angry and sad and disappointed all at the same time because he thought he had almost lost you since he rejected your confession. You were fine; you were as fine as you could be for someone rejected when it comes to yearning to be his, and yet the moment you let Yoongi in, Jungkook feels as if you threw everything the both of you had just for him.

“Just so you know, student-teacher relationships are illegal,” he corners you one morning in your dorm, two godforsaken weeks after chasing you around the campus yet turning up empty.

“What the fuck are you on about?” you immediately scrunch your nose at him, the accusation he throws at you being too farfetched to the point that you don’t even think of shutting the door at him, ignoring Eunji’s betrayal for you by pretending to come over.

“What am I on about?” Jungkook exasperates, the scoff that leaves him making you feel small in front of him. “You’re literally the one who’s getting chummy with fucking Yoongi of all people!"

"Yoongi's a teaching assistant! He's our senior! Do you not know that?"

"Do I look like I'm interested in any other people outside of our circle?" he retorts, lips turned up in a snarl. Jungkook provokes you with a sarcastic glare, the look on his face enough to make you throw your head back in irritation.

"Come on, even Jin and Jimin are friends with Yoongi and-..."

"This is not about them!" 

"But you just-..." you stop as soon Jungkook interrupts you, losing your gaze on him for a single second to close your door and when you look back, you find that he’s already comfortable being vindictive on your bed, his arms crossed and his back straight.

"Also, teacher and teaching assistant both have the word teach so it's literally still illegal," he narrows his eyes sarcastically, the tone to his voice unclear despite his words suggesting otherwise. "You look so stupid right now."

"Jungkook can you stop?!" you burst, your temples stinging at the back and forth that Jungkook’s thrown the both of you in. “What the hell is going on with you?"

Jungkook had sworn to himself up and down that he has so much stuff to pick with you. He knows he has so much baggage to unpack and how much shit he has to bring up, even if it’s only been two weeks with you. He’s partly relieved that you’re in front of him and you still haven’t fled, yet a large part of him is beyond frustrated with you because you don’t even look like as if your time apart has taken a toll on you.

Between the two of you, it’s only Jungkook who looks like his distraught has manned him completely beyond surrender. Even coming to see you by hatching a plan with a hesitant friend is something he considers an act beyond surrender — whatever the space is between surrender and demand is where Jungkook lies with you.

"No, what's going on with you!” he argues, standing to his feet to come face-to-face with you. “You can't just spin this around when I've done nothing but be a good friend to you!"

"You think I'm not being a good friend to you just because I don't spend every single minute attached to you? I can still hang out outside of our friend group without being-..."

"This is not about our friend group!" Jungkook emphasizes once again, the tell-tale sting of tears behind his eyes coming up because he feels as if you can’t hear him no matter how much he repeats himself. ”This is about us and how you abandoned me ever since I rejected you!"

"I didn't abandon you, Jungkook!" you spit, pushing at his chest lightly with your finger to get him to back up from your face yet he refuses to. He’s still insistent at staring you down with his jaw clenched, eyes wide and unblinking because he knows that if he moves even just a millimeter askew, he’d cry. “You didn't even give me the chance to confess to you! You rejected me without even hearing me out. Do you think I would still be able to talk to you, face to face like how you want so badly, as if nothing happened?"

"The answer would've been the same even if you confessed,” he grits with his chest heavy, not at the way he keeps holding his breath in order not to break down in front of you, but because you look at him with so much disdain that it makes him want to puke.

"Do you not think I know that?" you laugh humorlessly, gnawing on your bottom lip as you don’t drop his gaze. “Do you think I didn't prepare for that possibility? I knew what could've happened if I confessed and I'd still be okay with it, Jungkook!" you raise your voice, throat already giving out at the slightest pressure because you know you lost the fight ever since you let him in. "What I'm not okay with is that you didn't even give me the chance.”

It’s evil, really, with the way no amount of self-pity could ever pull you from the grave you’ve dug up. You went for Jungkook, carrying all grief you knew you were bound to feel, and yet you still feel unprepared. You still feel unworthy even moping for someone like Jungkook because not even his rejection, nor anyone else’s acceptance of your admiration by some sort of miracle, is enough to make you feel like you’d be missed.

Your two weeks without Jungkook is your rehearsal for the two months, then two years, then two forevers eventually without him by your side. You had still been able to live by yourself and with your friends, excluding him, and you thought you were fine because it feels as if nothing had changed.

You thought you were fine until Jungkook gets in your face to tell you that it’s not, and all over again, you’re reminded of how desperately you want to be loved by him to the point that you’d rather drown in your own pity to try and preserve whatever’s left of you.

"I told you the answer would-..."

"Shut up!" you cry, steeling your nerves when you realize that Jungkook’s angrily crying in front of you, wiping at his eyes hastily. ”For the love of god, shut up!"

Jungkook stays quiet, not because you told him to, but because nothing good comes to mind when he realizes that you’re crying because of him.

"See? You don't even get where I'm coming from because you're not even giving me the chance to explain myself without making it all about you,” you sob, finally pushing him away, to which he lets you. "That's the problem with you, Jungkook. You're too self-involved."

"Not true," Jungkook whispers, shaking his head earnestly even if he feels the stupidest he has ever did in his life in front of you.

He follows your steps out of routine even if his brain had convinced his system that he hates you just seconds ago, arms instinctively trying to crowd you when you almost trip on the flooring on your way to the coat rack.

"Since you keep insisting that I abandoned you," you chuckle dryly before grabbing your jacket, turning your back on Jungkook and on your own space, which had just been the default hangout place of the both of you for the longest time, in pursuit of your own quiet without him. "Let me follow through."

Jungkook doesn’t want to tell you how desperately he wants you to want him again, to love him as you already did, and neither do you.

( ♡ ) 

The perks of having a big friend group is that the absence of several members wouldn’t make that much of a difference when it comes to hanging out. It would still sustain itself without a few extra voices joining in on the chatter watching movies and the bullying when it comes to a forgotten birthday greeting here and there.

The downside of being in one, is that said big friend group doesn’t matter at all to Jungkook when you’re not in it.

The lengths that your friend (read: a word that Jungkook’s come to abhor) has went through since your fight at your dorm are basically incomprehensible because he’s fully involved himself.

He’s pining after you pathetically, just like how you had always dreamed of, yet seeing him take turn after turn just trying to gain your forgiveness for something you’ve always pitied yourself for makes you feel guilty.

In Jungkook’s defense, he wants to be forgiven and loved (again) as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. Not only is he pathetic in the sense that he’s hopeless, but also pathetic in the light that he wants the entirety of you (stubbornness and occasional sharpness included) to rub off on him.

“I know I’m stupid. I-I.. I know that I was unfair for not even letting you confess your feelings because I felt like dying when you started to ignore me,” he mumbles to your bedsheets, his legs crossed on the ground and his head muffled by the fabric because he doesn’t even want to sit next to you in fear of you revoking his chance to apologize in person, again, as if that’s not what he had been doing the past weeks. “Y/N, you don’t deserve someone as stupid as me and I hate it so, so bad.”

The sound of Jungkook apologizing to you has already been repeated enough to the point you’ve learned when to tune him out, but with the way his heart precedes his tone this time, you stop folding your clothes in favor of Jungkook who’s just two seconds away from passing out on your bed by fabric conditioner-bathed quilt-induced suffocation, to which he couldn’t pass up on because it was your scent and he missed hugging you.

“I can’t catch up with you on anything that you’re talking about with Yoongi. The only times I open a book are when I want to look at you but I don’t want you to see me. I can’t— I can barely even talk to you without feeling like I’m beneath you,” he admits lowly, the truth of his rejection finally springing up a little too much, and almost a little too late. “I thought, stupidly, that we wouldn’t work because you deserve someone better.”

“I don’t need you to catch up with me, Jungkook,” you murmur, lightly slapping his cheeks because he looks sleepy from all the sniffing he’s done on your quilt, but really, his eyes are only narrowed into slits because he feels like he’s about to cry. Again.

“But I need to, b-because when we run out of things to talk about that you’re willingly to dumb down to my level, what else could we catch up on?” 

“You’re not stupid. I just say-…”

“No. Don’t make excuses for me,” he laughs lightly, still sat on your carpet obediently like a dog because he doesn’t want to push your boundaries. “I’m beneath you and I didn’t want to drag you down with me because I.. I didn’t feel that you deserve me,” he confesses. “But I want you so badly, Y/N. You have no idea.”

Jungkook wants you so badly, that in your insistence of self-pity, it was his self-preservation that led him to cry by himself when you finally left the library after not-confessing to him.

He wants you so badly, that in his fit of self-preservation disguised into stubbornness, he had tamped down his desperation for you.

“I want to catch up with you, not you to slow down for me,” Jungkook rests his chin on your thigh, his wide, pleading eyes looking up at you. “I’m so sorry, my baby. I’m so, so, so sorry for being stupid enough to let you go the first time,” he tilts his head, resting his cheek on your awaiting hand. “Please. I’m just begging you to slow down for me this one time,” Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, nudging your hand gently with his cheek. “Please let me look stupid trying to earn you.”

There's a step in your childhood home's staircase that Jungkook always trips on.

Your dad, and even your brother, Yoongi, repeatedly vow to fix it whenever they hear the all too familiar sound of Jungkook tripping on it. The way he’d wince because of it every single time is comedic, if not extremely endearing, because Jungkook would always clamp his hand down on his mouth as to not disturb anyone.

Doing his very best each time, Jungkook would have to clutch the banister as he waits for the pain to subside. He wants to groan loudly with everything that he has, but he can’t risk putting your dad in trouble with your mom by yelling at him to stop hurting Jungkook from delaying the repair of the step.

He even wants to collapse in pain sometimes (Jungkook’s not joking when he says that he almost wiped out so hard to the point that he only saw white and started tasting colors), but he tries not to, because if he falls and makes a commotion, he knows you’d immediately stand up and forfeit the already limited computer-borrowing hours you have because of Yoongi.

“I’d fix the step for you, y’know?” you mutter under your breath as you try to keep your laughter at bay, once again serving as the crutch to your brother’s best friend who’d completely entertain the possibility that your family has it out for him, if not for all the warmth that you give him. “If only Yoongi would lend me his computer for more than an hour and I didn’t have a ton of requirements, I could really hack it out with a single video.”

“Of course you will,” Jungkook snorts under his breath, his inability to feel embarrassment over being critically profiled by your one (1) wooden step (because he’s just gotten hurt so repeatedly that it’s nothing new for him) being overtaken by his raging ability to feel shy, just because it always has to be you to pick him up.

It can’t be anyone else at this point.

It can’t be your brother, because all Yoongi would do is attempt to fix the step with his stock knowledge (to which there is none), and Jungkook knows he would be in further danger if his friend takes a crack at it. It can’t be your parents either, because your mom is a little too wired to the point that she’d want to replace the whole staircase if she sees a mismatched, temporary fix, and your dad is a little too lax to the point that he’s the type to ask Jungkook what color he tastes as his version of a pain scale.

It has to be you, because although everyone in the house has seen Jungkook at his worst at all his various points of life, you’re yet to lose your faith in him.

It’s not to say that your family has already lost respect for him (not even by a long shot), but Jungkook figures that it can’t be that bad letting you in because amongst everyone, the lowest point you know him by is him just being extremely upset over his girlfriend breaking up with him and that’s it.

While your parents know about him sleeping over in your house meant he fought with his very own and couldn’t stand staying in his room for another second, or how Yoongi knows that Jungkook’s strapped for cash because the latter keeps pacing in their dorm trying to panic-clean as he waits for callbacks from part-time jobs he applied for — the only low that Jungkook lets you see is him being distraught over his first love.

Jungkook doesn’t get idolized that much. He’s not a prized son like how your brother is, and neither is he known in college for being smart. He’s not actually a superlative like how he knows you think of him, and the realization of your crush on him makes Jungkook feel conflicted whether it rains or pours.

He doesn’t like you like that, but that’s never stopped you before.

You know about Sora and how first loves have this intoxicating, vice-like grip on everyone, along with the fact that even glancing at an upset Jungkook makes you upset, but that’s never hindered you before.

He wants to let you down as gently as he could, because the last thing he ever wants to do is make his best friend’s sister develop a complex from being rejected. Jungkook knows he’s handsome (read: he’s attempting to be humble), and kind, and maybe even charming on a good day; above all, he’s realistic.

He doesn’t want you to depend on him— he thinks definitively as you glare at him through the rear-view mirror from the backseat, because you mistakenly assumed that the extra can of coffee in the cup holder was for you instead of Sora whom he was tasked to pick up right after you, and Yoongi had to correct you with a snicker.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to depend on him— he thinks hesitantly as he hears you shriek from the bottom of the staircase.

“Shit! God, that fucking-…” you seethe, attempting to keep yourself stable in all fours right after tripping on Jungkook’s cursed step. It’s never hurt any of you before except him, and now that it finally does, you don’t get how he could’ve kept quiet all this time.

Jungkook rushes down and Yoongi comes after, the latter cussing under his breath as he heads back to his room to retrieve his first-aid kit and (hopefully) patch you up with what he’s learning in pre-med.

“What happened? Don’t tell me you were trying to break in your heels again,” Jungkook chastises you as he gets you to sit upright, the frustrated and pained tears cornering from your eyes immediately making him apologetic with his approach.

“I wasn’t! You sound just like Yoongi,” you spit, keeping in a sniffle with your arms across your chest, looking away to hide your tears because you don’t want Jungkook to see just how badly you’re torn over your ankles and knees burning.

He deflates at that, pinching his nosebridge as he tries to calm himself down with the sound of Yoongi bounding down the stairs with a first-aid kit and his notes like it’s some return-demonstration, except he can actually practice on you.

“I’m sorry. I just thought you were doing something-…” Jungkook apologizes, the word stupid being cut off from his lips, not only because Yoongi’s shooing him away, but because he can’t bring himself to stomach the gaze you have directed at him.

Jungkook does back away, with very little coaxing, as he disappears when Yoongi starts asking you if you’re in pain anywhere else with the most serious, professional voice you’ve ever heard him pull.

While your brother fixes your ankle up at the bottom of the stairs, Jungkook soon appears behind you with your dad’s toolbox and the most unreadable look to his face.

While Yoongi dashes to his room again to look for his camera to take a picture of the work he did on your ankle alone so he can reference it later, Jungkook washes his hands in the kitchen sink before patting a damp, clean towel to your knees.

Jungkook’s not in pre-med, and he doesn’t live in your house either.

What he is, is your brother’s best friend who’s extremely apologetic.

"Thanks. Love you," you mumble out of habit, meaning the words sincerely even if they leave your mouth every time someone does something remotely sweet towards you.

You still mean them nonetheless, and the prospect of repeating your sentiments doesn’t seem so bad when it’s him.

You’re eighteen when you first confess to Jungkook.

"I'm just patching your knee up...?" he trails off in confusion, later laughing when he finally sees the shake of your head that lets him know that you, too, felt embarrassed.

You still mean them regardless, even if you feel like taking them back.

You’re eighteen when Jungkook fixes the step in the staircase of your childhood home, not because it always trips him, but because you did that one time.

( ♡ )

Jungkook has a habit of coming over unannounced.

In between all your parents' insisting that your house is also his for him to run to anytime, to your brother realizing that being friends with Jungkook meant having to see him in unhealthy doses because he has no other choice, Jungkook effectively integrated himself to the quilt of your life.

He's a lived-in, well-loved shirt that's cut up and fashioned into a granny square, along with a hundred other versions of him that you've had the privilege of seeing; it's actually ironic because Jungkook's left a lot of his items, of himself, both in your childhood house and your shared apartment with your brother, and he's never batted an eye once about their whereabouts.

Jungkook doesn't question why your parents posted a picture of your old beloved dog wearing a shirt of his from elementary to Facebook, but he does save the picture immediately and make it his wallpaper.

He doesn't question either why Yoongi's cap collection is growing and why he keeps insisting that he bought it himself (even if Jungkook can still place the faint smell of his shampoo on it), but he does make sure every now and then to actually gift him one in exchange for the uncountable favors your brother's done for him.

Most importantly, Jungkook doesn't question you either when he sees his hairtie on your wrist when you open the door for him.

He knows not to bring up anything about your crush over him (not unless it's you starting the conversation about Your Feelings For Him, which practically happens only once a year), or how he really hates it when his hairties go missing. Even Yoongi isn't spared from his annoyance, because in Jungkook's defense, your brother's too rich to go steal from the godsend, usually-expensive ten-pack that he managed to buy on sale.

Jungkook doesn't point out the red elastic on your wrist. He ignores the starry-gazed look you only have for him, except now, your eyes are only narrowed and hollow over his sudden appearance.

That's the only thing he can't shake off.

"Is your brother home?" he asks his original intention for his visit, shifting his weight from one foot to another because of the lackluster, blank gaze you have on that keeps piercing him. "You okay?"

"Won't be home for another hour."

Jungkook laughs at your curt reply, eyes widening in sarcasm as he shakes his head, the snort that leaves him catching him off-guard too. He can’t place why he’s annoyed over the possibility of you being any less than delighted to see him, and truly, he’s trying not to sound like a narcissist; he’s only ever really cared about his image when you were concerned.

"That was a lot of attitude."

You and Jungkook don't really fight. You don't fight with each other because there's barely anything that you disagree about, but when you do fight with him (not if), it's unlike any of the fights you have with Yoongi.

You don't fight with Jungkook as if he's your brother, because he's not.

You don't fight with him either as if he's only your brother's friend, because you don't want him to be.

With Jungkook, there's guilt that settles in your bones when you don't reconcile before you go to sleep. There's an unspeakable force that actually makes you doubt yourself, when usually, you'd know to your gut that you were in the right every single time you fought with Yoongi.

With Jungkook, you don't get an unspoken promise that you'll just forget about whatever happened.

It's him, after all.

"Hey, woah. What's wrong with you?" Jungkook reacts with a frown when you refuse to grace him with a reply, following you into the apartment with a firm grasp on your forearm.

It's not the first time you've ever turned your back on because you didn't want to talk, and it's not the first time either that he's had to physically chase after you. Jungkook's been through this before: he's been through it as the occasional referee between you and Yoongi on your heated fights growing up. He knows how quickly you could shut yourself off, but he didn't know it would feel this weird being at the receiving end of it.

He didn't know it would feel this jarring.

"Nothing. Let me go," you mutter, jerking your arm away from him that only makes Jungkook huff.

He's supposed to be understanding, that much he knows. He's supposed to be the older, mature one between you both, but there's just something about you being short with him that makes Jungkook feel rewired, for better and for worse.

"So something is wrong with you," he insists, rolling his eyes when he follows you even into the kitchen, the two of you knowing well that you're just passively opening the fridge (and a hundred other cupboards) so you could lose him.

"Can you leave me alone?"

"You opened the door for me, sweetheart," Jungkook sarcastically hums, the smile on his face even more insufferable than your furrowed brows that have not loosened even once since seeing him.

"Because you're clearly here for Yoongi," you remind, the edge of your voice slamming harder than the last drawer against its base. Jungkook would wince about it if only he hadn’t spent the better part of your entire interaction loathing the way you talk to him, making his ears ring.

"Can't I be here for you too?" he offers, the sincerity coming across as half-baked pity into your system.

Jungkook didn't even look sure with his own question.

The roll of your eyes makes Jungkook even more annoyed, his irritation bordering on anger that he can't even place. He didn't even get this worked up over his fights with your brother, and the two of them have even went so close as to getting physical multiple times.

"What was that for?"

"You're clearly lying," you mutter, settling for folding your clothes angrily right in front of him. You’re not even fazed that you’re just three sleep shirts away from folding your own underwear in front of him because it’s the least of your concerns.

Now, the only thing you can think about is how Jungkook’s beyond clueless. For all you know, he doesn’t even care about why you’re acting the way you were because simply (and realistically, in your case) put, Jungkook just wants you to remain the same. He just wants you to remain as the mainstay, familiar figure everywhere he goes who makes him feel better just by giving him a default, love-sick glance and nothing less.

You’re not a dog waiting around for him by the front door.

You think you’re more of a mutt waiting to be seen at the porch when nobody else inside wants to do his tricks.

"What are we even talking about right now?" Jungkook nudges the laundry basket away with his foot, the scowl you give him making him shrink momentarily. "You're the one who's starting something and I literally just got here."

"I'm not starting anything."

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong, huh?"

The simple and seemingly mundane question makes you dart up, unceremoniously dropping the same shirt you’ve been pretending to fold in the neatest, tightest rectangle as possible.

You should be relieved at the prompt because it meant you didn’t have to bring it up out of nowhere. You should be happy at the cue because whatever you’ll answer, it would mean that Jungkook asked for it.

You should be anything but the way you’re feeling now with the words scratching your throat from the inside, because with your feelings out in the open (even more than what you’ve already given time and time again), you feel even more tense.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sora were back together?"

Jungkook expected everything but the simple, one-dimension question. He didn’t anticipate for you to ask something that he could give you an answer to but refuse to. He just sits beside you, eerily still with the dumbest look on his face that keeps pleading you to just drop this even if you barely even started, his wide eyes blinking with confusion.

"I didn't-..." he clears his throat, looking down on his lap briefly because looking at you the whole time, as he composes his words, would mean his defeat. He didn’t know exactly why or how he’d be losing by looking at you directly as he professes the truth, but all he knows for sure is that however he does it, you’d never be the winner. “I didn't think I had to tell you, Y/N," he laughs uneasily. "I know you're not exactly the biggest fan of her."

"Neither is Yoongi, but he still got to know," you chuckle dryly, the shrug of your shoulder being far too lax that it convinces neither of you that you were really okay with it.

"Because he's my best friend," Jungkook exasperates, the tired sigh that leaves his lips making you buckle by the knees despite being seated.

You never wanted to disappoint him. You never wanted to be looked down upon, most especially by Jungkook, because every little detail adds up into your head like an overtired piggy bank you don’t ever want to let go of, even if keeping it close to you means it would lose its value.

You’re keeping score, even if Jungkook never did. You’re more wired than he’ll ever be, and just the slightest slip of his attitude (even the tiniest upset sigh from his lips or a clench of his jaw) makes it known to you that he wouldn’t understand how it feels to be pathetically reliant over the slightest chance at love.

"Am I not?" you snap. "Will I just be Yoongi's little sister to you forever?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that's not what I meant," he spits defensively, brows knitting in genuine disdain because he can’t even think how a vile thought has ever crossed your mind.

"Then finish the sentence, Jungkook," you goad. “If I'm not your best friend, and if I'm not your best friend's sister either, what exactly am I?"

Jungkook sharply sucks in a breath, screwing his eyes shut as you mess with every last bit of his inhibition. He never liked fighting with you, and whenever you actually did, he’d be ridden with guilt even before said fight is concluded. He doesn’t like hurting you that way because Jungkook knows, truly, that he’d be more capable of inflicting it on you than you ever could for him.

Or so he thinks.

He knows he does it every time (even if he shoves the fact deep to the back of his memory) that he comes around. He knows he does every time he gives you either a carefree laugh or a sorry hand on the small of your back every time you confess.

He even knows he’s hurting you now.

"I didn't tell you because I know you would disapprove."

"When has that ever stopped you?" you scoff, the soft, lived-in quality of the hairtie on your person suddenly making your wrist itch. ”If I never saw her story, that's just it then? If I never asked Yoongi, you wouldn't tell me?"

"Why's it such a big deal?" Jungkook throws his head back in disbelief, briefly recalling the way he looked happy, content, in the picture Sora shared from last night. “Why does it matter so badly to you whether I get back with Sora or not?"

"Because you matter badly to me!" you exclaim, digging your nails into the palms of your hands to stop them from flailing and finding their way to Jungkook’s arms to hold him still, not because he’s thinking about leaving, but because you don’t want to leave and you want to be reminded of it. ”Are we not best friends, Jungkook? A-are we— are we just people who see each other practically everyday?" you swallow the lump in your throat. “When I see you, I tell you about how my day went. I tell you about what I'm thinking. I... I've never withheld anything from you.”

There was never a time you’ve hidden anything from Jungkook. He’d been the witness of everything, both significant and pointless, in your life. He’s your best friend. He’s your Jungkook, whether or not in the way you want him to be.

The only thing is that Jungkook can’t say the same for you.

"That's you, then," he rasps thickly, exhaling with his teeth grinding together from how tight his jaw is clenching. "Do you see me snooping about who you're with? Do you see me hounding you about your boyfriends and-..."

"I don't tell you shit because I don't have any of that," you interrupt. “What I only have is you and you know that!”

You’re barely getting into the thick of it when the front door opens and your brother appears like a lifeline for Jungkook and the complete opposite of it for you, the stupid, hopeful smile on his face with the accompanying words of "I bought chicken!" making everything in your chest seem forgotten.

You're twenty-two when Jungkook tells you that not only does he still not see you as a woman he’s in love with, but he also doesn’t see you as his best friend. You’re twenty-two when you throw a tantrum in the middle of dinner, ripping off Jungkook’s hairtie from your wrist and tossing it in the trash, right after he cuts up your favorite boneless chicken for you in front of your brother.

Back then, you were nineteen when Jungkook gave you the first slice of his birthday cake, even if you spent a month saving up for the expensive, heavy-duty hard drive for his gift and even longer writing up the letter that was saved as the only document in the device, only for him to spend less than five minutes to scan your letter and move on with cutting the cake that’s not even in the flavor that you liked.

You were twenty when Jungkook replaced your flat tire for you because you didn’t want to anger Yoongi who only warmed up to lend you his new car after incessant begging for three months. You were twenty when you held up the umbrella so the rain wouldn’t soak him and get into his eyes while he saved your life, the words “thank you, love you” slipping out of you from habit, only for Jungkook to loosen his hold on the wrench for the briefest second before resuming.

You were twenty-one when he gave you his shirt to wear after coming home drunk to your shared apartment with Yoongi, because surely, your brother seeing you in his best friend’s clothing would be far less concerning than seeing you practically blackout wasted. You were only twenty-one when you wore his shirt backwards and inside-out (because Jungkook refused to even look in your direction at the time), clutching to him tightly while letting it slip: “It should be me, not Sora,” you muttered, while Jungkook only tucked you into the couch and answered Sora on the phone, telling her that she has to babysit you for the night.

The only thing you have is Jungkook and he insists that he doesn’t know it.

He insists that the both of you are neither lovers or friends, but instead, something less and far worse.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook tells you that he doesn’t get why he and Sora and the state of their relationship matter so greatly to you, and you’re also only twenty-two when you first block Jungkook’s number for just a few hours so he wouldn’t bother you when he’s on his way home.

You’re twenty-two when you realize that Jungkook didn’t even leave you a message in the first place.

( ♡ )

Little by little, everything’s looking up for your family.

For starters, your mom’s no longer accidentally misusing emojis and abbreviations whenever she texts in the family group chat. You don’t have to be choking over air when she texts KYS after you tell her that you had a bad day (she thinks it means Keep Your Smile), and Yoongi doesn’t have to wince when she sends a tombstone emoji after telling her that he had a difficult time with one of his patients (she thinks it’s a gray cathedral window, and it’s her way of telling him to look outside and take a breather).

Your dad’s also looking into being more of a handyman in the house, now that they’re practically empty nesters most weeks of the month and Jungkook fixing your step that one (1) time sparked something in him.

Yoongi’s even happier doing his residency, enough for him to not collapse face-down on your coach and talk to you through muffled yelling about who should order what.

Everyone who’s most important to you have things looking up for them and oddly enough, contrary to your own belief, it gives you a little hope. You don’t feel bitter seeing life treat them a little lighter (even if it’s still less than what they deserve) even if you think you’re the only one who’s not moving forward.

You never harbored any deep resentment for Yoongi being the smarter child. He’s the one who’s even more volatile between the two of you whenever someone even just so attempt to point out how you were falling short to him by just being fine. You weren’t incredible by any means, and you didn’t want to start being excellent now when everyone’s already complacent with the way you are.

It’s either you’re seen or you’re not, there’s no in-between. You’re either Yoongi’s pretty sister whom nobody knows what degree she’s even taking, or you’re nobody at all.

You’re either a best friend or something far less significant. You’re either a mainstay cast member who got to be that in the first place by repeating the same overtired lines on the same skit that had been relevant once and recycled ever since, or you’re a fleeting extra who worked her whole life only to be recognized by something downright insignificant and even insulting.

You’re either Yoongi’s little sister that gets to hang around with Jungkook, or you’re someone who’s known Jungkook for a long time and just happen to love him ever since — whatever it is, you wouldn’t be recognized the way you want to be.

You’re yet to maximize the freedom of your youth and the sheer realization that you don’t plan on being as booked and busy as your brother, but by whatever cosmic power and due diligence of being the youngest child, you opt out of partying with your friends from university to instead get groceries with Yoongi and Jungkook.

You willingly choose to do the mundane, not because you already know you’re mundane, but because you realize that the sooner you practice yourself going through the motions of life beyond what’s serving as your unparalleled distraction, the sooner you’ll accept that you’re not destined for greatness.

You know you’re not destined for greatness, but you know that you’re destined for something that’s a little better (even if you don’t know what) when you don’t check your phone and are fully enthralled just walking past the new products in the toiletry aisle.

You know you’re not destined for excellence, but you know that you’re destined for something that’s slightly brighter than the life you’re already living when you don’t ask Yoongi impatiently if he must really smell every fruit that he puts into the cart.

You know you’re not destined for anything remotely important, but you believe with everything in you that it’s not entirely wrong for you to be hopeful that you might be, when you come out of the grocery store, about fifty reusable bags in hand, just to see white pouring.

"It's the first snow," you gasp in surprise, the awe in your gaze able to be spotted from a mile away, but Jungkook wouldn’t know the distance because he’s already far too close to you now, a giddy laugh automatically rolling from his lips.

"I know.”

"You know what they say about that, right?" you giggle, your expectant gaze turning to him without any malice; just pure, unbridled hope like the past years and the past winters haven’t hurt either of you.

"I do," he affirms, laughing as he readjusts the other fifty reusable bags filled with all the groceries Yoongi’s gotten on a whim as the both of you wait for him to go around with the car.

You’re not meant for greatness, but Jungkook equates to it, and you’ve never wanted to strive to be something you’re not so badly in your life.

"Jungkook?" you ask softly, head tilting in deep thought as you paid no attention to the snowflakes grazing your cheeks and onto the ground, gaze only focused wholly on him and nothing else.

"Yeah?" he hums. Jungkook’s lips part at the way you look at him; like he’s some higher power on an altar that has forsaken you over and over again by not making his existence known when you need him the most, yet you’re a devotee who’s never lost faith, not even once, because you confuse your pain for hope. "I know, sweetheart. I know what you mean."

You stay silent at that, even when Yoongi arrives conveniently and takes the load out of your arms and gets you your favorite coffee and gives you the liberty to pick the music for the drive back home.

You stay silent in thought of the first snow and the first and only Jungkook in your life, but only until your brother interrupts your thoughts.

Jungkook’s been the only one to occupy your existence on every first snow you’ve seen and committed to heart, but along with that, he’s also every other natural calamity.

He’s every other freak occurrence, and he’s every other reminder that seasons never stay no matter how slowly you flip the calendar and realize all the other pages you tore out in the hope that it’ll be the piece wherein you get to cross out and marks as his and yours day alone.

"Hey, you mind if Jungkook and his girlfriend crash on the couch outside?" Yoongi asks, lingering by your doorframe as he tries not to grimace at the sight of all your sweatshirts piled at what’s supposed to be the chair to your study desk. “Sora's car battery died and all the shops are closed for the night."

“Oh,” you whisper. You didn’t know that the last time you’ve ever uttered Sora’s name willingly, which was just a year ago, would only be one of the several firsts of the many times that she and Jungkook would find their way back to each other. “They're back together. Again.”

Yoongi sighs, not in disappointment (he never would), but in understanding. “It's okay if you don't want them to. I can just make up an excuse."

You can see the exhaustion wearing down on your brother from medical school and somehow juggling you and everything in between. You can see the eldest child who’s meant for greatness and has just finished doing his grocery shopping and doesn’t have any time to referee any complaints you may have for your impending visitors.

You only see him and the tiredness that you deem is warranted for someone as great as him, and not the exhaustion you’ve accumulated for being anything less.

"It's okay. This is your place anyway."

"You pay half the rent too."

"But he's your friend,” you reason weakly, sitting by the edge of your bed as you’re no longer interested in resting at its very comfort.

"You're the one who loves him,” Yoongi mutters lowly (but loud and clear for you to hear), making you roll your eyes at the reminder.

It’s the first time he’s ever spoken of it to you, but neither of you flinch at the fact. He’s brought it up randomly on the first snow of the year but you don’t have it in you to address the raging fluctuations of what comes with loving Jungkook unrequitedly.

"He and Sora can sleep over. Just don't give them my room," you concede, sighing as you stand up with a newfound will, albeit concerning.

"What? Where will you sleep then?" he furrows his brows, eyes following you around your room as you fish out a backpack and just start throwing things in haphazardly.

"I'll just sleep over at a friend's. I.. I don't want to be here when they are," you answer briefly, the dimness in your gaze enough to make Yoongi back off.

It’s enough to make your brother let you go scot-free, but never enough to make Jungkook understand.

He’s perplexed, knocking at your door for minutes on end until he decides to open it slowly, only to see that you weren't there to begin with. Jungkook’s not even perplexed, probably, because perplexed would mean that he’d harbor some degree of amusement and he isn’t feeling that in the slightest — all he’s feeling is just pure, overflowing panic.

While Sora is in the bathroom, Jungkook practically crashes his entire weight as he opens Yoongi's door, even if he knows that the poor guy must be either studying or sleeping already.

"Yoongi. Yoongi wake up. Yoongi," he hisses, chest caving in as he shakes your brother awake. “Y/N’s missing. She's not in her room. We need to find her."

"The fuck?" Yoongi could only sleepily whisper, groggily rubbing his eyes. "She's at a friend's."

"Why?" Jungkook almost spits in confusion, eyes narrowed at the possible thought process.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, collapsing back into his pillow after having his shoulders basically rearranged by Jungkook’s sheer panic alone. "Beats me."

"Do you know this friend?"

"Relax. She's twenty-three."

"Do you know this friend?" Jungkook repeats, each word becoming more enunciated than the last. He’s getting angry by the sound of it (if Yoongi could pick it up correctly), the apparent ‘carelessness’ of your own family member irking him.

"I don't know. She doesn't like being hogged so I didn't ask," he groans. “Taehyung, probably? He lives nearby."

"What?" Jungkook grits, his hand almost collaring Yoongi’s shirt if not for his fist closing in on itself to remind himself that Yoongi’s the only way for him to get answers. “Your sister is sleeping over at a guy's house? By herself? Are you insane? Why would you let her?!"

"They're friends...?" Yoongi offers slowly but surely, his tone taking on the most obvious route to Jungkook’s otherwise unbelieving state. "God, Jungkook, can you let me sleep? I really don't want to talk about my sister's sex life with you right now."

"So she's having sex with her friend?!" Jungkook practically whisper-yells to his ear, the tremble to his breathing making Yoongi shake for the briefest second.

"What? No! No— I don't know...? Fuck! Just shut up and turn off the lights again. I have an early day tomorrow."

You’re twenty-three when Jungkook sends you a lengthy text about how it’s beyond disappointing that you’re being irresponsible, followed by the multiple, desperate messages for you to text him your location so he could pick you up so you could be safe at home.

You’re twenty-three when Jungkook loses sleep over you, despite Sora sleeping beside him in the living room of your shared apartment with your brother, his red, swollen, and fatigued eyes only settled on your contact photo that he took of you in his phone.

You’re twenty-three when you admit to Jungkook in your own way, once again, that you love him, and you’re also twenty-three when he lets you down in the best way he knows how.

You’re twenty-three when you spend the night of the first snow at a friend’s house to escape the existence of Jungkook and Sora in your very own home, along with the ghost of the weight that comes with settling for never knowing him at all so you wouldn’t be hurt like this — only to come back the next morning, seeing him holding his girlfriend in his arms.

( ♡ )

You were twenty-four when Jungkook gifted you a gold bracelet.

Normally, Jungkook wouldn’t even think twice about jewelry because for as long as he wore it, all he needed to make sure was that it didn’t turn his skin green and smell weird after being splashed under hard water (which is practically all of the running water in his place) for two seconds.

Granted that it was your graduation and just like every other overeager loved one, Jungkook was assumed (by your parents and Yoongi and every friend you’ve had in university that has an inkling about your dynamic), wrongly, to just buy a name-brand item and call it a day after writing a sincere letter for you.

You know he’s not well-off. You know that he rarely ever splurges on himself and so you didn’t expect for him to go out of his way to get you something. Unlike you, Jungkook isn’t big on giving gifts, and although that’s never been a problem for you before, it always has been to him.

He doesn’t exactly feel patronized when Yoongi gives him his “neglected things” that just turn out to be the brand-new, expensive items Jungkook only ever looked up fondly and as a pipe dream (he swears he’s seen this scene before in Bride Wars); it’s more of a haunting, raring feeling in him to get even and give something that’s more than his service.

Jungkook may tend to your mom’s garden with his green thumb and teach your dad how to use power tools without crying and even cook meals for Yoongi when he’s too tired to even lift his head up, but he didn’t just want to only be of service to you. There’s no amount of him driving you around and parallel parking in the most difficult spots, or even just being the constant figure in your living room that hums (and makes you feel less insane and alone) as you talk to yourself about your exam reviewers for a course that you’re barely passing could ever be enough.

Jungkook wanted to get you something real. Something tangible that you couldn’t only think back on like a distant, foggy memory every three years when a random thought crosses your mind about his good nature.

You were twenty-four when Jungkook gifted you a solid gold (none of that hollowed-out shit; read: ditching the aforementioned meant another solid two weeks of extreme budgeting) bracelet and a heartfelt letter on your graduation.

You were twenty-four when he dressed up in his best polo and gave you his gift with nothing but nervousness for you to actually love it, and you were only twenty-four when you hugged him the tightest that you’ve ever did, kissing his cheek in pure excitement.

You were only twenty-four too, when you realize that Jungkook’s a friend who perhaps really just wanted to give you something memorable and expensive on your special day and nothing more; because if he was more and he wanted to be more, then he would’ve stuck around for the afterparty.

If he wanted to be more and not any less than what you already were, then he wouldn’t have excused himself when you bounded towards him with the bracelet on your wrist and too much of your courage waiting at the back of your throat.

If Jungkook wanted to be more, then he would’ve let his lips graze your cheek for a millisecond longer right after you look up at him: “Thank you, love you.”

If he wanted to be more with you by loving you back, then Jungkook would’ve let his hand linger on your back for just another second more with more firmness instead of gentleness, because you’ve had enough of the latter; he wouldn’t have left, and he wouldn’t have reminded you of your place either: “Don’t make bad decisions tonight.”

You were twenty-four when you started to be resigned with Jungkook, yet you don’t know at what age would you grow to be sick of him.

You can’t tell when you’re going to move past his rejections due to the maturity you’ve always thought you harbored, enough to be the driving force to just settle for however you can keep Jungkook in your life and not ruin the friendship.

You can’t tell when you’re supposed to stop growing and stop being level-headed about your yearly confessions that in the long run, have never hurt Jungkook.

You don’t know if you’re ever going to yearn to be volatile and unforgiving; you don’t know when the weight of Jungkook telling you over and over again that he doesn’t see you that way will finally settle in your bones, permanently, instead of coming and going like a holiday that you grew to both anticipate and dread.

Jungkook’s not a shifty, aloof distant relative that you only get to see once or twice in a decade when an old relative from your extended family dies.

He’s not an overly proud alumnus you see in campus grounds every two weeks chatting up professors who are tired of seeing him.

He’s not anything specific in your life besides definitively being your brother’s best friend and your own, but only from a distance. You and Jungkook were close enough to hang out without Yoongi present, but the availability of the other was something you weren’t even eagerly seeking anymore just like the old times.

It’s you who’s adding to the space that Jungkook established himself, and you thought for the longest time that you’re fine with it; that for as long as you don’t get too emotional (read: resentful) seeing the gold bracelet on your wrist, then that would mean you and him are at the perfect distance away from each other until your inevitable, yearly confession happens.

Jungkook, too, thought that he’d been okay with the added space (or whatever it meant) despite seeing you almost every two days at this point, because he thought that you being less attached would make it balanced.

You know to yourself utterly and completely that knowing Jungkook more doesn’t lead to loving him less; it’s only what you hope to happen otherwise.

It’s what he also pleads to himself when he sees you tonight, sitting at the chairs by the parking lot of the hospital.

“Y/N?” he immediately asks out loud, barely shifting the gear to park when he walks (read: runs) to you with a gasp, eyes wide and concerned. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” you return the question, unable to process why out of all the times, it just had to be now when you see Jungkook unplanned; it couldn’t have been at the subway yesterday or even at the convenience store this morning.

Out of all the times that he’d see you accidentally (heaven knows the two of you see each other far too much), it just had to be when you were clutching your abdomen, writhing and sweating in pain.

“I borrowed Yoongi’s car so I took it to the carwash and-…” Jungkook trails off for a preliminary answer, shaking his head to physically reboot himself. “Sorry, I really can’t care about Yoongi’s car right now. What the hell are you doing here?” he repeats, running his palm over your sweaty forehead that’s simultaneously warm and freezing, the lack of any ease in your face making him panic.

“It’s n— fuck, that hurts,” you seethe, growing breathless as your eyelids fall heavy.

“Y/N, hey, hey. What’s happening? Where does it hurt?” Jungkook asks firmly this time, worry etching on to his face as his hands unconsciously tremble as he tries to survey you the best he could yet he can’t even think straight with your whole body contorted in pain.

You gasp at a particularly sharp burning sensation, pointing to the right of your abdomen with your index finger barely even outstretched in pain.

Jungkook screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back as he paces in tiny circles, holding your clammy hand as he tries to not faint on the spot. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Holy fuck I don’t know what that’s called b-but you’re in pain and— a-and how did you even get here? Did you drive?”

The nod you give him makes him even more lightheaded.

“Why the fuck would you drive here? Are you insane? Y-you should’ve called me!”

“Kook, now’s not the-…” you wince, the pained gasp that leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head being the last straw for Jungkook before carrying you bridal style into the emergency room, that realistically was just a few steps away from you, but more-on felt like a thousand yards.

The pain felt like torture for you, and seeing your pain felt like a living, breathing, writhing version of hell for Jungkook as he tried to get everything under control.

He trembled while filling out your information and waiting outside of the surgery ward. He shook when he called Yoongi to go downstairs and informed him about what happened.

Jungkook was nothing short of miserable waiting for you to be okay, but nobody told him that it wouldn’t get any better once he finally sees you awake.

He doesn’t believe you even when you’re up and are raring to go home. He doesn’t crack a smile when you tell him that you’re okay and he was just being dramatic.

He doesn’t let up the slightest bit when you try and be back to how you normally are with him, when just hours ago, Jungkook prayed to a god he only partially believed in and even offered himself to just for the betterment of your condition.

You swear up and down that you’re okay, but it’s not enough for him.

“Are you that upset seeing me in a hospital bed?” you mutter, the roll of your eyes only making you dizzy for a split second instead of a full minute this time.

“Think about it, genius,” Jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms on his chest but not before pushing your vegetables closer to you on your plate, gathering the leftovers of your pudding from the edge of your cup with a spoon.

“I’m not going to apologize,” you mutter, looking away from him and your tray and instead on a poorly-dubbed children’s show on the TV, just to shield yourself from the confrontation that you weren’t looking for.

The thing about Jungkook is that he didn’t pick a time or a place to get into anything with you, whether good or bad.

The thing is, Jungkook’s goodness and concern for you have never not went hand-in-hand with his overbearingness that friends shouldn’t have in the first place.

“Good. You shouldn’t,” he stubbornly punctuates.

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself,” he groans, sneaking a glance at his watch which reminds him that he had paged a nurse ten minutes ago and that he needs to follow up. “What did I do to make you think that you can’t call me when there’s an emergency? Do you know how dangerous it was for you to drive at that state?”

Jungkook’s voice wavers at the question, not expecting you to answer with the way your jaw’s clenched and you’re still refusing to look at him.

“I-I get it. I’m trying to get it. Your parents aren’t in the city and you didn’t want them to fly out this late, I get it. Yoongi’s busy being a resident a-and you didn’t want to worry him, I get it a little bit,” Jungkook sniffles. “But you not calling me when you’re in pain? When you need someone to drive you to the ER? When you just need someone to be there with you, no questions asked?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t get it, Y/N. I don’t get it at all.”

“You really don’t get it,” you concede, gaze flitting over to him. Jungkook’s sat on an uncomfortable chair with his legs spread, still dressed in last night’s clothes and torment, the furrow in his brows inerasable. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Jungkook tolerates your mouth. He tolerates a lot of your words and sentiments and occasional callousness when you were emotional despite being mature, but this just cuts it.

He doesn’t tolerate you now.

“How will you ever be a burden? You were having an emergency and the first thing in your mind is that you don’t want to inconvenience me?” he spits. “It’s not like it’s traffic, o-or you eating my takeouts, Y/N. It’s you being in danger, don’t you get that? That’s not an inconvenience!” he laughs without any amusement. “If you still think it is no matter what I say, then you should’ve inconvenienced me. You should’ve bothered me. You should’ve known that I would’ve went out of my way just for you to consider inconveniencing me.”

“Well I don’t want to, okay? I don’t want to bother you, Jungkook!”

“What the hell do I have going on in my life that’s enough for me to not come to you when you need me?”

“You have everything going on!” you exclaim, throwing your head back on your pillow, inadvertently making yourself wince and make Jungkook apologetic. “Y-you have a job, you have Sora, you have-…”

“Wrong,” he tuts, sighing heavily as he adjusts your head on the pillow, grabbing one of his own from his chair to secure you from the sides. “I can have nothing or everything and I’ll still come to you.”

You purse your lips, ignoring the way his touch is more firm than it is gentle.

“You don’t have to come to me if you’re already with me,” you confess in your own words, the sigh that leaves you taking everything not to round up to a pitiful, watery smile that sums up your anticipated rejection.

“Sweetheart,” Jungkook answers simply, in his own way.

You’re twenty-five when you feel yourself surrender little by little.

"Okay," you roll your eyes, the snort that erupts from you making his brows raise in curiosity.

"Okay?" he echoes. "You're okay with it?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know— I-... I mean I know this isn't the first time you confessed and this isn't my first time either turning you down, but-..." Jungkook trails uneasily, shaking his head softly as he tries to regain his bearings. ”…I don't know either why I asked if you're okay."

“My appendix did get removed a few hours ago, so that’s why,” you smile playfully, going back to your meal like nothing had happened.

Like Jungkook hadn’t lost his mind hours ago, and like you hadn’t confessed just minutes ago while you were laying in your hospital bed.

You’re twenty-five when you let yourself feel the hurt.

( ♡ )

It only occurs to you when you’re twenty-six, that Jungkook’s seen all your hardships, whereas the only suffering that you had to see him endure was the price of having Sora as his first love.

Every other difficulty and every other misstep Jungkook’s had in his life are only either retold to you or assumed by your conscience. Besides his turbulent on and off relationship with the only girlfriend he’s ever had, everything that wasn’t the good and the easy about him wasn’t known to you.

It’s as if despite having the privilege to grow alongside you, Jungkook deliberately went out of his way to ensure that you never see him vulnerable if it wasn’t for love. You realize at your age belatedly that you’ve lived this long and have never seen him feel so deeply for anything that wasn’t the matters of his heart.

You only know the big chunks and the bits and pieces of your closest friend’s childhood, but never to the extent that your brother knew him. You’ve questioned the lacking details about him over and over again, but in hindsight, you realize that you didn’t ask enough.

You never asked for any clarification as stubbornly as they expected you to, not because you were coincidentally proving Jungkook right that you were better off not knowing the seemingly unimportant details of his life, but because you were already content with what he gave you.

You took what Jungkook could only give you, but he can’t say the same now.

You’re twenty-six when you hear from Yoongi that Jungkook and Sora have broken up, for good this time, because she cheated on him and it had become his last straw.

You’re twenty-six when Jungkook learns that he only knows the hardships of your life and barely ever its triumphs (whatever the hell that meant in your book and not his), because when he sees you making out with Taehyung in your old childhood bedroom while your brother’s in the middle of throwing a party downstairs, he realizes that everything seemingly favorable in your life was only retold to him.

He should be relieved (right?) to see you at home instead of finding out through Yoongi that you were sleeping over at a friend’s he didn’t know, but none of the solace ever comes to his system. It doesn’t help that the guy who scrambles off you if the same guy that you had ran to all those years ago (Jungkook only knows after keeping tabs on Taehyung for literal years, it seems like).

It doesn’t help that you’re more angry at him than you are embarrassed of the entire situation.

"Do your parents know?"

"Know what?" you scrunch your nose, entirely lost to what Jungkook’s trying to get at.

"What you're doing," he details with narrowed eyes. “Who you're doing."

"What the fuck?" you spit with vitriol, in genuine disbelief whereas Jungkook remains stoic from where he stood. ”I’m twenty-six. I have my own place now. What are you talking about?"

Jungkook shakes his head at the reminder that you’ve moved out weeks ago from your shared apartment with Yoongi and he only got to know when he crashed at your (former) place after a particularly rough day, only to be genuinely confused at the sight of Just Yoongi At The Door, your own brother perplexed that Jungkook didn’t even know you moved out by then.

“I’m talking about how you're acting out like a teenager, getting it on with-..."

"Acting out?" you parrot.

"Yeah, that's what I said,” he grits, the sarcastic laugh that leaves his lips making your ears ring.

"What would I be acting out against? I'm not some teenager rebelling against curfew or-..."

"I thought you liked me, Y/N,” Jungkook enunciates word for word, making you stop dead in your tracks.

You weren’t planning on confessing tonight.

You weren’t even thinking of digging up your unresolved feelings for Jungkook because you didn’t want to be the bigger person about it; for once, you wanted to be the more vulnerable and volatile friend between the two of you.

"What kind of person keeps confessing to her brother's best friend every single year, yet still make out with another best friend of her brother's as if nothing she said was true?"

The ache that your chest molds around is far too big of a statue, concrete and rooted in its desire to let the pain seep into you.

"But you don't like me, Jungkook. That's the thing.”

"And you think that changes everything?" he asks, voice cracking at the edges. “What if— w-what if I lied awhile ago, huh? What if I-... what if I lied about not liking you, yet you're still out here letting Taehyung put hickeys on you? What then?"

You screw your eyes shut in utter disbelief of the possibilities that Jungkook springs onto you out of nowhere, tears pricking painfully.

“But did you lie?"

"That's not what I'm-..."

"Did you or did you not lie, Jungkook? That's what I'm asking first," you interrupt, fists balled in utter despair because if you don’t do something, anything to ground you, then you’d faint right in front of him and nurse the hurt like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

"I didn't," Jungkook whispers, eyes steeling as he regains his composure. "B-but that still doesn’t-…”

"No. It changes everything," you swallow the lump in your throat. “I can have this stupid, teenage crush on you and still be hurt. I can be stupid by ignoring all your past rejections and still get tired," you waver. “I can look stupid liking you from afar, only for you to reject me year after year, and still do whatever that I want to do with Taehyung.”

"If I lied and told you that I liked you back, and we become this... w-we become this fantasy of yours that you never let go of," Jungkook argues, exhaling heavily. "What then, Y/N? If you could do this now, what else are you capable of doing if we end up together?" he gnaws on his bottom lip. ”What can you tell me that would make me trust that I can be your boyfriend without you doing whatever the hell you want?"

"You're asking me that?" you whisper in disbelief, vision spinning on the weight that Jungkook demands from you. “You're asking me to convince you that I won't cheat on you, even if you told me again and again that you'd never want to be with me?"

“Yoongi told you, didn’t he?” Jungkook replies, meeting your eyes but not where you stood, the stubbornness in his gaze making you bow your head in surrender.

"My god, Jungkook. You're fucking insane.”

He buckles by the knees at that, pointing to himself weakly as his eyes widen. "I am? I'm the one who's-...?" he pauses, jaw clenching angrily. ”I’m the one who's confused, Y/N. I'm the one who can't tell how I'd stand in your life if I give in-..."

Give in, like it's pity.

Give in, like it's charity for the needy and returning your feelings would be the one final thing that cements Jungkook’s goodness.

Give in, like you didn’t spend the better part of your life pining after him without any promise because you weren’t afraid to be seen trying; you weren’t afraid to be in love with him.

"Then I won't confuse you anymore! I'll make it easy for the both of us," you burst, pushing past him in your fit of anger. “You don't have to think about being cheated on. You don't— y-you don't have to think about the image of me making out with Taehyung behind your back while you're.. y-you're fucking conjuring this life with me in the future when you don't even want to be with me now."

Give in, like you were never the one for him in the first place.

"I'll stop,” you whisper.

"I didn't tell you to,” Jungkook grits, shaking his head in disbelief as his eyes track your direction towards the door.

"I don't need you to."

( ♡ )

You dream of getting over Jungkook on a random day.

The concept of it comes to you randomly after countless nights of losing sleep over your big fight with Jungkook that had instilled a rift in your friendship for months. You haven’t gotten over him (specifically on a random day that you so badly craved to prove that unlearning the ways of being attentive to him can happen in an as insignificant of a day as Wednesday), but you atleast attained your silent plea of being the one who’s more vulnerable.

Of being the one who’s pined after, not necessarily because Jungkook was completely in the wrong and there’s no basis for his fears, but because you wanted to know what it felt like being yearned for.

You didn’t have to be brave for the two of you because you were no longer grasping at straws to keep Jungkook whenever and however you can.

The only reason you dream of getting over Jungkook on a random day was because you want the feeling of the love you have for him to leave you when you're folding your clothes and you can ignore the fact that his shirts keep washing up into your basket despite not having stepped foot in your new place.

You want to get over him on a random day when you feel unsure of it the most, because only then would you prove to yourself that something as real and as tangible as your yearning is just as fundamental as learning to live without him in your life.

You want to get over Jungkook on a random day, even when you don’t want to, because the only way out for you is through.

You want to get over him but you can’t; you want to get over him even when he confesses his love for you at a time that you’ve stepped out of the middle, which was the only place you’ve been trying to coax him into to remind you that your yearning’s alive.

You’re twenty-seven when Jungkook first confesses to you.

“I’m in love with you and you don’t have to do anything about it,” he whispers, clutching a bouquet of your favorite flowers by your front door, left hand still trembling as he clutches the handwritten note of your address given by your brother who had promised to cut him off forever if he didn’t make things right with you. Jungkook isn’t doing this to get even with you, however — he’s doing this out of sheer longing. “And you don’t have to be in love with me for me to do everything about it.”

.

.

.

You’re twenty-seven, and you still know that Yoongi’s meant for greatness.

You know that he’s meant for greatness when he’s only a few years older than you and yet he’s already in the finishing steps of opening his own clinic, the technicalities of it amusing you because at his age, Yoongi’s acclaimed for his skill and his drive.

At your age, the hallmarks that you live with are that you’re going to join the family business (read: inserting yourself in Yoongi’s clinic) and make use of yourself to make up for the fact that you’re not particularly excellent at anything, and that finally, this is the second to the last year you’re going to be allowing yourself to confess your love to Jungkook.

Just because you allowed yourself to all those years ago, however, didn’t mean you were actually going to do it any longer.

You were freshly twenty-six when you and Jungkook had the fight that inexplicably changed your lives forever, more than growing up and witnessing each other change had ever did — you’re three months away from turning twenty-eight, and Jungkook’s never been more riddled with fear of loving you, but he does it anyway.

He’s more scared of losing you than he is with loving you, yet he knows he can’t forsake either in his pursuit.

Jungkook knows that he’s not meant for greatness, but you equate it, and he’s never wanted to strive to be something he’s not so badly in his life. He runs to you at full speed and he doesn’t care about the impact nor about the possibility that it wouldn’t bring him anywhere.

“You're not Sora," he utters when he sees you zoning out, gaze fixated on the first snow that falls right outside of the window of the clinic that’s still yet to be completed, hallowed out enough for his voice and his sentiment to echo throughout the walls. “And I don't want Sora."

"Nobody wakes up and just realizes that they don't love someone anymore, Jungkook," you murmur, following the way the bits of white patter against the ground helplessly because they have no choice but to fall.

Jungkook’s been nothing short of pathetic with his longing the entire year.

Even between him working as your brother’s contractor and even helping out the labor yet not ever running late from driving you to and from your place with homemade meals in hand, to him pulling his weight by being of service to you, by being anything that you asked and didn’t ask him to be — Jungkook, admittedly, can’t fill in the gaps of what longing for him in the past had instilled in you: doubt.

"I did,” Jungkook answers. “It happens."

"You spent the better part of your youth being in love with her," you remind him with a gentle roll of your eyes, ignoring the way he comes closer to give you his hard hat that you’ve always insisted on ditching out of stubbornness. “That doesn't just happen out of nowhere."

It’s daunting that you can talk about yours and Jungkook’s past out in the open.

It’s new.

"It happened because it wasn't out of nowhere," he clarifies. “I’ve been on and off with her in the first place because I— we, couldn't let go of the comfortable option which was each other."

“Just stop talking,” you murmur weakly, the lilt of your voice similar to the random days that creep up to you and remind you of the shade of the past, of Sora, that looms over you out of nowhere. "I... I-I must've had this conversation with you over and over again, Jungkook," you frown. "You're going to get back with each other like always."

"We're not," he corrects you, standing in front of you so closely that you could feel his warmth cling to your skin. “Sora and I are completely through."

"Whatever you say," you mutter, throwing your hands weakly, ready to call it a night when Jungkook grabs ahold of you firmly, undoubtedly, his eyes swimming in concern.

"Do you want time to prove it?" he tilts his head. "We could wait around for a lifetime and you'll believe me by then."

"I think I've done enough waiting,” you chuckle, drawing a laugh out of him.

You’re turning twenty-eight in three months, and Jungkook’s confessed his love for you more times than you’ve ever did for him in your lifetime; he’ll still love you under the weight of your shoe.

Jungkook grabs tightly the little hand of his five-year-old daughter, Hana, as they walk down the street. A couple of days ago, he promised her to buy some books in the little shop that her teacher advised. Apparently, she read a story that Hana adored, and she wants to have it at home. At least, she wants her dad to have it.

His eyes scan the street, hoping nobody will recognize him under his hat and sunglasses. He rose to fame when he became the hottest quarterback, something he didn’t really ask for, but as long as people leave his daughter alone, he absolutely gives no shit about this madness around him.

His eyes quickly look down at his baby before a smile grows on his face. Being her father is his biggest achievement and a role he absolutely adores. Being around her makes him extremely happy, and for a long time, it compensated for the fact that the relationship with her mother was a complete failure.

Jungkook met Miji, his ex-girlfriend and Hana’s mother, when he joined his current football team. They started dating quickly, but he knew he had never fallen in love with her. But he liked her. She was nice, funny, and caring. They stayed together for a solid six years.

Jungkook believed that he’d stay with her forever—yeah, even though he wasn’t in love with her. Hana joined them four years later, and her arrival made them extremely delighted. However, things began to change slowly when he gained fame. Miji wasn’t handling it very well.

For a while, he believed that she just needed time, but things got absolutely nasty. Living in the city was slowly suffocating her. People were jealous of her and were not being super nice to her. She wanted to move out, which they did. But it didn’t help. She clearly didn’t want to be in the relationship anymore.

Instead of leaving him and breaking up in a ‘correct’ way, she decided to cheat on him with her best friend. It was ugly, and Jungkook was hurt. He wasn’t really heartbroken, but it doesn’t erase the pain that cheating brings.

After the breakup, things got even messier. She kept the house; her best friend moved in, she asked for full custody of Hana, and for money because she couldn’t afford Hana’s upbringing. Jungkook didn’t give in. He refused to give her anything, and even less his daughter’s custody.

So now they share her custody, and he doesn’t give anything to Miji. The saddest part is that Hana hates being with her mother. She doesn’t like her new boyfriend and cries every time she has to go to her mother’s house. It devastates him, but he can’t do anything.   

As he pushes open the library’s door, he gently lets his little princess step inside first. He follows, closing softly the door behind them. The moment he sets foot inside, his heart stops beating for a second before pounding with a force he hasn’t felt in years. It’s like the world completely vanished around him. It feels like he’s seventeen again.  

You’re there.

You’re standing there, looking for a book on the shelves while you’re joyfully talking with someone else, completely unaware of him. The sound of your voice pulls him in before his eyes do. His gaze lingers, drinking you in.

You’re wearing a blue floral dress with a beautiful pair of grey sandals. A few silver rings catch the light. And then, his chest tightens. You’re still wearing the bracelet. The one he gave you before one of your big competitions, meant to be your lucky charm. Maybe it still is. Maybe it never was.

You haven’t seen him yet, too caught up in your conversation with the woman next to you. Deep down, he is grateful. He needs a moment to just look at you, to take in how much you’ve changed, and how much you haven’t.

“Daddy,” a small voice tugs him back.

He looks down. Hana is clutching his shorts, eyes wide and expectant.  

“Yes, boo,” he murmurs, forcing his eyes away from you. “Let’s go find that book.”  

She offers him the brightest smile on earth before they both walk inside. Jungkook removes his sunglasses before they begin walking together toward the kids’ section, his hand wrapped protectively around hers, but his heart is still pounding with every step that brings him closer to you.

As they walk, Jungkook keeps glancing in your direction. He’s not sure why his hands are clammy, or why his chest aches in a way he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe it’s because for a moment, it feels like no time has passed at all.

You’re still you. The same softness in your voice. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re thinking. And that bracelet. The one he bought for you in secret because he couldn’t find the courage to tell you how much you meant to him.

He never imagined you’d still be wearing it.

His fingers twitch at the memory of that day, handing it to you awkwardly, pretending it was nothing, just a good-luck charm. But it wasn’t. It was everything he didn’t dare to say out loud.

Then, you look up.

At first, you think that it’s just your imagination, but when you hear him talking to the little girl next to him, you know it’s him. For a second, you freeze. Your breath hitches. That jawline. That smile. That voice.

It can’t be.

But then he speaks again—soft, tender—and the warmth of recognition spreads through you like sunlight through glass. It’s him. It’s really him.

Jungkook.

Your heart lurches in your chest. Not just because he’s here, standing in your library like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world, but because he hasn’t changed. Or maybe he has, but the way you feel when you see him, that hasn’t. Not even a little.

He’s holding a little girl’s hand. His daughter, maybe? You swallow hard, unsure what to do with the storm of emotions building inside you: joy, fear, longing, and the familiar ache of everything you never said.

You don’t really listen to the woman next to you. She’s far gone now, and you don’t even feel sorry about it.

Jungkook is literally standing in your library and not in the billboard in front of the library, abs on full display for that Calvin Klein advert. Honestly, it was hard to see him every day for a month. It was a constant reminder of the massive crush you had on him at seventeen.  

Suddenly, he turns around, his eyes meeting yours.

At first, you think that he probably doesn’t recognize you, and you wouldn’t blame him for that. It’s been eleven years since you last saw each other. However, he starts walking in your direction, his hands pressed behind the little girl’s head, inviting her to follow him.

Your heart beats crazily inside your chest, wondering if he has, in fact, recognized you or if he’s going to ask for a book.

He stops in front of you, a smile spreading across his face before his sweet voice reaches your ears.

“Yn,” his honey-like voice says. “It’s been a long time.”

Honestly, you don’t really know what to reply to him. He still looks like he was handcrafted by god himself, but somehow, he got even better. His body has become even broader than before, which you didn’t think was possible.

Of course, you noticed it on the Calvin Klein ad, but seeing it in real life is completely different.

His shoulders have expanded in an impossible way, his arm is fully hidden behind tattoos, and his black t-shirt can’t even hide his toned chest. Well, for sure, being a quarterback is responsible for this change, but it’s incredible.

However, the one thing that hasn’t changed after all this time is his big doe eyes. They can still make you melt—as they also do with any other girl.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he adds.

Well, you too. And you never pictured your reunion in your own library. This was the last place on earth you’d imagine to find him. You can still remember how much he hated to read. He’d always ask you to summarize the books you needed to read at school.    

“Me neither,” you reply.

Your eyes drop down to the little girl standing beside him. She looks exactly like him. There’s no doubt she’s his daughter. It was no secret that he became a father long before fame hit. He always likes to bring it up in interviews. And according to most women, he is the hottest dilf to ever walk the face of the earth.   

And well, you couldn’t agree more with them.

Jungkook notices when you look down at his daughter. A smile grows on his face because he has always dreamt of introducing her to you. He always hoped that this day would happen.

“This is Hana, my daughter,” he says, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter. “And Hana, this is yn, an old friend.”

She stretches her small hand out towards you.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with a bright smile on her face.

You decide to drop down to her level. It startles you how much she takes after her father. It’s like you’re looking at a mini female version of Jungkook. It’s absolutely mind-blowing, but it only makes her even more adorable.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Hana,” you reply before hugging her.

Honestly, you always adored kids, and you’ve secretly dreamt of having children of your own. And whenever a child steps inside your library, you always take the time to interact with them—even sometimes, hugging them. Now, Hana is entitled to have a hug because she’s Jungkook’s daughter.

Her little arms wrap around your neck, and for a second, you close your eyes. Feeling her close to you helps to calm your nerves because having Jungkook right in front of you after all these years is quite something.

“You smell like coconut,” she whispers in your ear.

“It’s my shampoo’s scent,” you whisper back to her.

“It smells good,” she adds, and you can help but smile even more.

Jungkook watches the scene unfold in front of his eyes, his heart heavy with unspoken emotions. This right here makes him melt like never before. He has never seen anything this emotional, despite experiencing many emotions in his life.

You step back, putting an end to this heartfelt embrace, and you stand up again. Then, your eyes meet Jungkook’s once more. There’s something in his gaze that you’ve never seen before, and it surprises you, but you decide not to focus on that.

“I imagine you were looking for a book,” you say, your eyes looking down at Hana.

“Yes,” she happily says before clapping her hands with excitement.

“Her teacher talked about your library, and she bought Hana’s favorite book here,” Jungkook begins to explain. “So, here we are.”

The three of you walk to the kids’ section like it’s the most natural thing when you’re both dying on the inside. This right here feels absolutely unreal, but somehow, it feels good.

Thankfully, you have Hana’s book in store, and you even recommend some other books to her. Jungkook buys them all without even blinking. You can’t help but think that his daughter is spoiled, and it doesn’t surprise you. He definitely looks like a girl’s dad.

“Your number is still the same?” he asks after paying for all the books.

“No,” you shake your head while handing him the little bag containing the books.

You don’t really know what crosses your mind, but you write your phone number on a small sheet of paper. When you hand it to him, his huge hand touches yours, causing a hundred thousand fires to ignite in your hand. 

“Thanks,” he whispers. “And it was a pleasure to see you again.”

You simply nod, your heart beating crazily in your chest. You don’t know how you managed to act normally around your high school crush, but you’re proud you did it.

And now, you’re dying to see him again.

Jungkook is waiting for you at a small café just around the corner from your library. Just a few hours after your unexpected reunion, he had texted you, asking if you’d like to meet again. You had said yes, of course you had. But with his tightly packed schedule, this meeting couldn’t happen until a week later.

You’ve been thinking about it every day since.

As you step into the café, the scent of coffee and warm pastries wraps around you like a hug. Your eyes quickly scan the room, heart fluttering. Then you see him—tucked into a quiet corner near the back, just far enough from the window to keep a low profile.

When your eyes meet, a smile forms on both your faces at the same time—automatic, familiar, like no years have passed at all.

You walk toward him, trying not to overthink each step, but your mind is spinning. He looks effortlessly good—a fitted black Supreme shirt, dark jeans, just the right amount of stubble. On the table, there’s a pair of sunglasses and the same cap he wore at the library. You realize immediately that he still tries to move unnoticed, even now.

There’s something strangely grounding about that.

As you reach the table, your nerves catch up with you. You pause for a beat, standing there awkwardly with a crooked, uncertain smile. Should you hug him? Shake his hand? Say something clever?

But before you can fumble your way into a worse moment, you pull out the chair and sit down.

“Hey,” he says, his voice deep, low—somehow both relaxed and nervous.

“Hey,” you echo, the word coming out softer than you expected.

For a brief moment, there’s silence between you. But it’s not uncomfortable. It’s full, charged with something unspoken, like both of you are quietly remembering the same things.

“You opened your dream library,” he says finally, breaking the quiet.

You nod. “It wasn’t easy… but I worked hard for it.”

He smiles, eyes warm. He’s always known how determined you were. Always admired it.

“I can imagine it,” he says. “The place was beautiful. Hana couldn’t stop talking about it for days. I think she told every kid in her class.”

You laugh—genuinely, this time—and feel your smile stretch wider, more naturally than it has in a while.

“I’m glad she liked it,” you say. “She was really sweet.”

Jungkook nods slowly, his expression thoughtful, like he wants to say something more but is carefully choosing his words.

“She truly is,” he says while thinking about his little girl.

Before you even get to reply, the waiter appears at your table, his eyes lingering a little too long on Jungkook. He recognizes him, you’re absolutely sure about it, but the quarterback acts like it’s nothing.

“Have you already chosen what you’d like to take?” he asks, his eyes finally meeting yours.

You come regularly to this place, so you already know what you want. It’s up to Jungkook. As he looks at you, he understands that you’re kind of asking if he has chosen.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You both proceed to make your order, and the waiter disappears, leaving you alone again.

“How can you deal with people recognizing you?” you ask with evident surprise in your voice.

Jungkook shrugs before leaning back slightly. He watches you for a moment—not in a way that makes you feel self-conscious, but like he’s memorizing everything about this moment. Maybe even trying to figure out where to start.

“I’m used to it,” he honestly replies. “It’s like that all the time.”

He seems so unfazed about it, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But you realize that it’s normal for him. It just isn’t for you. Maybe if you were in his shoes, it would also be just normal.

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

“At first, it did,” he replies, “especially since Hana was still a baby, but now, it doesn’t anymore.”

You glance down at the table, brushing your thumb over the edge of your napkin because you feel the need to occupy your fingers.

“I still get nervous if someone compliments my handwriting,” you chuckle. “I can’t imagine people knowing my face.”

A little laugh escapes his lips, and damn, you missed this. You absolutely missed everything about him, and you can’t only blame yourself for this. It’s your fault if you went eleven years without seeing each other.

“If things had gone differently, people might have known you, too.”

“Yep,” you simply nod.

Your true dream was to become a swimmer, like a professional one. You still remember perfectly when it began. Your parents, who are big fans of sports, brought you to the 2008 Olympic Games in China to watch the swimming competition. You were still young at that time, barely entering your first teenage years, but you instantly fell in love with it. 

Back home, you decided to learn it, and very quickly, it became a passion. As you grew up, you worked hard to become a professional athlete and hopefully make it to the Olympic Games one day.

But life had other plans, and they crushed you in a way you can’t even explain. Even today, it hurts to think that you’ll never be able to make it to the Olympic Games. You’ll only ever be a spectator.

“But let’s not talk about it,” you tell him. “It’s in the past.”

Jungkook simply nods, understanding that it still might be a sensitive topic for you. Even for him, it’s such a traumatic memory, so he can’t even imagine how it is for you.

“I’m happy you still managed to open the library you always wanted,” he says with a little smile.

“Thanks,” you reply. “After everything, I guess a part of me needed to prove I could still make something good out of my life. Something that mattered.”

He nods, his gaze softening.

“You always knew what you wanted. I envied that, back then.”

You smile faintly.

“You were too busy being the golden boy to envy anyone.”

Jungkook chuckles at that—low and genuine.

“God, I hated that nickname.”

“Everyone adored you,” you tease, but your voice carries a bit more weight than you’d intended.

The waiter arrives just then with your orders. You both ordered tea, a reminder of the old times. You always enjoyed a good cup of tea together. On top of that, you also took a piece of banana bread.

“So now you’re a dad,” your sentence sounds more like a question than an affirmation, but it’s far from being a question.

“Yep,” he exhales slowly. “Hana changed everything. But in a good way. She saved me from going off the rails, honestly. Gave me something to hold onto when everything else felt loud.”

You nod, watching him, and feeling something inside you stir—a strange mix of admiration and quiet sadness. He’s not just the boy you knew anymore. He’s a man. A father. Still kind, still thoughtful, but heavier now, like he’s carried more than he lets on.

“I’m very happy for you, Guk,” you genuinely say.

Jungkook has it all now, even all the girls in the world. It’s no secret that he dates models or singers, or even actresses. Whenever there are big events, he’s always posing on the red carpet with a new one. Most of the time, you feel absolutely jealous of them. You wished you were the one holding his arm while posing for the cameras.

“You seem to have it all now, and you deserve it,” you add.

He chuckles softly, but you feel like there’s no real humor in it. His fingers tap lightly against his teacup before taking a sip.

 “Yeah, looks like it,” he says with his eyes fixed on the table.

You tilt your head, understanding that he’s not convinced at all by his words.

“I’m doing what I like, so yeah, I have what I always wanted,” he continues, his eyes now shifting up to meet your gaze. “And I have Hana too, but…”

He completely halts, uncertain if he needs to continue and confess to you that he never found love because no girl could ever compare to you. He breaks up with them when he realizes that they can’t give him what you could. Despite what many people think, he has never slept with them. The last person he ever shared an intimate moment with was Miji, Hana’s mother.

It’s stupid because the chances of meeting you again were very low. He could try to find love, but how could he forget his first love? How could he ever forget the first girl he ever loved?

Jungkook never stopped loving you, and he will never. He doesn’t want it.

And somehow, he doesn’t need to say it for you to understand that he’s missing love in his life.

“Not love,” you finish his sentence.

Jungkook simply nods, almost ashamed that you figured it out.

“That’s not how it looks,” you chuckle a bit. “You always have a new woman in your arms.”

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

“They don’t mean anything.”

In a weird way, his words comfort you. It’s like some hope bloomed in your chest.

“Not nice to say that,” you reply. “Especially since they are all very pretty and very well-known.”

Jungkook takes a moment before replying to you. He just shrugs.

“I don’t care,” he finally says.

It definitely baffles you that such a handsome and good-looking man doesn’t care at all about the women he’s associated with. And most importantly, from what you remember, he wasn’t like that. Or at least, not with you.

“They don’t have what I’m looking for,” he confesses. “And most of the time, they don’t like Hana.”

That is an absolute lie. They all adore Hana, and they adore even more to see him interact with her, but he doesn’t want to sound like an absolute jerk. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s a cold-hearted person.

“Who wouldn’t like her?” you say with surprise. “She’s absolutely adorable!”

“I know,” he smiles with pride swelling in his chest.

You take a bite of the banana bread. You absolutely adore it. The way they do it in this café is mind-blowing. You’ve already begged the owner to tell you her secret, but she refuses.

“This is my favorite banana bread,” you confess with your mouth full.

A smile stretches across his handsome face, and it feels like you’ve been brought back to when you were seventeen and taking lunch breaks together.

Jungkook also takes a bite, and he has to confess that it’s pretty good.

“It’s not bad,” he says.

“Not bad?” you say, widening your eyes. “It’s fucking delicious!”

He chuckles at your reaction. He can’t help but find you extremely adorable. Even though eleven years have gone by, you’re still the same. You haven’t changed a bit.

“I’m kidding,” he replies. “It’s super good. Might be coming back for more.”

After that, you keep talking about random stuff and remembering good old times. Even though things have changed, everything still feels the same. The way your heart beats around each other. The way you smile at each other’s silly jokes. Or the warmth wrapping around you when you’re together.

Despite everything, the love you feel for each other hasn’t changed a bit.

For the past ten days, you’ve been texting nonstop with Jungkook. It has freed thousands of butterflies inside your stomach, especially when it seems that he’s flirting with you.

Obviously, you push that thought away the second it pops in your head because you’re absolutely sure that he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. It has always been only friendship between you two.

At least, that’s what you believe.

jk: how’s your day going?

you: too many clients today 😫 drained all my energy.

At some point, you thought you wouldn’t be able to follow up on how full your library was. Your library has been growing a lot. It was supposed to be a little and quiet one, but it hasn’t been the case lately. You’re unsure why, but somehow, you’re grateful it’s working even better than you imagined it.

jk: you should hire someone to help

you: maybe but it would cost a lot, and i don’t have the funds yet

jk: i could help if you need

You would gladly accept his help, but you want to do this all by yourself. You don’t want him to invest in your library. You’ll feel like you owe him money, and you don’t want that. You already have a bank loan, and it’s more than enough.

you: i can’t accept it, guk

jk: why not? 🤔

He might be super wealthy, and it probably means nothing to him, but it’ll mean everything to you. And you don’t want that.

You’re lying in your bed, stomach pressed on your mattress as you think of an answer. You’re not sure what to say.

jk: i’ve the means to help you out

you: you should keep your money

jk: i’ve too much

You roll your eyes. Of course, he has. That doesn’t surprise you.

you: i still won’t accept it. keep it to yourself, i’ll manage to find a solution. don’t worry about me and my library

You see the little dots appearing before disappearing and reappearing, and then, his answer pops out.

jk: i’ll always worry about you 🥺

Your heart skips a beat, and your cheeks flush with warmth.

Why does it still affect you like this—the way he says things so simply, like he means every word?

you: you shouldn’t

jk: of course, i should

His reply makes your heart flutter—as if it remembers something your mind keeps trying to forget.

jk: you’re pushing yourself too hard again. and you know you’re not supposed to. i just don’t want to see you burn out.

His concern softens something in your chest. He’s not wrong, and you know it, but right now, your mind is consumed by one thing: the library’s finances.

you: i know. but i can’t accept your money, guk. i need to do this on my own.

You stare at your message for a moment after sending it. And just as you’re trying to quiet the ache in your chest, your phone buzzes, his name lighting up the screen.

He’s calling you.

Your heart skips a beat. Then it starts to race.

“Yn,” he says when you pick up.

You can perfectly hear the concern in his voice.

“Guk,” you reply.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he instantly says. “I’m—”

“You don’t understand,” you cut him off.

“Then explain me.”

You take a deep breath, thinking about how to formulate your thoughts.

“I want…” you close your eyes, flashes of the past coming out. “I want to do something by myself because I didn’t succeed in becoming a swimmer.”

For a brief moment, he doesn’t say anything. You know he’s thinking about what to say because, yeah, this is more than a sensitive subject, and since he has been back in your life, you’ve been reflecting and thinking more about everything. It’s like he’s a reminder of your failure.

“It’s not your fault, yn,” his voice is super soft. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is,” you answer, trying to keep yourself steady as your throat tightens and tears threaten to fall. “I couldn’t handle my health. I couldn’t save myself from drowning.”

His answer is immediate and firm.

“There was nothing you could’ve done, yn,” he says softly.

“You were sick. You are sick. And none of it is your fault.”

He pauses, like he’s choosing every word carefully.

“You didn’t fail. Your body just… gave out on you. That’s not a weakness. That’s not something you could’ve fixed.”

You’re not really convinced. He can’t understand how devastating it is to suddenly learn that you won’t ever be able to become a professional swimmer.

He can’t understand how much it hurts every day to see that scar on your chest because it constantly brings you back to the day you had a seizure and almost died. He doesn’t know how painful it is to hear the doctor tell you that you have epilepsy.

“You can’t understand,” you snap back. “You became a quarterback like you always dreamed of. I had to give up absolutely everything.”

You hear a small silence before he replies.

“Open the door,” his tone is firm.

“What?” you frown.

“Just open the door.”

The doorbell echoes in your apartment before Jungkook puts an end to the call. You see him in the intercom. How and when did he arrive here? You open the door to him, and when he enters your apartment, you instantly notice the swamped hair, the sweat on his face, and the way his t-shirt sticks to his chest.

“How—”

“I was running, and I wasn’t far from your place,” he simply replies.

Lie. He was indeed running, but he wasn’t close to your place, so he walked because he couldn’t let you say all this nonsense.

“You didn’t need…”

“Of course I needed,” he says before you can even finish your sentence.

You take a deep breath, your gaze locked in his. Jungkook doesn’t look away; he actually takes a step closer. His strong cologne instantly invades all your senses, and your brain only focuses on that.

“Maybe I can’t understand what you feel,” he begins. “I managed to follow my dream, and my health is great, but you can explain it to me. You can make me understand without saying shit about yourself.”

His breathing is now heavy, and somehow, he seems infuriated. It almost sounds like you disrespected him.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he continues. “You almost died, but you still managed to make it through. You opened your library despite all the health complications that epilepsy brings.”

You close your eyes, trying to hold back your tears.

“Yes, you gave up on your dream, but you’re here, which to me is more important than anything else. We both know how hard the first months were after your first seizure,” he shakes his head. “I saw every single seizure you did after, completely powerlessly. I was dying on the inside when you were crying after each seizure, blaming yourself more and more about how you couldn’t control your disease.”

It’s hard to remember those days clearly—not because they weren’t painful, but because your mind was too fogged to hold onto anything. You were barely functioning, caught in a cycle of seizure after seizure, your body aching like you’d been hit by something massive—a truck, a plane.

But worse than the muscle pain, worse than the exhaustion, was your brain.

It felt like it had been electrocuted inside your skull. Everything was hazy, heavy, like trying to think through thick glass underwater. You couldn’t focus. Even simple thoughts scattered before you could hold onto them. You also barely remember what happened, but your body didn’t.

Your body didn’t forget this kind of pain. It actually was traumatic. It still is.

And the worst part? No one could see that pain.

Unless someone’s lived with epilepsy, they’ll never really understand how it rips through your mind as much as your body.

Tears start streaming down your face, and Jungkook grabs you, holding you tightly in his embrace. You don’t hold back anymore, crying in his arms. They bring comfort, the same they did eleven years ago. And right now, you regret how you pushed him away.

As you were trying to hold yourself together in the middle of the seizures you were having, you pushed him away. It happened after he told you that he’d wait a year before going to uni to pursue his dream. He wanted to help you navigate this new journey, but you refused.

You couldn’t be the reason why he’d put his dream on hold. You’d feel guilty, so you did the most stupid thing and stopped talking to him. Didn’t answer his calls or messages. You’d always find an excuse to not let him in the hospital room. You hated yourself, but you thought he’d be better like that.

His fingers slowly and gently soothe your back, trying to comfort you as your tears soak the fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks for offering your help,” you whisper into the crook of his neck. “But I really can’t accept it,” you continue. “Let me just do it by myself.”

Jungkook simply holds you tighter, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, he’ll lose you over again. You can feel his breath slow against your shoulder, heavy with everything he’s not saying.

He really wants to help you, but he can’t force you to accept it. However, what he can do is be by your side now, be an emotional support, and make sure that you take care of yourself.

“Okay,” he says in defeat. “I won’t push, but don’t push me away either, yn. Not this time.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. It’s painful for the two of you to remember the time when you were putting as much distance as possible between you.

“Let me help you in the way you’ll let me. Just let me be by your side.”

You simply nod before holding him tight again in your arms.

“Plus, I’m sure Hana would be happy to spend more time in your library,” he chuckles.

A smile grows on your face as you remember his adorable daughter. He, for sure, did an amazing job of raising her. She’s just as equally charming as he is. Jungkook hasn’t spoken yet about her mother, probably because it’s a sensitive subject. In the end, their relationship didn’t work out, so it mustn’t be easy to speak about it.

Eleven years ago

Your heart is beating crazily in your chest as you stand on the diving board. Your eyes are focused on the water, your ears on the whistle, but your mind is ages away from here. It somehow feels like you’re completely high, while you know you haven’t touched anything.

You think that it could be tiredness, but for the past days, you’ve been sleeping eight hours at least per day. So, it shouldn’t be that. You actually ignore totally why you feel like that. However, one thing is certain: something is off.

But you push the thought away as you need to focus. This is a competition, the biggest one in swimming. You’re already proud to be here. You’ve worked so hard. And now, you just have to give your best.

You’re not hoping to win; some of the best swimmers are standing next to you, so you know you don’t stand a chance. Nonetheless, you still want to impress the jury. You’ll probably see them again in other competitions, and you want them to have a good souvenir of you.

Your parents and Jungkook are present. They always are. They have been incredibly supportive, and it always gives you so much strength when you know they are there. You almost feel invincible.

The starter blows the whistle, announcing the beginning of the competition.

All the swimmers throw themselves into the water, but as you do so, everything goes pitch black. It’s like you’re jumping into the void.

The second Jungkook realizes you’re not going to resurface, he runs to the swimming pool. Everybody around him is slowly understanding that you’re drowning, but by the time they do, Jungkook is already jumping into the water.

He might not be as fast as you, but man, seeing you dying gives him superpowers. He’s invincible now.

A red spot appears around you as it’s noticeable that you’re bleeding. Jungkook doesn’t let himself think; he just swims towards you. The other swimmers are also heading in your direction.

Your best friend catches you while you’re convulsing in his arms, and everybody around him helps him to get you out of the water. They place you in the safety lateral position. The medical staff approaches you all.

“Please take a step back,” one of them yells.

Jungkook does it without even blinking, but his heart is literally dying. He’s powerlessly watching you convulsing on the floor, drool dripping from your mouth, and your eyes rolling back. Your face is as pale as he has ever seen before, but what pains him the most is the blood running through your body. Your blue swimsuit is even turning into a violet shade.

He's trying to see where the blood is coming from, but it feels like it’s coming from everywhere. He knows that the injury is bad, more like really bad. There will be months of recovery from this. Maybe even more.

His eyes are glued to the scene playing in front of him. You’re clearly having a seizure, you were basically drowning, and you’re bleeding from everywhere. Never in his life has he ever felt like this. Powerless and in pain.

“What’s going on?” your mom screams when she calls for you.

“Ma’am,” one of the staff turns around to look at your mother. “Please stay back.”

“That’s my daughter,” her voice trembles as she says those words out loud.

“We need to give her some room,” he explains. “She’s having a seizure.”

The world under his feet opens and swallows him entirely. This is too heartbreaking.

“There’s nothing we can do right now, and it’s best we give her some space so she doesn’t get hurt.”

Your mother simply nods.

Then, you stop convulsing. Instantly, the medical staff checks for your heartbeat. Jungkook can see by the look on their faces that they are dead worried. Your heartbeat is faint. Too faint. For a terrifying second, he thinks he’s losing you.

But for the first time, he finally breathes when he sees you opening your eyes. Without thinking twice, he gets even closer, hoping to reach for you. However, he forces himself to stay back. They are the professional ones. They know what they’re doing. They are the ones who can help you.

You cough violently, water spilling past your lips, your body shaking weakly with the effort. He’s never heard a sound so awful at the same time.

“Yn,” a medical calls for you.

You don’t react at all. You just look into the void for a couple of seconds before falling asleep again. Jungkook’s heart sinks again. Are you dying?

It feels like a lifetime has happened since he jumped into the water, when in fact, it’s been maybe five minutes. Everybody is watching the medical staff taking care of you, hoping to hear some good news in the next seconds.

A minute later, you open your eyes again. You look around with confusion, but as the medical staff speaks to you, you focus on them and reply to their basic questions like ‘what’s your name?’, ‘what day is it?’, ‘what’s your birthday?’, ‘how old are you?’, and ‘where are we?’

Luckily, you manage to reply to all of the questions, which reassures everybody around you.

“My lungs hurt,” you then say. “A lot.”

And before they can even check you up, you’re having another seizure. Jungkook never thought it would be possible to be this devastated. The pain in his heart is something he has never experienced, and it’s not because you rejected him.

It just looks like you’re dying.

The rest blurs together in a haze of sirens and hands lifting you onto a stretcher. The paramedics work quickly, voices sharp with urgency, and before Jungkook can even process it, you’re being rushed to the hospital.

Hours later, the verdict comes: surgery. You’d perforated a lung, water filling where it should never have been. They think you struck something under the surface when you went under. The thought of how close he came to losing you will haunt Jungkook forever.

The following months are nothing short of hell. You’re alive, yes, but barely holding on—your body a battleground of seizures and relentless pain. Nights blur into days filled with monitors beeping, the metallic tang of hospitals, and your quiet sobs muffled against a pillow. Every time you remember you’ll never swim professionally again, the grief rips fresh through you. You cry until there’s nothing left, until anger becomes easier than despair.

And so you push everyone away. Coaches. Friends. Even Jungkook. Especially Jungkook. He keeps trying—showing up, sitting by your bedside, waiting for you to let him in. But every time, your walls are higher, your words sharper, designed to wound because the pain inside you needs somewhere to go.

When it’s time for him to leave for university, Jungkook makes one last attempt. He stands outside your room for a long time, heart pounding, rehearsing the words he’s wanted to tell you for years. But the moment he steps in, the air is heavy with bitterness, and your voice—cold, harsh, nothing like the girl he loves—cuts through him.

He swallows his confession, tucks it away where you’ll never hear it, and walks out instead.

It’s the one decision that will brand itself into him forever—the moment he let fear and heartbreak silence him. The moment he let you go.

The stadium is still humming with leftover energy—a low, electric buzz from the roaring crowd, the echo of the final whistle still hanging in the night air. Fans are filing out slowly, waving flags and shouting chants, while reporters swarm the edge of the field, barking questions into microphones, cameras flashing like tiny bursts of lightning.

But Jungkook doesn’t hear any of it.

He hears her.

“Daddy!”

The moment her voice cuts through the noise, his helmeted head turns, scanning the crowd until he finds her—right where she always waits, behind the security rope near the tunnel. She’s bouncing on her toes, arms waving like she’s trying to flag down an airplane.

She’s wearing his team’s hoodie, three sizes too big, practically swallowing her whole. The sleeves flop past her fingers, the hem brushing her knees. Her cheeks are flushed pink from excitement, and her dark curls are flying in every direction, messy from jumping and cheering.

But that smile hits him like a punch straight to the heart. Pure joy, all for him. Nothing else matters.

He jogs over without even unstrapping his helmet, weaving past the cameras and security. His cleats thud against the turf, the adrenaline of the game still buzzing through his limbs, but everything slows when he reaches her.

He bends down and scoops her into his arms in one fluid motion, lifting her like she weighs nothing.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs.

She squeals as he spins her once, her giggle ringing out over the chaos. He presses a kiss to her temple through her curls, and her tiny arms squeeze tightly around his neck.

“You were so fast!” she exclaims, beaming.

He chuckles, finally catching his breath.

“Only because I knew you were watching.”

And for a few precious seconds, with his daughter in his arms and the world blurring behind them, Jungkook doesn’t feel like the most famous quarterback in the country. He just feels like her dad.

Right next to them stands his mother, fondly watching this scene. When it’s his week and he has a game, his mother comes with her. It is a grandma and granddaughter time before he joins them after the game.

This right here is the only medicine he needs.

But for a moment, his mind drifts to you, and he wishes you were here.   

“How’d I do?” he grins.

She squints dramatically, pretending to think.

“Mmm... six out of ten.”

He seems offended by her answer.

“Six?! I threw two touchdowns and didn’t get sacked once!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t wave at me when they showed you on the big screen.”

Jungkook groans, exaggerated, but it doesn’t surprise him. She always complains when he doesn’t wave at her after he scores.

“I knew I forgot something important.”

She giggles, tugging at his chin strap like she’s inspecting him. Her hands seem so small as she touches it.  

“You’re sweaty.”

Now, he’s the one giggling. Well, it’s more than normal to be sweating after an hour of intense game, otherwise it would have been surprising.

“That’s what greatness smells like,” he replies, his eyes glued to his little girl.

She makes a face, but even like that, he finds her absolutely adorable.

“Greatness smells gross.”

He laughs and sets her down gently before he fully removes his helmet. She immediately reaches for the towel slung over his shoulder and starts wiping at his face, way too seriously for someone who still mixes up her left and right shoes.

“Let me fix you,” she says with a frown of concentration. “You’re all crooked.”

Jungkook kneels so she can straighten his jersey collar, then lightly bops his nose.

His eyes quickly look up at his mother. She’s fondly looking at them, and he offers her a bright smile. Even though he adores having his daughter here, he also always looks forward to seeing her. She’s always been there, long before Hana came into the picture.

“There,” she announces, his eyes drifting back to her. “Superpowers back on.”

He just stares at her for a second, a stupid grin softening his entire face. He’s so weak around her, but he’s also the happiest dad. Everything feels a lot better when she’s near him.

“You know,” he says quietly, “scoring in front of thousands of people doesn’t feel half as good as seeing you right after.”

She beams, rocking on her heels.

“Even if I only give you six out of ten?”

“Even then.”

He grabs her hand and stands up, lacing their fingers together. They walk closer to his mom.

“Wanna go get ice cream? My treat. For surviving another one of Daddy’s games.”

“Only if I get to pick the music in the car.”

“Even if it’s that same song twenty times in a row?”

She nods, and he still asks his mother if she wants to join, but it’s not really a question. Even if she says ‘no’, he’ll bring her along. There’s no way he’s leaving her out when she always takes care of Hana while he plays.

As they walk away, the noise of the crowd fades. Because for Jungkook, the real win is always waiting at the end of the tunnel—hoodie too big, judgment sharp, and love unconditional.

After getting the ice cream, Jungkook drives his mother back home. She’s sitting next to him, in the passenger’s seat. Hana’s booster seat is buckled in the back, her sneakers swinging just above the floor. She had a fancy ice cream. That’s how she calls a chocolate with rainbow sprinkles ice cream.

Her music of choice is playing in the car: a sparkly pop song she knows every word to.

Jungkook drives with one hand on the wheel, the other drumming lightly to the beat. He glances in the rearview mirror and smiles as she sings along, slightly off-key, but with full commitment.

His mother also knows all the lyrics—she also gets to hear it on repeat whenever her granddaughter is around. The three of them happily sing along.

“You know the entire setlist better than me,” he teases Hana.

“That’s because you’re always listening to boring adult songs.”

“Hey,” he laughs, “Queen is not boring.”

“It sounds like something grandpas listen to.”

She goes quiet for a moment, staring out the window. The lights of the stadium are still visible behind them, glowing against the night sky.

“You looked really cool today,” she says suddenly. “When you ran and threw that ball. Everyone cheered.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens just slightly—not from pride, but from how small her voice sounds when she says it.

“Thanks, baby,” he says softly.

Another pause.

“But you’re still my dad first, right?”

That gets him. He glances at her again in the mirror—her face half-lit by passing streetlights, her eyebrows pulled together just a little.

“Always,” he says, his voice low and certain. “Before the game, during the game, after the game. Every second.”

She looks satisfied with that answer and goes silent once more. Jungkook then discusses with his mother about the game and what she did with Hana while watching the game.

It’s more than evident to him how proud his mother is, and although he’s a dad now, he’ll forever do anything to make his mother proud.

“Can we get pancakes tomorrow?” Hana suddenly asks.

“You just had ice cream,” Jungkook instantly says.

“Yeah, but that was for after the game. Pancakes are for the next morning. It’s tradition.”

Jungkook grins, shaking his head.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know,” she mumbles.

Both Jungkook and his mother laugh at her answer. She’s unbelievable.

A couple of minutes later, they reach his mother’s house. Hana almost starts crying when she leaves the car because she doesn’t want her grandma to go, but in the end, his mother promises to come tomorrow.

While he drives back to his place, she falls asleep in the back. A smile grows on his face when he sees her peacefully sleeping in the back.

This definitely was a good day for him.

At night, in his bed, as he’s falling asleep, his phone buzzes, notifying him that he just received a text message. By reflex, he grabs his phone, and a smile grows on his face when he sees your name.

you: i saw the game

Then a second message appears.

you: congrats for the victory 🥳

A strange but welcomed warmth wraps around him like a blanket, and it feels absolutely wonderful. Everything feels wonderful with you.

jk: thanks ☺️ it wasn’t an easy win

His heart burns for you. It always has. But now it burns differently. Slower. Deeper. Steadier.

Back then, it was all adrenaline, fleeting glances in crowded hallways, nerves before a text, the ache of wanting and never quite saying it. But now, it’s something else.

you: yeah, seems like it, but you smashed them all 👀

Jungkook hesitates for a long time. Does he tell how much he wanted to have you there? Does he not? What’s sure is that he definitely wanted you there.

jk: wished you were there, too

His heart is beating fast, too nervous about what he is going to say.

jk: like old times

Eleven years ago, you’d go to all his games. You’d never miss any of them, and he’d always look for you in the crowd. When he’d see you, his heart would skip a beat. However, any time he’d find you, you wouldn’t be looking at all at the game which sometimes would make him sad. But in the end, what mattered was your presence.

you: well hopefully next time i’m invited

He smiles because he’ll for sure invite you to the next game.

jk: then consider yourself invited for the next game

Tomorrow morning, he’ll grab a ticket for the next game. Hana will be with her mom by then, so she won’t be waiting by the tunnel, but maybe someone else will.

jk: try actually watching this one this time 😏

He smirks as he sends it, not expecting anything serious. But your reply comes quickly.

you: what!! i always watch 😤

He laughs under his breath. He’s not buying it.

jk: you just stared at the ground half the time & i saw you

you: excuse me i’m offended now

He can see your pouty face. Probably crossing your arms. Maybe rolling your eyes too.

jk: not as offended as i was in high school

He pauses for a second.

jk: you never looked at me when i played

His fingers hover for a second before he types again.

jk: but i didn’t care. you were there and that was enough

This part—that’s the honest part. The one he’s not sure he should’ve sent. He exhales, waiting.

you: i always supported you even when i pretended not to watch

His pulse quickens.

jk: pretended?

You don’t answer right away. He sits up straighter, eyes fixed on your typing bubble.

you: i was always watching, just… not when you looked at me

He tilts his head, lips twitching into a knowing smile.

jk: you got shy?

you: yes

jk: why?

That question hangs heavy. His heart kicks a little harder. He already knows. But still—

jk: we were best friends…

you: you were different on the field

jk: different how?

He already feels where this is going, but he wants to hear it. Needs to.

jk: hotter?

He winces a little. Did he go too far? But then—

you: yes

jk: and now?

He’s not sure if he wants to know the answer, and he closes his eyes when he hears the ping, notifying him that you answered.

The second he reads it, he swears that he will die in his bed.

you: still the case

Fuck, the girl he’s been having a crush on has been finding him hot all this time. And man, it makes him weak. Thank god that he’s in his bed because otherwise, his knees would have betrayed him.

Jungkook decides then to press on the little microphone to record a voice note.

“Fuck… yn—” he softly exhales. “You’ve no idea how fucking hot you are.”

Jungkook knows how to flirt. If there’s anything else other than football in which he excels, it’s flirting. All the girls he has been with, he seduced them before, even though nothing happened in the bedroom.

But here with you, it’s different. It’s not flirting. It’s admitting the raw truth. The truth is that he has been dreaming about you for years. His mind has been going crazy since the second his eyes landed on you. He can’t really pinpoint the moment he fell in love with you because it was happening slowly until he couldn’t think about anything other than you.

“You’re messing with my head right now,” he finishes.

He presses the bottom send and patiently waits for your answer. He was expecting a simple text message, but you surprised him by sending a voice note.

“Jungkook,” you whisper—or should he say, moan.

Fuck, you shouldn’t have sent that. Now he’s growing hard in his Calvin Klein boxers.

“Don’t say it just because I did,” you continue.

He rolls his eyes. This is so typical of you. You’re always scared that somebody might actually be into you. He still perfectly remembers how you were when Jin, another student, was flirting with you. You were convinced that he was doing it out of pity—when, truth being told, he was so down bad for you.

“I’m serious, yn,” he whispers with a deep voice. “You’re so fucking hot that I could come in my pants like a fucking teenager by simply looking at you.”

Jungkook feels so vulnerable right now, but he couldn’t care less. He’s finally confessing his feelings for you, and he wants to do it properly. He doesn’t want to half-confess.

He runs a hand through his hair, his breath shaky.

“God, I sound insane…” he mutters with a breathless laugh, “but I don’t care. I’ve wanted you for so long. I still do. It’s not just the way you look—it’s everything.”

His voice drops again. Slower. Rougher.

“The way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you look at me like I’m still that kid you knew… it drives me fucking crazy.”

He hesitates. Then adds, quieter:

“It always has.”

Then your answer comes quite quickly. His mind is going absolutely feral, and if you were here with him, he’s absolutely sure that it would end with you both in his bed going wild.

“I don’t know how you expect me to breathe after that,” your voice is shaky. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those things since I was 16, and now that you are…”

There’s a pause, your breathing is heavy, and your voice is obviously filled with lust and heat.

“I’ve never stopped wanting you, and it was never just physical,” you say, and for a moment, you seem to hesitate to continue. “But god… if you touched me right now, I’d probably melt.”

Jungkook’s hand is always going south, palming his hard cock.

“A part of me has always been yours, and I didn’t even realize how much,” you pause, your breathing heavier than before, “until you said my name like that.”

He knows he’s fucked. Way too fucked. There’s no way that after this, he’ll keep his hands to himself when he’s near you. Man, if he could, he’d already be on his way to your place to have you contorting with pleasure beneath him. 

“Fuck—,” his raspy voice murmurs. “If I didn’t need to wake up early tomorrow, I would be on my way to your place.”

He knows damn well that you can hear him palming himself, but he wants it. He wants you to know how much he craves you right now.

What he doesn’t expect, though, is your call. You don’t answer with a voice note. No, you’re actually calling him. And the second he picks up, he hears how desperate, needy, and fucked you are. He never thought he’d hear that one day.

“Jungkook—,” you moan when he picks up. “You can’t turn me on like that over the phone,” you’re having difficulty breathing.

And then, he hears it. The lewd sound of your arousal.

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks without answering you.

You hesitate for a second.

“Yes,” you honestly say. “You?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “I’ve been rock hard since you moaned my name.”

You softly moan at his words. Fuck, he won’t last long if you keep moaning like that when he hasn’t even touched you.

“Tell me how you’re doing it,” he says.

He can’t be with you right now, but he wants to imagine it. And he can only do that if you describe it.

“I’m rubbing my fingers between my folds.”

His cock throbs in his hand, his rhythm increasing while he closes his eyes. This pleasure is consuming him like never before.

“But it’s not enough,” you moan. “I need you, Guk.”

Oh damn, you can’t say it like that. You can’t beg him to be with you; he’s losing himself.

“Don’t beg, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I can’t be with you right now.”

Now, he’s cursing his job for being this intense. He doesn’t even know when he can be with you. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to see you before his next game, which is next week. But he can’t wait that long. Not after this call.

“Keep touching yourself,” he continues.

His mind is going crazy with all the things he wants to do to you, so he’s just going to say them out loud to give you a preview of what he’ll do to you.

 “When we’ll be together, I’ll kiss you like a starved man. I’ll take my time to taste those sweet lips of yours before going down to your jaw, then to your collarbone until I reach your perfect breasts.”

You whimper, his name falling from your lips for the thousandth time tonight.

“I’ll suck and lick your nipples while you moan my name like you’re doing right now. And just as you did seconds ago, you’ll be begging me to touch you,” he halts for a second, his breathing heavier than ever. “As the weak man that I am, I’ll give in and give you what you want.”

He has dreamed of this so many times. He has jerked himself off—as right now—to the thought of you moaning his name while he fucks you nice and slow.

“I’ll kiss your pussy before sucking and licking it like my life depended on it,” he exhales softly, his voice only getting deeper and deeper. “And once you’re dripping on my tongue, I’ll push my fingers inside you, showing you no mercy.”

Now, his ears only hear you moaning and the sound of your arousal. It’s the sweetest melody he has ever heard.

“Right after you orgasm, I’ll push my hard dick inside you to fuck you nice and slow.”

He can hear that you’re very close to your orgasm. And that only makes him closer to coming shamelessly on his hand. This time around, he won’t be coming because of his wild imagination. He’ll be coming to the sound of your voice.

“Fuck, Guk,” you moan.

“As the perfect baby girl that you are, you’ll take everything that I give you. You’ll be moaning out loud while I fuck you over and over again.”

Well, he can’t keep talking as he’s moaning too. And well, he absolutely doesn’t care. He just moans to the sound of your voice.

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him.

“Then come for me, sweetheart,” he barely manages to say. “Let me hear your pretty voice.”

And that’s it, you’re coming loudly, his name falling from your lips.

“Fuck,” he groans, “you sound so perfect.”

Right there and then, he ejaculates, deep groans leaving his lips. His hand goes still while he pushes his dick in it.

You're both breathing heavily, and none of you hangs up. You stay on the phone while recovering from this wild moment.

“Yn,” he whispers your name.

“Yes?” you reply.

“Next time I see you, I’ll fuck you for hours.”

“And I’ll let you do it.”

Now, Jungkook only wants to ruin you even though he hasn’t had sex in a very long time, and he probably doesn’t know how anymore. But man, he doesn’t care. All he cares about is hearing you moan his name over and over again.  

The past week has been intense—exhausting, chaotic, and honestly? Torturous. But in the best way.

The library’s been busier than ever, and it’s becoming painfully clear that you need to hire someone to help. But every night, without fail, you’ve been on the phone with Jungkook. The conversations have gotten… interesting, to say the least.

Ever since that night—the one where you basically confessed how you felt—things escalated. Fast. You’ve had phone sex. More than once. And let’s just say: no one’s ever made you come that hard without even laying a finger on you. His voice? Dangerous. His dirty talk? Absolutely filthy.

And today? It’s game day.

Which means you’ll finally see him. In person. And you’re excited—probably just as excited as Hana was when she visited your library for the first time.

But you’re also a little nervous. Because if his voice alone can undo you… there’s no telling what will happen when you’re alone with him.

You’ve finally reached your seat located in the VIP area. The area where only close friends and family are allowed. It’s a bit weird to be here, but somehow, it makes you feel important. Like really important.

Jungkook explained to you how to access the area, especially since it was your first time. You’ll also get the opportunity to walk to the tunnels before the game ends, so you can see him right when he leaves.

The VIP area is already buzzing when you arrive, eyes following you as you find your seat. For a second, you feel like an outsider—like you’ve stumbled into a world you don’t quite belong to. But honestly? You couldn’t care less. You’re here for Jungkook.

So you give a polite little smile to the curious stares. Some of these people are probably insanely famous. Or ridiculously important. Or maybe both. But you don’t know any of them.  

After a couple of minutes, the team bursts onto the field. The supporters instantly start clapping, screaming, and chanting. On TV, the noise already seemed huge, but in person, it seems electric. You can feel it in your bones.

Then, through all that chaos, Jungkook looks up. His eyes scan the stands until they lock on you. Just like he does when his daughter is present, he waves at you.

From an outsider's perspective, this would seem rather normal. But you know better. There’s nothing fatherly in the way he’s looking at you right now. It’s a slow burn—intense, direct, like he’s already undressing you in his head.

You try as much as possible to remain composed, but your pulse is racing. This right here makes it even clearer that after the game, things will get very heated between you.

And if this is how he looks at you in front of thousands of people, you can only imagine what’s coming after the last whistle.

Jungkook was a beast during the game. Nobody could stop him, not even a bit. He has scored more than usual, bringing his team to the victory. It was absolutely impressive, and it felt like old times. It felt like you were sixteen again, and Jungkook was a machine.

However, this time around, whenever he’d look at you, you wouldn’t look away. You’d look back at him with the same intensity.

Towards the end of the game, you’re almost panting because he’s looking hotter and hotter. Maybe, you can barely see him under the helmet, but you see enough.

“Jungkook is on fire,” someone says behind you. “Not sure why but I hope he keeps playing like that. We’ll win everything.” 

A smile grows on your face as you hear those people talking behind you about the man that has been making your heart beats for years.

As you used to before, you’re only watching him. You’re not even following the game. You don’t even know and realize what’s going on, but you’re certain of one thing: he’s leading the team to victory.

Every time he scores, he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face, winks and finally waves. Your cheeks heat at his attention, and you get all shy, but it definitely warms your heart. It means more than you can put into words.

As the game edges toward its final minutes, you slip out of the VIP section and make your way toward the tunnels. Jungkook had asked you to wait for him there just like his daughter and mother always do when they come to watch him play.

The fact that he wanted you in that spot, part of that circle, made something warm settle deep in your chest. You couldn’t have said ‘no’ even if you’d tried.

You walk in the tunnel, the roar of the crowd still echoing through the stadium. Every cheer vibrates through the concrete, the sound wrapping around you in waves. Out here, it feels different—contained, heavy with anticipation. Your hands clutch the strap of your bag as you’re holding it with your dear life, your pulse already picking up even though the game hasn’t officially ended.

After this entire week of teasing and steamy phone calls filled with moans, it feels unreal that you’re finally going to be standing in front of him. You’re finally going to be with him, and lord knows what will happen. But you can’t wait to see him.

From your spot, you can glimpse the edge of the field. The clock is winding down. The noise swells, then explodes into deafening celebration. The game is over. Jungkook’s team has won, and the full stadium is cheering their victory. You can’t be prouder.

And then—he’s there.

Jungkook steps into the tunnel, helmet dangling from his fingers, hair damp. His chest is still rising and falling with the aftershock of adrenaline, the black streaks under his eyes making his gaze even sharper. For a moment, he scans the space, searching. Searching for you.

When he finds you, everything about him shifts. His posture straightens. His steps quicken. His eyes—God, those eyes—are locked on you, unblinking, like nothing else exists.

“Yn,” he says as he’s closing the last few feet between you.

You smile at him while you’re simply looking at each other, the world completely disappearing around you. There’s only you and Jungkook. Nobody else.

After all these years, he finally knows about your feelings for him. It makes you feel absolutely vulnerable because he could break your heart. Nevertheless, it feels like a heavy weight has been taken off your shoulders.

But what truly warms your heart is the fact that those feelings have been reciprocated all these years. Jungkook has always loved you more than a friend, and that changes everything.

“Guk,” you say.

“I’m happy you came,” he says with heavy breathing.

The way his eyes linger on you feels like he’s memorizing your face, afraid it might vanish if he blinks.

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitch, almost a smile, but there’s too much emotion in his gaze for him to hide it behind something casual. His hand comes up slowly, hesitating for a second before cupping your cheek. The warmth of his palm sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb traces lightly along your skin, and you can feel his breath growing warmer as he leans closer.

It's absolutely clear what is about to happen, but it doesn’t frighten you. You’ve been dreaming of this since the moment you first met him. You’ve been dreaming of it since you’re sixteen so it’s definitely been a while.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his breathing caressing your lips.

You simply nod, knowing perfectly that your voice will betray you if you speak.

And then—his lips are on yours. It’s not tentative. It’s not a test. It’s a collision.

His mouth moves over yours with urgency, like he’s been starving and you’re the only thing that could ever satisfy him. You taste salt and heat, his breath still fast from the game.

Your fingers clutch the front of his jersey, feeling the damp fabric, the solid wall of muscle underneath. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you closer—tighter—until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the thud of his heartbeat against your chest, matching your own.

The world around you fades—no crowd, no team, no cameras. Just the muffled roar in the distance and the way he’s kissing you like he’s afraid to waste another second.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. His thumb brushes your cheek, slow and almost reverent. His lips are still so close you can feel the ghost of his breath as he murmurs, low and certain: “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s kissing you again.

This time it’s slower, deeper—less the urgency of a first taste, more the ache of finally getting to savor it. His hand slips into your hair, fingers curling at the nape of your neck as his mouth moves against yours, coaxing rather than claiming.

You melt into him, your palms sliding up over the broad plane of his shoulders. The world is still there—teammates jogging past, the faint metallic clatter of equipment—but you couldn’t care less.

He tilts his head just slightly, changing the angle, and the kiss deepens. A low sound rumbles in his chest—half sigh, half growl—and you feel it reverberate through you.

When he breaks away, his thumb brushes over your lower lip like he’s memorizing the shape of it. His gaze locks with yours, heat simmering there, and you know this isn’t just a kiss—it’s a line you’ve both finally crossed.

Somewhere, someone calls his name, but he doesn’t look away. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmurs. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Jungkook opens the door of his impressive apartment, but he doesn’t really give you the time to admire it. It’s crystal clear that he’s fucking desperate, and he only wants you to see his bedroom for now. Maybe later—or tomorrow— he’ll give you a little home tour.

Once inside his bedroom, he hungrily kisses you. His hands are everywhere on your body, worshipping every part of you. He’s touching what he’s been craving for a damn week, even more if he’s honest.

The kiss is intense, filled with hunger and passion. Somehow, it feels like you’ve been doing this for years when your first kiss only happened minutes ago. But damn, his lips are addictive. You could kiss them forever.

When he breaks the kiss, his lips get closer to your ear, whispering what his mind has been thinking of during the entire game.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you?”

You nod with no hesitation. There’s nothing else you’d want right now.

Your hands slide up his chest, greedy now, and your fingers trace the lines of his muscles under the shirt. He’s so bulky. You always knew it. You’ve seen him shirtless many times, but this time around, it feels different.

Your eyes are mesmerized by the way your fingers move along his chest, and Jungkook just takes in the view before him. He shivers at the contact of your hand on his body. It feels even better than in his wildest dreams.

“You look so pretty,” he says, voice low and teasing. “Got all dressed up for me?”

A smirk arises on his face while you look up at him. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. It takes you a couple of seconds to answer him.

Of course, you dressed up for him. You fucking knew what to expect after the game. You knew he’d ruin you after playing like a god on the field. But you wanted to impress him. To look good just for him. To look good before you have sex with him for the first time.

“Yes,” you finally say. “Black is your favorite color.”

When you first met him, he was constantly wearing black, which you found odd for someone so bright like him. So, one day you asked him why, and he simply said that it was his favorite color. And you never forgot it.

His heart flutters. He thought you’d forget it. That it was just a simple detail, but he’s starting to realize that you remembered every single detail just like he did.

“Fuck,” he swears before his lips find your neck.

His hands grip the back of your thighs and ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pulls you closer. The dress rides up shamelessly, bunching at your waist while he grinds against you—hard and getting harder.

Yes, he’s fucking desperate, and he doesn’t even hide it. He doesn’t want to. He wants you to see it. Feel it.

“I need this so bad, sweetheart,” he groans, rutting his hips against you. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

A chuckle leaves your lips, which causes him to tilt his head, looking up at you.

“I guess I can imagine,” you say, your hands cupping his cute cheeks. “I’ve been dreaming about this since I was sixteen.”

His eyes widen.

“Probably since the day we met.”

To say he’s surprised is an understatement. Yes, he’s been craving you with his entire soul since he was young, but probably like two or three months after meeting you.

“Do you remember that day?” you ask, your thumbs stroking the skin of his cheeks.

That simple touch comforts him in a way he can’t explain.

“How could I forget it?” he admits. “For sure, my chest didn’t forget how you hurt it.”

A smile grows on your face. His favorite smile.

“You were late for your swimming training, and I was warming up on the running track of our high school,” he says while he perfectly remembers that moment. One that shook his world completely. “You hit me so violently that we both fell on the floor.”

“And when you made sure I arrived safe and sound at my training, it’s when I fell in love with you,” you confess. “I had literally hurt you, but you didn’t care. And that meant a lot.”

Back then, Jungkook wasn’t yet the golden boy that he’d become. He was still training a lot to get better, but he was already a great player. His mind was only focused on improving. He’d train night and day. And then, after your embarrassing meeting, you trained together.

“And after that day, we’d run together every day,” he concludes.

It feels like it was a lifetime ago. So many things have happened since then, but one thing hasn’t changed. The way your heart burns for him.

One of his hands slides to your chest, his gaze locked on yours. His eyes watch the way you shiver under his touch. It’s the best feeling in the world. Without an ounce of hesitation, he pulls down the cleavage of your dress, revealing your red bra underneath.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Red looks good on you. Might be my new favorite color.”

Before he goes deeper, his gaze shifts up to you.

“Is sex safe with epilepsy?” he asks with concern. “Pleasure won’t be too overwhelming for you?”

His concern warms your heart. Your epilepsy is well under control now, so there’s nothing to worry about.

“No, everything will be fine, Guk,” you press a quick peck on his lips. “As long as you don’t push me to exhaustion and let me sleep after, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’ll be careful then,” he smirks. “I’ll let you sleep in between rounds, but I intend to go wild all night long.”

You shake your head with a bright smile on your face.

“You’re incredible,” you whisper before he intensely kisses you.

“I’ve been craving this all my life,” he murmurs, “and I intend to make it memorable.”

And then, he strips you out of your dress and unhooks your bra. He lets out a soft and filthy sound as he traces your nipples with his thumb. Then, he dips his head to suck at the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Guk,” you gasp.

Your mind keeps going to his hard cock pressed against your belly. He’s so fucking hard, and it’s turning you on incredibly. Your hand then slips between you two, pressing against the thick bulge in his pants and rubbing gently.

He hisses before his hands roam lower again, squeezing your ass harder this time. His eyes look down at you for a moment, appreciating the view before his hungry eyes.

“You’re so perfect,” he groans, his lips finding yours again for a filthy kiss. “So fucking perfect.”

And even though he regretted his entire life for not having confessed his feelings for you, he knows that this right here wouldn’t feel this great. All the longing is making this moment a hundred times better than if it had happened years ago.   

Jungkook pushes you against his pretty big bed, and you gasp as you feel it pressed against the back of your thighs. His hands are everywhere now as he kisses you again. The kiss is hard, messy, and full of tongue. His hand slips between your thighs and pushes them apart. His fingers drag up the heat between your legs, over the soaked fabric of your panties.  

“Fuck,” he breaths, pulling away. “You’re dripping.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a full week,” you admit.

As he did. The burning longing between you has been consuming you more and more as time goes by. Surviving this week with only phone sex was like training nonstop for days. It was nearly impossible.  

And somehow, you don’t really know how, you get bold.

“I’ve been thinking how it’d feel to have your dick in my hands,” you whisper in his ear. “How it’d feel against my tongue, and how I’d suck it.”

“Do as you dreamed, sweetheart,” he growls, low and dangerous.

You get down on your knees while Jungkook pushes his pants down. You look up, your heart hammering and your breath shaky.

Yes, it’s about to happen. You’re about to engage in sexual intercourse with the man of your dreams. You’re literally about to blow him off.

When he frees himself, your eyes widen.

Fuck.  

He’s thick and heavy, tip flushed and glistening, veins running the length like something carved out of marble. It should be a sin to possess such a cock.

“How?” you whisper.

He furrows his brows, not quite understanding your question.

“How did you contain this beast all this time?” you ask, eyes looking up to meet his.

He giggles as he wasn’t expecting this question.

“Don’t know,” he admits. “But it wasn’t easy when my mind would get lost on you.”

“Oh,” you simply say.  

You wrap one hand around him, trying to understand how much you can fit in your mouth, and honestly, you don’t know how.

“Tell me what your mind would think,” you say as you lean in and lick a stripe from the base to the tip, your tongue tracing the curve of a vein.

 The taste of him makes you moan. An honest and desperate sound that vibrates against him. He swears that he’ll come right now if you keep moaning like that.

“You’d be exactly like this,” he begins to say, his hand moving to your hair while his head falls back and his eyes close. “On your knees, your hand around my cock before you’d engulf it in your mouth.”

You wrap your lips around the head, following his words. 

“Fuck—,” he groans. “You’d suck it like a good girl.”

You gently suck the tip, swirling your tongue. Your hand strokes what your mouth can’t take yet, which honestly is already a lot. Jungkook doesn’t dare to look down because he doesn’t want to come yet. It’d make him look like a weak man while he clearly wants to impress you tonight, even though he doesn’t know how. He hasn’t done this in a while.

“Just like in my dreams, you look so fucking pretty,” he groans. “Mouth full of cock…”

You moan again, louder this time, as you take more. Well, Jungkook is absolutely sure right now that he won’t last long. You’re the death of him.

“You’d even choke on it because of how big it is,” he continues.

Spit drips from the corners of your mouth while you suck him harder and deeper. Your makeup is probably starting to look like a mess, but you don’t care. You’re enjoying having him inside your mouth, and you even let yourself choke on it.

Jungkook looks completely wrecked. His lips are parted, chest rising like he’s barely holding on. The fact that he hasn’t had sex in a long time and the fact that you’re sucking him off are making him extremely sensitive.

You don’t know how, but you suck him even harder, your hands gripping his thighs now, and your cheeks hollow with every movement of your head. Nobody has ever driven him this crazy. The pleasure is taking full control of his body.

“Sweetheart—” he mumbles.

You can feel him getting closer and closer to his release. It’s in the way his body tenses and his cock throbs inside your mouth, and you really want him to come inside you. You want to taste him. 

And just when he’s starting to tremble and your throat is getting used to it, he pulls you off with a wet and obscene pop.

“Don’t wanna come inside your mouth,” he admits. “At least not the first time.”

 You’re a bit sad, though, but now, you’re closer to having his dick inside you, which excites you more.

Jungkook kisses you like a starved man, then spins you around to bend you over the bed. His eyes instantly move down to your soaked panties. He pulls them aside and wastes no time in sliding two fingers into you.

You cry out, your fists holding the soft and silky bedsheets like your life depended on it.

“That’s it,” he mutters. “Let me open you up, sweetheart.”

He fucks you with his fingers, slow and deep, while watching you fall apart in front of him. Jungkook bends down, his chest pressed against your back, and his fingers never stop torturing you.

“You’re taking my fingers so well,” he whispers. “Such a good girl.”

Before Jungkook, you didn’t know you were into dirty talking. You actually never imagined yourself enjoying it. At least, your exes would never talk during sex. But he takes the dirty talking to another level. He could have you come just with his deep voice murmuring the deepest filth in your ear.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers out to remove your panties. He then removes the only remaining piece of clothing from his body. Now you’re both naked. You look over your shoulder and admire the man behind you.

He’s a literal god.

It seems impossible to be this hot, and at this precise moment, you feel lucky that, amongst all people, he chooses you. His eyes meet yours, and the softest smile appears on his face. He looks so adorable in the middle of this filthy and steamy moment.

“Put your knees on the bed,” he gently slaps your ass.

You nod before following his instructions. You press your chest against his bed while you push your ass in the air. His hands instantly stroke your ass cheek.

“Please stop me if you don’t feel right, okay?” he asks.

“I told you that it’s safe,” you repeat what you said minutes earlier.

“I know,” he replies. “But I just want to make sure.”

He sounds like a baby, and that couldn’t make you melt more. He’s simply adorable. That’s unfair!

“I’ll let you know in case something happens,” you reassure him.

You bury your face in the bedsheets while his eyes remain on your body. His hand caresses your back, moving down to your ass.

The position is filthy. Your knees are spread wide, your back arched, your ass up in the air, while his fingers are back to teasing your folds. Your heart is hammering in your chest, waiting patiently for him to push his monster inside you. You’re not really sure if you’ll be able to handle it, but you just want him to stretch you out. To make love to you.

“You’re so beautiful, yn,” he whispers more to himself than to you.

He gently removes his fingers before looking through the drawers of the nightstand next to his bed. A couple of days ago, he bought condoms to be ready for when the real deed with you would happen. But he can’t seem to find them.

 “Fuck, I can’t find the condoms,” he says with frustration.

You look behind you, watching him go a bit crazy as he searches for the condoms.

“It’s okay,” you softly reply. “I’m clean. I haven’t had sex for the past three years,” you explain.

Admitting that you haven’t been sexually active in so long makes you feel vulnerable, but you feel absolutely safe around him.

“I’m clean too,” he confesses. “Haven’t done anything in years.”

To say that you’re surprised is an understatement. How can Jungkook not have had sex in years? This man has been dating women over women for years now, and now, he’s telling you that he hasn’t done anything with them. That’s a shock.

“Really?”

He chuckles when he sees your surprised face.

“Yep,” he admits. “Nobody was ever worthy of my dick.”

Now, you’re the one chuckling. This sounds so like him.

“But we’re not going to talk about my lack of sexual activities for the past three years,” he adds as he steps closer to you, his body right behind you.  

“It’s for sure something we need to discuss after,” you reply.

He shakes his head with the biggest smile on his face. He’s not sure he really wants to discuss that with you, but if you bring the topic to the table, he’ll be honest with you. He’ll tell you just how much he couldn’t fuck anyone if it wasn’t you.

“Are you on the pill?” he then asks.

“No,” you answer. “There was no need if I were single.”

And also, it’s not really recommended to take the pill when you’re under an epileptic treatment. Well, your previous partners always used condoms, so you’ve never really discussed the pill with your gynecologist.  

“Right,” he nods. “So we will need to be careful.”

He rubs his shaft along your folds, coating himself with your arousal. Little moans leave your lips as you close your eyes, enjoying this sensation. He’s not teasing; he couldn’t do it. He’s simply preparing the two of you for what’s coming.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asks.

“I’m absolutely sure, Jungkook,” you answer.

And then, he pushes into you in one smooth stroke. Your cry is instant, fingers clawing at the sheets as he bottoms out. The stretch is almost impossible. He’s massive. He feels massive. But fuck, it feels so good.

You haven’t had sex in three years. But god, you missed it. Your body was calling for it. And now, you have it with none other than Jungkook, the guy you had a crush on for more years than you can count.

“You’re so big,” you say.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mumbles.

“Don’t be,” you reply as you turn your head to look at him. “It feels so good.”

“Really?”

While this man is so good at dirty talking, he sounds so innocent right now. Like it’s the first time he’s having sex. Like he’s about to lose his virginity. But in fact, he has a daughter, so he’s definitely far from being a virgin.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, giving you both time to adjust. This all feels new to you two, and well, your walls are swallowing him in a way nobody ever did before. You’re so tight around him, which could make him come undone right now.

And then, slowly, he starts to thrust into you. At first, he goes slow and deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. Moans leave both your lips as pleasure consumes you both. This feels marvelous.   

“Yn,” he moans your name like a prayer. “You’re taking me so well.”

His praise causes pride to swell in your chest. Nobody ever said that to you. And honestly, it looks almost impossible to take him inside you, but you’re doing it. Like a good girl.

His thrusts slowly become more brutal, which makes you jolt forward, your breasts rubbing against the sheets with every bounce. The wet sounds between you are unforgivable, together with the loud moans leaving your lips.

“This is better than anything I imagined,” he mutters. “Wayyy better.”

Then, Jungkook starts to show no mercy to you. His thrusts are absolutely wild, deep, and brutal, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. It feels so fucking good. The sound of his creaking bed starts the echo in the room while you get further lost in the kingdom of pleasure.

“Look at you,” he growls, his voice breaking between thrusts. “Taking my cock like you were made for me.”

Your fingers twist in the sheets as a shiver runs through you, the filthy praise making you grow wetter.

“I’ve thought about this for years,” he confesses, low and rough in your ear. “But nothing—nothing—compares to feeling you like this.”

His hand slides to your hip, gripping hard before pushing your back against him.  

“You feel so fucking perfect. So tight. So warm. Like you never want to let me go.”

Your moan is answer enough, and his pace turns downright ruthless.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Let me hear you. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good,” he hisses, his hand wrapping around your throat.

Jungkook doesn’t tighten his grip; he just applies pressure on your throat. That alone makes you grow wetter, something that he feels as his dick pistons inside you. Your eyes roll back, the pleasure slowly becoming overwhelming.

“You like being choked,” he whispers in your ear. “Such a dirty girl.”

His words send shivers down your spine. This man has you literally wrapped around his fingers. He can make whatever he pleases with you.

“Luckily for you, I love dirty girls.”

He licks the inside of your ear, and god, you’re completely falling apart. But you wouldn’t have it in any other way.

You’re a complete moaning mess by now, only adding to the obscene symphony in the room—the creak of the bed, the wet slap of skin, the tangled chorus of your moans.

“So good,” you manage to say in between moans.

His eyes take a moment to look at you. Your body is trembling with every punishing thrust from behind, your breasts are bouncing at the rhythm of his thrusts, his hand is wrapped around your throat, and your back is pressed against his chest.

It’s a fucking sight he’ll burn into his memory.

His hand lets go of your throat, and you instantly fall forward. He slaps your ass, watching it jiggle. He goes deeper, his hips meeting your ass with a loud slap that echoes in the room.

Jungkook grips your hips tight and fucks you rough and fast now. He doesn’t show any mercy to you.    

“Fuck—” he whimpers. “Wanna cum inside you so bad.”

“Do it,” you reply without any hesitation.

You pregnant with his child… Damn, there’s nothing in the world he’d like more. The simple thought brings him closer to the edge.

Fuck, he wants to get you pregnant so badly. He wants to lie in his bed with you in his arms and dick deep inside you, cockwarming you to sleep. And just to be sure it took, he'd give it to you again and again until it did. And then he’d give you more. 

Until his balls were fully drained and the sheets beneath you soaked, a mix of both your juices sticky over your thighs and his belly, his cum leaking from your pounded out pussy.

The way you'd whimper when he'd gently finger it back inside you, scooping it up and massaging your clit with it, making you cry with overstimulation just to make you cum again with his seed-slicked fingers…

But he can’t.

Not right now.

“Not this time, baby girl,” he replies.

He’s driving into you so hard that it makes you see stars. The two of you are reaching your orgasm; you can feel it. Your legs are shaking, your moans completely out of control, while his thrusts are sloppy and deep.

Jungkook decides to help you out. One of his hands slowly goes down on your body, landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps slamming roughly inside you. 

His fingers on your clit make you explode intensely, and you come hard around him. Your walls squeeze him over and over again while you come all over him. Jungkook doesn’t stop at all; he even speeds up his torturing pace. The coil in his lower stomach tightens, and he knows it’s a matter of seconds before he comes undone.

So he takes his cock, leaving a feeling of emptiness inside you, before he strokes it above your ass. He groans when his orgasm hits him hard, your name rolling off his tongue. His eyes roll back with pleasure, and his body tenses up, his sperm now falling over your ass cheeks.

You both collapse on his bed with heavy breathing. Jungkook rests next to you while his hand strokes your back. After a couple of seconds, he stands up to disappear into the bathroom. He comes back with a towel.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” he says as he gently slaps your ass.

You whimper as he’s gently cleaning your legs and pussy. It feels good to be taken care of, especially from the guy you’ve had a crush on for years. Once he’s over with you, you turn around to look at him. A smile appears on his face when your eyes meet.

Your eyes flicker down to his hand that is cleaning his softened length with the towel. Flaccid, he almost looks ordinary—almost. But you know better. You’ve felt just how far from average he really is.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is low but edged with worry as his eyes search yours. He’s not asking out of politeness; he needs to know.

“Barely alive,” you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. But Jungkook doesn’t really smile. His brow stays furrowed, jaw tense, like he’s replaying every second in his head to check if he pushed you too far.

You rise onto shaky legs, your body deliciously sore, and step closer. Your fingers trace lightly over his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart under your touch.

“I’m really fine,” you whisper, softer now, wanting him to hear the truth in your voice. “This was… mind-blowing, yes. And sure, I might need a couple of days to recover from you…” you tease, lips curving. “But other than that, I feel good. I feel safe.”

His shoulders ease, just barely, but his gaze doesn’t waver from you. There’s still that flicker of fear in his eyes—that he might have hurt you, triggered something, missed a sign.

You cup his face gently. “Guk,” you murmur, “you could never hurt me. As I said before, everything is under control now.”

He simply nods before wrapping his strong arms around you. He’s definitely worried about you and probably will for a long time, but that’s only because he deeply loves you. He never wants to relive again the day he had to save you in the pool.

“Let me get us some water,” he whispers, his lips getting closer to yours to press the most gentle kiss.

As he leaves the room, you take a look around. His bedroom is impressive, like anything else about him, and surprisingly, it’s not devoid of decoration. Of course, he chose darker colors for the wall painting, but it feels like him. Being here is the same as being cuddled by him.

There are pictures of Hana everywhere. In some, she’s just days old. Some other, she’s a couple of months old. In some other, she’s already two. And there’s one on his nightstand. It’s your actual favorite. He’s holding her on his shoulders, and they have the brightest smiles.

“That picture was taken a year ago,” his voice comes from behind you, warm and low. “On her birthday.”

Jungkook steps closer, handing you the glass of water.

“Thanks,” you murmur, fingers brushing his as you take it and sip. “It’s a really good picture.”

He places his glass of water on the nightstand before his hands wrap around your waist, his head placed on your shoulder.

“It’s nice having you here,” he whispers.

You smile, but you don’t dare to look at him. You know you’ll fall even more for him, or worse, you’ll get on your knees.

“It’s nice to be here, too,” you reply.

Jungkook peppers your neck with kisses while you close your eyes, your hands wrapping tightly around the glass of water. As his kisses start to move to your jaw, little and barely audible moans leave your lips. Slowly, his bulge grows against your back. No doubt where this is going.

“Round 2?” he whispers against your jaw.

Things have completely changed since Jungkook came back into your life. Everything is lighter now, as if some invisible weight has been lifted off your chest.

You even stopped fighting him in the library. Eventually, you accepted his financial help, and now it’s thriving even more, which you didn’t think was possible. Every day, when you walk in and see more people, more laughter, more books in readers’ hands, you’re reminded that he didn’t just save the library—he saved a piece of you, too.

And it’s not just you who’s thriving. Since you’ve been back in his life, Jungkook’s been sharper, faster, hungrier on the field. The fans call it his best season yet, and every time he throws that perfect pass or crushes another record, he swears it’s because of you. He says you’re in his head before every snap—your smile, your laugh, the sound of your moans keeping him steady and reckless all at once.

But the real change happens at night. Behind closed doors, your world narrows to him—the rasp of his voice, the heat of his skin, the relentless way he claims you over and over again. Your bedrooms have become sanctuaries of fire and whispers, where moans echo against the walls, skin slaps in frantic rhythm, and headboards knock like desperate applause.

Sex has never been like this before. It’s not just good—it’s consuming. He doesn’t just fuck you; he ruins you, bends you until you’re trembling and begging, only to drag another orgasm out of you when you swore you had no more to give. He never seems to tire. Sometimes he teases you slow, murmuring filth against your ear until you’re dripping and desperate. Other times, he takes you like a man starved, pounding into you until you can’t think of anything but him.

And the craziest part? Every time, he makes you feel like this is the best he’s ever had. Like nothing else has ever compared. His praise is endless—you’re so fucking tight, yn… look at the mess you’re making for me… taking me so good, baby—and the more he talks, the hotter it gets.

Still, when it’s over, when your bodies are tangled together, slick with sweat and trembling, there’s a softness in the way he holds you that no words can match. The man who spends his days destroying defenses and his nights destroying you is the same man who pulls you into his chest, kisses the top of your head, and whispers like you’re his whole world. And that, more than anything, is why everything feels better now.

You

yep

i'm studying

exams tomorrow

JK

:(

can i come over

You

yes but don't be a distraction

JK

u know i can't help it 😪

You

🙄

i'm busy stop texting me

JK

will be there in five

You

door's open no need to knock

JK

see u 😉

Maybe you should have just pursued a course in creative writing... Or maybe culinary arts. Maybe something connected with baking. You love baking, right?

Maybe if you picked a college program based on your hobbies, you have better sleep. Maybe you are happier. At 11:51 PM, maybe you are already sleeping soundly on your bed, next to your emotional support stuffed toy, with your favorite weighted blanket on your exhausted being.

But you didn't. You can't.

So here you are, sitting in a swamp of written notes, books, and colorful post-its (that you haven't found any helpful use yet), having a crisis over your career choices.

"You want this, YN." you remind yourself, shaking your head.

Your digital clock on your study desk just ticked the time to 11:52 PM. It has been almost three hours since you began your planned all-nighter for tomorrow's exam.

"I want to cry." you sighed, your forehead softly hitting your desk. "But I don't have the time for that."

Groaning, you opened one of the textbooks you borrowed from the library. You tried to process every word you came across. But considering that you went straight from your eight-hour shift from your part-time job, you only managed to comprehend half of the sentences you read.

"I wish I was born as a nepo-baby."

Another random thought rolled off your tongue instead of understanding where the hell the spine of the scapula is. Admittedly, you find it hard to locate the muscles in the human body when you only have a 2D version of it. But you don't have those 3D models that can help you to learn and remember better, so you will settle for pointing your index fingers at flat images on the book pages.

"Trapezius... Acromion... Deltoid..."

Reciting the muscles in the familiar tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", you began pointing to certain areas of your body. It was one of the studying techniques you have been using since you were younger. So far, it's helping. You keep doing it for the other parts.

"Subscapularis..."

But the longer you sang, the words slowly rambled in your tongue and your eyelids got heavier. You were so close to drifting away until you heard the familiar click of your door. Your head snapped up instantly. You hear his voice greeting your roommate who's probably watching her favorite show in the living room.

"Pizza and ice cream. Want some?" you heard him offer.

He brought food?! Of course, he did. He's Jungkook. For the first time since you sat in front of your study desk, a smile formed on your lips. Shaking your head, you just read your notes again. It didn't take long for your bedroom door to open. The scent of a freshly baked pizza filled every corner of your room. And there, you see him coming in with a smile on his pierced lips.

"Oh, hello, gorgeous."

Jungkook was surprised to see you already looking at him when he entered your room. Usually, he would find your nose dipped between your textbooks when he visits during your study sessions.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, "I know, I looked like a mess right now. Just give me my prized pizza and ice cream please."

He laughed, not because he agreed with you, but because you are always quick to turn down his micro-flirting. He sometimes thinks that it keeps him grounded.

"And you got the coffee ones! This is why you're my favorite hookup buddy." you quipped before kissing his cheek, elated by the ice cream he got you.

"I'm honored. Thank you." he replied, before getting a slice of pizza.

Both of you know that you don't have any other hookup buddy. You're not that adventurous. It's just something you joke about.

"How's the studying going?" he asked before sitting on your bed.

"Shit." you shake your head, tired. "But this ice cream makes me feel a little better."

Jungkook smiled at that. He listened as you went on telling him about something that happened in your shift earlier today. But he ended up studying you. Because contrary to what you said earlier, you are too pretty, he finds it distracting. You were tired, it's written on your face. But the way your eyes light up as you share your story makes your face glow. With your desk lamp being the only light in your room, it perfectly highlights the small smile on your lips after you take another spoonful of the cold dessert.

"Why did you come here anyway?"

Your sudden question snaps Jungkook out of his daze. He cleared his throat.

"I-I'm bored and you're up."

He was not bored. In fact, he missed a party he was invited to tonight because it has been four days since he last saw you. He was busy with his training and practice, while you were working two jobs and studying. You two were just texting each other these days and with how rare you reply during the daytime, he knew that tonight is probably the best time to see you.

You sigh, "I told you, I'm studying for tomorrow. I can't do anything with you right now."

"And I didn't say we have to do anything. I'm just happy to be here. I'm like little Bear right there." he replied, pointing to your stuffed toy who was sitting next to him.

"Okay, I'll go back to studying. Is that okay?" you asked, putting on the lid of your half-finished ice cream.

He winked, "Of course."

Jungkook is that person you probably know for too long. Like, someone you should have met only once or twice or occasionally. Not like this, in which you see each other almost every day.

When Liz, your roommate, introduced you two to each other during some Halloween party, in which you came as Dorothy from The Wizards of Oz and he was Peter Pan, you did not expect to start any kind of connection with him. You remembered thinking to yourself how exhausting it was to have him around with how he seemed so full of energy, not knowing then that he also enjoyed the same little things you did. You two became real friends after bumping into one another in a record store an hour away from your uni.

Because you feel that you two always stood on opposite ends of any scale. You were a reserved working student with introverted tendencies while on the opposite, Jungkook is a known varsity star, who's rumored to be a CEO's son (He is. He admitted it to you), on campus with a charm that works for everyone.  Just like how great he is at playing basketball, he is equally good at socializing and making new connections. That charm definitely worked for you a year ago because one thing led to another and now, he is in your bed, casually scrolling on his phone.

"Why do you have a camera with you?" you broke the silence after reading for god knows how long. Yet, you are unsure if you picked up anything from it.

He looked up, reaching for the camera bag he brought with him earlier, "It's a new one, my dad brought it to me as a gift."

"For what? Your birthday was like three months ago," you asked even though you already had an answer in your head.

"I helped him with some documents," he replied, knowing that you would say something after.

"Spoiled." you teased him.

"Haters gonna hate," he responded with a sassy roll of his eyes, you laughed. "Anyway, I'm kinda testing it out. So, if you don't mind..."

He placed the camera in front of him, aligning its viewfinder to his left eye. You put the back of your hand under your chin with a tight smile on your lips, posing. Click. A shutter sound and a bright flash followed. You see Jungkook look down at his camera to check the outcome. A small smile forms on his lips.

"You have too many pictures of me," you told him.

Every single time you two are together, he takes a picture of you. You don't really mind even though some shots are candid. Some of the pictures of you he took are the only ones you have on your Instagram. He's good at it, but sometimes, you worry you will get used to being his muse.

"I'm thinking of making an exhibition out of it." he said.

Sensing his sarcasm, you ride on with it, "Yeah, you can title it with something like, The Life Of An Overworked Twenty-Something Student. I looked exhausted in all those photos. An ugly, dry potato."

"I think you look pretty in all of them."

And it didn't help that he complimented you a lot after taking pictures of you. It just scares you that you feel a light feeling in your stomach when you see him smile after taking a shot of you or when he calls you gorgeous or pretty.

But instead of letting the giddy feeling show, you just smiled, "Of course you do, you're sleeping with me. You will always find me attractive."

It was almost an hour later when Jungkook paused the video he was watching on his phone to once again try his camera. A camera nerd, he was watching a clip about his new camera's settings. Of course, he was in his earphones so that he wouldn't get to distract you.

After modifying some parts of the settings, Jungkook placed his camera in front of his right eye, ready to capture another picture of you. But before he could click the button, he noticed your shoulders shaking.

His right eyebrow raised as he slowly put down his camera.

"YN?"

He heard you hiccup before humming, "Hmm?"

"YN, can you look at me?" he asked since you kept your back turned to him.

"Not now, I'm busy." you sobbed, failing to hide from Jungkook.

He frowned, getting up from your bed, "YN, baby..."

"No, I said-"

Before you could continue denying, Jungkook already pulled the swivel chair you were sitting on closer to him. You covered your face with your palms since you hated crying in front of anyone. Jungkook tries to remove it softly but you shake your head.

"Please, let me see your face. It's okay," he whispered while his thumbs drew circles at the back of your hands. Finally, you listened and let him hold down your hands.

"Shh..." he hushed you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. "What's going on? Are you okay? Is there any way that I can help you?"

"I-I cannot remember anything and I'm just so tired." you broke down, feeling the exhaustion from both studying and working finally creeping up in your body.

"Then, take a break. Let's nap." he offered, knowing how much you need it.

You cried even more, "I can't nap. My exams are tomorrow and I can't understand anything I've been reading so far."

He clicked his tongue in disagreement, "I'll wake you up in thirty minutes. How about that?"

While his offer seemed ideal for you, the pressure for what is coming tomorrow is heavily sitting on your shoulders. But you're really tired.

"Just nap?" you asked, making sure that it won't lead to anything else.

"Yeah— Okay, maybe cuddle." he shrugged.

"Okay." I kinda need that.

"Okay. C'mere, my snotty baby." He cooed.

You glared at him before slapping his chest. He laughed, catching your hand and pulling you to him on your bed. You fell on top instead of your mattress, feeling his toned body under you. His chin rests on the top of your head as he draws circles on your lower back.

"Let's do anything you want after your exams," he mumbled.

You exhaled, "Why celebrate? I am not even sure if I can pass it."

"You will. You're the smartest person I know."

This isn't the first time Jungkook saw you broke down over academic reasons. He knew how much you value your studies as someone who has always been an achiever since you began studying. It didn't help that your mom expects quite a lot from you, based on what you told him.

You looked up to meet his eyes, "Thank you."

He simply kissed your forehead, "Of course, babe."

You did find yourself feeling much better after your 30-minute rest. But, you also found something else when you woke five minutes ago next to Jungkook. It's something that can probably help you study.

"Take off your shirt," you whispered as you rested your head on his arm.

"Why?" he asked, suspicious.

"I think you can help me study," you said, sitting up on the bed.

Jungkook sat next to you, "I thought we were just cuddling."

"Jungkook." you called him. "Please, just do it."

"Okay, I will. You know I can't say no when you beg, babe." he teased.

You watched him reach for the back of his shirt and remove it over his head. With how cold your room is, Jungkook immediately crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge before you. You were quiet, squinting your eyes on his arms.

Feeling a little conscious and confused, Jungkook spoke, "It's a little chilly here. What now?"

"Wait, let me get my sticky notes."

"You know, I should be paid for this," Jungkook spoke, covered in neon-colored sticky notes from his neck to his back and arms. "I am like your model."

"You are my 3d model." you laughed while tracing his body with your finger to look where you could stick your next label. "I'm too broke to buy one so just be my friend and let me put some sticky notes on you."

"I'll just buy you one." he offered and he's serious. If it's something that can help you, he'll buy it for you.

"You sound like the spoiled kid you are." you joked.

"I like it when you keep me humble and grounded," he reacted sarcastically. Out of a hundred people he knows on the campus, you are the only one who always reminds him of his privileges. He found it annoying at first but now, he just finds it funny.

"I know, it shows especially when you get all submissive sometimes." you joked again, scrunching your nose at him.

"Why won't you just let me spend money on you?" he asked, recalling the other scenarios he tried buying or doing something for you. But you were quick to decline him, especially if it's connected with money.

You stopped and stared at him, "For the tenth time, Jeon, I will not be your sugar baby."

"Or you can just be my... baby," he whispered, but since you are the only awake people in this house at this time of the day, you still heard that.

Your eyebrows scrunched, looking at him. Visibly cringing at what he said, you pushed his face with a laugh. You hear him chuckle lowly.

"If you want someone to be your baby, you should be asking girls out, not signing up for a friends-with-benefits-type of relationship with me," you mumbled while writing a certain body part on your notepad.

It is part of your agreement that this thing you two have will end once one of you starts dating again. But the idea of him asking girls out after literally sleeping on your bed for the last twelve months still made your heart sink a little. You cannot imagine how your future will be without him, you still haven't thought that far.

"I know..." he whispered. But you're not up for any commitment. He wanted to say that. Instead, he replied, "But you give the best blowjob ever. How can I look for someone else?"

You laughed again. God, he loves making you laugh. It's like a melody playing in his head.

"Yeah, I know. It will be hard to find someone better than me. I'm the best."

Yes, you are. He agreed, almost saying it if you haven't spoke to soon.

"Now, please, can you stop moving? My notes are falling everywhere."

"Hi, I'm Mabel."

It's been days since that night. Now, a blonde, blue-eyed girl offered her hand to Jungkook while he prepared to leave the campus with his car after his basketball training. Jungkook, being polite, introduced himself even though he was not really interested. He continued making sure he got all his stuff in his backpack as the girl continued saying that they had two classes together. When he was done checking, she spoke,

"I think you're really cute and was wondering if we could go out sometime? Maybe we can grab some coffee together?"

Jungkook scratched the back of his head, feeling bad for what he was about to say to this seeming freshman before him. A tight smile forms on his lips. This isn't the first confession he got in his lifetime, but rejecting someone is always hard.

"Wow... uhm... I'm sure you're a really wonderful person, Mabel. But I'm not really interested in dating anyone right now. I'm sorry."

The familiar flustered face instantly showed up on Mabel's face, "Oh, okay. Uhm, thank you for your time. Nice to meet you though."

Jungkook was not even able to reply before she ran away. It didn't took him too long to dwell on that interaction when he got a message from you.

YN 🩺

I PASSED

COME OVER!!!!1!

Jungkook smiled after reading that, feeling your relief and excitement. He typed in a reply before hopping in his car.

JK

I KNEW U CAN DO IT

SO PROUD OF YOUUU

WILL BE THERE IN FIVE ;)

note | scheduled as my first post for 2025 :) thank you so much for reading!

ps. will probably delete this later on

taglist rules

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

Jungkook grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles whiten. He’s angry, so damn angry, but at this moment, he knows better than to say too much to you. You’re fuming, outraged and yelling at him from the passenger seat.

You’re the sole focus of Jungkook’s life. In the two years of dating you, you’re his everything and more. The one person who drives him mad in the best and worst ways. He’s stupidly and crazily in love with you, but tonight that undying, never-ending, obsessive love is twisted into ugly jealousy and frustration.

Earlier on in the evening you had happily skipped into the living room as he played video games. You twirled in front of him, wearing a very pretty, short, tight and silky black dress.

“Do you like it, Kookie?” you asked mischievously.

Jungkook’s attention switched from the screen to focus on you. When he saw you in the attire, he gulped hard, but forced a smile. “You look gorgeous, baby. But isn’t it a little short?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes at him. “Jungkook, it’s a club night with my girls. I wanna look hot.”

He let you go, of course. He’s not some controlling boyfriend that makes a huge fuss out of things. And he trusts you completely. Yes, he was overprotective and hated knowing other guys would be ogling over what’s his, but he had to believe that you’ll be okay.

When you left, he kissed you and told you to have fun, and to at least text him every hour or so. Just so he knows that you’re safe. Once you were gone, he spent the next few hours trying to distract himself. He gamed, chilled, spent time in the gym down in the basement. But none of it helped his worry, especially when you did not text him. Not even once. He spammed you for hours, but he heard nothing from you. And that might’ve triggered him,  because what could possibly have you so busy that you couldn’t even let him know that you’re okay?

Jungkook did the only logical thing a loving, caring, doting and completely normal boyfriend would do. He tracked your location and drove to the club you were at. It had taken him about a minute to find you. And when he did, he felt his blood boil. You were laughing with and getting too close to another guy. The guy was tall with slightly blonde hair, being a bit too touchy with you. 

“Y/N.” Jungkook called out sternly, causing you to turn to him with widened, surprised eyes.

“Kookie? What are you doing here?” you asked, confused.

“We’re leaving.” He grabbed your wrist to bring you toward him, clearly frustrated and trying to stay calm. He didn’t want to do anything stupid, make a scene, or beat the shit out of this guy for touching what’s his.

You tried to protest, but Jungkook decided to bend down and throw you over his shoulder and walk toward the exit. It was barbaric and awfully embarrassing. Your friends seemed concerned, strangers mumbled and laughed, watching as your boyfriend carried you away like you were a sack of potatoes..

You squirmed and yelled at him, but he didn’t stop until he reached his car, where he then gently deposited you in the passenger seat before walking over to the driver’s side.

“Are you serious right now!?” you yelled as he started the car and began to drive. “You just embarrassed me in front of everyone! How could you drag me out like that? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“So you stalk me to the club? Real healthy, Jungkook.” you say, annoyed.

“And why the fuck did I walk in to see you all cozy with some random guy?” he asks as his anger flares at the remembrance of the prick.

“It wasn’t even like that! You always do this!” you yell angrily. You know it’s kind of an exaggeration, but still. “You go out with your friends all the time. Going to clubs, parties and things, and I never say a word. I always trust you. But the second I wanna go somewhere, you make it into an issue. You’re such a hypocrite!”

From then on, Jungkook decided to keep quiet. He’d say what he needed to say at home when he’s not distracted by the road. He never ignores your calls, he always texts you, whenever he’s out there’s not a single woman involved. You’re not drunk, you’re very sober. He surely hopes by the end of the night you’ll come to your senses and see that you’re in the wrong here. He hopes that you’ll explain your side of the story properly and apologise for stressing him out.

By the time you’re home and Jungkook’s parked the car, you’re still fuming at him. You unbuckle your seatbelt and storm to the elevator, eager to get inside. Jungkook follows you with his hands in his pocket, trying to keep calm and quiet, but he cannot.

Once you’re both inside, he finally snaps at you, asking the question that’s been worrying him during the whole ride home. “Who the fuck was that guy, huh?”

Jungkook hovers over you, his eyes boring into yours. The sight is so hot and intimidating.

“He’s a friend, Jungkook. We went to the same college and we were catching up. And might I also add that he’s gay?”

Jungkook exhales and rubs a hand over his face. Okay, now that he’s a little bit at ease, he can admit it to himself – maybe his reaction was a bit overboard. But even so, there are more issues here.

“You didn’t answer me for hours. You went out in that tight, revealing dress when that club is actually full of weird assholes–”

“Oh, here we go again!” you push past him and storm to the kitchen for a glass of ice water.

“You’re out with the guys all the time. Drinking, going to places surrounded by women, but I don’t say anything, because I trust you. But I barely go out, and the one night I have fun, you lose your mind!”

You take a sip of water, but a few droplets of water fall down onto your chest, onto your cleavage. Jungkook’s eyes follow the movement. You’re a vision, even when you’re angry. Fuck, he thinks you’re so hot when you’re angry. He leans against the counter opposite you, folding his arms over his chest. He’s listening to you, well kind of. As you yell at him, his eyes wander over your body. Is he stupid? How could he let you out the house in that short, little dress? No one’s supposed to see you like that but him. He pressed his tongue into his cheek, a habit he often has whenever he tries to hold himself back.

You keep going off at him, oblivious to the way he’s looking at you. “If you can’t trust me, then maybe–”

You look up, making eye contact with him. His eyes are filled with love, frustration and need. His expression causes your stomach to flip, even though you’re so mad at him. Before you can say anything else, Jungkook walks over to you, invading your personal space. One of his hands goes around to grab the back of your neck, the other grabs your waist as he smashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. 

You stiffen at first, caught off guard before melting into it, making Jungkook groan at the response. Your hands fist into his shirt as you kiss him. The kiss is sloppy and filthy, you both pour your frustration into it. Jungkook pins you against the counter with his body, allowing you to feel his growing erection against your core.

Jungkook breaks the kiss for a millisecond so he can reach back and yank his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor carelessly. You don’t have time to admire your boyfriend’s broad chest, his tattoos or his abs as he crashes his lips onto yours again with a groan. Your hands flatten on his chest, caressing there and down his abs while his hands caress your cheek and hip.

You pull back a little to speak against his lips. “I’m still mad at you.”

He scoffs, staring down at you. “Then be mad.” he murmurs.

Before you can fire back, he spins you around with strong hands now on your waist so you’re facing the counter. You gasp and your hands slam onto the counter for balance. Your short dress rides up, revealing more and more of your skin. Jungkook presses himself against you, his bare chest against your back and his hard bulge against your ass.

“I’m fucking mad too.” he says, roughly against your ear

He dips his head so his mouth can latch onto the side of your neck. He licks, sucks and bites on it, leaving a thick, visible mark on you. You exhale shakily when you realise that he is now dropping to his knees behind you. He caresses your sides reverently as he makes his way down to the floor. He pushes your dress up around your waist. The sight that greets him is that of your pretty pink, damp panties. Jungkook grunts before leaning in to bury his nose against the damp fabric. He inhales your scent deeply.

“Fuck…” he curses, muffled against you. “Gonna take it all out on this sweet pussy.”

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. His hands grip your thighs firmly, spreading them. Your eyes flutter closed in anticipation, waiting for him to devour you. But Jungkook doesn’t start off like he normally does, he doesn’t dive right in like he’s starving for you. He starts off torturously slow, way too slow. He leaves deep, wet kisses on the back of your thighs as his warm breath fans over your exposed core. He then leans in to teasingly circle the tip of his tongue around your entrance. He doesn’t fully give you what you crave. You do try to push back against him to let him know that you’re extremely needy, but he just tightens his grip on you, holding you in place.

“Kookie… please.” you whine. Because you’re more horny than mad, the sound isn’t as embarrassing as it would be if you were feeling the contrary.

He hums against you, but he keeps teasing. Over and over again, he gives your folds long and slow licks before returning to gently suck on your inner thighs, leaving little marks. You’re aware that he’s doing this because he’s trying to frustrate you like you’ve frustrated him. You’re his woman, he knows you better than anyone in the world. He obviously knows that you can be a little demon when you’re horny so of course the best way to rile you up is through sex.

The teasing becomes too much for you so you try to pull away from him, but his hands are too strong and firm. He yanks you right back where he wants you and gives your inner thigh a warning nip.

“Stay still,” he murmurs roughly. “You wanted to drive me crazy, didn’t you? Now you take this.”

He continues teasing you until you’re whimpering and your legs are shaking. Upon hearing a cute plea from you, Jungkook finally gives in. He buries his face between your thighs and starts to devour you. His tongue plunges in deep, lapping at you filthily and eagerly. He eats your pussy with devotion that has you moaning loudly. 

Jungkook loves this, he loves making you crazy while pleasuring you. He sucks on your clit then fucks you with his tongue, groaning at your taste – since you are his favourite thing to munch on. The wet and dirty sounds fill the kitchen as Jungkook devours you, his nose presses against you and his hands spread you open wider.

You moan for him louder, “Oh, Jungkook–”

You grip the counter top for dear life and your hips rock against his face as much as his grip will allow. Jungkook alternates between licking you slow and deep, and fast suction on your clit. You’re already so close, you feel your orgasm approaching. You’re certain it’s here, but suddenly he pulls back. You let a loud and frustrated whine.

“No, Kook. Why?”

Jungkook stands on his feet behind you, licking his lips slowly. With the back of his hand, he wipes his mouth, staring at you with dark and satisfied eyes before smirking at your trembling form. You turn around and face him to smack his bare chest, hard.

“You jerk!”

Jungkook hums again, amused. He catches your wrist gently before you can smack him again. You yelp when he suddenly moves his hands to grab the backs of your thighs and lifts you off the ground. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist before he sets you down on the cold kitchen counter. He stands between your thighs, gripping your hips to pull you closer to the edge so your bodies are flush together. You feel his hard cock against your core, straining against his pants. He rubs himself against you slowly, making you feel his erection.

It feels incredible having him grind against you like this, but it’s still not enough, especially when you’re so needy tonight. Jungkook watches your reactions the whole time, watches as your eyes flutter shut, as your mouth parts to let out shaky breaths. Even though he’s rock hard and throbbing, he’s doing his best to restrain himself. His main goal right now isn’t his release – it’s the punishment you deserve, sweet payback for the worry you put him through tonight.

“Feel that?” he asks roughly, rubbing himself harder against you, causing you to whimper.

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin while trying to grind on him, chasing more pleasure. One of Jungkook’s hands grabs your thigh hard, holding you still so you’re unable to get the friction you so desperately want.

You pout at him, your lips a little swollen from the kisses earlier. “Why are you being so bad to me?” you whine, annoyed.

Your hips twitch uselessly in his grip. Jungkook huffs out a sarcastic grin that forms into a cocky smirk. You feel like slapping him, you feel like kissing him. The first option does seem more enticing at the moment.

“Me? I’m the one being bad?” he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours as his throbbing cock continues to grind against your core.

“You’re the one who’s bad, baby. Dressing the way you did, making me chase you down…”

He presses forward more firmly, letting you feel his thick length drag against your wetness. He does that a good few times, making you salivate before pulling away again. You glare at him, but before you snap again, he brings two of his fingers up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip. Your eyes stay locked on his as you part your lips and take his fingers into your mouth, twirling your tongue around them obediently, coating them with your saliva. When Jungkook pulls them free he brings them to his own mouth to lick them before dropping them down between your legs.

He rubs your swollen, wet clit making your eyes roll. Again, he alternates between slow and fast – teasing you yet again. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging on it so he can look at you.

“Jungkook. Stop teasing me.” you demand, sounding cute and whiny despite your anger.

“Stop being a brat first.” he says, rubbing harder on your clit now.

Your eyes narrow at him. “I won’t suck your dick ever again if you keep doing this.” You threaten, trying to sound serious through the shallow moans you let out.

Jungkook gives you a bored look, raising an eyebrow, obviously not bothered by the threat. You love sucking his cock just as much as he loves eating your pussy. And trust that he loves eating your pussy a hell of a lot. It’s one of the best things he spends his time doing. He obsesses over it, it’s got to be an addiction to him. So of course he knows that you will never stop sucking his cock.

“You will.” he says, simply.

Without any warning, he slides two fingers into your pussy, pumping them deep inside you. The sudden feeling makes you cry out and arch your back. He fingers you relentlessly while his thumb works on your clit. His other hand grips your neck possessively so he can leave new marks on it.

You moan loudly right near his ear and your arms wrap around his shoulders. “Kook, fuck–”

“You had me so stressed,” he growls between kisses on your neck. “So fucking angry and worried. I couldn’t even eat, baby. Just losing my mind thinking about you out there, not answering me.”

“You’re too overprotective,” you say between moans while bucking your hips to meet his fingers. “I was okay. I was–”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches. He curls his fingers hard, deep inside you, against the perfect spot.

“Jungkook!” you gasp.

“Why the fuck do you like arguing with me so much, huh?” he asks, while keeping his pace.

He fucks you good with his fingers until your walls start fluttering around him. Your moans become louder, you’re close, so so close. Jungkook pulls his fingers out completely just as you were about to come. You let out a frustrated cry.

“I was so close!”

You try to squirm away from him, but he doesn’t let you go anywhere. Instead he hoists you up and tosses you over his shoulder again. Since your bare ass is right near his face, he uses the opportunity to smack one of your ass cheeks hard. The sting makes you yelp

“You’ve been bad. You don’t get to come that easy.” he says as he walks to the bedroom, spanking you one more time.

Once in the room, he tosses you on the bed. Your body bounces on the mattress before settling. Jungkook then hovers over you, his eyes locked on yours before he leans down to bite your bottom lip and then soothe it with his tongue. Afterwards he descends downwards, his nips and licks his way down your jaw, your neck, the swell of your breasts still trapped in your dress.

You arch into him as his hands slide behind your back, finding the dress’s zipper. But he doesn’t unzip it, instead he grips the fabric and rips it straight down. The dress tears and Jungkook pulls it down, exposing you completely.

You gasp loudly and push at his shoulders. “Jungkook! Why’d you do that?! I liked that dress!”

He smirks against your collarbone, discarding the torn dress. “I’ll buy you a new one.” he promises. “I’ll buy you whatever you want if you’re a good girl.”

You want to say something, but you decide not to. You let out a shaky breath as he goes down lower, settling between your thighs again. He presses his nose right against your pussy. Inhaling your scent deeply. He groans, sending sparks through your body. He pulls back, looks up at you and spits directly onto your clit. His spit trails from your clit down to your entrance.

His thumb rubs in his saliva, spreading the wetness, combining it with your arousal.. Your eyes flutter closed and your hips twitch up toward Jungkook’s face. He leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth hungrily, making you arch off the bed. He thrusts his tongue inside your hole a few times before yet again, pulling away. You huff out in pure frustration now, but your eyes also become glassy as you stare at him.

Jungkook feels a pang of guilt. No matter how pissed off he is or how much he wants to take all his stress out on you, he never ever wants to see you cry (unless you’re choking on his cock). He’ll make you come for sure. But first he wants to get what he wants.He stands up from the bed, towering over you. 

You push yourself up into a sitting position. “You’re being an asshole.” you state.

Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah? Yet you’re the one who had me stressed as fuck the whole night.”

You roll your eyes and stand up, looking at him. “You’re being a fucking lunatic, Jungkook! I went out once. With my girls. I didn’t think–’

He cuts you off and steps closer. “It’s not about that. You’re supposed to message me and let me know you’re okay. That’s it. At least one text so I don’t spend the night wondering if something happened to you.”

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest – the movement causing your breasts to be pushed up. For a second there’s only tense silence as both process everything. You dwell over what you’ve done, which you do realise was wrong of you. Jungkook does the same, realising that his approach to the entire situation does kind of reek of lunacy.

After a moment, Jungkook speaks lowly. “Do you want me to make you come?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, glancing at the floor before nodding, slow and shy. He looks at you with his tongue pressed into his cheek, considering something.

“Then you better get on your knees.”

The sound of his belt being unbuckled makes your eyes widen. Your eyes flick down to the movement, watching as he undoes the belt and opens his zipper. You sink down to your knees, your eyes locking on the massive bulge straining against his pants. The sight makes your mouth water. You help him push his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, slapping against your cheek. Just looking at it makes your pussy clench. You lick your lips. Jungkook’s hand fists into your hair, tilting your head backwards so you have to look at him.

“You have a big fucking mouth, huh? Why don’t you use it for something good?”

Your lips part at his filthy question, he uses the opportunity to push his cock past your lips, filling your mouth with his thickness. He keeps a grip on your hair, guiding your head. He wants to fuck your mouth, to use your pretty lips that have been arguing with him all night. His hips thrust forward, pushing in deeper. He watches with satisfaction as your cheeks hollow and your eyes water from the stretch.

“Fuck, just like that.” he groans.

His grip in your hair tightens as he makes your head bob, sucking his cock. The sight of you completely naked on your knees with your lips stretched around his cock has his head spinning. He thinks that you’re so perfect. Even though you make him insane, you’re so perfect. You moan around his cock, the vibrations make him groan and thrust into your mouth harder. Your tongue swirls him, sucking him eagerly.

“Baby, fuck. You’re taking my cock so well. Such a good girl…” he thrusts in deeper, keeping himself there so he can feel your throat fluttering around him. 

Your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the hard muscle as you look up at him. Jungkook’s breath hitches when his eyes lock onto yours. He might just bust right now.

“You’re so beautiful.” he praises before driving his hips into your mouth harder.

Your moans vibrate around him. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, down your chin but you don’t care, you just suck him harder. Jungkook fucks your mouth for a while longer, he has you gagging and choking a bit. As soon as he realises he’s close, he starts guiding you again.

“That’s it. Just like that–” he murmurs.

Jungkook’s head tips back. He groans, getting closer and closer. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue. Soon enough, both his hands are holding your face against him as he comes down the back of your throat. You swallow all of it, enjoying the sounds of his curses and praises.

“Good girl, swallow it all. That’s my baby.”

For a moment, he just holds you there. His cock twitches in your mouth before he finally pulls it out. You pant, breathing hard. Jungkook wipes away your tears with his thumb before helping you up to your feet. The second you’re up, he brings you against his chest and kisses you deeply. You melt into it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, but before you sink in too deep into the kiss, he guides you back until your knees hit the end of the bed.

You lay back on the mattress and Jungkook hovers over you, caging you with his arms on either side of your head. He leans down and kisses you sloppily before ascending down again until he reaches your breasts. He lets out an appreciative hum when he gets to your breasts. Jungkook loves them. He starts slowly kissing the swell of one of them, does the same to the other before nuzzling his face between them with a content sigh.

He squeezes them gently, kneading the flesh as he leaves kisses on them. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it then biting down softly before soothing it with more sucks and licks. He gives the same attention to both, making sure they’re both covered in his marks.

“Love these so much. Could spend hours here.” he admits roughly. 

You moan as he focuses harder on one nipple, sucking it thoroughly while his hand travels down back to your clit to rub slow circles on it. But still, he’s teasing you. He’s not giving you what you want. You thread your fingers through his hair and pull on it so he has to look up at you.

“You’re pissing me off now, Jungkook. You’re being too cruel and petty for no reason.”

He stops his movements and lifts his head fully. “For no reason?” he repeats as a question, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yes.” you insist.

Jungkook pushes himself up so he can hover over you properly, his eyes flash with annoyance and hurt. “Fine. Next time I’ll go out for hours with the guys, ignore every single one of your texts and let some girl be in my space. See how you like it.”

You gasp and push at his chest. “Fuck off. I didn’t do that on purpose, and the guy was gay!”

“Yeah, right. My point still stands.”

Again, before you can argue more, he cuts you off. He speaks in the raspy tone that makes your stomach flip. “You wanna keep arguing with me, or do you want me to fuck you?”

You bite your lip and look down at his hard cock then back at his face. “I want you to fuck me.” you say softly.

“That’s what I thought.”

He reaches between your bodies and lines his cock up with your entrance. He inserts the tip in before reaching under your back to make you arch up into him, pressing your chest flush to his. His other hand grabs your thigh and hooks it over his hip and back so you’re open for him. He pushes into you slowly, watching your face the entire time. You let out a breathless moan at the stretch. 

Since you’re so wet and eager from all his teasing, he slides in easier than usual. But still, his length and thickness has your eyes wanting to roll back. Once he’s completely inside you, he stops for a moment to let you adjust while trying to rein his leftover anger. He’s going to fuck you good and take out the rest of his frustration. He starts thrusting into you. He keeps his pace slow and deep for now. But you’re impatient. Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him on.

“Faster, Kookie, please…”

He gives you what you want. He picks up his pace, slamming into you harder and harder so the sounds of your bodies meeting and your growing moans fill the room obscenely. He holds you securely while fucking you. His pace starts to become animalistic and the bed creaks beneath you both. You bring him down for a messy kiss even as you moan and whimper against his lips. Your mouths stay parted over each other’s, both panting while he fucks you.

Jungkook actually did not realise how eager he was to be inside you until now. All his teasing from earlier on has backfired. He’s feeling extremely needy and his cock throbs hard inside of you.

“Shit…I’m not gonna last.” he growls.

“Neither will I.” you say breathlessly.

Your walls clench and unclench around him as your orgasm builds fast. Jungkook thrusts harder. “Come with me.” he demands.

You both come together. You gasp his name loudly as you gush over his cock. Jungkook buries himself as deep as possible and finishes inside you with a groan. Jungkook stays buried inside you for a long moment, his cock still pulsing inside of you. Eventually, he pulls out slowly, watching your combined releases leak from your pussy. Jungkook isn’t satisfied yet though, and knowing you, you probably want another round.

“Turn around. Get on all four for me.” he says.

You look at him, searching his face. He does look pissed, his jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed. But you also notice that he also looks a bit hurt? Your chest aches with guilt. Jungkook isn’t dramatic, he doesn’t overreact unless something really bothers him. If you put yourself in his shoes, you’d feel the same frustration he does. Heck, you’d probably be worse than he is. You definitely should’ve messaged him like you said you could, you should’ve checked your phone instead of getting carried away by your friends or the music. 

You don’t say anything yet, instead you listen to what he wants. You turn and get onto your hands and knees. Jungkook kneels behind you and he delivers another hard smack to your ass. A soft whimper leaves your lips. He then presses his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your face is in the pillow and your ass is up high for him. His other hand holds his cock, still hard and wet with your combined releases, and pushes it inside you in a hard thrust. He’s deeper than before. You moan into the pillow and your fingers twist into the sheets.

“Fuck.” you whine, turning your face to the side so you can breathe.

Jungkook doesn’t give you time to adjust, he just starts fucking you immediately. His hips slam against your ass so hard causing it to recoil against him. His pace is even more animalistic than the first time as he chases the remnants of his anger. Your moans spill out uncontrollably as Jungkook pounds into you, hitting the perfect spots inside you.His hand slides into your hair, grabbing a fist full and pulling you up until your back is almost against his chest. 

While he pounds into you, he speaks near your ear hoarsely. “I’m gonna keep fucking you like this.” he promises, punctuating his words with thrusts of his hips. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t argue anymore. Gonna fuck all that stubbornness right out of you, baby. You hear me?”

You clench around his cock, feeling even more aroused at the threats. He keeps the rough pace for a very long time. He grunts when you moan his name so needily, while gripping your hips and bringing you back against him in time with his thrusts so he’s able to penetrate you deeper if possible.

“I’m so close, baby.” you whisper.

“Come. Come on my cock.” he orders

You gush over him again with a pleasant moan, feeling him bury himself deep inside you again, filling you with his come once more. He keeps fucking you after your release, making sure to fuck his come into you thoroughly.

After a moment, he pulls out and moves to sit at the edge of the bed, catching his breath. He’s sweaty, with messy hair, swollen lips and reddened shoulders. He looks so fucking good. You gaze at him, again feeling guilty for what you’ve made him feel tonight. Jungkook’s crazy about you, you should’ve also taken that into consideration.. You move over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his strong back.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Kookie.” you whisper softly. “I really didn’t mean to ignore your texts. My phone was on dnd and I just got carried away with the girls. I’ll never do that again, I promise.”

Jungkook stays quiet for a second, but his face soon breaks into a smile as he feels the tension leave him. He reaches back, grabs your arm gently and tugs until you move closer until he’s able to pull you onto his lap, so you’re straddling him.

He leans in and pecks your lips. “I’m sorry too. For being a little crazy and overreacting.” he says against your lips.

You smile as well. “I forgive you.”

Jungkook holds you close to him, content now that you’ve both sorted out the tension and apologised to each other. “We should take a shower, hmm?”

Before you agree, he stands up with you in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. On the way to the bathroom, you both giggle against each other’s lips while trading kisses…

It’s been one hundred days since you started seeing each other. One hundred days since that winter getaway at Yongpyong Ski Resort, when your group of friends collided with his. 

You still remember the sting of cold air biting your skin, the fire crackling in the lodge, the sound of laughter bouncing off the wooden walls. You remember him most of all — hot, handsome, infuriatingly charming, and so effortlessly fun. 

You couldn’t stop looking at him, and the best part was that whenever you forced yourself to look away, he was already stealing glances at you.

What started as lighthearted chatter turned into sneaking out at sunrise together — you with skis, him with a snowboard — chasing each other down untouched slopes while the rest of the group was still tangled in blankets. 

He was reckless in the best way, full of life, but there was a steadiness in him too. He made sure you were strapped in properly, slowed down if you were behind, never let you fall without reaching for you. And when you learned he was ten years older, it didn’t shock you at all. You’d met men his age before, but they’d always clung to immaturity. Jungkook wasn’t like that. He carried responsibility on his shoulders and somehow still managed to laugh through it.

What did surprise you was the word that left his mouth one evening — Danbi. His daughter. The revelation should have scared you off, but instead it lit something inside you, a strange admiration that he was the one caring for her, not the mother. It was rare, and it was telling.

When the vacation ended, you thought that would be it. A fleeting fling lost to snow and memory. But Jungkook didn’t let it fade. If anything, he pulled you closer. 

Constant texting, coffees after work, quick kisses in his car before you ran upstairs, makeout sessions in the dark corners of a cinema. He slipped into your life so quietly, and yet now you couldn’t imagine days without him in them.

And tonight, on your one hundredth day, he gave you everything you hadn’t dared hope for. First the amusement park, just because you’d once told him how much you loved the feeling of being a kid again. Then an art exhibition — your favorite artist, visiting the city for the first time in years. 

And now, this restaurant, your absolute favorite, the one you’d sighed about and given up on because of its impossible waiting list. Two months in advance, he’d booked it. Back when you were still wondering if he even liked you as much as you liked him, he was already planning this.

Now you sit across from him in the warm light, chest so tight and heart so impossibly full you think you might break, and all you want is to be folded into his arms, to rest your head on his chest while he talks in that low, steady voice about everything and nothing. 

Tonight it’s a movie he wants to watch with you, his eyes lighting up as he describes it, and you can only smile because he’s so good — almost too good to be true, the kind of man you never dared to believe could be yours.

By the time dinner is over, neither of you can keep your hands to yourselves. The second the night air hits you, he pulls you close, mouth hot against yours, and the kiss turns messy in seconds. His hand slips down to squeeze your ass, firm enough to make you gasp into his mouth. You whimper, the sound spilling before you can swallow it down, and he chuckles against your lips, whispering for you to be quieter but you hardly care about taxi drive and behaving properly, not when Jungkook’s tongue is already coaxing another sound out of you.

The ride home blurs. His hand is over yours the whole way, thumb stroking your skin, his gaze dipping to your lips as though he can’t believe he hasn’t kissed you in the last thirty seconds. And when the car pulls up to your building, you don’t even think. You tug him out with you, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, dragging him inside as though the distance between the street and your apartment is unbearable.

It’s the first time you’ve ever invited him up, and the weight of it makes him hesitate just long enough to search your eyes. His chest heaves, lips still swollen from your kiss, voice low and rough when he murmurs, “Are you sure, baby? I don’t want to rush you.”

Your answer is a half-shaken laugh against his mouth, your fingers curling tighter in his collar as you drag him closer. “Do I look unsure?” you whisper, before sealing your words with another kiss, harder, hungrier, until his back hits the wall of the hallway.

He groans, half from the force of it and half from restraint. “Fuck–” His hand fists in your coat, tugging you against him, but he breaks the kiss for only a second, forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and searching. “If I come in… I’m not stopping.”

“Good,” you breathe, tilting your chin to catch his mouth again, stealing his control piece by piece. “That’s what I want.”

The words unravel him. He stumbles after you when you pull, lips crushing yours again, the promise of restraint already slipping through his fingers as the elevator doors close behind you.

The elevator doors close and you don’t part, your bodies pressed flush as the numbers climb. He lets you breathe only in ragged bursts, lips dragging to your jaw, to your throat, his hands already roaming your body as though he’s been waiting a hundred days for this moment. 

By the time you reach your floor, you’re trembling, fumbling with the keys while his palms are spread over your hips, his mouth hot on your neck. The door clicks open at last, and he doesn’t even give you the chance to step inside properly before his hands are on you again, closing the world out behind you.

The door shuts with a soft thud behind you, and immediately you’re pressed against it, Jungkook’s mouth devouring yours like he’s been starved for days. His hands are tugging at the hem of your dress, sliding up your thighs, gripping your ass so hard it makes you whimper into his mouth. You fumble with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more, to strip him down until there’s nothing left between you.

Clothes scatter in clumsy bursts across the room — your coat slipping from your shoulders as his hands shove it away, his shirt half-torn open under your frantic fingers, your dress dragged up and over your head with a groan of frustration when it gets caught. You laugh breathlessly against his lips, the sound swallowed when he pulls you back into another kiss harder.

By the time you reach your bedroom, you’re down to nothing but skin, your back hitting the mattress with a gasp. Jungkook towers above you for a beat, his chest rising and falling, eyes dark with want as they roam over you like he’s memorizing every inch. Then he takes your ankle in his hand, pressing a kiss to the delicate curve before trailing lower, lips brushing over the inside of your calf, your knee, your thigh. He’s worshipping you slowly, and it makes you squirm.

“Jungkook–” your voice cracks as his mouth brushes closer, and he looks up with a smirk, teeth grazing your skin.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, kissing higher, spreading your legs wider as if to prove you’re already begging. “One hundred days and you still can’t wait a second for me?”

You reach for him, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging him up with a shaky laugh. “Because I want you so bad. I can’t–  I need you, Jungkook.”

His groan rumbles against your skin as he finally climbs over you, bracing himself on one arm while his other hand squeezes your hip. He kisses you rough, tongues colliding, and when you wrap your legs around his waist, you feel the solid press of his cock against your core, hard and hot even through his pants. The sensation makes you moan into his mouth, bucking your hips up instinctively.

He breaks away just enough to murmur against your lips,“Feel that? That’s what you do to me. You’ve got me so fucking hard, baby.”

You’re dizzy with need, nails digging into his shoulders. “Then fuck me, please, I need you inside.”

But he only smirks, dragging his mouth lower, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat, down the line of your collarbone, until he reaches your breasts. His tongue circles one nipple slowly, before sucking it into his mouth. The sharp pull makes you arch off the bed, gasping.

“God, Kook,” you cry, tangling your hands in his hair. He hums around your nipple, the vibration making your skin tighten, then switches to the other, sucking harder this time, rolling the peak between his teeth until you whimper.

He pulls back with a wicked grin, your skin wet from his mouth, your chest heaving. 

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he says, before dragging his lips down your stomach, leaving wet, biting kisses that make you shiver with anticipation. “And I’m not stopping until I’ve had every part of you.”

He doesn’t rush. He takes his time, kissing lower with infuriating patience, his lips dragging across your stomach while his hands pin your hips into the mattress every time you try to squirm closer.

“Stay still for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nipping at the soft curve of your waist. “I said I wasn’t stopping until I had every part of you… and I meant it.”

Your body burns, heat pooling low, your thighs instinctively trying to close together. But he pushes them apart with a low chuckle, spreading you wide, kissing along the inside of one thigh and then the other, deliberately ignoring the ache where you want him most.

“Jungkook, please…” the words spill, your hands fisting in the sheets.

He glances up at you, eyes dark and smug. “Please what, baby? You gotta tell me.” He presses a wet kiss against the edge of your hip, just shy of where you need him. “Want my mouth on you? Want me to lick this pretty pussy until you can’t remember your name?”

The filth of it makes you moan, arching helplessly. “Yes, fuck, yes, please.”

That’s all he needs. He smirks and lowers his head, finally pressing his mouth against your folds, licking a long, slow stripe from bottom to top. The sensation makes your whole body jolt, a broken whimper slipping from your lips.

“So wet for me already,” he groans, tongue circling your clit with devastating precision. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

Your thighs tremble around his head as he sucks on your clit, rolling the swollen bud between his lips until your vision blurs. He switches to slow, lazy licks that drag you right to the edge, then pulls back just enough to murmur against you, “Look at you, already falling apart. Haven’t even given you my fingers yet.”

“Don’t stop…don’t you dare–” you gasp, rocking your hips against his mouth, chasing the friction.

He growls, the sound vibrating through you, and slides his tongue inside, fucking you with slow strokes while his thumb circles your clit in tight, relentless patterns. The sensation makes your head tip back, a cry tearing from your throat as you clutch at his hair.

“That’s it, baby,” he mutters between licks, his mouth never leaving you. “Be as loud as you want. Let me hear how bad you need me.”

Every flick of his tongue, every pull of his lips drags you closer to the edge until you’re a shaking mess under him, the world narrowing down to the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth devouring you. You lose yourself in it, moaning his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever known.

The pressure builds unbearably, every slick pull of his tongue dragging you higher until you’re almost there — almost breaking. But then his mouth slows just enough to make you whine in frustration, thighs trembling against his shoulders.

“Shh,” Jungkook murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh before pressing his mouth back to your clit. “I’ve got you. Just let me open you up first.”

One broad hand pins your hip as the other slides lower, his fingers teasing your entrance, circling lazily until you’re keening for more. And then, finally, he sinks one thick finger inside, the stretch immediate, delicious.

“Fuck!” you gasp, head falling back against the sheets.

He groans low in his chest. “So tight… feels like you’re already squeezing me and it’s just my finger.” His tongue flicks over your clit as he adds another, curling them deep inside you, fucking you slowly at first, then harder, until the obscene squelch of your wetness fills the room.

The burn, the fullness, the relentless attention to your clit…it’s too much. Your hands claw at the sheets, back arching as your orgasm slams into you, shuddering waves breaking you open.

“That’s it, baby,” Jungkook growls against you, his mouth never stopping, his fingers working you through it, coaxing every cry and moan until you’re shaking. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess for me.”

Your body goes limp, trembling, breath ragged, yet before you can recover, he pulls his fingers from you with a wet pop and flips you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing.

“Not done yet,” he mutters, spreading your cheeks with rough, eager hands. His tongue drags up the sensitive seam, making you jolt, then he latches onto your ass, eating you out like he’s starving.

“Jungkook–fuck– ” your voice cracks, muffled against the sheets, your body quivering as his mouth works you in places no one has ever touched before.

He groans, filthy and unrestrained, his breath hot against your skin. “Taste so fucking good everywhere. Gonna worship every inch of you, baby. Don’t even think about holding back.”

He eats you until your thighs are trembling, until you’re burying your face in the sheets because you can’t take another lick, another hot groan vibrating through your skin. When he finally pulls back, he’s panting, lips wet, voice rough with hunger.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t wait anymore.”

You barely have time to turn your head before he’s dragging you up onto your knees, chest pressed to the bed, ass arched high for him. He shoves his pants and briefs down in one motion, and the heavy press of his cock slides between your cheeks, smearing precum against your swollen folds. You moan at the feeling, helpless, your body already desperate for him.

He grips your hips hard, lining himself up, voice breaking on a groan. “You ready? Gonna stretch this perfect pussy around me, fuck, been dreaming about this.”

You nod frantically, looking back over your shoulder with pleading eyes. “Please, Jungkook. I need it, need you inside me now.”

That’s all it takes. He sinks in with one deep, steady thrust, the stretch almost unbearable at first, making you gasp and clutch the sheets. He curses, head falling forward, fingers digging into your hips as he bottoms out.

“Holy shit, so fucking tight. Feels like you were made for me,” he groans, grinding in deeper, letting you adjust before pulling out slowly and slamming back in.

The sound of skin meeting skin echoes through the room, and every thrust drags a cry from your lips. He sets a brutal rhythm, hips snapping into you, cock hitting deep enough to make stars burst behind your eyes.

“That’s it, baby. Take me. Take all of me.” His hand slips up your back, tangling in your hair, tugging your head up so he can hear your broken moans better. “So fucking pretty when you fall apart for me.”

You’re incoherent, babbling his name, legs shaking as the bed creaks beneath you. Every thrust has you clenching tighter, every filthy growl in your ear pushes you closer.

“You like that? You like my cock stuffing this tight little pussy?” he snarls, voice shredded, hips slamming harder when you whimper yes. “Yeah, you do. God, you’re dripping all over me, so fucking needy.”

His pace grows ruthless, the wet slap of your bodies meeting drowning out everything else. Your nails claw into the sheets as you cry out, the coil inside you snapping violently, another orgasm ripping through you with a scream.

He feels it, feels your cunt clamp down around him, and he loses it, groaning your name like a prayer as he pounds into you, chasing his own high. 

With one last broken thrust, he buries himself deep, cock throbbing as he spills inside you, heat flooding your body.

For a moment, the only sound is both of you gasping, your bodies still joined, sweat-slick skin pressed together. Then Jungkook collapses forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his lips to your shoulder with a ragged laugh.

“One hundred days, baby,” he whispers, still catching his breath. “And I swear it’s only the beginning.”

***

The morning light paints soft gold across your sheets, and you lie there tangled in them, cheek pressed to your pillow, watching in quiet delight as Jungkook buttons his shirt. His hair is still damp from the shower, his tattoos shift as he flexes his arms, and everything about him: the way he rolls his sleeves, the way he smirks when he notices you staring — feels criminally unfair.

“Like what you see?” he teases, winking, and you laugh, too charmed to deny it.

“I’m just wondering how I got this lucky,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

He leans down, kissing you slow and deep, and for a moment you almost forget the rest of the world exists. But then he pulls back with a sigh, brushing a stray strand of hair off your face. 

“I’ve gotta head out. Need to swing home before work—Mira texted me. Danbi had a hard time falling asleep last night, knowing I wasn’t there.”

Your lips push into a pout, the selfish part of you wanting to tug him back into bed. But you only nod, fingers tracing lazy circles against his wrist. “I understand.”

His gaze drifts around your room then, lingering on the books stacked in messy towers, the postcards taped to your mirror, the little details that are so distinctly yours. 

“This place… it’s so you,” he says softly, almost to himself, and something about the way he says it makes your chest warm.

You smile, hesitant but bold enough to add, “I wonder how your place looks like.”

That pulls his attention back to you. He blinks, a little surprised, as though he hadn’t expected you to bring it up. 

“You’d like to come over?” His tone is cautious, weighted. “You know Danbi will be there.”

You feel the nerves kick in, your heart skipping, but you nod. “I know. And… I want to.”

He studies you for a long beat, like he’s trying to make absolutely sure. “Are you sure, baby? Because I don’t ever want to push you into something you’re not ready for. Meeting Danbi… that’s a big step.”

You reach for his hand, squeeze it gently. “I truly want to, Jungkook. I’ve thought about it, and I’m ready. And I know you’ve wanted it too… I hear it when you talk about her. How you say I’d love her. How you can’t wait for me to see her.”

His face softens, and you swear you’ve never seen him look at you like that before — equal parts grateful, vulnerable, and deeply in love. He kisses your hand, whispering, “Then we’ll do it. But slow, at your pace. I’ll never let you feel pressured.”

***

You had always thought of yourself as good with kids. Your nieces and nephews adored you, you’d always been the one to get down on the floor with them, invent silly games, coax giggles out of them when they were shy. You believed, foolishly maybe, that all children were the same in that way — that with a little patience and warmth, they’d eventually fold into your arms. But Danbi was different.

And it hurt more than you expected.

It wasn’t just that she wouldn’t speak — though Jungkook had already explained before you met her the first time that she struggled with selective mutism — it was the way her big eyes would widen when she saw you, her little hands clutching her shirt, her whole body folding inward. You told yourself you understood, and you did, but the silence still stung in ways you hadn’t prepared for. It stung Jungkook too, though he did his best to hide it.

This time was no different.

“Hi,” you greeted her gently, crouching down to her level, offering a soft smile. Once again, the only reply was silence.

You glanced up at Jungkook, and he only gave the faintest shrug, his lips twitching into something that was supposed to look casual but couldn’t quite hide the flicker of sadness in his eyes.

You pulled the little plushie from your bag: a soft bunny, pink with floppy ears, and held it out. “This is for you, Danbi. I thought you might like her.”

For a moment she hesitated, little fingers curled tight against her side. But slowly, carefully, she stepped forward to take it from your hand. She didn’t speak, but she smiled, her gaze darting to the floor almost instantly. Still, that tiny curve of her lips melted you.

“She’s cute, right?” you whispered, and she nodded once, hugging the toy to her chest.

She was adorable, you thought. Sweet and soft and full of a fun, curious energy you could sense beneath the walls she kept up. You wanted so badly to break through them, to hear her laugh the way you knew she must with Jungkook. But it was clear she needed time, more than you’d expected.

Mira, her older nanny, who had been with Danbi since she was a toddler, once told you kindly, “Don’t be discouraged. I had to wait six months before she said her first word to me. Six months. She’ll open up when she’s ready.”

And you nodded, holding onto that thought, even as your chest ached with both patience and longing.

After Danbi padded off to her room, clutching the bunny you’d given her, Jungkook let out a long breath and rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes found yours, warm but heavy, and he said quietly, “Don’t take this personally, okay? I promise this has nothing to do with you.”

You crossed the small space between you and wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your cheek to his chest for a moment before pulling back just enough to check that Danbi’s door was closed. 

Then you tipped up to kiss his cheek, murmuring, “It’s okay. I’ll gladly wait for her to feel comfortable with me.”

And you meant it. Even if it hurt sometimes, even if you caught yourself aching for more than her shy smiles, you could wait. 

What mattered was that he let you inside at all, that he trusted you enough to bring you into his world. It wasn’t easy for him, you could feel that in every small hesitation, every guarded glance. Being here, meeting his daughter, even just brushing his lips with yours under this roof — it meant everything.

Still, it wasn’t always easy to act like it was nothing. When you wanted to kiss him on the mouth, to tangle your fingers in his hair, to touch him like you did when it was just the two of you, the thought of Danbi in the next room made you freeze. So instead you settled for stolen cheek kisses, brushed fingertips, quiet closeness.

One afternoon, while Jungkook was out on errands, Mira caught you in the kitchen. The older woman was brewing tea, her eyes soft as she looked at you. 

“I am so happy for Mr. Jeon,” she said, smiling knowingly.

You only nodded, unsure what to say, until she added, “He probably hasn’t told you this himself… but this is the first time he’s ever been serious with anyone since the divorce.”

Your chest tightened.

You knew now that Jungkook and Astra had been married for ten years before splitting three years ago, but hearing it framed like that still startled you. Serious. With you.

Mira must have seen the surprise on your face, because she continued, almost absentmindedly. 

“Astra… she was his first love. Messy, scandalous as she was, he always forgave her. Always.” Her sigh was tinged with memory. “If she hadn’t left for her modelling career, to chase the world, I don’t think he ever would have divorced her.”

You stood frozen, Mira’s words circling in your mind. Astra had been his first love, his longest love. She had given him a child. A part of you admired that history, that depth of devotion. Another, smaller part felt suddenly hollow.

Because you could never compete with that.

You weren’t his first love, or the mother of his child, or the woman who had shared a decade of memories with him. You were just the woman who’d stumbled into his life at a ski resort one winter, who now sat in his kitchen with trembling hands and a heart full of hope.

Jungkook never made you feel like he didn’t have time for you. He carved space for you every day, no matter how busy he was, no matter how much Danbi needed him. But still, a selfish thought gnawed at you: when it came to choosing, if it ever came to choosing, where exactly would you stand?

So far, you hadn’t been put in that position. So far, you were lucky.

But you knew it couldn’t last forever.

***

It was one of those Sundays that felt timeless, sunlight pouring through the curtains in golden sheets, the world outside muffled into nothing. You were curled up in Jungkook’s arms on the couch, your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Danbi was down the hall, taking her afternoon nap, the hush of the house wrapping you in the kind of peace you hadn’t realized you were starving for.

Maybe this was what happiness actually looked like: his hand stroking lazy circles over your arm as you talked about the silliest, simplest things.

“So next weekend,” he said, lips brushing your temple, “Europe. Can you believe it? Feels insane to just hop on a plane like that.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “That’s you, though. Insanely poised, but always ready to grab life by the second.”

He grinned, eyes crinkling, and kissed you like you were the best answer he’d ever given.

Nothing was supposed to go wrong in that warm, perfect moment.

Until the knock at the door.

Jungkook groaned, dropping his head back. You whined when he untangled from you, clutching at his sleeve like a child refusing to let go of a toy. 

He chuckled, ruffling your hair, “I’ll be quick. Probably nothing.”

You half-listened as he padded over to the door, the sound of the lock clicking open. Then came his voice, sharper than usual, laced with disbelief: “What are you doing here?”

And then — a female voice, bright and too casual for the tension it carried. “Surprise!”

You froze.

Curiosity dragged you off the couch before you could think, bare feet soundless against the floor. As you rounded the corner, your eyes caught on Jungkook first with his broad back, the way he was standing in the doorway like a shield, shoulders tight, protective in a way that made your pulse quicken.

And then you saw her.

A woman with blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders, a body sculpted, a smile too wide for the chill in the air. She looked like she belonged on a billboard or the cover of a magazine, glowing in ways that made your stomach sink.

Her gaze shifted to you, eyes narrowing just slightly, her perfect smile faltering into a furrow.

You felt your throat tighten. Jungkook glanced back at you, the smallest sigh escaping him. “I’m sorry,”he said quietly. “This is… Astra.”

Your heart dropped.

This was her? His ex-wife? His first love? The woman Mira had said he’d forgiven a thousand times, the one he would have never left if she hadn’t walked away first?

You stared at her again, trying to reconcile the flawless image with the storm rolling in your chest. No wonder it had been so hard for you to place yourself in his world, to imagine ever measuring up.

But the charm cracked the second she opened her mouth.

She looked past you as if you didn’t exist, speaking directly to Jungkook. “What is this?” Her voice dripped disdain, like your presence was some kind of joke.

You couldn’t even find words, couldn’t decide whether to defend yourself or shrink back. But Jungkook was already stepping forward, broad chest cutting off her line of sight, voice firm and protective.

“This,” he said, tilting his chin, “is my girlfriend.”

Jungkook’s voice was sharp, edged like a blade. “And you, Astra, are not welcome here. You should’ve warned me you were coming.”

You swore you saw the subtle flicker in her face, the crack in her perfect smile as though she hadn’t expected him to push back. For a moment, she looked almost offended

Then her tone shifted, falsely wounded. “It’s the weekend. Weekends are my days with Danbi.”

Jungkook let out a humorless laugh, the kind that carried years of tired frustration. “That’s funny. You’ve missed about forty weekends at this point.”

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully as she reached for his arm, voice dropping lower. “Did you miss me that much, keeping count?”

The sight of her hand moving toward him made your whole body flare with heat that felt like the sting of betrayal in advance. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything to block her from his orbit.

But before her fingers could graze him, Jungkook caught her wrist, lowering it firmly. “Behave,” he said, his tone quiet but cutting. His gaze flicked toward you, his next words pointed. “Especially in front of my girlfriend.”

It should’ve steadied you, but your throat was already tight. The lump grew heavier as you turned and walked quickly back to the living room, your steps too fast, your pulse too loud. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What could you possibly do? This was his ex-wife, his history, Danbi’s mother. You were nothing in comparison. 

You sank into the sofa, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. Jungkook followed soon after, Astra gliding in behind him like she owned the walls. He sat next to you, lowering his voice as if trying to soften the edges of the storm.

 “She’ll take Danbi now and leave,” he said, reaching for your hand. But you pulled it back instinctively, hesitation locking your fingers in your lap.

And then — Danbi’s voice. 

“Mom!”

It cut through the air from her bedroom, and it was the first time you’d ever heard her voice raised. Your heart clenched, tears pricking at your eyes, though you forced them back down. Of course she was happy. Of course she was shouting for her mother. You weren’t her mother. You never could be. 

“Hey,” Jungkook’s voice tugged you back. He leaned closer, searching your face. “We’ll spend the day together, okay?”

You frowned, lips parting, but managed a small nod. The weight on your chest didn’t lift.

Moments later, Astra emerged from Danbi’s room with the little girl skipping beside her, dressed and glowing with excitement. 

“Daddy, will you join us too?” Danbi’s voice was bright, bubbling with happiness.

Your chest squeezed at the sound. She wasn’t shy anymore, not when both of her parents were here. Seeing her so alive and free, made you smile despite the ache in your throat.

But Jungkook only shook his head gently. “No, my princess. You should spend today with Mommy, catch up, share all your girly secrets.”

“Daddy, pleeeeease,” Danbi whined, tugging at his hand. “I want us all together! I’ll be the happiest if you come.”

The room tilted for you in that moment. You could feel Jungkook tense beside you, his whole body taut, caught between the impossible pull of his daughter’s joy and the silent storm brewing inside you.

God, your heart was already full of love for Danbi, full enough that you would’ve done anything to make her smile. If she asked you for the world, you would’ve bled yourself dry to hand it to her. You couldn’t even imagine what Jungkook felt, hearing her beg for the one thing he could give her so easily and make her happy.

“No, princess,” he said softly, his voice faltering only slightly. “You haven’t seen Mommy for so long. This is your time with her.”

The silence afterward was unbearable. You couldn’t let it stretch and make him feel torn in two. 

So you stood, forcing a smile to your lips, even though it wobbled. “It’s fine. I was going to head out anyway.”

Jungkook shot up instantly. “What are you doing? I’m going with you.”

You shook your head, trying to make it look effortless, casual. “Jungkook, it’s fine. It’s family time.”

It burned. It ripped something inside you to say it. But you turned, walking away before your face betrayed you. He called after you, voice sharp with protest, his footsteps following, but you forced yourself forward, heart breaking with every step.

***

The whole week felt like an act you didn’t know you were capable of.

You forced your thumbs to keep tapping out lighthearted texts to Jungkook, the same emojis, the same jokes, the same casual “how was your day?” as if nothing had happened. You played the part so well you almost believed it yourself.

By the time the weekend crept close enough to touch, you had already written your escape route. A neat, harmless lie about working overtime at the student office, typed and retyped until it looked casual, then sent off with a tiny tremor of guilt. 

He’d replied with a simple Don’t work too hard, baby, and a heart emoji.

Because the truth was you couldn’t even be angry at him. Not really. Jungkook had done everything right: he’d stood between you and Astra without hesitation, had gone after you when you left, had never once asked you to take less of him or to understand more than you already did. And yet, you didn’t want to see him. Not right now.

It was a paradox you couldn’t put into words. You wanted him so badly it burned in your chest, and at the same time you would rather die than sit in that house again, feeling like a ghost in his life, feeling like you were putting him in the cruel position of choosing between you and Danbi. You hated the ugliness of that feeling, hated yourself for even thinking the words choose between me and your daughter.

Ella didn’t make it any easier.

“Girl, are you sure you want to waste your wild twenties on somebody else’s luggage and baby mama drama?” she drawled from the couch, swirling her wine like she was stirring up the mess of your life, her eyes scanning you the way someone studies a painting they can’t quite understand.

You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “She’s his ex-wife, Elle. Ex-wife! That’s worse!”

“You could get laid with any hot, single guy in this city,” she said, slipping from teasing to pleading. “I’m begging you, forget that old dude.”

You laughed, but it was bitter against the fabric, because she didn’t know Jungkook and she could never understand.

Before you could find the words to defend him, the doorbell rang.

Ella shot you a look but didn’t even bother asking; she rose from the couch with her glass still in hand, her gait loose and slow as she crossed the room. You watched her pause at the door, lean into the peephole, and then you heard her breath catch.

“Fuck.”

You sat up at once, heart hammering hard. “What?”

She turned back to you slowly, eyes wide and sober now, the rim of her glass trembling. “If this is him… forget everything I just said.”

The rush of alcohol drained from your body like someone had opened a window and let in cold air. The dizziness burned off in an instant.

The door swung open and there he was, framed by the soft glow of the hallway light, a bouquet of flowers so large it nearly hid half his face. But not enough to disguise Jungkook, broad-shouldered and devastatingly handsome, the kind of man who could walk into a crowded room and pull the air right out of it without trying. 

Ella didn’t even bother to hide it; her eyes dragged over him in open appraisal, her lips parting slightly as though she’d been struck silent for the first time all night. You were the one frozen, though, staring at him with your heart slamming against your ribs.

And then he smirked.

“Knew you wouldn’t work overtime,” he drawled, holding the bouquet, his dark eyes glittering with amusement.

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, breathless and incredulous, half from relief and half from the absurdity of being caught in your own flimsy lie.

Ella, of course, seized the moment. She grabbed her bag in a rush of movement, mumbling something about needing to call a cab, but not before mouthing at you over Jungkook’s shoulder you fucking hot. Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

Jungkook locked it with an easy flick of his wrist, turning back toward you with one brow arched, lips tilted in that maddening half-smile.

“Come on, babe,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low enough to rattle right through you. “Try to explain.”

You exhaled sharply, a sigh that seemed to carry the entire week with it, your shoulders slumping as you looked at him, at the ridiculous, beautiful bouquet still clutched in his hand. How could you possibly fit the tangle of guilt and fear, longing and doubt, into words he didn’t deserve to hear?

Your lips parted, words fumbling out in a rush that already sounded weak even to your own ears. “I… I just had a lot on my plate, Jungkook. Work’s been—”

“Work?” His voice cut in, amused but sharp, and before you could finish your excuse he was already stepping forward, closing the distance you’d tried to wedge between you all week. The bouquet landed somewhere on the counter with a muffled thud, forgotten as his hands found your hips and nudged you backward until your lower back bumped against the cool edge of the kitchen counter.

He caged you in without effort, one palm braced on the surface beside you, the other resting firm against your waist. His eyes searched yours, dark and unflinching, his voice low enough to curl straight into your stomach. 

“Why were you avoiding me, hmm?”

You swallowed hard, pulse skittering as his lips hovered dangerously close, the ghost of his breath fanning across your mouth. Every muscle in your body went taut, the tension stretching so tight it almost hurt. You could have leaned forward and kissed him, could have drowned yourself in the heat of him and let it all dissolve.

But instead, the words tumbled out before you could catch them. “Do you still love her?”

Your voice was smaller than you meant it to be, but the sharp edge of jealousy and fear was there, raw and impossible to swallow back. His ex-wife’s name didn’t need to be spoken, Astra was already here with you, in the flicker of doubt you couldn’t choke down.

Jungkook stilled at your question, the heat that had been building between you shifting into something heavier. He leaned back just slightly, enough to see you properly, his brows pulling together as if he needed to measure the weight of what you’d asked.

“I hate how I behaved that day,” he said at last, his voice quiet, thick with regret. “The way I let things unfold, the way you had to stand there and feel that… I can’t stop replaying it. I should have protected you better. I swear to you, I would never let that happen again.”

You shook your head quickly, reaching for his wrist before the guilt in his eyes could deepen. 

“No, don’t…don’t say it like that. It was alright. I know you did everything you could… but I have to know.” Your breath caught, but you forced the words out anyway, even though they hurt on your tongue. “Where does your heart really lie?”

The seriousness in his expression sharpened. He stepped closer again, closing the sliver of space he’d created, his gaze holding yours so firmly it almost felt like a grip.

“Do you think I’d be here with you if I loved someone else?” he asked, each word deliberate. “Do you really think I’d waste your time?”

You blinked, your mouth opening, but no sound came out. He didn’t look away.

“I love you,” he said, and this time his voice cracked just slightly, enough to twist the air in your lungs. “And you should have never heard anyone talk to you that way.”

Your eyes darted away, then back to him, then down to the floor, your pulse so loud it felt deafening. You didn’t know where to look, where to put the truth bubbling in your chest, because this was the first time he’d said it, the first time the words you’d been holding onto in secret had finally been given to you.

And you hated that it was like this: in the shadow of his past, in the wake of your own fears when you couldn’t even say them back, even though you’d known for a long time that you loved him too.

Jungkook’s hand rose slowly, his knuckles ghosting up your neck until his thumb rested against your lower lip, a barely-there touch that made you shiver. His eyes searched yours one last time, and when you didn’t look away, he finally closed the distance.

His mouth crashed onto yours, tongues sliding, teeth grazing, his hands gripping your ass, palming your breasts, dragging your hips forward until you were perched right at the edge of the counter. You moaned into him, a sound half-plea, half-surrender, and he groaned like it broke something inside him.

“Tell me to stop,” he muttered against your lips, even as his fingers pushed your panties aside. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

You only shook your head, breathless, eyes dark. “Don’t stop. I need you, Jungkook. Now.”

That was all it took. His jeans and briefs were shoved down to mid-thigh, your thighs already spread wide for him. He lined himself up, sliding the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing, nudging at your clit until you were trembling.

“Fuck… look how wet you are for me,” he hissed, his thumb circling you. “You missed this just as much as I did, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “God, yes, I missed you.”

He sank into you with one slow, devastating thrust, the stretch so intense you cried out. He stilled deep inside, groaning into your neck. “Shit, baby, you’re gripping me so tight.”

And then he moved. Deep, heavy thrusts that made the counter shake, the sound of your bodies slick and obscene in the quiet kitchen. His thumb found your clit again, circling it as he pounded into you, and your moans turned into ragged cries.

“Harder,” you begged, head tipping back, voice breaking. “Please, Jungkook, harder—”

He snarled something low in his throat and obeyed, lifting you higher so he could drive into you deeper, every stroke hitting the spot that made you see white. His dirty talk tumbled out between panting breaths, “You’re so perfect like this… taking every inch of me… all mine… fuck, say it again — say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cried, fingers clutching his hair, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. “I’m yours, Jungkook…oh my God…”

He kissed you then, filthy and desperate, swallowing your moans, the wet slap of his hips against yours echoing around the room. His thumb pressed harder to your clit and you broke, shuddering around him, crying out his name as your orgasm tore through you.

He groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, hips stuttering, and with a final deep thrust he came too, buried to the hilt, panting into your neck. For a moment he stayed there, both of you trembling, skin slick, breaths uneven.

Then he lifted his head, still inside you, his voice rough but steady, the words a low command against your mouth. “Don’t ever leave me like that again. Not like last week. Not without telling me what’s in your head.”

He kissed you once more, softer this time, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes searching. “You hear me? Never again.”

And you nodded, still catching your breath, your hands cupping his jaw, because even though you’d been terrified, even though you hadn’t found the courage to say it back, you knew in that moment you never wanted to leave him either.

***

It felt like a small miracle, the way things had slowly slid back into place. You’d hated Astra (still did, if you were honest with yourself) but her presence in the city had, in a strange, sideways way, done something you hadn’t expected. Danbi had begun to bloom. She was still shy, still kept her little walls up, but there was a spark in her now that hadn’t been there before. And even though it burned a little every time you had to see the woman who’d left Jungkook, you couldn’t deny that the child was happier.

It was a quiet Saturday, the kind that felt full of promise. Today’s plan was simple: drop Danbi at her mother’s, hit the gym with Jungkook like you’d been talking about for weeks, then finish the day with an unapologetically good meal at the little restaurant he’d been wanting to try. When you arrived at his apartment, Jungkook was already waiting downstairs in the car, engine idling, and you slipped inside to get Danbi.

Her door was cracked, music spilling out in uneven little plinks. You peeked inside and found her sitting cross-legged at her tiny toy piano, pressing at the keys with fierce concentration. The sight of her so absorbed, her small back bent in determination, made your heart melt.

You stepped closer, voice soft. “Danbi, daddy’s already waiting for you, let’s go?”

She didn’t even look up, just shook her head, still poking at the keys, her brow furrowed like a miniature maestro. It took you a beat to realize what she was trying to play, the awkward but unmistakable pattern of notes.

Smiling, you crouched next to her and gently joined in, your fingers finding the familiar melody of “Für Elise” even on the tiny plastic keys. The tune rose, hesitant but recognizable, and Danbi’s eyes flicked to yours, wide with awe.

You smiled at her without stopping, letting the music fill the little room.

Then, out of nowhere, her small but clear voice slipped into the space. “You are talented.”

You almost faltered, but forced your fingers to keep moving, swallowing your surprise. “Thanks,” you said softly, like you might scare her off if you spoke too loud.

And then she asked it, her words falling into the room like pebbles into water. “Why did you leave?”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

She didn’t look at you now, her tiny fingers still pressing the keys. “You left for a week. Why? Me?” She pointed at herself, and your chest cracked open.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” you whispered, pulling her into your arms, hugging her close. “No, no. I was just busy. And now I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

She relaxed against you, the bunny you’d given her still tucked under her arm. “Good,” she said finally, her voice matter-of-fact. “Because Daddy is really happy when Y/N is next to him.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from crying, smiling instead. “Then I’ll have to stay close, won’t I?”

She nodded once, satisfied, and you both headed downstairs hand in hand.

At first Jungkook didn’t even notice, leaning on the car door, scrolling his phone. But when you slid into the backseat and Danbi started chattering to you about the piano, you saw him freeze, his head turning like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. His eyes flicked from her to you, back again.

You only grinned and winked at him over her head, feeling something warm and certain settle low in your chest.

When you pulled up outside Astra’s building, she was already there, standing tall in the doorway like she owned the air around her, blonde hair spilling like silk, her perfect posture braced as though she’d been rehearsing for the moment. 

Her eyes darted first to Jungkook, then to the car, and when Danbi’s little voice rose to say goodbye to you, something flickered across her face.  The sudden twist of annoyance was quick, but unmistakable. 

And yet none of it touched you. None of it mattered. Because the memory of Danbi’s voice, shy and sure as she spoke your name, was already stitched into you like something you would never forget. Astra could glare, she could bristle and seethe, she could let her anger spill from the cracks of her composure, but it couldn’t erase the truth that there was place in Jungkook’s life for you. 

***

The apartment smelled faintly of garlic and herbs, a homely scent that always made you feel like you belonged here. You’d spent the afternoon tidying up, folding Danbi’s tiny clothes, wiping down the counters, and letting yourself imagine, just for a moment, that this was your life every day. 

By the time Jungkook was due back, dinner was already simmering, the table set, and your chest humming with quiet excitement to see him again.

When the door finally opened, you nearly skipped toward the hallway, your lips parting in a smile. But the moment you saw his face, the air shifted. He moved quickly, gently guiding a sleepy Danbi to her room, pressing a soft kiss to her head before tucking her in. 

He didn’t linger, didn’t tell you much about how the pickup had gone, just closed her door with careful hands and walked back to you with his jaw tight and his shoulders drawn high.

“Everything okay?” you asked softly, searching his expression.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, too quickly, his smile thin as paper. “She fell asleep in the car. Just tired, that’s all.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let it go and pretend nothing was wrong. But as you placed the dishes on the table and watched him sit opposite you, his mask of happiness cracked under the light. He laughed when you nudged him, reached for the chopsticks with ease, even asked about your day. But there was no warmth in it. The shine was gone from his eyes.

Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t take it anymore. You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours. “Jungkook. What is it? Please don’t hide it from me.”

He tried to shake his head, to insist again that nothing was wrong. But you pressed gently, again and again, until at last the fight went out of him. He set his chopsticks down, exhaling hard, his gaze dropping to the table.

“Astra,” he began, his voice low and flat. “She’s furious. She’s determined to take me to court. To get back custody.”

Your chest hollowed out in an instant, your heart dropping so fast it almost hurt. Of course Astra loved her daughter and no one could deny that. But Jungkook… you knew what Danbi meant to him. She was his anchor, his joy, his everything. The thought of him losing her was unbearable. The thought of Danbi being pulled from the life they’d built together was unthinkable.

“She can’t,” you whispered, your throat tight. “She can’t do that to you. She left. She walked away. How dare she!”

But Jungkook lifted his gaze then, and what you saw there made your blood run cold. Hurt…Fear. 

“She’ll do it,” he said, his voice breaking on the edges. “Unless…” He hesitated, his hand curling into a fist on the table. “Unless I let her move back in. Unless I let her live here again.”

A sharp, nervous laugh broke out of you before you could stop it, bitter and thin. “Move back in? How is that even supposed to look, Jungkook? With me here? With us…”

But the sound died in your throat as you met his eyes again. He wasn’t laughing.

And the seriousness there, the wounded heaviness, made your chest ache in ways words couldn’t reach.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, sharp and desperate. “How does she even imagine it, Jungkook? That she just moves in and… what? The two of you play house again? Pretend like the last three years never happened?”

He immediately shook his head, fierce and certain, his voice quick to cut through the thought. “No. Absolutely not. That will never happen.” His hand reached for yours across the table, but you were too frozen to take it.

Because it wasn’t about you. Not now. This wasn’t the time for your jealousy, for the fear of being replaced that clawed at your chest. This was about him and Danbi, about the risk of a mother using the law to sever the bond between father and daughter.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to claw at the walls because how could anyone find a solution for this? What could possibly untangle it?

Your voice broke as you asked, “Does she even stand a chance in court?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look at you right away. “I don’t know,” he said finally, and the weight in his voice was worse than any scream. “But she’s the mother. And the law will always… always favor her.”

The unfairness of it made something in you snap. “That’s not right! It’s not fair!” Your voice trembled, thick with emotion. “You’re such a good dad, Jungkook. The best. Maybe—maybe this case will be different. Maybe they’ll see…”

But he shook his head again, slower this time, his eyes hollowed out with a truth he didn’t want to say. “I can’t gamble on maybe. Not with her. Not with Danbi. This isn’t something I can hope turns out in my favor. I have to find a way, something solid. I can’t risk losing her.”

And as the silence fell heavy between you, your chest burned with helplessness, because you knew he was right. 

The quiet, brutal understanding that maybe this, of all things, was the one place you could actually help him hit you like a cold current sliding beneath warm water. 

Because if it weren’t for you, would Jungkook even hesitate? Would he reject Astra’s offer to “reunite the family” if it meant keeping Danbi happy, even if it cost him his own happiness? You already knew the answer. Of course he would sacrifice himself. Of course he would crawl back into a life he’d already survived if it meant shielding his daughter.

And you… you were the only variable. The only piece he could move. The visitor. You had always been a visitor here.

That night, when the two of you finally drifted into bed, Jungkook’s body was heavy with exhaustion, his breathing slow, his arm draped over you like an anchor even in sleep. You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, your heart pounding with the decision that had already taken root.

When his breaths turned deep and even, you moved. 

You slid out from under his arm, tucking the blanket back over him so the warmth wouldn’t leave his side. For a moment you just stood there, barefoot on the cool floor, looking at him in the dim light — the beautiful slope of his brow, the shadow of his lashes against his cheeks, the faint parting of his lips as he slept. One more second and you would break, you would crawl back in beside him, you would forget this plan. So you forced yourself to turn away.

You didn’t even manage to collect half your things. A sweater here, a toothbrush there, a stack of clothes folded but left behind. Your hands shook as you stuffed what you could into a bag, each sound of fabric rustling making your stomach twist.

The corridor felt endless as you walked through it, your footsteps muffled on the carpet. You paused at the door, your hand on the knob, the weight of everything pressing down on you. 

Was this cowardice? Running? Or was it love that cuts you open because you know someone else’s happiness must come first?

You told yourself it was love. You told yourself it was right. But it didn’t stop the tears burning your eyes.

You cracked the door open, the night spilling in, when a tiny voice stopped you cold.

“Y/N? Are you leaving?”

Danbi stood there in her pajamas, her bunny dangling from one arm, her hair rumpled from sleep. Her eyes were glassy with dreams, but her voice was steady, cutting right through you.

Your heart squeezed so tight it was hard to breathe. “No… no, of course not,” you whispered, but the lie snagged in your throat. You couldn’t even make your voice sound convincing.

She pointed at herself, her small face scrunching. “Is it because of me?”

You shook your head violently, crouching down to her level, tears blurring her into soft shapes. “No. Don’t say that, beautiful. How could it ever be you? Never.”

Her lip trembled. “I will change. I promise. Just don’t leave. You promised.”

The words ripped through you. You dropped your bag and pulled her into your arms, hugging her so tightly you felt her heartbeat against yours, your own tears soaking into her hair. 

“You’re perfect,” you choked out. “You’re perfect, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll come back. I promise.”

The lie tasted bitter, but you needed it as much as she did.

You held her until her breathing steadied again, until she loosened her grip enough for you to gently guide her back to bed. And then, before you could crumble completely, you left.

By the time dawn crawled into the city, your phone was a storm of missed calls with Jungkook’s name over and over again, voicemails stacking one after another, messages to your workplace, even to your friends. Each buzz felt like a pulse in your palm, a reminder of what you’d just torn yourself from, a reminder of the life you’d wanted but hadn’t been able to hold.

.

.

.

— and when he glances down at you, you’re suddenly very interested in the blanket covering your lap. that’s when he knows something is up.

— “what?”

— you immediately shake your head. “nothing.”

— “that’s definitely not nothing.”

— and after several minutes of him poking at the conversation, you finally admit it.

— you’ve never had a boyfriend before. ever.

— no first relationship. no first anniversary. no first “good morning” texts. nothing.

— for a second jungkook just stares at you. not because he’s judging you, but because suddenly so many things make sense. the way you got nervous the first time he held your hand. the way you spent twenty minutes choosing a text message before sending it. the way your face turned bright red when someone referred to him as your boyfriend.

— and instead of teasing you, his expression softens. completely, because suddenly he realizes something important. every single relationship milestone you’re experiencing…

— you’re experiencing with him first.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• boyfriend things you never got to experience before

— jungkook becomes very aware of your firsts after that. not in a weird way, in a protective way, because he knows these moments matter to you.

— he remembers the first time he picked you up for a date, the first time he kissed you, the first time you stole one of his hoodies and refused to give it back, the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder during a movie.

— he remembers everything.

— sometimes months later he’ll randomly bring something up. “remember when you were too nervous to call me?”

— and you’ll immediately hide your face, while he’s sitting there smiling because he remembers exactly how cute you looked.

— you’ll complain that he’s embarrassing, he’ll complain that you’re adorable, and somehow neither of you wins.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• him realizing how much you trust him

— out of everything, this is what affects jungkook the most. the trust.

— because being someone’s first boyfriend isn’t just about cute milestones, it means you’re trusting him with experiences you’ve never had before.

— you’re trusting him with your first relationship. your first heartbreak, if things ever went wrong. your first real love, and that’s not something jungkook takes lightly.

— sometimes he’ll be holding your hand while walking somewhere and the realization hits him all over again. you chose him. out of everyone. him.

— and honestly? it scares him a little, because suddenly he wants to get everything right. he wants your memories of your first relationship to be good ones. he wants you to feel loved, safe, cherished. he wants you to look back years from now and smile when you remember him.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• your first time sleeping beside him

— The first time you fall asleep together, you’re nervous for absolutely no reason. Well. Several reasons.

— You’re aware of everything. How close he is, how warm he is, how easily his arm settles around your waist.

— Meanwhile Jungkook looks completely relaxed. Which honestly feels unfair, because you’re overthinking every movement while he’s already pulling you closer against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

— “Comfortable?”

— “No.”

— He laughs immediately. That deep sleepy laugh, the one that makes your stomach flip. Then he kisses your forehead and pulls the blankets higher around both of you.

— “We’ve got all night.” And somehow that makes everything easier, because he never rushes you, never makes you feel silly for being nervous, never acts like you should already know what you’re doing. He just lets you figure things out at your own pace, with him right beside you.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• when he realizes how easily he affects you

— Jungkook discovers very quickly that he doesn’t have to do much to make you flustered. A look. A compliment. His arm around your waist. That’s usually enough.

— Which becomes a problem. Because once he realizes this? He starts enjoying it way too much.

— You’ll be talking about something completely normal and suddenly he’s staring. Just staring, eyes focused entirely on you.

— And eventually you’ll stop talking. “What?”

— “Nothing.”

— “Jungkook.”

— Tiny smile. “No, keep talking.”

— that somehow makes it worse, because now you’re aware of how close he is. How his hand is resting on yours, how he’s looking at you, and meanwhile he’s completely entertained by your reaction.

— The worst part? The second you hide your face, he’s pulling your hands away. “Don’t do that.”

— “Why?”

— “Wanna see you.”

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• the first time he realizes he’s in love with being your first boyfriend

— this is not because of possessiveness, not because nobody came before him, but because every experience feels special.

— The first relationship nickname, the first anniversary, he’s the first person you call when something good happens, the first person you want beside you when something goes wrong.

— Sometimes jungkook’ll catch himself thinking about it randomly. Like when you’re walking together holding hands, or when you steal his hoodie, or when you automatically curl up beside him on the couch.

— he’ll smile to himself, because those things are normal relationship moments for most people, but they’re new for you. And somehow you chose him to experience them with.

— Which still amazes him. Every single day.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• when you stop being nervous

— His favorite moment isn’t actually your first date. Or your first kiss. Or any of the big milestones. It’s the day he notices you’ve stopped hesitating, stopped second-guessing yourself, stopped worrying about whether you’re doing things right.

— Because now you’re reaching for his hand first, leaning against him automatically, stealing kisses from his cheek without getting embarrassed afterward.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• when he realizes how inexperienced you actually are

— At first, Jungkook thinks you’re just shy. Shy about holding hands, shy about compliments, shy whenever he gets too close.

— But the longer you’re together, the more he starts noticing things. The way you secretly google relationship questions, the way you ask your friends whether certain things are normal, the way you overthink every little milestone between the two of you. He notices all of it.

— And one night, while you’re curled against his side in bed watching a movie neither of you are paying attention to anymore, he catches you staring at your intertwined hands. Just staring. Lost in thought.

— “What?”

— You immediately shake your head.“Nothing.”

— “It wasn’t nothing.”

— “It was.”

— “It definitely wasn’t.”

— Eventually you sigh, then admit it. “I just never thought I’d have this.”

— Jungkook’s entire expression changes, because suddenly he understands. You aren’t nervous because you’re uncertain about him, you’re nervous because all of this is new. The hand holding, the cuddling, the good morning texts, the kisses goodbye, everything.

— And for some reason that realization completely wrecks him, because now all he can think about is how much trust you’re placing in him. How every relationship memory you’re making is being made with him first, and suddenly he wants to protect every single one of them.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• your first sleepover as his girlfriend

— The first time you stay overnight with him, you’re so nervous it’s almost ridiculous. You spend an hour deciding what pajamas to bring, you overthink where you’ll sleep, you overthink whether you’ll snore, you overthink literally everything.

— Meanwhile Jungkook thinks it’s adorable. Not that he tells you that immediately, because he knows you’d die of embarrassment.

— Instead he just quietly helps you settle in, shows you where everything is, lets you take your time, and acts completely normal, even though he’s secretly smiling every time you get flustered.

— The thing that finally breaks him? When you emerge from the bathroom looking nervous and immediately ask: “Is this okay?” Referring to your pajamas.

— And Jungkook just stares, because suddenly he’s realizing how badly you want everything to go right. How much effort you’re putting into something that feels effortless to him.

— His chest hurts a little in the best way, so he simply reaches for your hand, pulls you closer, and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute, you know that?”

— Then he watches your entire face turn red.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• clingy boyfriend jk after he discovers you’re touch-starved

— Jungkook discovers something very dangerous early into the relationship: You love affection, you just aren’t used to receiving it. Which means every little thing affects you. His arm around your shoulders, his fingers brushing yours, his hand resting on your knee during car rides.

— The first time he pulls you into his lap while you’re both watching a movie, you practically stop functioning, and he notices immediately. Of course he does. He’s Jungkook, nothing gets past him.

— The movie continues playing, but neither of you are watching it, because now he’s distracted by how nervous you are. How your hands don’t know where to go, how you’re trying so hard to act normal. Eventually he wraps both arms around your waist, pulls you comfortably against his chest, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

— “Relax.” Easy for him to say. He’s not the one whose heart is trying to escape through their ribs, but eventually you do relax.

— You settle against him naturally, and once that happens? Jungkook is finished, because now he never wants to sit normally again.

— If you’re nearby, he wants you touching him somehow. Holding hands, curled into his side, sitting beside him. Resting your head on his shoulder.

— Anything. Everything. Because he gets just as addicted to your affection as you are to his.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• when you get shy about relationship things

— Sometimes Jungkook forgets that things which feel normal to him still feel huge to you. Like introducing each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. Or couple photos. Or meeting family members.

— The first time someone asks who he is and you quietly answer: “My boyfriend.” Jungkook almost loses his mind. Not outwardly, internally, because hearing you say it does something to him.

— The shy smile afterward. The way you immediately look away. The tiny blush spreading across your cheeks. He’s completely gone.

:<:<:<:<:<:<:<

• when he catches himself imagining your future together

— This one scares him. A little.

— Because one night you’re asleep beside him. Curled into his chest, wearing one of his shirts. Completely peaceful, and he’s supposed to be sleeping too.

— Instead he’s awake. Watching you. Thinking. Dangerous activity.

— Because suddenly he starts realizing how attached he’s become, how important you’ve become, how natural you feel in his life. And then an even more dangerous thought appears.

— He doesn’t want to be your first boyfriend. He wants to be your last one too. And that realization hits him so hard that he actually laughs quietly to himself.

— Because he’s gone. Completely. Hopelessly. Embarrassingly gone. For the girl who still gets excited when he holds her hand.

──────────────────────

you whimper at his words, your pussy already dripping and clenching around nothing. the way he's staring at you like he wants to devour you whole has your thighs squirming, trying to get any kind of friction.

"jay please," you whine, not even caring how desperate you sound.

"please what?" he smirks, running his hands down your body slowly, teasingly. "tell me what you want, baby."

"need you so bad," you breathe out, spreading your legs wider for him. "been thinking about your cock all day, i want you to breed me."

"fuck," he groans again, settling between your thighs and spreading them even wider. his eyes lock onto your soaking cunt and he licks his lips. "look at this messy little pussy, already dripping for me and i haven't even touched her yet. she's so ready to be filled up, hm?"

he runs two fingers through your folds, collecting the slick that's been leaking out of you. you gasp at the contact, your hips bucking up desperately for more. he circles your swollen clit with light touches that have you whimpering and tugging at the ribbons.

"so fucking wet," he grunts, pushing two fingers inside your tight hole. you gasp at the stretch, your walls clenching around the intrusion. "that's it baby, doing so good for me," he murmurs sweetly. "this pretty cunt really missed me huh?"

"yes, fuck yes," you moan as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes your mind go blank. his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles that have you seeing stars.

"that's it, make a mess on my fingers," he growls, pumping them faster, harder. the wet sounds of your pussy squelching around his digits fills the room and it's so fucking filthy. "listen to how sloppy this cunt is for me baby, so fucking loud."

you're already so close, the pressure building in your core embarrassingly fast. your thighs are shaking and you're tugging uselessly at the satin binding your wrists, wanting to touch him but you can't and fuck it makes everything so much more intense.

"gonna cum already?" he teases, feeling the way your walls are fluttering around his fingers. "such a needy little slut, getting this worked up from just my fingers."

"please please please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. your pussy is clenching so tight around his fingers and his thumb is rubbing your clit in just the right way and it isn’t long begore you finish.

you cum with a cry, your whole body tensing as your orgasm crashes through you. your cunt spasms around his fingers, gushing and making an absolute mess on his hand and the sheets beneath you. he works you through it, curling his fingers and pressing on that sweet spot until you're whimpering from oversensitivity.

"good fucking girl," he murmurs, pulling his fingers out. they're absolutely coated in your cream, dripping with it. he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, groaning at your taste. "taste so fucking good baby, could eat this pussy all day."

he strips out of his clothes quickly and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, thick and hard and leaking precum from the tip. it's so big you know it's gonna stretch you out so good, fill you up so deep.

"please," you beg, trying to push your hips up to get him inside. "please fuck me, i need your cock stuffing my pussy so bad, i want you to fill me up."

"yeah?" he groans softly, rubbing his tip against your entrance. "want me to knock you up baby? want me to fuck you full of my cum until it takes?"

"yes yes please," you whimper, tears pricking at your eyes from how badly you need him. "wan' it so bad, wanna carry your baby, wanna be yours."

"gonna take such good care of you baby," he breathes, and his voice is so soft and loving despite how filthy the current situation you are in is. "gonna make you feel so good, my perfect girl. i'll breed you so good."

he pushes in slowly and you both groan at the stretch. even after his fingers and even with how wet you are, his thick cock still feels huge, splitting your cunt open and stretching your walls to accommodate his size.

"holy fuck," he grunts, watching his cock disappear into your hole inch by inch. "this pussy's so tight baby, squeezing my dick so fucking good. she's so perfect for me, she's taking me so well. gonna look so pretty when you're swollen with my baby."

you whimper at his praise, your pussy clenching around him. "feels so good," you breathe out. "so full, i love you so much."

"i love you more baby," he murmurs, finally bottoming out inside you. he leans down to kiss you softly, sweetly, his lips gentle against yours even with his cock buried so deep in your cunt. "my perfect girl, so good for me always."

his hips are now flush against yours, and you can feel him so deep inside you think you might cum jusy from the thought alone. the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix and it's so much, so full, that you can barely breathe.

he doesn't give you much time to adjust before he's pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in. you cry out at the brutal pace he sets, each thrust hitting so deep inside you that your eyes roll back.

"fuck yes, take that cock," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "such a good little cocksleeve for me, letting me use this cunt however i want. gonna fuck a baby into you, gonna breed you so good."

the sounds filling the room are absolutely obscene — the wet slapping of his balls against your ass, the squelching of your drenched pussy taking his cock over and over, your high pitched moans mixing with his deep grunts. you tug desperately at the ribbons binding your wrists, wanting to claw at his back but you can't move.

"look at you," jay pants, his eyes locked on where his cock is pounding into your cunt. "taking my dick so well, this sloppy pussy was made for my cock wasn't she baby? she was made to be bred and carry my babies."

"yes yes yes," you babble, your mind going blank from the pleasure. your tits are bouncing with each brutal thrust and he leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, biting down on the sensitive bud. "gonna be so pretty when these fill up with milk."

"harder," you gasp out, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even deeper. "fuck me harder, use me, please, breed me."

"my needy girl," he murmurs, and there's so much affection in his voice mixed with the desire. "always so perfect for me, taking everything i give you." he fucks into you deeper, his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "gonna fill this cunt up so good baby, gonna pump her full until she's dripping, i'll give you everyhting you deserve."

"please please please," you sob, tears streaming down your face from how good it feels, from how much you love him, from how badly you need him.

"m'so close," you whimper, feeling that familiar tension building in your core again. your pussy is clenching around his cock desperately, your walls fluttering and trying to milk him. "jay please, need to cum so bad."

he reaches between your bodies to rub harsh circles on your swollen clit and you nearly scream at the added stimulation. "come on baby, cum all over this cock," he grunts. "wanna feel this tight cunt squeezing me, and making a fucking mess."

it only takes a few more thrusts before you're falling apart. your orgasm hits you like a fucking truck, your whole body convulsing as pleasure crashes through you in waves. your pussy clamps down on his cock so tight it's almost painful, gushing and creaming all over his length.

"fuck fuck fuck," jay groans, his rhythm getting messier as your walls milk his cock. "gonna give you everything baby, gonna fill you up so good, gonna breed this perfect pussy." his thrusts are getting desperate, needy. "take it all princess, gonna pump you so full of my cum and knock you up."

he buries himself as deep as he can go, grinding against your cervix as his cock starts pulsing inside you. "i love you," he breathes out, and you can feel the first hot spurt of his release flooding your cunt, painting your walls white. "i love you so much baby, you're everything to me. gonna give you my baby."

you whimper as he empties himself inside you, rope after rope of thick cum filling you up so warm and full. he keeps grinding into you slowly, gently, making sure every drop stays deep inside where it belongs, right against your womb.

"so full," you whimper, your pussy still clenching around him weakly. "can feel it so much, feels so good."

"that's my girl," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses all over your face — your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips.

his touch is so gentle and loving. "you did so good for me baby, always so perfect."

you sniffle, completely overwhelmed with how much you love him and how safe you feel with him. "love you," you whisper, voice shaky with emotion.

he carefully reaches up to untie the ribbon from your wrists, his movements slow and gentle. once you're free, he brings your wrists to his lips, pressing the softest kisses to the faint pink marks left behind by the satin.

"love you more than anything," he says quietly, rubbing your skin tenderly. "my pretty girl, my everything. you're gonna be such a beautiful mama."

he shifts you both carefully, keeping his softening cock nestled inside you as he pulls you close to his chest. one hand comes up to play with your hair while the other rubs soothing circles on your lower back. you can hear his heartbeat beneath your ear, steady and comforting.

"you okay baby?" he asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "wasn't too much?"

"perfect," you mumble sleepily against his skin, feeling so warm and safe and loved. "you're always so perfect with me."

"gonna keep you just like this," he murmurs, wrapping the blanket around both of you. outside the snow is still falling, blanketing everything in white, but inside you're wrapped up in his arms where you belong. "my precious gift, all mine to take care of."

you hum contentedly, already drifting off as he continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear and presses gentle kisses to your hair. his cum is still buried deep inside you, keeping you full and warm, and his arms are holding you close with no plans of letting go.

When you started to grind against him, Jay's body stiffened underneath you and his hand pausing mid-stroke on your arm.

"Baby?" His voice came out low, rough around the edges, as he glanced down at you. 

You didn't stop, just nuzzled deeper into his neck, your pussy already growing slick through your thin shorts.

The pressure of his firm muscle against your clit had you biting your lip, hips circling needily.

"Jay... I need you," you whispered, voice breathy and desperate. Your hands clutched at his shirt, bunching the fabric as you grinded harder, chasing that building ache.

He let out a groan, the free hand moved and pressed against your hip to keep you in place.

"Fuck, you're so needy tonight," But there was no complaint in his tone—only hunger.

He flexed his thigh, pushing up into your grinding motions, making you whimper as sparks of pleasure shot up your spine.

The blanket slipped away as you straddled his leg more fully, knees digging into the cushions on either side.  Jay stared at you, his eyes dark and full of lust as he watched your face twist and turn as you worked your hips, your breasts jiggled under your tank top as each time you rolled your hip.

He reached up, cupping one breast, thumb brushing over your hardening nipple through the cloth. 

"Keep doing that, baby," he murmured, his voice dropping a note lower than normal. "Grind on me like that."  His other hand squeezed your ass, guiding your rhythm, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.

You obeyed, fucking yourself on his thigh, the seam of your shorts rubbing your swollen clit raw. Wetness soaked through the fabric, leaving a damp spot on his sweats.

It wasn't enough. The need clawed at you, demanding more. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it up to expose his toned abs, then leaned down to lick a stripe across his skin, tasting the salt of him.

Jay hissed, his cock hardening visibly in his pants, straining against the material.

"Please, Jay... touch me," you begged, grinding faster, your pussy throbbing with emptiness.

He was quick to respond and didn't make you wait. He was able to toss you onto your back in one fluid motion. Settling between your legs without breaking the cuddle—his body half-draped over yours, intimate and close. His mouth crashed onto yours, tongue plunging deep as his hand shoved your shorts aside. Two of his fingers easily slid into your extremely wet entrance. He pumped them slow at first, curling to stroke that sensitive spot inside, while his thumb circled your clit. 

With the combination of what he was doing, you moaned softly into the kiss, and you were now wrapping your legs around Jay's waist to pull him further into your body.

"So fucking wet for me," he said between kisses, as he gently nipped your bottom one. He then added a third finger and began to stretch your vaginal opening, as well as scissor the fingers to expand it.

As your vaginal walls tightened around his three fingers, your hips lifted off the bed to meet each of his thrusts.

Jay's mouth trailed down your neck, sucking marks into your skin as he finger-fucked you harder, the wet sounds filling the space under the blanket. Your hands roamed his back, nails scratching lightly, urging him on. The coil in your core tightened, pleasure building fast from the earlier grinding.

"I-I'm close..."  you panted, clit pulsing under his thumb.

"Then cum, let me feel it," He latched onto your nipple through the tank top, teeth grazing the peak as he slammed his fingers deep. You couldn't hold it any longer, pussy clenching hard around him, juices gushing out to coat his hand.

He didn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you trembled, overstimulated and whining. Only then did he pull his fingers free, bringing them to your mouth.

"Taste yourself," You sucked them clean eagerly, eyes locked on his as he freed his cock from his sweats. 

It was thick, hard, and dripping just a little bit of pre-cum from the head. Jay stroked himself once, then lined up with your entrance, rubbing the head through your folds.  "Gonna fill your needy pussy," he growled, pushing in inch by inch. You stretched around his girth, walls hugging him tight, still fluttering from your release.

Jay slammed into you, hips flush against yours. Then he started thrusting—slow, deep rolls that kept you both close, cuddling even as he fucked you.

His arms bracketed your head, forehead pressed to yours, breaths mingling. "Feels so good... you're perfect."

You clung to him, legs locked around his back, meeting every snap of his hips. His cock dragged along your insides, hitting deep, balls brushing your ass with each plunge.

"Harder," you pleaded, nails digging into his shoulders.

Jay obliged, pace quickening, pounding into you with controlled force. The couch creaked under you, blanket slipping further as sweat slicked your skin. His hand was in between you, and his fingers rubbed hard circles on your clit. 

"Cum with me, baby. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock." The combined sensations of his cock inside you and his fingers on your clit brought you to the edge again, making your pussy contract around him.

"Yes, Jay!" You screamed, totally overtaken by the wave of pleasure as your orgasm hit you, milking him dry as you came. His face pressed against your neck, thrusting erratically before slamming deep one last time. Hot cum filled your vagina, shooting in thick spurts while he groaned your name.  You stayed like that, locked together, his weight a comforting blanket as you both caught your breath. Jay kissed the side of your head and cuddled up close.

“baaaabe,” you sing, lips dragging sloppy along his jaw, “i missed you so bad, jayjay. wanna ride you ‘til the sun comes up, ‘kay?”

he exhales a soft laugh, kicking the door shut behind him. “yeah? you can barely walk, pretty girl.”

you prove his point immediately by stumbling over nothing, giggling as he catches you. your hands are already fumbling with his belt, clumsy, desperate, missing the buckle three times in a row.

“see? ugh, such an evil belt,” you huff, pout pushing your bottom lip out.

jay gently pulls your wrists away and kisses your knuckles. “let’s get some water in you first, hm?”

“nooo,” you whine, trying to drop to your knees right there in the hallway, mouthing at the front of his jeans. “want you now. want your cock in my mouth, jay, please—”

your knees hit the rug and he curses under his breath, hauling you back up before you can even get his zipper down.

“baby.” his voice is soft but firm, hands cupping your face so you’ll look at him. your pupils are huge, lipstick smudged, hair messy from dancing all night. “you’re drunk. i’m not fucking you like this.”

you stick out your tongue like that’ll change his mind. “i’m not that drunk. i’m… fun drunk. horny drunk. best kind of drunk.”

he snorts, steering you toward the bedroom. “you’re the kind of drunk who’s gonna fall asleep with my dick in your mouth and drool all over me. not really hot, baby.”

you flop onto the bed face-first, dress riding up to dangerous heights. “then just cuddle me and let me hump your thigh ‘til i pass out. compromise.”

jay kneels, carefully unzipping your heels and sliding them off. “water and pajamas. that’s the only compromise tonight.”

you whine, rolling onto your back, legs falling open, giving him the most shameless view known to man. “you’re so mean to me,” you sigh dramatically, but your eyes are already fluttering. “my pussy feels so empty, jay…”

he groans, adjusting himself in his jeans because you’re making it really fucking hard (literally) to stay calm and collected. “i know, baby. tomorrow i’ll fill you up so good you’ll feel me for a week. tonight you’re gonna let me take care of you.”

he disappears, comes back with a makeup wipe, a glass of water, and one of his big t-shirts. you’re half-asleep already, mumbling complaints while he wipes the glitter off your cheeks and lifts your arms to change you like you’re a doll.

when he finally slides into bed and pulls you against his chest, you nuzzle into his neck, one leg thrown over his hip.

“i love you,” you slur, hand sneaking under his shirt to touch warm skin. “even when you’re very boring and responsible.”

he shakes his head, pulling you closer as he kisses your forehead, fingers drawing slow circles on your back. “i love you more, drunk girl. go to sleep.”

you’re out in under a minute, soft snores against his throat.

jay stays awake a little longer, trying to ignore how your bare thigh keeps brushing his dick, smiling into the dark.

tomorrow, he reminds himself.

tonight he just holds you, heartbeat steady under your cheek, and lets you drool on his collarbone like the lovesick idiot he is.

“You’re already shaking,” you murmur, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to his tip.

Heeseung lets out a helpless little whimper, his lip trembling, his eyes fluttering closed as he tugs at the restraints again.

“I—fuck, I can’t,” he gasps. “Let me touch you—please, baby, please—”

You just grin, your breath hot against his aching cock, before you finally wrap your lips around him—slow, wet, torturously soft.

He whines.

Like, full-body tremble, desperate, broken fucking whines.

“Ohhh, f-fuck, baby—”* His voice shakes, his head lolling to the side, his mouth falling open, his brows furrowing tight in pleasure.

You take him deeper, your tongue dragging along the underside, your throat tight around him, and Heeseung lets out a wrecked sob, his hips jerking up involuntarily.

“Shit—s-shit, I—” His fingers curl tight in the restraints, his muscles locking up, his face a perfect mix of agony and bliss as he tries so fucking hard not to come already.

His Adam’s apple bobs, his jaw clenching, his eyelashes fluttering as he struggles to keep his eyes on you, watching the way your lips stretch around his cock, the way your tongue flicks so perfectly over his slit.

“Oh my f-fucking god,” he gasps, his whole body jerking, his thighs trembling hard.

You pull off with a slow, wet pop, licking the tip, smirking as his hips twitch beneath you.

“You look so good like this, baby,” you murmur, letting your tongue drag over the thick vein along his shaft, savoring the way his abs clench tight in response.

Heeseung lets out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping at nothing, his head tilting back sharply.

“Y-you’re—”* he chokes out, voice so wrecked it barely sounds like him anymore. “You’re so fucking evil—”

You just laugh softly, before taking him all the way down, your throat swallowing around him, sucking deep and slow.

It fucking breaks him.

“Ohhh—fuck, f-fuck, baby, I—” His voice cracks, his entire body locking up, his muscles going rigid as he yanks at the restraints, so fucking desperate to grab you, to pull your hair, to hold onto something—but he can’t.

All he can do is take it.

“Fucking hell, I—oh my god—” Heeseung’s brows furrow so tight, his jaw slack, his thighs trembling violently as he fights it—as he fights losing himself completely.

But when you swallow around him again, moaning softly, Heeseung lets out a shattered sob, his head thrown back, his throat exposed, his hips jerking helplessly.

“I’m—I’m gonna—fuck, fuck, baby, I—”

You suck him down one more time, hard and deep, and Heeseung breaks completely, his whole body arching off the bed, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as he comes so hard he nearly blacks out.

You swallow everything, sucking gently, working him through it, feeling the way his thighs shake violently, the way his body shudders beneath you, completely fucking wrecked.

When you finally pull back, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to his oversensitive tip, Heeseung lets out a weak, breathless laugh, his chest still rising and falling heavily.

You smirk, trailing your fingers up his stomach, watching the way his abs clench in overstimulation.

“Still think this was gonna be easy?” you tease, voice all sweetness and innocence.

Heeseung just lets out a shaky exhale, his arms going completely limp in the restraints, his face still blissed-out and wrecked.

Then, finally, his head lolls to the side, and he lets out a low, exhausted groan.

“Never fucking again,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as hell. “Never—fucking—again—am I letting you tie me up.”

You just grin, untying his wrists, pressing a soft, mocking kiss to his forehead.

“Sure, baby.”

But you both know he’s lying.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

Jay has always been a giver.

It’s just the way he is

Right now, he’s tied up beneath you, completely helpless, his wrists bound tightly to the headboard, his broad chest rising and falling in shaky, uneven breaths, his jaw clenched so fucking tight he looks like he might actually lose his mind.

You’re riding him slow, rolling your hips in deep, dragging circles, feeling every inch of him stretch you perfectly, every little vein and ridge pressing inside you just right—but you never let him have more.

You keep it lazy, keep it slow, torturing him with every single movement.

“You look so fucking good like this, baby,” you murmur, leaning down, letting your lips brush over his ear, your breath hot against his feverish skin.

Jay lets out a wrecked, shuddering exhale, his fingers flexing uselessly against the restraints, his muscles tensing so hard you can feel them rippling beneath you.

“Can’t even touch me,” you continue, mocking, grinding down just a little harder, feeling the way his cock twitches inside you at the words.

His throat bobs, his lips parting, his eyes completely blown out, a desperate, frantic glaze taking over his normally confident expression.

“F-fuck,” he chokes out, his head tilting back, his biceps straining against the silk ties, yanking just enough to test them—but not enough to break free.

Because Jay is too good, too willing to give you whatever you want.

You just want to ruin him.

“You’re always so in control, aren’t you, baby?” you purr, dragging your nails down his chest, watching the way his abs clench and flex under your touch.

“Always making sure I feel good first?” Your nails scratch lightly over his nipples, and his breath stutters, his thighs twitching beneath you.

“Always such a good husband for me.”

Jay lets out a wrecked, filthy groan, his head tilting to the side, his jaw going slack, his lips parting on a helpless, choked-out moan as he bucks up instinctively—but you press your hand against his stomach, forcing him still.

He whimpers.

Actually, fucking whimpers.

Fuck, you love it.

“Look at you, baby,” you whisper, mocking. “All tied up and still trying to take care of me.”

Jay gasps, his body shuddering beneath you, his cock pulsing so hard inside you that you can feel him losing control.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you?” you murmur, letting your tongue flick out against his earlobe, biting down softly, dragging your nails down his arms where he’s straining against the ties.

“Wanna hold my hips, wanna flip me over and fuck me into the mattress, right?”

Jay groans—loud, deep, so wrecked it makes your whole body tighten around him.

“Fuck—fuck, baby, I—” His voice catches, his chest heaving, his hands clenching into fists as he struggles, trembles, tries so hard to hold himself together.

“Can’t, baby—”* he gasps, eyes squeezing shut, his head tilting back sharply. “Can’t—can’t take it—”

You grin, shifting forward, grinding down deeper, your lips brushing over his panting mouth, just barely not kissing him.

“You don’t get to take anything,” you whisper, cruel and sweet all at once, dragging your tongue along the seam of his lips before pulling away.

“You get what I give you.”

Jay sobs..

His whole body tenses violently, his breath coming in sharp, broken gasps, his thighs trembling uncontrollably beneath you.

“Please,” he gasps, his voice wrecked and desperate, his hips jerking up helplessly, his abs clenching. “Please, baby—let me—fuck, I need—please—”

You finally, finally, give him what he wants.

You start bouncing on his cock, fast, relentless, taking him deep and rough, making his headboard slam into the wall, and Jay fucking screams, his voice breaking, his eyes rolling back so hard all you see is white.

“F-fuck—fuck, I—I’m—” His entire body tenses, his muscles locking up, his jaw going slack, his fingers clawing at the restraints as he loses himself completely, coming so hard inside you it makes his thighs shake violently beneath you.

His whole body trembles, his lips parting around silent, choked-out moans, and you ride him through it, slowing down, grinding deep as he whimpers softly, his breath coming in sharp, erratic gasps.

When he finally comes back down, he just lays there, completely limp, his skin flushed deep red, his body still twitching from aftershocks, his head lolling to the side.

You reach up, untying the restraints, letting his arms fall to the bed, completely useless and weak, and he just groans, his lips parted, his entire body wrecked beyond belief.

After a long, breathless pause, he turns his head slightly, staring at you, eyes still glassy and dazed.

Then, finally, he lets out a weak, hoarse laugh, voice so fucked-out and exhausted it’s almost adorable.

You grin, pressing a kiss to his sweaty, overheated chest, tracing a finger down his still-trembling stomach.

“Still think you’re the one who’s always in control, baby?”

Jay just lets out a shaky exhale, tilting his head back against the pillows, a lazy, satisfied smirk forming on his lips.“I think,” he breathes, grinning, “I just fell even more in love with you.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake is so fucking frustrated he’s actually about to start kicking and screaming like a toddler.

He thought this was going to be fun—that you’d tie him up, tease him a little, then let him have you.

Oh, how wrong he was.

He’s tied to the bed, his wrists secured tightly, his body slick with sweat, his abs tensing uncontrollably, and you’re just hovering over him, your wetness dragging against the head of his cock, so fucking close but not giving him anything.

Jake is losing his fucking mind.

“Baby—baby, I swear to fucking God—” His voice is wrecked, raspy, and thick with frustration, his arms pulling against the restraints, his fingers flexing like he’s actually about to rip them apart.

You just smirk, dragging your nails down his trembling stomach, feeling the way his muscles clench violently.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you whisper, tilting your head, mocking him. “You look so… tense.”

Jake lets out a high, desperate groan, his thighs twitching, his cock throbbing angrily, a sharp pulse running through him every time you roll your hips just enough to tease.

“You fucking—”* he gasps, his eyes wild and unfocused, his lips swollen from biting them so hard, his hips jerking up just for you to press him back down.

“I swear to fucking GOD,” he growls, thrashing against the restraints, his head pressing into the pillow, his voice shaking. “If you don’t sit the fuck down on my cock right now—baby, I will scream so fucking loud the neighbors will call the fucking cops—”

Your eyes widen, caught between shock and amusement, and before he can say another word, you slap a hand over his mouth, muffling his wrecked little gasps, and shove two fingers past his lips.

Jake chokes on a whimper, his whole body arching violently, his tongue immediately latching onto your fingers, sucking so hungrily, so filthy, his cheeks hollowing out as he moans around them.

“That’s better,” you murmur, watching the way his eyes flutter, the way his breath stutters, the way his hips keep twitching desperately beneath you, like he physically can’t control himself anymore.

His fingers curl into fists, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths, his thighs trembling uncontrollably as he moans around your fingers, his whole body writhing beneath you.

“Such a fucking brat,” you purr, dragging your free hand down his throat, wrapping your fingers around it just enough to make him shudder.

“Always so fucking mouthy, always acting up—”* you press your fingers down slightly on his tongue, feeling the way it writhes against you, hot and slick, the way his lips tremble around them.

“Now look at you,” you mock, grinding down just a little, just enough to let the head of his cock push inside you, squeezing tight around the tip—but not letting him have more.

Jake screams into your hand, his back arching off the bed, his fingers flexing violently in the restraints, his whole body on the verge of breaking.

“F-fuck—fuck, I—please—”* his voice is a mess, muffled and wrecked, his hips jerking up wildly, but you slap his thigh hard, making him yelp into your palm.

“No, baby,” you breathe, smirking, pressing your wet fingers deeper into his mouth, feeling his tongue swirl desperately around them.

“You don’t get to act like a little fucking menace and still get what you want.”

Jake whines, actually whines, high and desperate, his eyes rolling back slightly, his breath coming in shaky, choked-out sobs.

“Y-you’re—oh, fuck—you’re so fucking mean,” he gasps, his words slurred around your fingers, drool slipping down the corner of his mouth, his whole body trembling like he’s on the verge of breaking completely.

You grin, finally pulling your fingers from his mouth, dragging them down his heaving chest, feeling the way his skin burns beneath your touch.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, your lips ghosting over his ear, your voice sickly sweet and cruel.

“You haven’t even seen mean yet.”

Then, without warning, you slam yourself down onto him, taking him all the way in one deep, brutal motion.

Jake screams.

Not moans. Not groans.

A full, raw, broken scream, his head snapping back, his eyes rolling back so violently you almost think he passed out, his fingers pulling against the restraints like he’s trying to rip himself free.

“F-fuck—fuck, f-fuck, I—”* his voice cracks, his hips jolting up wildly, his whole body tensing violently beneath you, like he’s teetering on the edge of cumming already.

You don’t let him.

You slow down, grinding instead of bouncing, rolling your hips in deep, torturous circles, feeling the way his cock twitches inside you, the way his thighs jerk helplessly, the way his breath comes out in weak, shaky gasps.

“You feel so fucking good like this, baby,” you whisper, dragging your nails down his chest, watching the way his stomach jumps under your touch, the way his lips tremble helplessly.

“Completely helpless, completely mine.”

Jake sobs, full-body shaking, his wrists pulling so hard at the restraints that the headboard is knocking against the wall, his hips stuttering violently.

“B-baby, please—fuck, I—”* he gasps, choking on his own moans, his voice so hoarse, so destroyed. “I c-can’t—please, please—”

You grin, dragging your tongue up his throat, biting down hard on his racing pulse, making his whole body jolt violently beneath you.

“Aww, baby,” you mock, grinding down even harder, feeling the way he chokes on a wrecked little cry, his whole body convulsing.

“Are you gonna cry for me?”

Jake screams, his thighs clenching beneath you, his cock pulsing so violently inside you that you know he’s seconds from breaking completely.

“I—I’m gonna—f-fuck, fuck, I—baby, baby, please, let me—”

You slam your hips down one last time, and Jake breaks completely, thrashing beneath you, his breath coming in desperate, choked-out sobs, his whole body tensing so hard it shakes the bed.

And when he finally goes limp, completely wrecked, his chest heaving, his throat raw, his body still twitching from the aftershocks, you grin, running a lazy hand over his sweat-slick stomach.

“See, baby?” you hum sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to his panting mouth.

“That’s what you get for being a fucking brat.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

Sunghoon didn’t take you seriously at all.

When you told him about your friend tying up her boyfriend and ruining him, he just blinked at you, his expression bored, unimpressed.

“Okay?” he had said, scrolling through his phone.

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s it? No reaction?”

“What do you want me to say?” He finally looked at you, tilting his head lazily. “I mean, it’s not that crazy. You tie the guy up, tease him a little, make him beg, then fuck him. Right?”

You licked your lips, leaning in. “You think you could handle it?”

Sunghoon snorted, smirking as he leaned back against the couch. “Baby, please. I could handle you with my hands tied behind my back.”

Your smile turned dangerous.

“Then let’s find out.”

But in reality, Sunghoon is fucked.

His wrists are tied above his head, stretched tight, his chest slick with sweat, his abs flexing uncontrollably as you ride him with no mercy, bouncing on his cock, taking him deep, rough, and fast.

He literally hasn’t said a word in ten minutes.

At first, he grunted, let out those deep, guttural groans, his thighs tensing, his body shaking beneath you as he tried so hard to hold on.

His jaw is slack, his lips parted, his eyes completely unfocused, so fucking gone that he can barely even breathe properly.

“Too much, baby?” you mock, dragging your nails down his sweaty chest, watching his muscles twitch violentlybeneath your touch.

Sunghoon just nods frantically, his breath catching, his fingers curling uselessly against the restraints as his hips twitch up, completely involuntary, completely desperate.

“But you’re taking it so well,” you purr, grinding down deep, rolling your hips slow and heavy, making him feel every inch of you.

Sunghoon lets out a choked, breathless groan, his thighs trembling violently, his whole body locking up beneath you.

“G-gonna—f-fuck—”* His voice finally breaks, and then—

He comes so fucking hard that his whole body tenses violently, his head snapping back against the pillow, his chest heaving as his cock pulses inside you, filling you so deep you swear you feel it everywhere.

But you don’t stop.

Not even when his thighs twitch, not even when his stomach spasms, not even when his breath stutters violently, too overstimulated, too much, too good.

You just slow down, rolling your hips deep, teasing, milking him through it, your nails dragging over his flushed skin, your lips tracing down his chest—

You pull off him completely.

Sunghoon lets out a sharp, broken breath, his whole body trembling, but before he can even process what’s happening, your hand wraps around his cock, slick and so fucking sensitive, and you start stroking him all over again.

His head snaps up instantly, his eyes wild and unfocused, his lips parting on a silent, breathless moan as his body jolts violently beneath you.

“W-wait—fuck, baby—”* His voice catches, but you ignore him, leaning down, letting your lips brush over his flushed skin, your tongue flicking over his already-sensitive nipple.

You bite down.

Hard.

Sunghoon shouts—the first full sentence he’s spoken all night—

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!—”*

You just grin, suck harder, dragging your nails down his quivering stomach, feeling the way his cock twitches uncontrollably in your grip, his whole body rocking with overstimulation.

“Oh, baby,” you mock, licking the bruise forming on his swollen, overstimulated nipple, squeezing his cock just right, watching his abs flex violently.

“I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

Sunghoon lets out a wrecked, helpless moan, his breath coming in frantic gasps, his head thrashing to the side, but you just lick a slow, teasing stripe up his throat, biting another dark hickey into the soft skin just below his jaw.

“Everyone’s gonna see that one, baby,” you whisper, grinning against his feverish skin.

Sunghoon just shudders violently, his eyes fluttering shut, his jaw going slack as his cock pulses in your grip, his breath coming out in sharp, erratic gasps.

“Ohhh, f-fuck—fuck, I—”* His whole body locks up, his fingers weakly twitching, his thighs spasming— he comes again, his hips jerking helplessly, his chest rising sharply, his lips trembling from how hard he’s shaking beneath you.

But you don’t stop.

Not until he’s come four whole times, his breath ragged and uneven, his body twitching violently, his lips parted in silent, choked-out sobs, his wrists weakly flexing against the restraints.

When you finally, finally untie him, letting his arms drop, he just lays there, completely limp, his chest heaving, his eyes unfocused.

After a long, shaky exhale, he blinks up at you, his face completely wrecked.

Then, finally, he lets out a hoarse, breathless laugh, his voice weak and ruined.

“You milked me dry like a fucking cow.”*

You just grin, pressing a soft, tender kiss to his damp forehead, brushing his hair out of his face.

“You were perfect, baby,” you whisper sweetly, kissing him like he’s the most magnificent, precious thing in the world.

Sunghoon lets out a tired, shaky exhale, his body still trembling beneath you, his eyes fluttering shut.

“There’s something fucking wrong with you,” he mutters.

You just laugh, kissing his jawline, his nose, his flushed cheeks.

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo was always dramatic, but this?

This was a new level.

“You want to tie me up?” He gasped, clutching his chest, staring at you like you’d just suggested burning his wardrobe. “Baby, are you planning on murdering me?”

You rolled your eyes, straddling his lap and pinching his cheek, making him pout even harder.

“No, baby,” you murmured, running your fingers down his jaw, tilting his chin up. “I just wanna see you squirm.”

Sunoo huffed, looking anywhere but at you, but you caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched slightly against your thighs.

“I don’t squirm,” he said stubbornly.

You smirked, leaning in, whispering against his lips—

“We’ll see about that.”

An hour later, Sunoo is tied up and completely fucked out, his wrists bound tightly to the headboard, his chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths, his pretty lips swollen from all the pouting and whining he’s been doing.

But the best part?

He still hasn’t cum.

You’ve been playing with him for what feels like forever, keeping him on edge, bringing him right to the brink of release, then pulling away at the last second—again and again and again..

His cheeks are flushed deep pink, his eyelashes damp with unshed tears, his thighs trembling as he tugs uselessly at the restraints.

“B-baby, please—” His voice is soft, desperate, breathless, his lips trembling as he squirms beneath you.

You grin, dragging your nails down his stomach, watching the way his body jolts violently at the sensation.

“Please what?” you murmur, your fingers hovering over his leaking cock, but not touching him at all.

Sunoo whimpers, his hips twitching helplessly, his fingers clenching into fists.

“I—”* he gasps, his head tilting back, his pretty throat exposed and begging for attention, his chest rising sharply.

You take advantage of it, leaning down, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the delicate skin just below his collarboe, sucking until you know it’ll leave a mark.

Sunoo gasps sharply, his whole body tensing beneath you, his breath stuttering as a wrecked little whimper slips past his lips.

“You’re so mean,” he pouts, his voice cracking on the last word, his wrists twisting against the ties like he wants to throw a tantrum.

You just smile, letting your lips trail down his collarbone, over his flushed chest, lower and lower.

“Oh—fuck—” His voice breaks completely, his eyes squeezing shut, his thighs snapping together in frustration.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur, kissing your way down his chest, your hand finally, finally wrapping around his aching cock. “You’re shaking.”

Sunoo lets out the most desperate little noise, his breath catching, his whole body going taut beneath you.

“B-baby—”* he gasps, his voice so high and sweet and helpless it makes you clench around nothing.

“Shhh,” you coo, stroking him slow, torturous, teasing, feeling the way his cock twitches uncontrollably in your grip. “Be my good boy and take it.”

Sunoo whimpers, his fingers flexing uselessly, his breath coming in short, frantic little gasps.

“I—I c-can’t—”

“Yes, you can, baby,” you whisper, dragging your thumb over the swollen, sensitive tip, watching as his stomach tenses sharply, his breath stuttering in his throat.

Sunoo shakes his head frantically, his lips trembling, his eyes squeezed shut so tight that tears slip down his cheeks.

“B-baby, please—p-please, I—I need to—”

You lean in, lips brushing against his ear, your voice soft, teasing, dripping in affection—

“Then cum for me, baby.”

Sunoo lets out a sharp, shattered little cry, his entire body seizing up, his thighs clenching, his fingers curling into fists, his mouth falling open in a breathless, high-pitched moan as he finally, finally spills over your hand.

His chest heaves, his wrists straining weakly against the restraints, his whole body convulsing violently as he rides it out, his breath coming in ragged, uneven sobs.

When it’s over, when he finally collapses against the sheets, completely limp and wrecked, you untie his wrists, massaging the delicate skin where the fabric had been.

Sunoo’s eyes flutter open, dazed and glassy, his lips still parted, his breath still unsteady.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, “are actually evil.”

You just laugh softly, pressing kisses to his damp forehead, his flushed cheeks, his trembling lips.

“But you were so good for me, baby,” you murmur, cupping his face, kissing him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

Sunoo huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically, but his arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, his voice weak and breathless. “Now shut up and hold me.”

You just smile, curling up against him, feeling his breath slow, his body relax beneath you.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

Jungwon was always so composed.

Always the one in charge, always the one controlling the pace, making you beg, making you squirm, dragging things out just to hear you cry for him.

“You get so cute when you’re desperate,” he had said once, watching you fall apart, mocking you while he kept you on edge for what felt like hours.

“I wonder how long I can make you last before you break.”

That night, you had cried for him.

Tonight, he’s going to cry for you.

You’re going to tear him apart, ruin him so completely that he’ll never, ever try to put you through that again.

By the time you’re finished with him, he won’t just be begging for release—he’ll be begging for mercy.

Looking back it almost makes you laugh because Jungwon is so far gone that it’s almost pathetic.

His wrists are bound tight to the headboard, his fingers curling helplessly, his thighs trembling violently, his cock twitching, untouched, leaking all over himself.

The worst of all?

He hasn’t cum once.

You’ve edged him so many times that his body doesn’t even know how to handle it anymore, his breath coming in frantic, choked-off sobs, his cheeks slick with real, wet, desperate tears.

“P-please—please, f-fuck, I can’t—” His voice is so hoarse, so completely broken, his breath ragged and uneven, his body twitching, shaking, begging for anything.

You just smirk.

“Aww, poor baby,” you mock, gripping his jaw, forcing him to look at you, watching the way his lips tremble.

“You always act so tough.”

You drag your nails down his chest, watching the way his muscles tense, his abs flexing, his stomach spasming involuntarily.

“And now look at you.”

You slap his cock lightly, watching as his hips jolt up violently, his breath catching in a sharp, helpless moan.

“F-fuck—ohh, f-fuck, please, please, baby, I—I n-need—”

You slap him again.

Right on his leaking, swollen tip, precum splattering onto his stomach, his whole body jolting from the impact.

Jungwon screams, his thighs shaking uncontrollably, his wrists yanking at the restraints, but you just laugh softly.

“Oh, you need something?” you taunt, gripping his jaw, forcing him to look at you, watching the way his swollen lips quiver.

“What do you need, slut?”

Jungwon sobs again, completely humiliated, his body betraying him.

“P-please—please, let me cum—please, I c-can’t, I c-can’t—”

You tilt your head, fake pouting.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, voice sickly sweet, cruel, condescending. “You can’t?”

Then, you grab a fistful of his damp hair, yanking his head back, making his throat expose itself to you, his breath stuttering, a choked-off moan spilling past his lips.

“That’s funny, baby,” you whisper, dragging your tongue up his throat, feeling his pulse hammer violently against your lips.

“Because I remember you making me fucking beg. I remember you edging me until I was crying, just like this.”

Jungwon lets out a sharp, desperate sob, his thighs clenching, his hips twitching, completely lost in it.

“I—I’m s-sorry—please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be so f-fucking good, I s-swear—”

You grin, gripping his chin harder, tilting his head up, forcing him to stare at you.

“You’re already my good little fucktoy, baby.”

You slap his cock again, harder this time, watching as his body twitches violently, his mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“My pathetic little bitch.”

Jungwon whimpers, actual sobs wracking through his chest, his tears slipping down his temples, pooling on the pillow beneath him.

“You gonna cry harder for me, baby?”

He nods frantically, completely lost, completely gone.

“P-please—please—please—”

“Then cum, you fucking whore.”

The second you wrap your lips around his cock, sucking him deep and tight, Jungwon fucking loses it.

His entire body seizes up, his legs shaking so hard the whole bed moves, his wrists pulling at the restraints so violently that the headboard slams against the wall, his mouth falling open in a broken, wrecked scream.

He fucking breaks.

Jungwon cums so violently his entire body shudders, his stomach spasming, his throat bobbing as sobs rip through him, his voice so destroyed he can’t even form words anymore.

You swallow every drop, humming around him, your tongue dragging along his overly sensitive tip, watching the way his body jerks violently with overstimulation.

But you don’t stop.

You stroke him through it, slow and tight, dragging every last drop from him, his cock pulsing, twitching, his whimpers turning into helpless, wrecked cries.

“T-too much—f-fuck, b-baby—”* His voice is so weak, so ruined, so utterly fucking destroyed that he can barely even breathe.

But you keep going.

You suck harder, dragging your nails down his trembling thighs, taking him all the way back into your mouth, and he shrieks, his whole body flinching violently, his breath catching in sharp little gasps.

“Oh, f-fuck—oh, f-fuck—oh my god—please—please—”

He’s struggling now, actively fighting against the restraints, his body jerking uncontrollably, trying to pull away, trying to escape—

But you don’t let him.

“Awww, baby,” you coo, mocking, your mouth still wrapped tight around his cock. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked being in control?”

Jungwon sobs, thrashing beneath you, actually trying to get away, but he can’t.

“N-no more—please—please, baby, I-I can’t—”

And then he cums again.

So hard that his whole body convulses, his legs shaking, his chest rising sharply, his voice breaking completely, his sobs turning into nothing but gasps for air.

This time, his body just stops working.

Even as you slow your strokes, even as you lick the last of him away, even as you finally pull off of him, Jungwon is completely still.

His head lolls to the side, his chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths, his body weak, trembling, completely destroyed.

He passes out.

You carefully untie his wrists, massaging his twitching arms, pressing soft kisses to his damp forehead.

Just as you start to move away his arms shoot out, wrapping around you like a fucking koala, pulling you into his chest so tight you can barely move.

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbles, his voice wrecked, hoarse, completely fucking gone.

You grin.

“Sure, Won”

“You’re a fucking demon.”

You laugh softly, curling into him.

“I know, baby.”

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

“Come on, Niki,” you pouted, straddling his lap, holding the silk ties up with big, pleading eyes. “Just once. For me?”

Niki just raised an eyebrow, giving you that infuriatingly smug grin, stretching his long limbs behind his head like he wasn’t even taking you seriously.

“I don’t see the point,” he mused. “I’m already stronger than you. If I wanted to get out, I’d just… get out.”

You groaned, throwing yourself onto his chest dramatically. “It’s not about that! It’s about the experience, the control, the trust, the—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” he mocked, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you tie me up. If it’ll make you happy, baby.”

You perked up instantly, grinning as you grabbed his wrists.

“Finally!”

Now?

Now, you’re two seconds from losing your damn mind.

Because Niki is absolutely ruining this.

Every time you tie him up, every time you think you’ve got him right where you want him—

He fucking escapes.

Like it’s nothing.

Like you’re not even trying.

The first time, you had him tied up nicely, wrists secured, headboard shaking, your lips trailing down his throat—and the next thing you knew, he was flipping you onto your back, his arms suddenly completely free as he grinned down at you.

“What the—NIKI!” you yelped, smacking his arm. “How did you—”

“Baby, come on,” he laughed, scooping you up effortlessly, pinning you beneath him like the whole tying-up thing never happened. “I’m literally taller than you. Did you really think I’d stay tied up?”

You pouted angrily, wiggling under him. “THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”

Take Two: Riding Him?

“Just stay tied up,” you whined, adjusting the silk restraints around his wrists again, glaring at him. “And don’t you dare break free this time, or so help me—”

Niki snorted, smirking up at you as you sank down onto him, taking him deep, your hands braced against his chest.

“Mmm, I’ll try, baby,” he murmured, watching you grind down, slow and deep, his lips parting on a low groan.

For once, it seemed like he was actually taking it seriously.

You relaxed, rolling your hips, settling into the moment—

Until—

SNAP.

You felt it before you even saw it.

The ties? Gone.

His hands? Completely free.

And the worst part?

He didn’t even do it on purpose—he just shifted slightly, and the fabric came undone like it was fucking Velcro.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” you screamed, shoving his chest in frustration, but the bastard just laughed, gripping your hips, rolling you deeper onto him.

“You really thought that would hold me?” he mocked, tilting his head, grinning like the little shit he was.

“I SPENT FIFTEEN MINUTES TYING YOU UP!”

“And I appreciate the effort, baby,” he cooed, flipping you onto your back effortlessly, pinning you beneath him again.

“But let’s be real… you can’t actually keep me down.”

Final Attempt: Face-Sitting

At this point, you were ready to lose it.

“Okay,” you said, shaking out your hands like an athlete preparing for battle, retying his wrists so tight that there was NO WAY he was getting out.

“This time, you’re staying put.”

Niki grinned up at you, that cocky glint in his eyes. “Sure, baby.”

You scowled, climbing up, hovering over his face, settling your weight down as you finally—finally—had your moment of victory.

Or so you thought.

Because the second you lowered yourself onto him, the second his mouth made contact, his arms shot out, grabbing your thighs, yanking you down so hard you almost fell forward.

“NIKI! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE TIED UP—”

He didn’t even let you finish.

Didn’t let you breathe.

Didn’t even let you process the betrayal.

Because in the next second, he was devouring you like a man starved, his grip on your thighs bruising, pulling you down so tight against his face that you had no choice but to take it.

Your body jerked violently, your fingers gripping the headboard for dear life, your breath knocked right out of youas his tongue moved so filthy, so deep, so desperate that your brain literally stopped functioning.

“N-Niki—oh my god—”

Then you heard it.

He was laughing.

Actually laughing against you, like this was the funniest fucking thing in the world, like he had just won some kind of twisted competition you didn’t even sign up for.

That’s when you snapped.

“GET YOUR FACE OUT OF THERE, YOU MENACE!” you shrieked, trying to pry his head away, trying to push yourself up, but it was fucking useless.

He had you locked down tight, had you right where he wanted you, and there was no escape.

“Nope,” he mumbled into you, smug as ever, lips dragging slow and torturous, his tongue curling in a way that made you tremble uncontrollably.

“I think I like it better this way.”

You don’t know how long he kept you there.

It felt like forever.

Your thighs were shaking violently, your body weak and useless, your mind nothing but static as you finally collapsed against the headboard, trying to catch your breath.

Niki had the fucking audacity to grin up at you, wiping his mouth like he’d just finished a damn meal, looking completely unbothered.

“So,” he mused, tilting his head innocently. “How’d that tying-up thing work out for you?”

You glared, your body still trembling, still trying to recover.

“I fucking hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You wanted to smack him, you really did.

But you had no strength left.

So you just flopped onto the bed dramatically, groaning into the pillow, accepting your fate.

“I give up,” you muttered.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, grinning as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he hadn’t just betrayed you on every level possible.

“You gave up the second you tried to tie me up.”

-

“You’re already shaking,” you murmur, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to his tip.

Heeseung lets out a helpless little whimper, his lip trembling, his eyes fluttering closed as he tugs at the restraints again.

“I—fuck, I can’t,” he gasps. “Let me touch you—please, baby, please—”

You just grin, your breath hot against his aching cock, before you finally wrap your lips around him—slow, wet, torturously soft.

He whines.

Like, full-body tremble, desperate, broken fucking whines.

“Ohhh, f-fuck, baby—”* His voice shakes, his head lolling to the side, his mouth falling open, his brows furrowing tight in pleasure.

You take him deeper, your tongue dragging along the underside, your throat tight around him, and Heeseung lets out a wrecked sob, his hips jerking up involuntarily.

“Shit—s-shit, I—” His fingers curl tight in the restraints, his muscles locking up, his face a perfect mix of agony and bliss as he tries so fucking hard not to come already.

His Adam’s apple bobs, his jaw clenching, his eyelashes fluttering as he struggles to keep his eyes on you, watching the way your lips stretch around his cock, the way your tongue flicks so perfectly over his slit.

“Oh my f-fucking god,” he gasps, his whole body jerking, his thighs trembling hard.

You pull off with a slow, wet pop, licking the tip, smirking as his hips twitch beneath you.

“You look so good like this, baby,” you murmur, letting your tongue drag over the thick vein along his shaft, savoring the way his abs clench tight in response.

Heeseung lets out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping at nothing, his head tilting back sharply.

“Y-you’re—”* he chokes out, voice so wrecked it barely sounds like him anymore. “You’re so fucking evil—”

You just laugh softly, before taking him all the way down, your throat swallowing around him, sucking deep and slow.

It fucking breaks him.

“Ohhh—fuck, f-fuck, baby, I—” His voice cracks, his entire body locking up, his muscles going rigid as he yanks at the restraints, so fucking desperate to grab you, to pull your hair, to hold onto something—but he can’t.

All he can do is take it.

“Fucking hell, I—oh my god—” Heeseung’s brows furrow so tight, his jaw slack, his thighs trembling violently as he fights it—as he fights losing himself completely.

But when you swallow around him again, moaning softly, Heeseung lets out a shattered sob, his head thrown back, his throat exposed, his hips jerking helplessly.

“I’m—I’m gonna—fuck, fuck, baby, I—”