You are a pirate captain’s daughter caught between your father’s war and Jungkook, the enemy captain you shouldn’t want. After a battle at sea, you’re taken aboard his ship, where tension, loyalty, and attraction blur into something you can’t escape.
전정국 x fem!reader | pirate!au • mentions of weapons • angst • sexism • smut • kidnapping/hostage • 1600s •
explicit warnings for this chapter: sexism • mentions of weapons • mentions of blood • violence •
word count: 6.5k
series m.list • next ->
The sea had never once loved you gently.
It had raised you on splintered wood and saltwater prayers, on the deep groan of ship hulls during storms and the sharp metallic smell of gunpowder lodged permanently in your lungs. Your earliest memories were not soft ones. They were rough hands tightening ropes during rainstorms, blood being scrubbed from decks before sunrise, sailors laughing too loudly after surviving another battle they should not have survived at all.
Other young women your age learned piano and embroidery and court etiquette beneath candlelit ceilings in warm estates far from danger. Instead, you learned how to brace yourself against violent waves before you learned proper handwriting, you learned how to hold a knife before you learned how to dance, you learned how to spot approaching enemy ships before you learned what love was supposed to feel like.
Your father liked to say the ocean only respected the ruthless, which was probably why he spent more time speaking to his crew than to you. Captain Seo was feared across half the known waters, cruel in the way storms were cruel - not because they enjoyed destruction, but because they did not care enough to stop it. Men whispered his name in taverns with lowered voices and stiff shoulders while merchants cursed him over spilled whiskey and missing cargo.
You had heard the stories constantly whenever your ship docked in crowded ports. “The Black Crest.” “The Sea Devil.” “The Butcher of the South Passage.” Your father? You were naive once, you couldn’t believe your precious father could ever hurt a man, let alone take multiple lives with a flick of his sword.
They never mentioned his daughter, never mentioned the girl standing ten feet away with a dagger hidden beneath her coat and enough fury buried inside her ribs to drown kingdoms whole. Surprisingly, you preferred it that way, because being underestimated kept you alive.
The ship rocked violently beneath your boots as rain hammered against the deck hard enough to sting your skin raw, but you barely reacted anymore because storms had stopped frightening you years ago. Above you, thunder cracked across the black sky while sailors shouted over one another trying to secure ropes before the mast split clean in half. Harsh waves slammed against the hull with terrifying force, seawater spraying across the deck in freezing bursts that soaked through your clothes instantly.
The storm had arrived faster than expected, swallowing the horizon whole until the world became nothing but darkness, roaring wind, and chaos. You should have been below deck. Your father ordered it nearly an hour ago with that cold commanding voice he used whenever he stopped speaking to you like a daughter and started speaking to you like another sailor beneath his authority. But storms always made you restless, they reminded you there was still something larger than your father in this world, something even he could not command or threaten into obedience.
So instead, you stood near the starboard railing gripping soaked wood while rain drenched your coat completely, your braid sticking heavily to the back of your neck. Lightning illuminated the horizon every few seconds, brief violent flashes revealing endless black ocean before darkness swallowed everything again. You closed your eyes briefly and inhaled deeply. Salt, rain, smoke, freedom. It was the closest thing to peace you had felt in weeks.
“Miss!” one of the crewmen hurried toward you through the storm, struggling to keep his footing while water crashed across the deck around him. “Your father said below deck immediately.”
You barely glanced at him because you already knew exactly how this conversation would go. “Then he can come drag me there himself.”
The poor sailor looked exhausted before you even finished speaking, like arguing with you had physically aged him over the years. “Please do not make me repeat that to him.”
“He already dislikes me. One more disappointment won’t kill him.”
“Your father does not dislike you, miss.”
“No?” You turned toward him fully then, rain dripping down your face while thunder growled overhead. “Then why does everyone on this ship act like my only purpose is surviving long enough for him to trade me to someone useful?”
The crewman opened his mouth immediately, probably searching for some comforting lie, but closed it again because neither of you knew how to answer honestly. Your father had never officially promised your hand to anyone, but men spoke openly enough around ships when they assumed women weren’t listening. Political alliances, merchant families, powerful captains.
Your existence was valuable because of your father’s reputation, not because anyone cared what you wanted. You were a woman, after all. Having grown up with no mother, some would say you’ve no proper etiquette or understanding of your role in society, making you appear animalistic and impolite, just like the men on your father’s ship. Sometimes you wondered if he loved you at all or if he simply protected what belonged to him. The thought made your chest ache in ways you never admitted aloud.
Lightning split across the sky suddenly, illuminating the horizon bright enough to burn white across your vision for half a second, and that was when you saw it. Another ship. Massive. Dark. Moving through the storm like it had been born there. Your stomach tightened immediately because there was only one crew reckless enough to sail directly into weather like this.
The Arirang.
It was a beauty. Your father’s greatest enemy. A pirate vessel infamous from the eastern colonies to the northern trade routes, commanded by a captain whose name was spoken almost like a warning prayer in every port you had ever visited. Jeon Jungkook. You had heard stories about him since you were fourteen years old. Some called him a devil blessed by the sea itself, while others swore he had survived executions, mutinies, impossible storms, ambushes that should have killed entire crews. At twenty-two, he was already one, if not the most, feared captain in your seas.
Tavern girls spoke about him with flushed cheeks and dreamy smiles while merchants cursed him for stealing cargo worth kingdoms. Your father spoke of him differently though, with restrained hatred sharpened by reluctant respect he refused to admit existed. “That boy is dangerous,” he once muttered after too much rum and too little sleep. “Not because he kills. Plenty of men kill. He’s dangerous because people want to follow him.”
You were seventeen when you first heard Jungkook’s name. You were twenty now, and somehow fate had dragged his ship directly into yours in the middle of a storm violent enough to swallow fleets whole.
“CAPTAIN!” One of your father’s men pointed toward the approaching vessel while panic spread immediately across the deck like spilled oil catching fire. Cannons rotated, sailors scrambled toward battle positions while others shouted over the storm trying to secure damaged rigging before the ship tore itself apart completely.
Your father emerged from his quarters with fury already carved into his face, long dark coat snapping violently in the wind behind him. The second his eyes landed on the Arirang, everything in him sharpened dangerously.
Then he noticed you standing there. The rage redirected instantly. “I told you to stay below deck.”
“And I told you storms are prettier up here, father.” You weren’t lying. From where you were standing, you could see everything perfectly.
“This is not the time for your mouth.”
You rolled your eyes, turning towards the sea again. “When is it ever?”
“Enough.” Your father strode toward you through rain and smoke, seawater dripping from dark hair while thunder shook the sky overhead. Even exhausted and soaked through completely, he carried authority like a weapon. Men twice your size feared him instinctively, you had your entire life.
“I told you to get inside,” he ordered again, voice low enough to be dangerous.
“I can fight.”
“You can obey.” obey. obey. obey - your life story, to shut your mouth and obey.
“I am not a child.”
“No,” he snapped sharply, stepping closer until you could feel the fury radiating from him despite the storm. “You are my daughter. Which means every man on that ship becomes a threat the second they realise who you are.”
You crossed your arms despite the freezing rain soaking through your sleeves, because refusing him had become an instinct years ago. “Maybe I’m tired of being treated like something breakable, as though I’m not capable of protecting my ship as-well as my life.”
Your father’s jaw tightened immediately, that familiar look crossing his face - equal parts frustration and fear he never admitted existed. “The sea breaks everyone eventually.”
“Maybe I’d rather it break me than lock me below deck forever.”
“Do you think this is about control?” His patience was thinning now, with the Arirang close by and the storm worsening? you were bound to be doomed.
“Isn’t it always?” Another wave crashed violently against the ship hard enough to shake the deck beneath your feet, but neither of you moved. Around you, sailors rushed frantically preparing for battle while cannons were loaded and ropes secured, yet somehow this argument still felt louder than the storm itself.
“You know nothing about what men become during war,” your father said finally, quieter now but somehow more frightening because of it.
“I know exactly what men become during war,” you answered immediately, anger now quickly building up inside you. “I was raised by them.”
Something flickered across his expression then. Hurt maybe. Regret? It disappeared too quickly to study properly. “This conversation ends now.”
You scoff, not surprised your words were enough to shut him up. “Convenient.”
Before he could answer, a cannon blast exploded through the storm violently enough to rattle your bones. The entire ship shook beneath you while screams erupted across the deck. Splintered wood burst through smoke and rain as sailors stumbled backward from the impact. Somewhere above, ropes snapped loudly enough to sound like gunfire. Another cannon roared from the Arirang. Then another. War, as always, came quickly at sea.
The Arirang tore through rain and smoke like something alive, black sails towering against lightning while men moved across its deck with terrifying precision. Even from this distance, you could see the crimson insignia painted near the mast - a crown dripping blood. As far as you knew, around 120 men worked on that ship alongside Jungkook, yet you’d heard that he’d chosen another six sailors to actually command with him, the ones he trusted the most, allegedly.
Cannons erupted from both ships, explosions shaking the ocean itself while smoke swallowed the storm whole. Sailors shouted over one another carrying ammunition, dragging injured men across bloody wood while seawater mixed with blood near your boots. Yet somehow, your attention fixed entirely on one thing.
Him.
Jungkook stood at the helm like the storm belonged to him, tattooed hands gripping the wheel steadily while rain soaked through dark hair hanging across his forehead. He was younger than you expected, that thought struck first. Not soft - never soft - but young enough to still carry traces of boyhood beneath the brutality carved into him.
Gold rings flashed beneath lightning while black ink crawled up one arm disappearing beneath rolled sleeves. He stood unnervingly calm while chaos exploded around him, expression unreadable as cannons roared beside his crew.
Then he looked directly at you. Your breath caught instantly. Impossible. At this distance? Through smoke and rain and darkness? Yet somehow his gaze found yours immediately, sharp enough to feel physical. You should have looked away, every instinct screamed at you to move, but you didn’t.
Something dangerous passed between you then. Recognition maybe, curiosity? The strange terrifying awareness of meeting someone who might ruin, or even end your life completely. A cannon fired beside you suddenly, shattering the moment violently while smoke burst across the deck thick enough to choke on. Your father grabbed your arm hard enough to bruise. “Inside. Now.”
You yanked your arm free immediately despite the pain. “Stop treating me like I’m helpless.”
“And stop acting like the world won’t destroy you for being careless.”
“You think hiding me below deck changes anything?”
“It keeps you breathing.” Hardly, you’ve been the target countless times during a battle or raids, the perfect hostage for any sailor who craves your father’s treasure.
“You mean controlled.” Your tone was accusing, but not untrue.
His expression darkened instantly, eyes narrowing with dangerous warning. “This is not the conversation to have during a battle.”
“Then maybe stop starting them.” For half a second, genuine anger flashed across his face - not captain’s anger, but father’s frustration. The kind he only showed you when you pushed too far beneath his skin. Then another cannon blast interrupted everything again, your father turned sharply toward the battle while smoke swallowed the deck.
Across the storm, Jungkook smiled. Not kindly, not cruelly either, but like he had just discovered something interesting. Like really seeing you there during battle amused him more than it should have. And somehow, despite everything happening around you, your pulse betrayed you instantly.
:<:<:<:<
Your father barked another order across the deck while sailors rushed past carrying cannon ammunition through smoke thick enough to burn your lungs, but your attention remained fixed entirely on the man standing aboard the Arirang. Jungkook still watched you like the battle around him was background noise instead of active warfare.
Rain slid down the sharp line of his jaw while lightning flashed across tattooed skin disappearing beneath his soaked shirt. Even from this distance there was something deeply unsettling about the way he carried himself - too calm, too confident, too alive in the middle of destruction. Men screamed around him, cannons exploded beside him, the ocean itself looked seconds away from swallowing both ships whole, yet he stood there smiling faintly like this was all some entertaining game only he understood properly.
Your pulse hammered painfully beneath your ribs because there was something horribly intimate about being noticed during chaos. Like out of everyone aboard your father’s ship, Jungkook had chosen you immediately. Another cannon blast shook the deck hard enough to send sailors stumbling sideways, but your eyes never left his. You hated yourself for it instantly. Hated the heat curling low in your stomach despite the freezing rain soaking through your clothes completely. Hated the dangerous curiosity spreading beneath your skin every time his gaze found yours again. Most of all, you hated that part of you wanted him to keep looking, wanted his eyes to keep raking over every inch of your soaking skin.
“MOVE!” Your father shoved one of the sailors away from falling debris before turning toward you again with fury written across every sharp line of his face. “This is the last time, y/n. Below deck now before I lock you there myself.”
“You’re impossible,” you snapped back immediately, raising your voice over the storm while seawater crashed violently across the ship around you.
“And you are too reckless.”
“You raised me this way.” The words struck harder than intended. Your father froze briefly, rain dripping from dark hair while cannon smoke curled around both of you thick enough to blur the world. For one small second, something almost guilty flickered across his face before disappearing beneath anger again. “I raised you to survive.”
“No,” you answered sharply, chest tightening painfully. “You raised me to obey.”
Another explosion erupted nearby, sending splintered wood flying across the deck while sailors shouted warnings over one another. Your father stepped closer instantly, lowering his voice despite the chaos surrounding you. “You think I keep you hidden because I underestimate you?”
“Don’t you?”
“I keep you hidden because this world destroys women first.” The confession caught you off guard immediately, he rarely spoke honestly enough for his words to hurt.
“And men?” you asked quietly.
Your father looked toward the Arirang briefly before answering. “Men become monsters trying to survive it.” Then his eyes found Jungkook standing across the storm. “Especially men like him.”
:<:<:<
Across the water, Jungkook leaned slightly against the helm while Taehyung appeared beside him laughing about something completely unrelated to the battle, because apparently pirates aboard the Arirang treated warfare like a casual inconvenience instead of near death.
“Oh? has someone caught your eye, jungkook?” Taehyung remarked with obvious amusement while reloading his pistol lazily. Everyone on the Arirang knew about their captain’s growing interest in you, it was no secret between them that Jungkook was determined to get his hands on you, and not let go. “She’s pretty enough to drown over.”
Jungkook ignored him entirely, eyes still fixed on you standing soaked through beside Captain Seo. There was something deeply wrong about the image in front of him. Captain Seo was notorious for brutality, for cruelty sharpened into leadership through fear and bloodshed. Men like him kept daughters hidden behind locked doors and political marriages, not standing openly on battle decks during storms with fury burning in their eyes brighter than lightning.
Yet there you were refusing to retreat even while cannons fired close enough to kill you instantly. Interesting. Very interesting.
“You’re doing the thing again,” Taehyung continued, grinning wider when Jungkook finally looked toward him.
“What thing.”
“The obsessive thing.” Even though Taehyung was still a sailor supposed to serve and obey jungkook, he didn’t hesitate to call him out on anything.
Jungkook’s eyes immediately went dark, his tongue poking his cheek. “I am not obsessed.”
Taehyung’s eyebrows rose at his denial. “You’ve kept your eyes on her for nearly two full minutes during active combat.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes immediately. “She’s Captain Seo’s daughter.”
“Exactly,” Taehyung answered dramatically. “Which means this ends terribly for everyone involved.”
Somewhere nearby, Jimin laughed loudly enough to be heard over cannonfire while Hoseok shouted from the rigging about damaged sails. The crew moved seamlessly around Jungkook despite the storm, each man terrifyingly capable in his own way. They were pirates, yes, but more than that - survivors tied together by loyalty stronger than blood. Jungkook trusted them with his life. There were few people in the world he could say that about anymore.
Another blast rocked the ship violently while Namjoon approached the helm carrying maps soaked nearly beyond recognition. “The storm’s getting worse,” he warned calmly despite the chaos around him. “If we continue this fight much longer, both ships sink before dawn.”
Jungkook finally tore his eyes away from you long enough to glance toward the horizon where waves rose taller by the minute. He knew Namjoon was right. Continuing this battle would be reckless even for him. But something stubborn twisted inside his chest at the thought of leaving now.
“Board them, then.” Jimin suggested casually while wiping blood from his mouth like he had simply bitten his tongue instead of surviving a fight. “Seo’s crew is already scrambling.”
“And drown halfway there?” Yoongi muttered from nearby while reloading another pistol with practiced calm.
“You looked personally offended when the girl almost got hit by that cannon blast.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened immediately, because unfortunately they were not wrong. When debris exploded near you moments earlier, genuine panic had shot through him before he could stop it. Ridiculous.
He did not know you. He barely knew your face. Yet something about watching you stand there beneath the storm made his chest feel painfully tight in ways he disliked immediately. “Not tonight,” Jungkook decided finally, voice quieter now. “We pull back before the storm worsens.”
Taehyung smirked instantly. “Ah. So we’re sparing Captain Seo because his daughter has pretty eyes.”
“We’re sparing Captain Seo because I enjoy surviving.”
“Sure,” Jimin answered with a grin. “That’s definitely the reason.”
The Arirang began turning slowly through the storm while cannonfire finally lessened between both ships, though tension still hung heavy across the ocean thick enough to choke on. You watched the movement carefully, confusion tightening your chest immediately because Jungkook had the advantage now. Your father’s ship had taken heavier damage. Several cannons were unusable. Half the crew looked seconds away from collapsing from exhaustion. If the Arirang continued attacking, there was a real possibility your father would lose.
Yet somehow Jungkook chose retreat instead. Your father noticed it too.
“Coward,” one of the sailors muttered nearby under his breath while watching the pirate ship disappear slowly into rain and darkness. “No,” your father answered coldly, eyes narrowed toward the horizon. “Strategist. He’s intelligent.”
The word settled heavily in your stomach because there had been nothing cowardly about the way Jungkook looked at you moments earlier. If anything, he looked dangerously certain, like meeting you had changed something inside him already. The thought should have terrified you more than it did. Instead, warmth spread low beneath your ribs remembering the faint curve of his mouth during battle.
Remembering the way his eyes held yours through smoke and thunder like he could see straight through every wall you spent years building around yourself. You hated how quickly your body responded to the memory. Hated the way your pulse still raced violently despite the battle ending.
Your father turned toward you sharply then, expression unreadable beneath rainwater and exhaustion. “You were looking at him.”
The accusation landed instantly. “No, I looked at an enemy ship.”
“No,” he answered quietly enough to frighten you more than shouting would have. “You looked at him.”
Before he could say anything, you turned away from the railing and went down below deck to your quarters. Your father’s eyes followed you the whole time, trying to figure something out.
:<:<:<
Your father’s accusation followed you long after the storm finally settled into uneasy silence. Even hours later, after sailors stopped shouting and the wounded were dragged below deck for treatment, the words still echoed painfully inside your head. You looked at him. The problem was that your father was right, and both of you knew it. You had looked at Jungkook too long. Longer than necessary. Longer than safe.
There had been hundreds of things demanding your attention during battle - blood soaking through the deck, cannons splitting wood apart, sailors screaming through smoke thick enough to suffocate on - yet somehow your focus narrowed entirely onto one man standing across the ocean like the storm itself answered to him. You hated how easily he lingered in your thoughts afterward. Hated the way your body betrayed you every single time you remembered his eyes finding yours through rain and darkness.
Your quarters felt unbearably small that night. Candlelight flickered softly against wooden walls while the ship creaked beneath restless waves, but sleep refused to come no matter how tightly you shut your eyes. Every time you tried, all you saw was Jungkook standing soaked by rain with gold rings flashing beneath lightning and that infuriating almost-smile tugging at his mouth like he already knew something about you no one else did.
Worse, your mind kept replaying the exact moment his gaze dragged slowly down your body - brief enough to deny, deliberate enough to ruin you completely. No man had ever looked at you like that before. Not hungry exactly, not soft either, like he wanted to take you apart carefully just to see what lived beneath all your sharp edges. The realization made heat crawl beneath your skin despite the cold air filling your cabin, your cheeks flushed as you began to think about how those gold rings would feel against the soft skin of your-
A sharp knock sounded against your door suddenly, pulling you violently from your thoughts before they could spiral further into dangerous territory. “Come in,” you called quickly, forcing your voice steady while sitting upright on the edge of your bed. The door opened immediately, revealing your father standing there looking older than usual beneath dim candlelight.
Exhaustion carved harsh shadows beneath his eyes while fresh cuts lined one hand from the battle repairs still happening above deck. For a moment neither of you spoke. Silence between you always felt heavier than arguments somehow. Your father finally stepped inside slowly, shutting the door behind him while the storm outside groaned softly against the ship. “You disobeyed me today,” he said at last, voice calmer now but no less dangerous because of it.
You crossed your arms instinctively. “You noticed.”
“Do not start again, y/n.” His exhausted tone made you almost feel bad, almost.
“Then do not come here looking for another fight.”
His jaw tightened immediately. “You think this is amusing?”
“No,” you answered quietly, anger slipping through despite yourself. “Usually your anger isn’t amusing at all.” Another silence settled heavily between you. Your father moved toward the small table near the window where maps and books he had purchased for you lay scattered carelessly across the surface.
His fingers brushed one absentmindedly before he spoke again. “Do you know what pirates do with daughters of rival captains?” The question sent something uneasy twisting through your stomach instantly because you understood what he was really asking. Do you understand what kind of man Jungkook is? You did know what they did; rape, extortion, kidnapping, murder.
You swallowed carefully before answering. “I know what you do with rival captains.”
Your father’s eyes darkened immediately.
“You think because I taught you navigation and knives that the sea will spare you?” he asked quietly, turning toward you fully now. “It won’t. Men out there would tear kingdoms apart for leverage.”
“And what about you?” The words escaped before you could stop them. “What exactly am I here for besides leverage?” The room went completely still. Your father stared at you as if the question physically struck him somewhere deep beneath years of hardened cruelty. For one devastating second, genuine hurt crossed his face so openly it nearly shattered your anger completely.
Then it vanished again beneath the familiar coldness he wore like armor. “You are my daughter.”
“You are my captain before anything else.” The honesty between you suddenly felt unbearable. You watched his throat tighten slightly while he looked away toward the window where black ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass.
“Do you think I wanted this life for you?” he asked eventually, voice rougher now. Your mother had died soon after your birth. There was no one your father trusted enough on land to keep you, so he took you with him, forever cursing you to a life of danger, uncertainty, and overall lack of peace.
“I think you stopped asking what I wanted years ago.” Another painful silence followed immediately. Somewhere above deck sailors shouted while ropes strained against wind, but inside your cabin everything narrowed painfully between you and the man who raised you to survive without ever teaching you how to feel safe.
“The Arirang has been spotted near Blackwater Port,” your father finally said, changing the subject so abruptly it almost gave you whiplash. “We dock tomorrow.”
Your pulse betrayed you instantly. Your father noticed, of course he did, he was surely not going to let this go. His eyes narrowed slowly while suspicion sharpened across his expression like a drawn blade.
“I know you looked at him too long,” he repeated quietly.
Heat rushed violently into your face. Damn you. “I told you i looked at an enemy ship, our enemy.”
“You were looking at him, the whole time. Not at the ship. I may be ageing, y/n, but my eyes do not deceive me yet.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Men like Jeon Jungkook survive because they know how to charm weakness out of people to get what they want.” Something sharp flared inside your chest immediately at his words.
“Maybe people follow him because he treats them like people, not like conveniences.” The second the words left your mouth, regret crashed into you hard enough to hurt. You didn’t even know Jungkook, only that he was an enemy, but here you were defending him?
Your father stared at you in complete silence afterward, but somehow that silence frightened you more than shouting ever could. The hurt disappeared entirely from his face then, replaced instead by something colder. Disappointment maybe. Betrayal.
“Careful,” he warned softly, and somehow the quietness of it made your stomach twist harder than rage would have. “You know nothing about that boy.”
“And you do?”
“Enough.” He stepped toward the door slowly before stopping beside it without turning around. “Blackwater Port is full of men waiting for opportunities. You will remain beside the crew while we dock.”
“I am not a prisoner.”
“No,” he answered flatly. “You are my daughter. Which means people will use you the second I stop protecting you.”
“Protecting?” You laughed bitterly despite yourself. “Is that what this is?” Your father finally looked back at you then, exhaustion dragging heavily across his face.
“One day you will understand the difference between control and fear.”
“And one day maybe you’ll understand they feel exactly the same.” The words landed brutally between both of you, he said nothing afterward, just opened the door and left quietly while your chest ached with emotions too tangled to separate properly.
The second he disappeared, frustration crashed through you violently enough to steal your breath. You shoved away from the bed immediately and crossed toward the window, pressing your palms against cold wood while staring out at the dark endless ocean. Everything inside you felt restless suddenly. Angry, lonely, guilty.
Because part of you understood your father’s fear even while resenting it completely. The world was dangerous for women like you. Men would use you against him if given the chance. But another part of you burned with fury, because survival had become your entire life before you even had the opportunity to choose anything else for yourself. And somewhere beneath all of that confusion lived the far more dangerous truth - the thought of seeing Jungkook again sent heat curling through your body so intensely it frightened you.
:<:<:<
Blackwater Port smelled like smoke, whiskey, sweat, seawater, and sin. You loved it instantly. Music spilled from crowded taverns into narrow streets while merchants shouted over one another selling stolen goods beside crates of fresh fish and expensive fabrics. Pirates wandered openly here because no kingdom held authority strong enough to stop them. Wanted posters decorated walls like artwork while drunken sailors laughed loudly enough to drown out crashing harbor waves nearby.
Your father hated this place, which made you enjoy it even more. “Stay close, miss.” one of the crewmen warned while escorting you through crowded streets lined with gambling dens and overflowing taverns.
You grinned, too focused on the wild ambience around you to consider his words. “I know how ports work.”
The crewman just shook his head, he had known you for long enough to know you weren’t sensible at all. “You know how trouble works too, and yet somehow you still run toward it.”
“Maybe trouble is more interesting than being guarded constantly.” To you, it was true. You were sick of being followed around everywhere even through adulthood, sick of being treated as if you could not handle yourself.
“Your father specifically said not to let you wander.”
“My father says many things.”
The sailor sighed dramatically like he already regretted being assigned this responsibility. You hid your smile beneath your hood while weaving through crowded market stalls overflowing with stolen jewelry and imported silks. Blackwater felt alive in ways most ports didn’t. Messy, dangerous, honest about its corruption instead of hiding it beneath noble titles and polished manners.
Women laughed loudly here, men fought openly. Nobody pretended morality mattered more than survival, it should have felt ugly and uncivilised. Instead, freedom pulsed through the streets like another heartbeat entirely. You nearly forgot all about the night before while wandering through crowded alleys drenched in golden lanternlight. You nearly forgot about Jungkook, too, until you noticed sailors whispering suddenly near the docks.
“The Arirang arrived this morning.” Your pulse stumbled immediately. “Captain Jeon’s crew took half the eastern taverns already.” Heat curled low in your stomach before you could stop it. The Arirang was here. Jungkook was here, somehow that realization felt less like danger and more like temptation.
:<:<:<
The Arirang cut through Blackwater Port like it had never needed permission to exist in anyone’s waters, and the moment it anchored, the entire harbor changed its rhythm without asking. You noticed it in the way conversations lowered without stopping, in the way merchants suddenly looked twice before shouting prices, in the way sailors stopped laughing mid-sentence as if something in the air had reminded them that survival was not guaranteed here.
The ship itself was darker than anything around it, sails heavy and still like they were holding their breath, ropes creaking softly under the wind as if even wood understood who had arrived. At its edge stood Jungkook, not announcing himself, not performing authority, simply being it in a way that made everything else feel temporary. He didn’t move much at first, just scanned the harbor slowly, deliberately, like he already knew every person watching him was pretending not to.
Then his gaze shifted, cutting through distance, noise, and motion with a precision that felt almost unfair. When it landed on you, everything inside your chest tightened instantly, sharp and involuntary, like your body recognized something your mind refused to name. You told yourself it was anger, you told yourself it was caution, but neither explanation accounted for the heat creeping beneath your skin.
Jungkook didn’t smile, didn’t change his expression dramatically, but something in his eyes shifted - like confirmation, like memory returning, like he had already carried your image with him since the storm. You hated how your breath slowed instead of quickened, how your body didn’t move away even though every instinct said you should. That single second stretched longer than it had any right to, and when he finally moved again, it was only slightly, enough to make it feel like the world had chosen sides.
Your father instantly stepped up beside you like a storm given human shape, and you felt his presence before he spoke, heavy and controlled in a way that always meant he was calculating damage before it happened. His eyes locked onto the Arirang immediately, narrowing in recognition so sharp it looked almost like pain disguised as anger. “So he’s here,” he said quietly, though nothing about his tone was calm beneath the surface.
You didn’t look at him, not yet, because your attention still refused to detach from the ship across the water, from the man who stood there like he had no fear of anything alive or dead. “He was always going to come here eventually,” you answered, your voice steadier than you felt, because admitting uncertainty in front of your father always felt like surrendering something permanent.
“You say that like you’ve been expecting him,” He replied, and there was something in that observation that made your throat tighten slightly.
“I expect all threats eventually,” you said carefully, finally turning your head just enough to meet his eyes. That was a mistake, because he was already watching you instead of the ship.
“That is not what I asked,” he said, quieter now, more controlled, and somehow worse because of it. The wind between you both felt colder suddenly, like it had heard too much. “Do not look at him again,” your father added, not as a request, not even as an order spoken loudly enough for others to hear, but as something more personal than either of you liked acknowledging. You almost laughed at that, almost, because it was already too late for commands like that to mean anything.
Across the harbor, Jungkook had shifted slightly again, and you felt it immediately before you saw it - that subtle awareness, like his attention had sharpened even further as if he could sense the exact moment your father had spoken. And then Jungkook looked at you again, properly this time, longer than before, slower than before, like he was studying something that had already decided not to leave his thoughts easily.
The distance between ships meant nothing anymore. Not in the way it should have. Not in the way logic insisted it did. Because the moment Jungkook held your gaze this time, it didn’t feel like observation - it felt like intrusion, like he had stepped too close without moving his body. You felt it in your ribs first, then lower, then everywhere at once, an unsettling awareness that made your pulse behave incorrectly. His expression didn’t change much, but there was something undeniably focused in it now, something that made your skin feel too exposed even though you were fully clothed, fully aware, fully in control of absolutely nothing.
You should have turned away, you should have stepped back toward your father, toward the safety of structure and authority and rules you understood. Instead, you stayed exactly where you were, and that fact alone made something dangerous settle into place between you and the ship. Jungkook leaned slightly forward on the ship’s railing, just enough to shift the angle of his presence, and your breath caught immediately when you realized he was no longer simply looking at you - he was acknowledging you. Like the storm had not ended for him, like it had simply changed shape.
His lips parted slightly as if he might say something, though distance made it impossible to hear, and still you had the irrational certainty that whatever he was thinking was meant specifically for you. Behind you, your father’s voice lowered again, tighter now. “We leave this port tomorrow.” You didn’t respond immediately, because your attention was still trapped across the water. “Do you hear me?” he pressed.
“Yes,” you answered finally, though it sounded like it came from somewhere else entirely. Jungkook’s gaze held yours a moment longer, and then - slowly, deliberately - he tilted his head just slightly, as if acknowledging something unspoken between you. It wasn’t a greeting, or invitation. Something sharper, something that felt far too close to understanding. Then he turned away from the edge of the ship, but not before that final second of contact burned itself into you like it had weight.
:<:<:<
Night fell over Blackwater Port like a curtain that did not care what it covered. The harbor lights flickered against dark water, ships creaking softly in their moorings, voices fading into tavern walls and alleyways. You should have been asleep, you should have been anywhere else. Instead, you found yourself walking alone along the quieter edge of the docks, hood drawn up, footsteps slow and deliberate as if you were testing whether the ground itself would betray you. You told yourself you were thinking clearly. You told yourself you were simply restless after the day’s tension. But every step felt like it was leading somewhere you had already been warned not to go.
And then you saw him again. Not on his ship this time. On the dock below it. Jungkook stood partially in shadow, one hand resting loosely against a wooden post as if he had been waiting without urgency, without doubt, without concern for time at all. When he looked up and saw you, there was no surprise in his face. Only confirmation again, like earlier. Like always. “You came,” he said, voice low enough that it barely carried over the water.
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forced into a political marriage you never chose, You arrive in a foreign court determined to hate everything about it—especially the prince you’re meant to marry. But Jungkook is not easily dismissed; where you resist, he remains, unwavering and quietly intent on keeping a bond you refuse to accept. What begins as defiance turns into something far more dangerous, as you are faced with a choice you’ve never been given before—to keep running, or to stay and understand the one person who won’t let you go.
The corridor outside your chamber feels longer than it should.
Not because it has changed, but because you are acutely aware of every step you take within it. The weight of your gown still clings to you, though the celebration has long since ended, and beneath it all there is something else—something quieter, more suffocating than silk or expectation.
Finality.
The word follows you into the room before you even enter it. Jungkook is already there.
He doesn’t turn immediately when the door closes. For a moment, it is just the two of you in silence that feels different from all the silences before it. Earlier, silence was distance. Now it is proximity. Something unspoken pressing against the space between you, asking to be acknowledged.
When he finally faces you, it is not as a prince or a symbol of a kingdom. It is as your husband.
And that thought alone makes your breath catch in a way you refuse to show. “You don’t have to do anything tonight,” he says first. Always that.
Always leaving you room to escape him. It should comfort you. It doesn’t.
You lift your chin slightly, carefully composing yourself as if this is still a negotiation rather than an inevitability. “It’s expected.”
A pause.
His eyes narrow just slightly. Not in suspicion, but in understanding you don’t want to give him too easily. “Expected by who?” he asks.
You almost smile at that.
The court. Your parents. The tradition that has followed you across kingdoms like a shadow that refuses to loosen its grip.
“Everyone,” you answer simply. That, at least, is true.
Jungkook steps closer, slower than before, as if he is still giving you space to change your mind even now. The air between you shifts with every inch he closes. “You’re using duty as an excuse,” he says quietly.
Your pulse betrays you, but your voice doesn’t. “I’m following what’s proper.” His gaze holds yours.
“Since when have you cared about that?”
It should have irritated you. Instead, it disarms you, because he is right, and you hate that he is right.
You turn slightly away from him, as if distance might help you think clearly. “This is not about what I want.” The silence that follows is heavier than before.
When he speaks again, his voice is lower. “That’s not true.” You breathe in slowly.
You had spent days holding defiance like armor. But armor is heavy, and right now it feels like it is pressing into your ribs from the inside. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you admit before you can stop yourself.
It is the first honest thing you’ve said to him without sharpening it into a weapon.
Jungkook doesn’t move closer immediately. When he does, it is carefully—like he is approaching something that might break. “You don’t have to perform anything for me,” he says.
Your throat tightens slightly at that. “I’m not performing,” you reply automatically, but it doesn’t land the way you want it to.
Because there is nothing sharp in his expression. No expectation. No demand. Only attention—quiet, patient, and infuriatingly steady. “You’re allowed to want things, Y/N.” he says.
Those words make something in your chest shift. That is exactly the problem.
You don’t move when he reaches you this time. He stops just short of touching you, waiting.
It would be easier if he didn’t wait. “I don’t need permission,” you say, though it lacks conviction.
“No,” he agrees softly. “But you’re acting like you do.” The silence that follows is different again. Smaller, more fragile.
You look at him properly now—really look—and for the first time since arriving, you are aware of something you had been avoiding naming.
He is not pushing, not taking, just…present.
And that presence is worse than pressure, because it leaves everything inside you exposed.“I’ve only read about what happens during these….these marital acts,” you say suddenly, the admission slipping out before you can reconsider it. A flicker of surprise crosses his face, then something softer.
“Read?” he echoes.
Your cheeks warm slightly, and you hate that too. “Books- mainly fiction. Courtly guides. Instructions. Things like that.” You continue, “The library in my palace was the only place I could frequent without being hassled….I’ve seen…some things.” It sounds absurd when spoken aloud.
Jungkook’s expression changes—not mocking, not amused. Something almost protective, though he doesn’t move any closer. “That’s not real experience,” he says gently.
“I know that.”
Another pause. Then, quieter: “Are you afraid?”
The question is not spoken like a challenge. It is spoken like a fact he is trying to understand, not correct. You hesitate, because the truth is not simple enough to deny.
“I don’t want to be… inadequate,” you admit finally. Something in his gaze shifts at that—subtle, but immediate. “You won’t be.” It is said with certainty, with reassurance.
“You make this sound simple,” you whisper.
“It isn’t,” he replies. Then, after a beat: “But it doesn’t have to be frightening, not if you let me show you.”
Jungkook lifts his hand slowly, pausing just before he touches your wrist, giving you the chance to move away.
You don’t.
The contact when it comes is light. Intentional. Not possession, guidance, and something in you reacts before you can analyze it. “You’re shaking, Y/N.” he notes quietly.
“I’m not.” A faint exhale leaves him, almost a smile but not quite. “You are.” You want to argue. You don’t, because he is right again. Always just enough.
He steps closer this time, not closing you in, but narrowing the space until there is nowhere for your attention to go except him. “If you want me to stop,” he says, voice lower now, “you tell me.”
The simplicity of it unsettles you more than anything else. You search his face for pressure, for expectation, for the hidden angle you are used to navigating.
There is none. Only waiting, only him, and for the first time, your resistance doesn’t feel like defiance. It feels like distance.
“I don’t want you to stop,” you say before you can overthink it, the honesty surprises even you.
Jungkook stills. Not in triumph, in restraint. His gaze darkens slightly—not with greed, but with something far more controlled. “Then don’t pretend you don’t want this,” he says quietly.
Your breath catches. For a moment, neither of you moves. Then, slowly, the space between you disappears—not abruptly, not forcefully, but as if it was always going to collapse eventually.
When his hand rises to your face, it is almost careful enough to be reverent. “You’re allowed to want me,” he murmurs, and this time, you don’t argue. Not because you have been convinced, but because you are no longer sure you want to.
The kiss that follows is not rushed. It is unhurried in a way that feels far more dangerous than urgency, because it gives you time to feel every second of it—the certainty, the hesitation that fades, the way your thoughts begin to blur at the edges until they are no longer useful.
Jungkook’s lips caress yours so gently, it’s as if he is worried that the soft skin will bleed at the slightest of friction against it. Sweet. He thinks to himself, finally getting a taste of what has been driving him crazy for days.
When he pulls back slightly, it is only to look at you. To make sure you are still there, still choosing. Still present in the moment neither of you can pretend is just tradition anymore.
And when you don’t step away—he understands.
Jungkook closes the distance between you again, one hand coming up to cradle your cheek whilst the other rests gently on your waist. Your mouths reconnect, his tongue darting out to press against your bottom lip, asking, not demanding, for access.
When your lips part slightly to let his hot tongue in, a low groan escapes jungkook’s throat, your inexperience in something so intense clearly affecting him, the uncomfortable press against his slacks only hardening further.
He kindly lets you pull away for air once your breathing starts to heavy, trailing his slightly swollen lips down to your jaw, nipping lightly at the soft skin there, then soothing it with his tongue and a small kiss. Your hand finds his clothed bicep as he starts attacking your neck instead, searching desperately for that sweet spot he knows will have you weak in a matter of seconds.
Jungkook does not even need to try. Your noises only getting louder as he continues his assault on your neck, and you cannot control your growing eagerness as your free hand travels down his body, pressing it against the ever hardening bulge straining the slacks you’re so very excited for him to take off. Your hand starts gently massaging-you hope you’re doing well- and a sudden sharp intake of breath reassures this, until Jungkook pulls away from your neck, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest instead, and you cannot help the frown that forms on your face at his actions.
Jungkook chuckles, his lips meeting yours again. “Please, princess, let me make you feel good first…I want you to remember this night until the gods cruelly decide our time on earth is finished…” He murmurs, breath hitting your lips as you feel the desire and heat pooling in between your legs.
When you whimper softly at his words, it’s like Jungkook’s restraint is tiptoeing dangerously close to the edge, a groan leaving his lips as he starts to guide you backwards towards the grand bed, mouth never leaving yours as his hands on your waist gently coax you into sitting down on the plush mattress.
He reluctantly pulls away, taking a few steps back to make sure you can see him, all of him. You sit there impatiently, mouth watering and thighs pressing together as Jungkook starts to carefully remove his clothes annoyingly slowly, watching your eyes darken as you take in every inch of him.
His royal coat is the first article to drop, his many military medals jingling as the gold makes contact with the floor. Then, Jungkook’s fingers reach up to start unbuttoning his ivory dress shirt, taking his time as his teasing eyes never leave your hungry ones. Finally, Jungkook is left to his drawers, his hardened bulge pressing against the fabric, proving his increasing arousal.
Your mouth only waters further, saliva practically forming at the edges as he starts to walk closer to you again. Your hand reaches out to trace the intricate designs on his right arm, your brows peaking slightly as you take them in. Jungkook notices and lets out a throaty chuckle as he kneels in front of you, his own fingers coming up to trace the soft lines of your jaw. “What is it?” He murmurs gently.
Your gaze flickers to his face, then back to his arm. “I thought royals were not allowed to mark their skin, I read it would taint their purity.” Your voice is delicate and curious, and Jungkook has to force himself not to ruin you completely right there.
His reply is low and sincere. “I’ve always done what I want, I’m not going to follow royal etiquette completely when it’s outdated and exaggerated, and as for tainting my purity, getting inked is nothing compared to other things I’ve done..” Your eyebrows shoot up at that, and you simply nod, a million questions running through your mind, but you keep your mouth closed.
Jungkook’s lips press against yours again, not wasting any time as his tongue swirls around yours, his hands coming up to tug down the sleeves of your wedding gown, your hips lifting so he can take it off fully, leaving you in your tight corset. Jungkook groans and presses his forehead against yours. “Fuck, I hate these things.” He murmurs, hands finding the laces of your corset and starting to tug at them.
“Can I take this off, princess?” He asks with a small kiss to your cheek. You nod immediately “Yes please.” That makes Jungkook smile, the mix of eagerness and innocence in your voice only exciting him further. “Okay.” He replies, kissing your cheek again, whilst his hands caress your sides. “Will you stand up for me, then? It will make it easier to take this foolish thing off.”
You nod again and stand, turning around and gasping slightly when Jungkook’s fingers press against the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps, then gliding them down until he starts to untie your corset. Once the ties are all loosened, you sigh, finally being able to breathe properly after a day of your insides feeling squished together. Jungkook grins at your sigh and presses a kiss to your neck before removing the corset fully, tossing it somewhere on the floor, leaving you only in your chemise, which does very little to hide the already perked up buds on your breasts from the slightest of his touch.
You turn back around to find Jungkook’s eyes roaming your body hungrily, his lips latch on to yours again as if he can’t keep them away for a second. He starts guiding you back towards the bed, his clothed length poking your thigh through your chemise as he lays you down gently, making sure your head is comfortable against the pillows, then climbing over you and meeting your lips with his again.
The arousal in between your legs is utterly indecent, your wetness growing with every open mouthed kiss Jungkook presses to your neck, his tongue darting out to lick the purple marks that are gradually forming on your skin. Your hand pushes his head down even further onto your neck-if that’s even possible-and you bite your lip as he groans against your skin.
Jungkook’s hand slides down from your face, to your thigh, just under your chemise, kneading it softly. His lips detach from your neck and his desire stricken eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission to finally touch you where you want him most. A quiet whimper and your eyes closing is all the permission Jungkook needs to continue, his hand now going fully under your chemise. A deep groan escapes him when he discovers how wet you are, his fingers gently parting your folds. “Fuck, princess, you’re soaked.” You can’t help but moan at his words, already starting to grind your hips against his fingers.
“Have you ever touched yourself like this?” Jungkook asks whilst beginning to rub your sensitive bud, eliciting another moan from you. “I….” You feel your cheeks beaten at the intimate question, you have touched yourself before, but none of that even compares to this. “Yes…” you manage to say, head turning away to hide your overly flustered face. Jungkook’s hand moves from massaging your nipple, to the side of your face, gently turning you to face him again. “Yeah? You have? There’s no need to be shy, princess.” His voice is a quiet murmur, your breathing quickening from both his words and the distracting pressure he’s putting on your clit.
Jungkook presses a small kiss to the corner of your open mouth, then leans down and closes his mouth over your clothed nipple, making you moan and put your hand on his shoulder. After leaving a patch of saliva on your chemise, his mouth moves back up and catches yours, tongues dancing against each others as two of his skilled fingers push into your heat, causing you to gasp and grab his bicep. “Oh, gods..”
“Are my fingers better than yours, princess? Hm? I bet they are.” Jungkook teases as you clench around his fingers, his pace quickens as you both moan at the lewd sounds your wetness is making against his long digits. Not able to last for long, your first orgasm comes crashing down on you so mercilessly, you cannot control the obscene sounds you’re eliciting, causing Jungkook to smile and groan. His fingers stay moving inside you as he guides you through your orgasm, his face never leaving yours as he takes in exactly how undone you’re becoming all because of him, how much he adores your face when it’s fixed in pleasure.
Jungkook removes his fingers and brings them up to his mouth first, his tongue just darting out lightly for a small taste. You watch in fascination with hooded eyes, until Jungkook moves his fingers to your face, smearing your release on your lips before lightly pressing them against your bottom lip. “Open.” He murmurs quietly, and you do, you completely obey and open your mouth, taking in his coated fingers, tasting yourself on them fervently despite always having opposed the idea. You continue to suck and watch Jungkook’s eyes darken even further, you only release his fingers when they’re clean, pressing a small kiss to the tip of his middle finger.
Jungkook does not waste any more time, his lips catch yours whilst his hands travel down to the hem of your chemise, pushing it up over your head, leaving you completely bare under him. “Beautiful. So, so beautiful, Y/N.” Jungkook praises as he kisses down your body, stopping and looking back up at you when his mouth hovers just above your heat.
He inhales, leaning forward slightly so that his nose presses against your clit. Jungkook groans and closes his eyes as he takes in your scent, your legs spreading wider at the sensation. “Fuck…you smell so fucking sweet, I want to ruin you so badly.” His voice almost sounds pained, and you can’t help but whimper at his words, heat pooling again in your stomach, your hand finding his hair. “Ruin me, then.” You boldly reply before you can stop yourself, feeling your cheeks heaten once again. “No, no..” Jungkook sighs, his breath hitting your sensitive heat. “If I fuck you properly, like you need to be fucked, you won’t be able to take it, won’t handle it.”
His words are so crude and filthy, you think you’re going to cum right there, all you can do is moan and tighten your grip on his hair. “I can take it, Jungkook, please..” You never thought you’d be in this situation, begging for a man you swore you’d hate and loathe forever, instead, here you are.
“Let me get you ready, princess….” That’s all Jungkook says before finally diving in and pressing a gentle kiss on your clit, then beginning to suck. You grind your hips against his mouth, relishing the pleasure he’s giving you, soft moans filling the room as his skilled tongue devours you completely.
“More, Jungkook, I need….more..” Jungkook just hums at your words, the vibration sending shutters through your body. “Play with those perfect tits for me, princess, go on, imagine it’s me.” You bite your lip and your free hand travels up your curves to your chest, fingers closing over one of your perked nipples, rubbing in circles.
Jungkook keeps his pace against your pussy, though looks up at you when you start touching your breasts, moaning at the sight that’s way too much for him to handle. You, mouth open, moaning, eyes closed, back arched, your own fingers circling your nipples whilst you’re spread open for him.
It makes Jungkook nearly combust. The strain of his cock at the fabric of his drawers getting too hard to ignore, and grinding against the mattress is simply not enough. His free hand moves down his body, freeing his thick cock from his drawers and wrapping a hand around it. Jungkook starts to harshly thrust into his hand, his tongue now fucking you roughly, your moans intertwining at the mutual pleasure.
Not long after, you’re both cumming. Jungkook continues to lick you through your orgasm, whilst trying to fuck himself through his own, too. You don’t even realise what he has been doing until you sit up, noticing the wet patch on the sheets and his massive cock hovering over it whilst he sits back on his heels, his glistening lips grinning.
You now understand why Jungkook needs to ‘get you ready’, his cock is so big, you would surely snap in half at the first thrust. Nevertheless, you still whimper at the sight, thighs clenching back together as you feel another gush of wetness.
Jungkook still doesn’t let you take his whole length, making you cum another three times, a mixture of pleasure from his mouth, fingers, and the angry tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, providing his orgasm, too.
He moves back up to kiss you after you’ve come down from your high, tongue enveloping yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your hand travels down, wrapping around Jungkook’s length and slowly moving up and down, causing him to moan in your mouth. “Need you inside me, Jungkook.” You murmur, your hand speeding up.
Jungkook can’t take it anymore, his hand closes around your wrist, stopping you from pumping him any further as he looks into your eyes. “Fuck, okay, princess. I’ll fuck you like you want, but if it hurts at all, you have to tell me.” You can only nod as your eyes darken in anticipation and desire, finally being given what you crave.
One hand takes its place on your hip, whilst Jungkook uses his other to rub his thick head against your now sensitive bud, smearing your wetness all over your pussy, earning another loud moan from your sweet lips. His tip begins to push into your entrance, slowly stretching your walls. You gasp, hands finding his shoulders as your brows pinch together.
Jungkook’s eyes never leave your face, wanting to make sure he’s not hurting you too much, and when he pushes in a little further, you cry out, digging your nails into his shoulders, a silent sign of pain. “I know, princess, I know.” Jungkook murmurs, a hand coming up to caress your cheek, his lips find yours again, attempting to distract you from further pain as he fills you up even more.
You look down, taking in the fact that only half of him is actually inside you, yet the burn is already unbearable. Jungkook starts to move again slowly, gently starting to thrust and pushing in further. “Is this alright?” He asks tentatively, almost worried it’s too agonising for you.
You nod, the pain slowly morphing into pleasure as your walls become used to his light thrusts, both moaning into each other’s mouths from the steady pace and feeling. “So good, Jungkook.” You murmur as that familiar feeling starts to build up in your lower stomach.
“Yeah? Can you take a little more for me?” Jungkook starts to thrust a little faster, your walls clenching around him which makes him groan, mouth finding your the soft skin of your neck as he starts sucking on your sweet spot.
Your nails dig further into his back as you take all of him, too overcome by pleasure and slight pain to properly speak, only your gentle moans speaking for you. You feel so full, you could stay like this forever, only Jungkook starts to thrust harder, tears brimming at your eyes as he starts to hit that spot inside you. “Yes..right there!” You manage to choke out, making Jungkook move back up to your face, kissing away your tears. “Right here?” He asks, maintaining his quick pace inside you.
You nod, eyes closing as your hips roll to meet his thrusts. You swear you can feel him in your stomach, the pleasure getting too intense as Jungkook silently encourages you to wrap your thighs around his waist, taking him even deeper whilst he murmurs praises and kisses your cheeks gently, leading you to both your climaxes. “Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so well, princess, you were made for me, made to take my cock.”
His words nearly send you over the edge, the final push being his finger circling your clit, your walls clenching around him as he tells you to cum for him.
Jungkook fucks you through your orgasm, his thrusts speed up as you see begin to see stars, moaning his name as you leak all over his length. The sight is enough to push Jungkook to his climax, too, filling you up with his hot cum as his head buries into your neck, nipping lightly at the supple skin there whilst also chanting your name.
He remains inside you for a bit, kissing your collarbone as you both regain composure after those crushing orgasms. When Jungkook finally pulls out of you, you whimper, unhappy at the feeling of being so empty again. That makes him chuckle and press a kiss to you jaw, then grabbing a soft cloth from the side table and beginning to clean you up.
“Do you want to put your chemise back on?” Jungkook asks quietly, understanding if you don’t want to sleep completely naked next to him tonight. You shake your head, fingers reaching out to touch his inked arm again as he lies back down beside you, wrapping his arm around your stomach and pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Goodnight, princess.” He murmurs, your mind not fully registering his words as dreams quickly pull you under.
The rest of the night is no longer something you have words for. Only the quiet closing of distance. Only the realization, shared between breaths and silence, that whatever this was supposed to be…It has already become something else entirely.
___
Morning arrives softly in the palace, as if even the sun has learned to be careful with this room. Light slips through the curtains in pale gold lines, warming the edges of the bed and catching on the folds of fabric left untouched from the night before. For a moment, everything feels unfamiliar in that fragile space between sleep and awareness—until you remember where you are, and who is here. Jungkook is already awake.
You notice it before you even fully open your eyes—the absence of restless movement, the quiet stillness beside you that is too intentional to be sleep. When you turn your head slightly, you find him sitting near the edge of the bed, bare chested, hair sitting messily on his head in a way you have never seen him in public.
He looks… different like this, less like a crown prince, more like a person who stayed. You don’t speak immediately, neither does he. Instead, there is a pause where neither of you seems certain who is supposed to acknowledge what has changed overnight.
Then his gaze flicks toward you, and something in his expression softens immediately. “You’re awake,” he says quietly, like he’s relieved rather than surprised. You blink once. “Were you expecting otherwise?”
“Not expecting,” he corrects gently. “Just… hoping you slept.” That makes something in your chest tighten in a way you don’t fully understand yet.
You shift slightly under the covers, suddenly aware of the fact that this is real in a different way than it was last night. The weight of it is still there, but it has changed shape overnight, less sharp, less like an ending, more like a beginning you don’t know how to name.
“You didn’t leave,” you say before you can stop yourself. Jungkook’s expression changes, just slightly—as if the question surprises him in its simplicity. “No,” he says. “I said I wouldn’t force you. I didn’t say I’d abandon you.”
You stare at him for a moment, trying to decide if there is hidden meaning in that. If there is, it doesn’t feel like a trap, it feels… steady. “I thought you would,” you admit quietly.
A pause.
Then he shakes his head once. “I don’t make promises like that lightly.” His words should be heavy. Instead, they feel grounding. He stands slowly, clad in only dark slacks, as if giving you space to fully wake up before the world becomes too much. Only then do you notice the small tray on the nearby table—fresh fruit, warm tea, simple food arranged neatly, not ceremonial, not decorative, just…care. Your brows knit slightly. “Did you do that?”
Jungkook follows your gaze and shrugs faintly, as if it’s nothing. “You didn’t eat much last night.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You were overwhelmed,” he corrects. You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out fast enough to win. That earns a quiet exhale from him that might almost be a smile. “I asked the kitchen to bring something light,” he adds. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
The honesty of it throws you more than anything else. You sit up slightly, pulling the blanket with you out of instinct. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know,” he interrupts softly. Not dismissive, just certain. Then, after a pause: “I wanted to.” Silence settles again, but this time it isn’t uncomfortable. It stretches gently between you, shaped by morning light instead of tension. You watch him for a moment longer than necessary.
“You’re very… attentive,” you say carefully, as if testing the words. Something flickers in his expression at that—warmth, faint amusement, something softer underneath. “Is that a complaint?” he asks. “I haven’t decided.” That earns a quiet laugh from him, real this time, unguarded enough that it changes the atmosphere in the room entirely.
He steps closer to the bed, but stops at a respectful distance, not invading the space you’re still adjusting to. “I wasn’t sure how you’d be this morning,” he admits. “How I’d be?” you repeat.
“Yes.”
You consider that for a moment, then look down at your hands. “And what did you expect?”Jungkook hesitates—not because he doesn’t know, but because he is choosing how to say it.“Angry,” he says finally. “Or distant. Or like you might regret everything.” Your fingers still slightly.“And?” you ask quietly. His gaze doesn’t move from you. “Do you?”
The question lands carefully. Not accusing, not hopeful, just honest. You take your time before answering. “I don’t know yet,” you admit. It is the second time you’ve said that to him, and somehow it feels easier now. Jungkook nods like that is enough.
“It’s alright,” he says again, like he is reminding you rather than accepting uncertainty. “We have time.” The word again. Time. “But I enjoyed last night a lot, Y/N, duty or not.”
You look up at him more fully now, studying him in the morning light—the way he is still half naked, the way he hasn’t tried to impose formality on this moment, the way he keeps choosing patience as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
“You make it very difficult to dislike you,” you say before thinking better of it. That makes him pause. Then his expression softens in a way that is almost dangerously gentle. “I’m not trying to make you like me,” he replies. A beat. “I’m trying to make it so you don’t feel trapped here.”
Something shifts in your chest at that. Not loud, not obvious, but real. You glance away quickly, as if looking at him too long might make you understand something you’re not ready for.
“That’s a strange goal for someone in your position,” you say. “Maybe,” he agrees easily. “But I think you’re worth it.” The words are simple, too simple, and yet they sit in the air between you like something neither of you knows how to take back.
For a moment, neither of you speaks, Then Jungkook turns slightly toward the tray again. “Eat something,” he says, voice returning to something lighter. “Please. If I get blamed for you fainting this morning, I’ll never hear the end of it from my brothers.”
That pulls something unexpected from you. “Your brothers seem very invested in my survival,” you murmur. “They are,” he replies. “They like you.”
“I’ve only spoken to them twice.”
“That’s enough for Taehyung to decide your entire personality.” That earns a reluctant breath of laughter from you. And Jungkook—watching it—looks like something inside him settles, like that was what he was hoping for more than anything else.
You finally reach for the tea, and when your fingers wrap around the cup, warm and steady, you realize something unsettling—It doesn’t feel like you’re being taken care of against your will, it feels like someone is choosing to stay.
And worse than that, you are not telling him to leave.
___
A week passes in a way you don’t know how to measure, time in the palace doesn’t behave like it used to. There are no clear edges anymore, no sharp division between days that feel like yours and days that feel imposed upon you. Everything blends—morning into afternoon, formal dinners into quiet walks, moments that should have felt unbearable slowly becoming…familiar. Not easy, just familiar.
You still wake up some mornings with the immediate instinct to remind yourself where you are. Then you remember. The marriage. The crown prince. The fact that your life is no longer something that can be returned or undone like an unwanted gift. But what unsettles you most is that you don’t feel as trapped as you expected to, and you don’t know what to do with that.
Jungkook does not behave like a man who has “won” anything, that is the part you cannot stop thinking about. You two continue to share passionate nights together in the privacy of your bedchamber, however, he does not act possessive, he does not correct your silence, he does not treat your presence like something fragile that must be controlled. Instead, he simply…includes you. Quietly. Consistently. As if your place beside him is not something to enforce, but something to acknowledge. Not as his arranged wife, but as his companion, his equal.
At first, it irritated you, now, it confuses you more than anything else. One morning, you find him in the palace garden again.
He is sitting on the edge of the stone steps, sleeves rolled slightly, speaking softly with one of his brothers. Seokjin laughs at something you don’t hear properly, Namjoon is already halfway through explaining something with his hands, and Taehyung, of course, looks like he has no intention of behaving like royalty today or ever.
And Jungkook…Jungkook is looking at you before you even realize you’ve stopped walking. The conversation around him continues, but his attention has already shifted fully, like it always does now without effort. Not as if he is abandoning them, just as if he is naturally aware of you the way someone might be aware of sunlight.
“You’re staring again,” Taehyung says suddenly, following his gaze. You blink, realizing too late that you’ve been caught. “I am not,” you reply immediately. Taehyung grins. “You are.” Seokjin sighs faintly. “I think you forget that they are married, brother, leave her alone.”
But Jungkook is already standing. “I’ll be back,” he says to his brothers, though his eyes don’t leave yours. Taehyung makes a sound like he’s been personally entertained by the entire situation. Namjoon looks mildly amused. Seokjin looks vaguely tired of all of them.
Jungkook walks toward you, and somehow, even after about two weeks and a half of marriage, that still does something to your chest you can’t fully explain.
“You disappeared after breakfast,” he says when he reaches you. “I didn’t disappear,” you reply, smiling. “I moved.” Jungkook’s eyebrow raises “That’s what disappearing is in this palace.” You huff a small breath that almost becomes a laugh before you can stop it.
He notices, of course he notices. “I thought you might want some space,” he adds more quietly. You glance at him. “From you?” A pause. Then, honest: “From everything.”
That answer lands differently than you expect. Because it’s not defensive, not wounded, just… understanding. “I didn’t ask for space,” you say. “I know.” Silence settles between you, but it is no longer the same silence it used to be. It is softer now. Less like distance. More like something waiting.
You walk beside him without being asked, it happens naturally. That realization bothers you slightly more than it should. “You’ve been different,” you say after a moment. Jungkook tilts his head slightly. “Have I?”
“Yes.”
“In what way?”
You hesitate, searching for words that don’t feel like surrender. “You act like…” you pause, frustrated at yourself, “like I belong here.”
He doesn’t correct you. He doesn’t deny it either.
Instead, he looks ahead for a moment before answering. “You do, Y/N” he says simply.
It should feel like pressure. It doesn’t. It feels like he is stating something obvious that you have been trying not to see.
You slow slightly, Jungkook notices immediately but doesn’t push you forward. “You still don’t trust it,” he says gently. “I don’t trust anything that doesn’t come with a cost,” you reply.
A faint exhale leaves him—not amusement, not frustration, something more thoughtful. “That makes sense,” he says. You glance at him sharply. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What would you prefer I say?” he asks. “That I’m wrong.” A pause. Then, quietly: “You’re not wrong.” That makes you falter more than contradiction would have. You stop walking, so does he.
The garden is quieter here. The palace sounds distant, softened by distance and trees and air that feels almost too calm for the weight of what you are both standing inside. “I don’t know what you’re doing,” you say finally, crossing your arms.
Jungkook’s gaze holds yours steadily. “I’m not doing anything to you, Y/N.” he replies. “That’s the problem,” you say, sharper than intended. “You’re not forcing anything. You’re just….there. And I don’t know how to fight something that doesn’t attack me.”
Something shifts in his expression at that. “I told you before,” he says softly, “I don’t want to win against you.”
A beat.
“I want you to stop feeling like everything here is a cage.” The words settle heavily, because somewhere in these past weeks, something has changed without your permission.
The palace still isn’t yours, but it doesn’t feel like it is closing in anymore, and that is what scares you. You look away first. “I don’t know what I am supposed to be here,” you admit quietly.
Jungkook steps a fraction closer—not enough to crowd you, just enough that you don’t feel like he is speaking from somewhere far away. “You don’t have to be anything yet,” he says.
“That’s not how courts work.”
“I don’t care how courts work.”
You look back at him at that, He is watching you like he has been for a while. Not like a subject, not like a problem, like you’re the person he has already decided not to let become lonely inside a place full of people, and for the first time, you understand something clearly.
Jungkook is not trying to possess you, he is trying to make you stay. Your throat tightens slightly, and you hate that it does. “Jungkook,” you say quietly, as if testing the sound of his name in a way that no longer feels unfamiliar.
His expression softens immediately. “Yes?”
You hesitate, because whatever you say next matters in a way you can feel but cannot fully articulate. But before you can decide, footsteps approach behind you. Seokjin’s voice calls out lightly from a distance.
“You two are supposed to be in the council room in ten minutes, unless you’ve decided to officially ignore all royal duties and run away together, which I would honestly respect but would also be forced to report.”
The tension breaks—not disappears, but loosens just enough for air to return.
Taehyung laughs somewhere behind him.
Namjoon sighs again.
Jungkook doesn’t look away from you immediately. But when he finally does, there is something in his eyes that wasn’t there weeks ago. He offers his hand—not demanding, not formal, just present.
“Come on,” he says softly. “We can deal with everything else together.” You look at his hand for a moment longer than you should, then you take it.
And this time, you don’t think about cages.
You think about choice.
___
a/n: whew! This is definitely one of the longest fics I’ve ever written, but it’s also one of the best I’ve ever written. Also- this is my first time writing smut in a long time, so I hope it was okay 😭 if you have any recommendations or tips please share them, I’m looking for new ideas! reblogs are appreciated! 🤍
forced into a political marriage you never chose, You arrive in a foreign court determined to hate everything about it—especially the prince you’re meant to marry. But Jungkook is not easily dismissed; where you resist, he remains, unwavering and quietly intent on keeping a bond you refuse to accept. What begins as defiance turns into something far more dangerous, as you are faced with a choice you’ve never been given before—to keep running, or to stay and understand the one person who won’t let you go.
전정국 x fem!reader | royalty!au • angst • arranged marriage • oc is a pain • prince!jk • princess!reader •
chapter 2: here!
___
The first thing you noticed about the southern court was how bright it was.
It was almost offensive, the way sunlight poured through the towering windows of Jeon Palace as if nothing unpleasant had ever existed within its walls. Gold gleamed from every surface it could cling to—pillars, railings, the fine embroidery of passing courtiers—and even the servants seemed lighter on their feet, as though this place demanded grace from everyone who stepped inside it.
You hated it immediately.
“Stand up straight,” your mother murmured under her breath, her smile fixed as nobles passed by. Her nails dug ever so slightly into your arm, sharp enough to warn, not enough to be seen. “You are not a child anymore.” You resisted the urge to pull away. “I never was.”
Her grip tightened for half a second before she let go, her expression never wavering from polite indifference. To anyone watching, she was the perfect queen—composed, elegant, proud of the daughter at her side. You knew better.
“Do try not to embarrass us before the formal introduction,” your father added without looking at you. His voice was low, but the weight of it pressed heavily against your ribs. “The alliance depends on this.” The alliance. Not you. Never you.
You smoothed your skirts, more out of habit than obedience, and said nothing. There was no use arguing—not here, not now, not when everything about this visit had already been decided without you.
A marriage arranged. A prince you had never met. A kingdom you did not belong to. It felt less like a future and more like a sentence.
“Announcing Her Highness, Princess Y/N of..”
You had stopped listening after that. The grand doors opened, and all at once, the brightness swallowed you whole. Conversations quieted, heads turned, and you felt it—that familiar, suffocating weight of being watched, measured, judged for how well you would play your role.
You lifted your chin anyway. If they expected obedience, they would have to drag it out of you.
At the far end of the hall stood the royal family of the south. The king, regal and composed. The queen, sharp-eyed and undeterred. And next to them—him.
Prince Jeon Jungkook.
You knew it had to be him without needing an introduction. There was something in the way the court seemed to bend around him, subtle but undeniable, like everything in this palace moved with an awareness of his presence. He didn’t look away when your eyes met, most men did.
They either stared too long, greedy and entitled, or avoided your gaze altogether, uncomfortable with what they couldn’t control. You had learned to despise both types equally.
But Jungkook, he simply looked. Calm. Steady. Unapologetically direct. It was… irritating. You held his gaze a moment longer than was polite before deliberately looking elsewhere.
Let him think you unimpressed.
Let him know you would not be easy.
The formalities blurred together—greetings, bows, carefully chosen words exchanged between your parents and his. You stood where you were placed, spoke when required, and ignored the subtle tension building beneath the surface of it all. Until—
“We thought it best,” the southern king said, his tone warm but deliberate, “to allow the betrothed some time to speak privately.”
Your stomach tightened, of course they did. Before you could protest, your mother’s voice slipped in, soft and warning, “Go.”
Not a suggestion, a command. You turned, meeting her gaze just long enough to see the expectation there—unyielding, cold.
Play your part, Y/N. You looked away first.
“Very well,” you said, though the words tasted bitter. Prince Jungkook stepped forward without hesitation. Up close, he was…worse than before. Not in appearance—no, that would have been an utter lie, but there was a quiet confidence about him, something steady and unshaken that made it difficult to read him, let alone dismiss him entirely. “This way,” he said, gesturing toward a side corridor.
You followed because you had to, not because you wanted to. The doors closed behind you, and just like that, the noise of the court disappeared, replaced by a quieter, more honest kind of silence.
You stopped walking first. “I assume you’re aware I don’t want this marriage.” Your words came out sharper than necessary.
Good.
Let them.
Jungkook turned to face you, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something close to it. But it vanished quickly, replaced by something far more composed. “I assumed as much,” he said.
That wasn’t the answer you expected.
Your brows drew together slightly. “Then you also understand that I have no intention of being an obedient wife.”
“Obedience is overrated.”
You blinked. He didn’t look like he was joking.
“I don’t belong here,” you continued, pressing on before he could shift the conversation in some calculated direction. “And I certainly don’t belong to you. This arrangement—” you gestured vaguely between the two of you “—means nothing to me.”
You waited for offense. For irritation. For the bruised pride men so often carried like a second skin. Instead, Jungkook smiled.
Not widely, not mockingly, but unmistakably.
“That’s unfortunate,” he said, almost thoughtfully. Your eyes narrowed. “Unfortunate?”
“Yes.” He stepped a little closer—not enough to invade your space, but enough to make it clear he wasn’t retreating either. “Because I have no intention of breaking the engagement.” The words landed heavier than you expected.
“You don’t get to decide that alone.”
“Neither do you.” Silence snapped tight between you.
For the first time since arriving, something unsettled crept under your skin—not fear, not quite, but something dangerously close to it. Not because he was threatening, but because he wasn’t reacting the way you understood.
He wasn’t trying to control you, he wasn’t trying to appease you, either. He was simply…standing his ground. “You should reconsider,” you said, quieter now but no less firm. “You don’t want a wife like me.”
A pause.
Then, almost gently—“I think I do.”
Your breath hitched before you could stop it. That…irritated you more than anything else. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he replied. “You walked into a foreign court, surrounded by people who expect you to behave a certain way, and the first thing you did was refuse to pretend.” His gaze held yours, steady and intent. “Most people spend their entire lives learning how to do exactly that.”
You scoffed lightly, though it felt weaker than you intended. “Or perhaps I simply lack manners.” Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “If that were true,” he said, “you wouldn’t have come at all.”
That—unfortunately—was not wrong. Your jaw tightened. “This is not a choice I was given.”
“I’m aware.” Something in his tone shifted—not pity, not softness, but understanding. It was subtle, almost frustratingly so.
“Then why insist on it?” you demanded. “Why tie yourself to someone who will never give you what you’re expected to want?”
Jungkook tilted his head slightly, studying you in a way that made it feel like he was seeing more than you intended to show. “Because,” he said slowly, “I’m far more interested in what you refuse to give than what others would offer willingly.”
That was—
You didn’t have a word for that.
And you didn’t like it.
You stepped back, putting space between you, reasserting control where you could. “You’ll regret it.”
“Possibly.”
“And you still won’t break it?”
“No.” The certainty in his voice left no room for doubt.
You stared at him for a long moment, searching for hesitation, for arrogance, for anything familiar you could push against. You found none of it. That might have been the most frustrating part.
“Then you’re a fool,” you said finally.
Something almost like amusement touched his expression. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “But I suspect you already knew that.” You huffed a quiet breath, turning away before he could see the flicker of something dangerously close to a smile tug at your lips.
This was ridiculous, he was ridiculous.
And yet—
As you made your way back toward the hall, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this arrangement, this unwanted, infuriating, inescapable engagement…Had just become far more complicated than you intended it to be.
Behind you, Jungkook didn’t call you back. But you could feel it—His gaze, steady and unwavering, following you all the way to the door.
Like he had already decided something about you. Something you weren’t sure you were ready to understand. When you stepped back into the grand hall, it felt warmer than before.
Not in temperature—no, that hadn’t changed—but in atmosphere. Conversations resumed almost instantly, music drifting once more through the air as though nothing significant had occurred behind those closed doors. And yet, you could feel it—eyes flickering toward you, curiosity poorly disguised as politeness. You held your head high anyway.
If they were expecting some softened version of you to emerge after a private meeting with their beloved prince, they would be disappointed. “Ah,” the southern queen said as you approached, her voice smooth and welcoming, “there you are.”
Her gaze swept over you, not in judgment, but in something that felt far more unsettling—gentle assessment. Like she was trying to understand you rather than pick you apart. You didn’t know what to do with that.
“Did you find the palace to your liking?” she asked. A loaded question. You could feel your mother’s attention sharpen beside you, silent warning threading through the space between you. You smiled—just barely. “It is…impressive.”
Not a lie, not the truth, either.
The queen’s lips curved slightly, as if she heard everything you didn’t say. “It can feel overwhelming at first. Jungkook rarely notices it anymore—he’s grown up within these walls. But I imagine it must be quite different from your home.” There was no mockery in her tone. No condescension.
Just quiet understanding.
Before you could decide how to respond, the king spoke, his voice warm and steady. “We hope your journey here was not too difficult. You are our guest before anything else.”
Guest. Not obligation. Not political asset.
It caught you off guard enough that your reply came a fraction slower than usual. “It was… manageable, Your Majesty. Thank you.”
Something softened in his expression, like that was the answer he’d been hoping for. Your father, standing beside you, seemed far less comfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Her Highness is resilient,” he said, a touch too quickly. “She understands the importance of this alliance.”
You bit back the urge to react, of course he would say that.
The southern king merely nodded, but his gaze flickered briefly to you, as if measuring the difference between what was said and what was true. “Resilience is valuable,” he agreed. “Though I find it often comes at a cost.”
Your father didn’t respond to that. Good.
“Come,” the queen said then, her tone brightening slightly, as if sensing the shift in tension. “You’ve yet to meet the rest of the family.” You stiffened internally.
There was more?
Before you could prepare yourself, three figures approached from across the hall, their presence far less formal than the rest of the court. They didn’t move like men burdened by expectation—there was an ease to them, a familiarity with this space that bordered on irreverent.
The first—tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of quiet authority—offered a polite bow. “Princess.”
His voice was deep, calm. “This is Seokjin,” the queen introduced, a hint of fondness in her tone. “Our eldest.”
He smiled, and it was unexpectedly kind. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope Jungkook hasn’t frightened you off already.”
You almost scoffed. “Not yet,” you said instead.
Something like amusement flickered in his eyes.
Beside him, another stepped forward—softer in demeanor, his gaze warm and thoughtful. “I’m Namjoon,” he said. “If you need help navigating the palace, I’d be happy to assist.” Helpful.
Genuinely so, it seemed. You inclined your head slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And I’m afraid that leaves me,” the third added, a grin already forming before he’d even finished speaking. “Taehyung.”
There was something mischievous about him, something unrestrained that stood in contrast to the careful composure of the court.
“You look like you hate it here,” he said, entirely too perceptive for someone you’d just met “Taehyung,” the queen warned lightly. “What?” he shrugged, unbothered. “I’m just saying—she does.”
You met his gaze, unflinching. “And if I do?”
His grin widened. “Then I think you’ll fit in just fine.”
That—You didn’t know whether to be offended or intrigued. “Enough,” the king said, though there was no real reprimand in his voice. “Let the princess breathe.”
Taehyung stepped back with a small, unapologetic bow, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. Seokjin, at least, looked faintly exasperated. “You’ll have to forgive him.”
“I won’t,” you replied dryly. That earned you a quiet laugh from Namjoon.
You were starting to realize something unsettling. This family was…not what you expected. Not cold. Not calculating. Not even particularly interested in forcing you into a role you didn’t want. It didn’t make sense, and that made it harder to navigate than outright hostility ever would have.
“Jungkook,” the queen said then, glancing past you. You didn’t need to turn to know he’d returned. You felt it. “Walk with us,” she continued. “There are matters we should discuss together.”
Together. The word settled strangely in your chest.
Your parents followed without hesitation. You had little choice but to do the same, falling into step beside them as the southern royal family guided you from the hall and into a quieter adjoining chamber. The doors closed behind you, muffling the noise once more.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then— “We would like to make something clear,” the king began, his tone shifting—still kind, but now carrying a quiet authority that demanded attention.
“This engagement,” he continued, “was arranged by our kingdoms, yes. But we have no desire to see either of you bound in misery.”
Your breath stilled. That… was not what you expected to hear.
“If there are concerns,” the queen added gently, her gaze resting on you, not your parents, “they should be spoken openly.” You felt your mother tense beside you. “Your Majesties,” she began smoothly, “there is no need for—”
“There is every need,” Jungkook cut in.
The interruption was quiet, but absolute.
Silence fell instantly.
You turned to look at him, he wasn’t looking at you this time. He was looking at your parents.
“My betrothed has already made her position clear,” he continued, his voice even. “I see no reason to pretend otherwise.” Your father’s expression darkened slightly. “And what position would that be?”
Jungkook didn’t hesitate. “That she does not want this marriage.” The words landed heavily in the room.
Your mother’s hand tightened around her fan. You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. You just watched. “And yet,” your father said after a moment, his voice carefully controlled, “here we are.”
“Yes,” Jungkook agreed. “Here we are.”
A pause.
Then, calmly—“And I still intend to marry her.”
Your head snapped toward him.
Again. That same certainty. That same refusal to bend. It made no sense.
The king studied him for a long moment before speaking. “You are aware that marriage requires more than intention.”
“I am.”
“And that it cannot be sustained by force alone.”
“I know.”
“Then explain.”
Jungkook’s gaze shifted then—finally, deliberately—back to you. And for a brief, disorienting moment, it felt like the rest of the room disappeared.
“I’m not asking for her obedience,” he said. “Or her submission.”
Your breath caught.
“I’m asking for time.” The words were simple, but they carried weight. “I believe,” he continued, quieter now but no less certain, “that given the choice to leave… she would take it.”
That was true. Painfully so. “And yet,” he added, “she came anyway.”
Something twisted in your chest, not because he was wrong, but because he understood.
“And that,” he finished, “is reason enough for me not to walk away.”
Silence settled heavily over the room. No one spoke. Not your parents, not his, not even you.
Because for the first time since this arrangement had been forced upon you—you didn’t have an immediate argument ready, and that unsettled you far more than anything else.
Because if he wasn’t trying to control you…If he wasn’t trying to break you…Then what, exactly, was he trying to do?
And why—Why did that make this so much harder to hate?
By the second day, the palace had stopped feeling like an enemy you could easily fight. That was the problem. You had expected coldness when you arrived—sharp eyes, whispered judgment, the kind of suffocating pressure that would give you something solid to push against. You had prepared yourself to hate it properly, to hold onto that anger like armor. But instead, everything here met you with a softness you didn’t trust.
The maids who dressed you in the mornings didn’t rush you or scold you when you stayed quiet too long. They spoke gently, as if they understood that this wasn’t something you had chosen. The servants bowed, but never lingered. Even the guards who followed you through the palace grounds kept their distance, careful not to crowd you, as though someone had told them you needed space. It made your resentment feel… misplaced. And you didn’t know what to do with that.
Your parents, at least, remained unchanged. “You will not humiliate us,” your mother said that afternoon, her voice low but cutting as she adjusted the sleeve of your gown with unnecessary precision. “Whatever childish resistance you think you’re holding onto ends tomorrow.” You pulled your arm back before she could fix it again. “I’m not a child.”
“No,” she replied coolly, finally meeting your eyes. “Which is why you will start acting like a future queen.”
A future queen. You wondered if she had ever once asked whether you wanted to be one.
Your father didn’t even look up from where he stood near the window. “This marriage is happening. Whether you feel ready for it is irrelevant.”
Irrelevant. The word sat heavily in your chest long after they left.
For a while, you stayed in your room, staring at nothing, feeling the walls press in a little tighter than they had the day before. It wasn’t the palace—it was the waiting. The knowing. The way everything was moving forward whether you were ready or not. Eventually, you couldn’t stand it anymore, you needed air.
The gardens had become the only place that felt even remotely yours, even if it wasn’t. The paths were wide and quiet, lined with flowers that bloomed without care for politics or promises. You followed one absentmindedly, your thoughts tangled, your chest tight with something you refused to name.
“You look like you’re trying to outrun something.”His voice wasn’t loud, but it still startled you. You turned, already frowning. “I thought I made it clear I didn’t want company.”
Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, dressed simply for once, without the weight of formal court attire. It made him seem… younger. Less like a prince, more like someone real. “I remember,” he said, unfazed. “I just chose not to listen.”
Of course he did. You turned away again and continued walking, expecting—hoping—he would leave. He didn’t.
You could hear his footsteps fall into rhythm beside yours, steady and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said after a while. You let out a quiet breath. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About how much you hate it here?”
“…Yes.”
He glanced at you then, and there was something softer in his expression than you were used to seeing. “And?” You hesitated, your gaze dropping briefly to the path beneath your feet. “It would be easier if I did.”
“Easier?”
“To leave,” you admitted, more quietly now. “To be angry. To not care about what happens after.”
He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t try to fill the silence. He just listened, and for some reason, that made the words come easier than they should have. “But it’s not like that here,” you continued. “Everyone is… kind. Your parents, your brothers—” you let out a small, disbelieving breath “—even the servants treat me better than I’m used to.”
You hadn’t meant to say that last part. The moment it left your mouth, you regretted it.
But Jungkook didn’t look surprised. He looked… like he understood. “That doesn’t mean you have to stay,” he said gently.
You stopped walking. There it was again, that same offer. You turned to face him fully, searching his expression for any sign that he didn’t mean it.“Why do you keep saying that?” you asked. “You’re the one who insisted on this marriage. You said you wouldn’t break the engagement.”
“I won’t,” he said.
“Then why give me a way out?” because that was what it was, whether he admitted it or not.
A way out.
He stepped a little closer, not enough to overwhelm you, just enough that you couldn’t pretend this conversation didn’t matter. “Because I don’t want you to stand beside me tomorrow wondering if you should have run,” he said. “I don’t want you to look at me and think I took that choice from you.”
Your chest tightened. “And if I do run?” you asked, your voice quieter than before.
He held your gaze. “Then I’ll be the only one in that room who isn’t surprised.”
Something about that—about the honesty in it—made your throat feel tight. “And you’d be fine with that?” you pressed. “You’d just let me go?”
He hesitated. It was small. Barely noticeable.
But it was there.
“No,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t be fine with it.” The answer caught you off guard. “But I’d accept it,” he added. “Because it would be your choice.”
Your heart stuttered. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt different now—heavier, but not in the suffocating way you were used to. It was something else. Something you didn’t quite understand yet.
“Why me?” you asked finally. “You could have anyone. Someone willing. Someone easier.” A faint, almost disbelieving smile touched his lips.
“I don’t want easy.”
“That’s not a real answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.”
You shook your head, frustrated, but not entirely at him. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe,” he said softly. “But I think I’d regret letting you go more.”
That—You didn’t know what to do with that. So you turned away again, your thoughts louder than they had been before, your chest tighter, your steps slower.
He didn’t follow this time.
And somehow, that made it worse.
___
The morning of the wedding felt unreal.
You hadn’t slept more than a few hours, your mind replaying everything he’d said, every possibility, every outcome. By the time the sun rose, it felt less like a new day and more like the final step of something you hadn’t fully decided.
The maids moved around you carefully, almost reverently as they dressed you. The gown was heavier than anything you had ever worn, layers of fabric and intricate embroidery weighing down your shoulders, pressing against your skin as if reminding you of what it meant.
This is real. This is happening.
You watched your reflection as they worked, barely recognizing yourself. The girl staring back at you looked composed, regal even—but you could see it in her eyes.
The hesitation. The question she still hadn’t answered.
“Princess,” one of the maids said softly, adjusting the final piece in your hair, “you look beautiful.”
You swallowed, offering a small nod. It didn’t feel like the right word. Beautiful felt too… certain. You didn’t feel certain. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something, waiting to see if you would fall or step forward.
A knock sounded at the door. When it opened, you didn’t expect to see him.
Seokjin.
He paused for a moment when he saw you, his expression softening in a way that felt disarmingly genuine. “Wow,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Jungkook is going to forget how to speak.” Despite everything, a small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips.
“That would be a miracle,” you murmured. He huffed a soft laugh before stepping further into the room. “I was asked to escort you,” he said, his tone gentler now. “If that’s alright with you.”
You hesitated. It should have been your father.
But the thought of walking beside him, of feeling that silent pressure with every step…You nodded. “I’d prefer that.”
Something warm flickered in his expression, like he understood more than you had said out loud.“Then it would be my honor.”
When you stepped into the corridor, his arm offered itself without hesitation. You took it slowly, your grip light at first, then steadier as you began to walk. “You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly as you moved toward the grand hall.
Your breath caught slightly. “You sound like him.”Seokjin smiled faintly. “He means it, you know.”
“I know.” That was the problem.
The music had already begun by the time you reached the doors. They stood open, light spilling through, voices hushed inside as everyone waited. Seokjin glanced down at you. “Whatever you decide,” he said softly, “don’t let it be because you felt trapped.”
Your throat tightened. You nodded.
The walk felt longer than it should have, each step echoed faintly, your heartbeat loud in your ears, your grip on Seokjin’s arm the only thing keeping you grounded. You could feel the eyes on you, the weight of expectation, the future pressing in from all sides.
And then—You saw him.
Jungkook stood at the end of the aisle, dressed in black and gold, every inch the crown prince he was meant to be. But his expression—It wasn’t distant. It wasn’t cold. It was searching. Like he was trying to read your answer before you even reached him.
And when your eyes met—Something in his shoulders shifted. Not relief, not yet, but hope.
Careful. Quiet. Uncertain.
Seokjin slowed beside you, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You can still turn around.” You knew. You had known since yesterday.
Since the moment Jungkook had given you that choice. Your steps faltered—just for a second.
The doors were still open behind you. Freedom was still there.
But so was he. Waiting.
Your fingers tightened slightly against Seokjin’s arm. Then, slowly—You kept walking.
___
By the time the ceremony ended, the world no longer felt like it belonged to you in any meaningful way. Not because it had been taken violently, but because it had been formalized. Signed into existence with vows and ritual and the collective approval of a kingdom that had decided your life on your behalf and then called it tradition. You had spoken when required, moved when guided, and stood where you were placed—your voice steady enough to fool everyone except, perhaps, yourself.
Jungkook had not let go of your hand until the very end. Even now, you could still feel the memory of it—firm, controlled, but not possessive. There had been moments during the vows when his grip tightened slightly, not to anchor you to him, but as though he was steadying something in himself. That detail, for reasons you did not fully understand, stayed with you longer than anything else.
When the final words were spoken, the hall erupted into applause that sounded distant, almost polite in its certainty. You registered smiles, bows, congratulations, the careful choreography of political joy. And then the shift: the moment the ceremony stopped being a performance and became a fact.
Wife. Husband. Titles that no longer required consent to be spoken.
Jungkook’s hand finally released yours when the court began to move. Even then, the absence of contact did not feel like relief. It felt like a question left unanswered.
The celebration that followed was an exercise in controlled excess. The ballroom had been transformed—music spilling from every corner, chandeliers burning brighter than necessary, nobles circling like tides of silk and gold. You remained beside him because it was expected, because stepping away would have been interpreted as statement, rebellion, scandal. You had already done enough of that in quieter ways.
People approached. You responded. Smiled when appropriate, inclined your head when required. You learned quickly that the court here did not punish silence the way yours did; instead, it studied it. Measured it. Tried to interpret its meaning.
Jungkook, by contrast, moved through it as if it were an environment he no longer needed to negotiate. He spoke when spoken to, answered without hesitation, but his attention—always, infuriatingly—returned to you. Not in a way that announced itself, but in brief intervals: a glance to confirm your presence, a pause in conversation as if he were tracking your comfort without asking directly.
It would have been easier if he ignored you. You were beginning to understand that.
At some point, the music shifted. The tone of the evening softened, and before you could anticipate it, Jungkook had turned toward you with a quietness that felt deliberate.
“Dance with me,” he said. It was not phrased as a request, and yet it did not feel like an order either. That ambiguity irritated you more than either option would have.
You studied him for a moment longer than necessary. “Is this part of the performance?”
A faint exhale—almost a laugh, but not quite. “If it were, I would have rehearsed it more convincingly.”
“That implies you’ve rehearsed anything at all.”
“I haven’t had time,” he replied simply.
There was something disarming about his honesty, the lack of ornamentation in it. It left you with less to argue against.
You took his hand.
The ballroom seemed to recalibrate around the contact. His palm was warm, steady in a way that made you hyper-aware of your own pulse as he guided you into the movement of the dance. His other hand settled at your waist with a restraint that felt intentional rather than uncertain—careful, as though he was aware that every assumption between you was still negotiable.
“You’re quiet,” he said after a moment.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s usually when you’re most difficult.”
You looked up at him sharply. “And you find that appealing?”
His gaze held yours without hesitation. “I didn’t say that.” The response should have been dismissive. It wasn’t.
The music carried you forward in measured steps, the rhythm slow enough to force attention into every second. You became aware, uncomfortably so, of how precise his movements were. Not performative precision, but practiced awareness—someone who understood exactly how much space he was occupying and how not to take more than he was given. It unsettled you more than arrogance would have.
“You said earlier I still had a choice,” you said, breaking the silence.
“I did.”
“That was not a reassurance,” you continued. “It was a complication.”
His expression shifted slightly at that—not defensive, not offended. Interested. “Most people prefer complications over certainty they didn’t agree to.”
“I am not most people.”
“I noticed.”
The words were quiet, almost absent-minded, but they landed with unnecessary accuracy.
You missed a step—not enough for anyone else to see, but enough for you to feel it. His hand steadied you immediately, not tightening, just adjusting, as if correcting a deviation without drawing attention to it.
“You don’t have to keep looking at me like that,” you said.
“Like what?”
“As though I might change my mind at any second.”
A pause.
Then, carefully, “Because you might.”
The honesty of it made something tighten beneath your ribs. “You think very highly of my instability,” you said.
“I think very highly of your honesty,” he corrected. “It makes you harder to predict.”
“And that is… desirable to you?”
His gaze lingered on you for a fraction longer than necessary before he answered. “It is real.” The word hung between you in a way neither of you immediately addressed.
When the music ended, he did not release you immediately. Neither did you step away. It was not defiance this time, nor hesitation in the traditional sense. It was simply the awareness that stepping out of contact would mean re-entering a different kind of distance—one neither of you had yet defined. Eventually, he let go first.
The rest of the evening blurred into fragments: Seokjin appearing briefly to say something light enough to ease the atmosphere around you; Taehyung speaking too freely for someone in formal attire and earning a reprimand from Namjoon that sounded more amused than serious; the queen’s hand resting briefly over yours with an expression that suggested she had already decided not to interfere with whatever this was becoming.
And then, slowly, the room began to empty.
Candles burned lower. Music dissolved into nothing. Conversation thinned until only the architecture of the palace remained—vast, polished, and suddenly aware of its own silence.
When the final guests left, there was a brief moment in which no one spoke at all. It was not emptiness. It was transition.
You felt it in the way Jungkook stood slightly apart from the departing court, as though waiting for something that had not yet arrived. Or perhaps something that had, and neither of you had acknowledged it properly.
When he finally turned to you, the expression he wore was no longer ceremonial. “It’s late,” he said.
A statement, not an observation. You understood what it meant without needing it clarified. The corridors beyond the hall would lead to rooms assigned, prepared, expected. The structure of this kingdom would not pause for your hesitation.
You were no longer attending an event.
You were within its consequence.
You met his gaze fully for the first time since the ceremony ended. “So this is where it becomes real.”
A faint shift in his expression—not satisfaction, not anticipation. Something more restrained than either. “It was already real,” he said. The distinction mattered more than you wanted it to.
A silence followed, denser than any before it that day. You became aware of every detail that had previously been background noise: the fading warmth of the chandeliers, the distant echo of footsteps in corridors beyond, the absence of music that had earlier masked how large the room actually was. Jungkook took one step closer.
Not abrupt. Not imposed. Deliberate enough that you had time to refuse it, if refusal was what you chose.
“I told you I wouldn’t force you,” he said quietly.
“I remember.”
“And I meant it.”
Your breath felt too precise suddenly, as though even breathing had become something observed rather than automatic.
“I know what is expected,” you said, more evenly than you felt. “I am not ignorant of the symbolism.” His gaze did not move away from yours. “Then don’t mistake expectation for requirement.”
That should have been comforting. It was not. Because it left the decision entirely intact.
Between you. Unresolved. Present.
And for the first time since the vows had been spoken, neither of you stepped back from it.
Not yet.
---
a/n: hiii hope everyone enjoyed chapter 1! I wrote both chapters together, so chapter 2 is already published 🥹 if you have any recommendations, please tell me as I am looking for new ideas! reblogs are appreciated! ❤️
in which…Jungkook has nothing but the sea, and you have everything but freedom. Somehow, against your parents, your worlds, and everything in between, you fall in love anyway.
pairing: (kinda) fisherman!jungkook x fem!reader
genre: 1980s au | highschool au | forbidden love | slice of life | class difference | romance |
warnings&tags: smut; protected sex | praising | fingering | masturbation (f.) | penetrative sex | nipple play | kissing | established relationship sex | cum play | multiple orgasms | pinning of wrists | kissing with tongue | neck kissing |
word count: 23.4k
___
Tongyeong, April 1983.
The sun warms the tiled roof of your hanok as you step out, your cotton dress brushing your knees, a soft yellow bow tied beneath your chin to keep your sunhat steady. The sea air smells faintly of salt and tangerines.
Cassette money tucked into your sleeve, you descend the narrow hill path, heart fluttering.
The music store’s bell jingles as you push open the door.
Jungkook is dusting a shelf near the back, his sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from the afternoon heat. He glances up, then stops. That slow, heart-melting smile of his appears like it always does when he sees you. “You came,” he says, walking over. “Looking for something new?”
You shake your head. “Just wanted to see you,” you say, a hint of shyness in your voice. The music store is almost empty, the shopkeeper is out running errands, leaving you two alone together.
Jungkook rests a hip against the counter. The afternoon sun streams through the open door behind you, setting the strands of his dark hair aglow. He reaches out to touch the hem of your dress-a habit of his.
His touch is feather-light, brief, as he adjusts your bow. You glance out the window. Your hanok is visible on the hill above, all sloping grey rooftops and pale willow trees. Your parents would be scandalized if they knew you visited him alone, but that's nothing new. They don't understand Jungkook, or your relationship.
Jungkook's gaze follows yours out the window, and his expression darkens. You can guess what he's thinking. "They still don't approve." It's not a question.
You look down, plucking at a frayed thread on the sleeve of your dress. "They think I could do better than a fisherman's son."
Jungkook makes a sound like a laugh, but it sounds more like a scoff. "Because I'm poor," he says, but there's no trace of self-pity in his voice. It sounds more like bitter resignation.
“No-“ you falter, eyebrows furrowing. “We’re not that well off either.” That's an understatement. Your family isn't majorly wealthy by any means, but Jungkook's family is dirt poor. He stares out the window, jaw clenched. You know how proud he is about his family, and how sensitive about the differences between your two households.
Then, he gives you a look that says, ‘you know what I mean.’ “Your family has a hanok, a car, and your parents both work decent jobs," he points out. "My family eats dried fish and rice when we can't catch any. My dad has to get up before sunrise, my brothers and I help. How can you compare that?"
You sigh, not able to argue with him on this. “Jungkook, please, none of that matters.”
He flinches at the crack in your voice, his hands stilling. His shoulders slump- defeated, but not surprised. "You say that," he murmurs, reaching for you. His calloused fingers brush your wrist where a bracelet sits, the one he gave you last winter from salvaged copper wire and glass beads. "But every time they even catch sight of my father and I at the lake? Their eyes are like I'm something dirty on their doorstep."
A pause. The shop smells of dust and old cassette tapes. "So tell me what to do."
“Tell you what to do?” You reply in confusion, raising your eyebrows slightly.
"Yes." His voice, usually soft and warm, is hoarse. He doesn't look at you, focusing on tracing his fingers over your bracelet. "What should I do to change their minds?" he asks, lifting his gaze. "If I stop fishing, if I spend every waking minute studying, trying to pass the civil servant exam. If I get a degree, if I work for a rich company in Seoul, will they see the difference then?"
He sounds hopeful. Young and hopeful. Like he genuinely wants your answer.
“You can’t stop fishing, jungkook, you need to help your family.”
His shoulders slump again. It's the same conversation, over and over again. One that always ends this way. He can't stop, you're right. His family needs his help more than anything, but it's a bitter fact, knowing the one thing that gives him joy- the beach, the ocean- is the one thing keeping your families apart.
A beat of silence. The shop's clock ticks loudly in the background, its hands moving with painful slowness.
Jungkook exhales through his nose, slow and controlled- like he's counting to ten in his head. When he finally speaks, it’s so quiet you almost miss it. "Then I’ll never be enough for them."
His thumb brushes your bracelet one last time before letting go entirely. He turns back toward the shelves like nothing happened at all, but you see how stiffly he moves now.
You huff at his actions. “Please, jungkook, don’t push me away…”
Yet he keeps his back turned, the muscles along the line of his jaw move, he's clenching his teeth hard.
You know him, you can tell how much he wants to lash out. Yell. Slam a fist against something. But he doesn't, because it'd ruin the fragile peace he's trying to keep between you two.
His voice is low when he finally replies. "It would be easier if you just stayed away."
“What?” You can already feel your heart hammering in your chest, trying to process what he means.
He turns, leaning back against the shelves, gaze dark as it lands on you. "It'd be easier," Jungkook repeats, the words like gravel in his throat, "if you stopped coming to see me, stopped caring about me, stayed away." He shoves his hands in his pockets, avoiding your gaze.
You take a step back, tears brimming in your eyes at his words.
He sees your reaction- knows you're getting upset, but Jungkook has the kind of temper that sears hot and fast. He can't stop now.
"You know I'm right," he says, and the bitterness in his voice makes your heart ache. "We'll always be different, they'll never accept. Your parents will never accept." His eyes fix back on you, a mix of anger and pain. "What are we doing, anyway? What are we even hoping for?"
Your breath hitches as you try not to cry. “Why are you suddenly acting like this now?”
"Acting like what?" he counters, his voice rising. "Like someone tired of this? Tired of pretending?" Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, agitated. He's all sharp angles now: the line of his shoulders, the jut of his jaw.
"I'm being realistic," he snaps. "And I'm sick of pretending it could work. What's the point when everyone is against us?"
You stay silent, your eyes filling with the beginning of tears. His expression softens slightly when he sees this, but Jungkook is too worked up to stop now. "I'm saving you the heartbreak that's inevitably going to come," he says, voice thick with frustration. "What's the point of caring about me? We can't get together. We can't, okay? You're better off with someone else."
“Someone else?” Your choking voice doesn’t hide the pain in your words, the fact that jungkook is telling you to be with someone else is like driving a dagger straight through your heart.
"Yeah, someone who's not dirt poor. Someone your parents won't see as an embarrassment." His hand clenches into a fist by his side. "Someone who can actually provide for you."
The words hang in the air like a guillotine blade. Your lip quivers, and you look away in a mix of frustration and heartbreak, then you take the precious bracelet he once made for you off and slam it on the counter in front of him
The sound of the bracelet hitting the counter is loud, jolting Jungkook out of the moment. He immediately opens his mouth to say something, but you’re already halfway out of the store. He watches you walk away, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He wants to call you back, to take back everything he said, to go after you-
But he stays rooted to the spot, watching you leave the store. And then his own tears finally fall- slow, salty drops that slide down his cheeks to land against his knuckles.
He picks up the bracelet, then turns it over in his hands. The bracelet lies in his palm, glinting in the sunlight. It’s a simple thing, a gift, a symbol of the time and effort he put into it. When he had first given you it, you had kissed him for the first time and swore you’d never take it off, deeming it too beautiful, and now it's all he has left of you.
Jungkook closes his fingers around it, a pang of regret hitting him like a punch in the gut. He knows he was wrong, he shouldn't have said any of those words. He was angry, bitter, but he meant none of it.
He doesn't care about the difference in your wealth, he loves you, and he may have just ruined everything.
___
You’ve spent the whole walk home crying, replaying the last ten minutes in your head again and again in disbelief. Soon, you reach the porch of your house, trying to wipe the tears from your red rimmed eyes. Your heart aches, throat tight with the effort of holding back even more sobs. You know you look a mess, all the same, you have hope that your parents are away-yet the front door swings open, interrupting your thought.
Your mother stands there, eyebrows raised. "Where have you been?" she demands.
“…” You can’t even answer, trying to recover from your endless crying, and too tired to face her reprimands again today.
Nothing escapes your mother, though, her gaze immediately narrows at your tear-streaked face. She grabs your arm, pulling you into the house. "You've been crying." It's an accusation, not a question. You can hear your father's voice in the background, asking what's going on.
“Please, mom, I’m fine.” You poorly try to convince her, wiping your eyes.
"You're not fine, y/n." your mother counters, steering you toward the living room where your father is waiting. His eyes widen when he sees you, but he says nothing, waiting for an explanation.
Your mother pushes you down onto the plush couch. "What happened?" she demands, crossing her arms, her gaze piercing into your soul as if she can find out what happened telepathically.
“Nothing!”
"Nothing?" Your father repeats, raising an eyebrow. "You come home looking like a drowned cat and say nothing has happened?"
Your mother obviously doesn't buy it either, her lips thin into a line. "You've been seeing that boy again, haven't you?" Her voice is sharp as glass now.
“No!” Your denial is too quick, too obvious.
Your parents exchange a look. "Do not lie to us, y/n." your mother warns, her voice hardening.
Your father chimes in, "We saw him at the market the other day, hauling fish with his father, he was all sweaty and dirty." His nose wrinkles. "Like some common workman."
“Stop it!” You can’t tolerate your parents speaking about jungkook like this, your sweet, loving, charming, hard working jungkook.
The thought doesn’t last for long as your mother's face flushes red with anger. "You dare speak to us like that?" She grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her, her nails digging into your skin. "Listen here," she hisses, voice trembling. "That boy is not for you, he is nothing but trouble."
Behind her, your father nods firmly in agreement-no sympathy left in his eyes now either way.
You feel the tears threatening to fall again. It's not the first time they've talked badly about Jungkook, but for some reason, today it hurts more.
Your mother shakes her head, dropping your chin. "We forbid you to see him again. Understand? If we catch you near that shop even once, I swear we'll-" The threat hangs in the air, heavy like a storm cloud. You can only nod, not trusting yourself to speak without bursting into tears. Your mother seems pleased by your silence, she pats your head like you're a small child.
"Good girl," she says, almost condescendingly. "We only want what's best for you, y/n. Trust us." With that, she and your father leave the room, disappearing down the hall. You're left alone in the living room, your heart feeling as hollow as an empty shell.
Night gradually descends outside, painting the sky outside a deep indigo. You lie in bed, the soft covers pulled to your chin. Yet you can't sleep. Your mind is a jumble of thoughts- Jungkook, your parents, the look on his face at the shop, the bracelet clenched in your fist.
You toss and turn, desperate for some kind of distraction, some way to quiet the noise in your head- until you finally make a decision: you will not let your parents win this easy.
___
The next day, you are determined, you swiftly get dressed and go to jungkook’s family’s fish shop, unbeknownst to him or your parents.
The shop stands as it always does: small, weathered but well kept, and smelling of dried fish. You hesitate for a moment outside, gathering your courage-Before you can change your mind, you push open the door and the bell jingles. Mr. Jeon, Jungkook's father, looks up from where he's weighing up fish.
When he sees you, his eyes widen. "You're-" he begins, clearly surprised. Almost all of Jungkook’s family knows the relationship between you two, having seen you multiple times around the music store and their own shop.
“Hello, Mr Jeon.” You smile, hoping that Jungkook hasn’t told him about what happened yesterday.
Seemingly not, he quickly sets down the scale and wipes his hands on his work apron. His face then breaks into a kind smile, lines creasing around his eyes. "Ah, hello young lady." He glances toward the back of the shop, probably checking if Jungkook is there. "What brings you here?"
You too try to see if jungkook is anywhere nearby, but the shop is mostly empty apart from you and his father. “Oh, um, I’m just- just looking around.”
Mr. Jeon raises an eyebrow. He's smart enough to know you didn't just happen to wander into a small fish shop for nothing. But he doesn't press you about it, he simply nods and gestures toward the shelves. "Feel free to browse, of course," he says politely.
You take this time to look around. The shop is just as you remember- the racks of dried fish, the jars of pickled vegetables, the sacks of rice. The only difference now is the shattering absence of Jungkook.
You pause by the counter, noticing a framed photograph, now covered in dust. It's a family portrait- Mr. Jeon, Mrs. Jeon, a baby girl, and three young boys, Jungkook among them. They're all smiling, their eyes warm. A pang of something, longing?, jabs at your chest, you reach out to brush the dust from the picture.
"That was a long time ago," a voice says behind you. You startle, turning around to find Mr. Jeon next to you. His gaze flickers to the photograph, a soft sigh escaping him.
"Those were happier times," he muses, almost like he's talking more to himself than to you.
“I-“ You hesitate for a moment, but you have a plan, so you go through with your question. “Are you looking for any help around the store, Mr. Jeon?”
At that, Mr. Jeon blinks, clearly surprised by your offer. His eyes dart to the door-checking if you're really serious about this. "You mean you would like to help around here?" he trails off, as if afraid of mishearing you.
“Yes, of course, I’m looking for a job.” An obvious lie, girls like you don’t need a job, as presumed by your parents. Through their perspective, why waste time trying to gain some independence through something so stupid as a job when they can just keep providing for you?
His face falls slightly when he registers who your family is- and more importantly, how they would react if they found their precious daughter working in a mucky fish store.
"I’m sure your parents would not be happy that you’re spending time here, miss y/n. I would hate to-" He can't even finish the sentence before cutting himself off with a shake of his head.
“That’s not important.” You reply, desperate for him to just forget about your parents and let you help.
Mr. Jeon hesitates, clearly torn between accepting the help and not wanting to upset your parents, but you can see in his face that the former is winning out. He sighs, running a hand through his thinning hair.
"Well...I suppose I could use some help," he says slowly. His eyes flick to you again, assessing.
You immediately smile and look for a place to set your purse down, too eager to start helping out. Mr. Jeon smiles at your reaction and offers you a clean space on one of the counters, clearing away some empty jars to make room and ensure that your valuable bag won’t get dirty. You set your purse there, feeling a small sense of pride as you actually got him to agree.
Mr. Jeon claps his hands together, looking you up and down. "Are you sure you don't mind helping out a bit?" he asks, already handing you an apron. "It's not the most glamorous work..."
You put your hands on your hips, determined to show him that you really want to work. “I really, really don’t mind helping out, Mr Jeon. I like fish!” You declare, laughing.
“It’s dead fish, Y/N, a little less pleasant I’m afraid.” Mr Jeon replies, but you won’t be deterred. You then take your sun hat off, setting it on the side next to your purse, and start putting the apron on.
Mr. Jeon chuckles as you tie the apron, adjusting it awkwardly- it's clearly too big for you. "You're going to get your nice dress dirty," he warns, but there's a hint of amusement in his tone now. He gestures toward a bucket of freshly caught fish on ice. "Start with these, just scale them and wash off the blood." He pauses, then adds "If that sounds okay?"
You look at the dead fish, taking in their still open eyes and mouth, and for a second you have a worried look on your face, but then you look back at Mr Jeon and smile.
Mr. Jeon sees the hesitation but also your attempt to hide it, seeing right past the confident act. "You've never cleaned up fish before, have you?" he guesses, his mouth curving into a half-smile. He picks up one of the fish, turning it over in his hands. "It's easy once you get the hang of it. I promise."
You watch the poor fish in his hands then look back up at him, your face twisting in disgust. “W-what do I do with my hands?” You ask, your eyes fixed on the fish again.
Mr. Jeon blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Just like this! Watch me, y/n.” he says, wiping his eyes as you flinch away from the slimy creature. He grabs one for himself and demonstrates: scrape scrape.
“See? Not so bad.”
“Okay…” You finally try for yourself.
He watches you mimic his motions, your expression going through a range of emotions: hesitation, then concentration, then mild nausea. Mr Jeon can't help the chuckle that escapes him. It's refreshing, watching this wealthy girl get her hands dirty. For a moment- just a moment -he can forget your family and all the societal pressure that comes with it. "That's it," he encourages. "You're doing fine."
___
It’s been about an hour since you and Mr Jeon started descaling and cleaning the fish, and surprisingly, you’ve already gotten through three quarters of the bucket. It’s been fun, conversing with him about how he’s spent most of his life fishing, and amidst talking, you’ve realised just how hardworking and skilled he is in this department.
However, it’s not much later until the door to the shop opens, welcoming a hot and sweaty Jungkook, accompanied by his brother, both holding buckets of just caught fish….
Jungkook freezes as he walks in, catching sight of you. His eyes are wide, a million questions written across his face. His brother Junwoo, two years older at twenty one, also stops in his tracks, confused at the vision of you, a polished and respectable girl, sat on a broken down stool, helping his father handle buckets of dead fish.
For a moment, no one says anything, the atmosphere in the room going from easy going and happy to tense, like someone abruptly pulled a plug. Mr. Jeon is the first one to break the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Ah...you're back early."
Jungkook's grip on the fish basket tightens, his knuckles going white. You can only stare at him with wide eyes as his brother nudges him with a questioning elbow-what is going on here?
But Jungkook doesn't answer. He just stares at you in disbelief, jaw clenched so hard it might crack. Mr. Jeon steps in quickly, not wanting his son to say something stupid abruptly. "Your friend was kind enough to offer some help today."
Junwoo whistles low under his breath, clearly not missing how awkward this is, but wisely keeps quiet for once in his life. Mr Jeon then gives him a look, one that says they need to get out and give you two some privacy.
Once they’re out of the room, there's a long minute where neither of you speaks. Jungkook's expression is a mask, all rigid lines and hard angles. You can only look away, now slightly fearing his reaction.
Finally, he breaks the silence. "What are you doing here, y/n?" His words are blunt, cold even. He sets down the basket of fish and turns to face you, folding his arms, he looks pissed.
“…Helping..” You reply, now realising it might’ve been a bad idea to come here behind his back.
"Helping." Jungkook echoes. The word sounds bitter on his tongue. He takes a step closer, towering over you. When he speaks again, his voice is low and tight. "Do you have any idea how stupid this is? You showing up? My father? My-" he breaks off, raking a hand through his hair.
“I’m not going to accept what you said yesterday, Jungkook.” Your voice is firm as your arms cross to mirror his.
Jungkook's expression flickers, surprise flashing in his eyes. He wasn't expecting you to bring that up so bluntly, and his defenses falter for a moment. Then his face hardens again, jaw clenching so hard it's a miracle his teeth don't crumble. "Why not?" he fires back. "Everything I said is true."
You take the gloves off and smack his arm, already feeling your throat tighten. “Stop being so cruel!”
He flinches, less at the physical contact and more from the surprise of it, it's so unlike you to get angry with him like this. But then Jungkook's expression hardens again. "I'm not being cruel. I'm being realistic," he says, crossing his arms again. "Your parents will never look at us kindly and you know that. So what are we even hoping for? It's a lost cause."
“We can find a way!” You fire back.
Jungkook just scoffs, shaking his head. "A way? What way is there? You're high nobility, i'm low merchant class. We're like oil and water, we do. not. mix." His voice rises with each word. "We're wrong for each other. That's a cold, hard fact, you just need to accept it."
“You don’t love me anymore, then? I guess you just never did.” Your voice is quiet and accusing, you bite your lip to stop them from trembling.
Your words hit Jungkook like a punch to the gut. His jaw tenses, his expression cracking for a moment as he stares at your clearly disconcert face. "Of course I love you, y/n." he says, his voice ragged and frustrated, as if that question is utterly brainless. "More than anything." He adds, yet his expression hardens again as he continues. "But love isn't enough. It's naive to think otherwise."
“I want to fight for us.” The sheer stubbornness in your voice would be endearing in any other circumstance, but right now, it just irritates him.
"Fight for what?" he snaps back, frustration lacing every word. "For a fairytale ending that'll never happen? To prove your parents wrong? It's impossible to bridge a gap this wide."
“I don’t care what my parents think!”
His laugh is bitter, almost mocking. "You don't care? Bullshit." He steps closer, his eyes locked on your face. "You care what they think more than anything. You're just too scared to admit it." There's an edge in his voice, like he wants to push you as far as possible, to see how much it'll take to break you. He knows you won't back down, and that infuriates him.
Your lip quivers, and you bite back tears, then you suddenly reach for his hand “I don’t know why you’re acting like this, Jungkook, I want to be with you.”
Jungkook doesn't pull away from your touch, but he doesn't lace his fingers through yours either, his hand remaining rigid and unmoving.
Your words, soft and trembling, cut through his defenses. But he fights it, pushing back. "Being with me is the single most selfish thing you could do," he says, his voice hoarse. "All it will bring us is pain."
“I think…” You sigh, step back, and let go of his hand, beginning to undo your apron. “Maybe you just don’t want us to be together anymore, otherwise maybe you’d fight harder for this…”
His heart constricts as you step back, something cold washing over him. The last string of patience in him snaps. "Fight harder?" His voice rises, angry now. "You think I'm not trying? I'm more aware of these damn social norms than you'll ever be, y/n. I'm just being realistic about what's possible and what's not."
“It’s not impossible if we don’t want it to be, Jungkook, this is just you. You’re too afraid of nothing. If you really wanted me, you’d do anything to get me.” The tears in your eyes are still threatening to fall, but they’re starting to change from sadness to frustration.
His eyes are like steel as he watches you take off the apron. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
“I’m sure I don’t.” You grab your purse and put your sun hat back on. “Your father is lovely, as always, thank him for me.” Then you leave, so sick of something that will truly become a lost cause if neither of you try your hardest to make this happen, and Jungkook has basically just proven that he doesn’t want to.
His throat clenches as you grab your stuff and start to walk away. A part of him wants to pull you back, to make you stay, but he holds himself back. He can't let himself be selfish, he needs you to get just how hopeless this whole thing is. And so Jungkook stands there, watching you walk out of his life, a mix of emotions warring through his head. The shop door chimes loudly as you leave, leaving him alone with his tumultuous thoughts.
Upon hearing the door slam, Jungkook’s father and brother are not surprised that you have angrily left, they’re used to his stubbornness, too. When they come back, they stop the moment they see Jungkook's face. His father frowns, seeing the anger and confusion there, he doesn't miss the discarded apron and your missing figure in the room.
"Son..." he begins tentatively, his voice laced with concern. Behind him, Junwoo is uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze flickering from Jungkook's clenched fists to the door you just left through.
His jaw tightens as his family observes him, their concern and curiosity palpable in the thick air. He knows they're waiting for an explanation, but his pride won't allow him to spill it out. His father takes a cautious step closer, his voice gentle but firm, not wanting to trouble his son even further. "Jungkook, what happened?"
For a moment, Jungkook doesn't respond. Then, through clenched teeth "Nothing. She left, that's all." His answer is terse, the words hard and biting. His father's frown deepens, clearly not buying the dismissive response.
Meanwhile, Junwoo can't keep quiet anymore, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Why'd she leave?" he asks, his tone blunt. Jungkook's gaze snaps to his brother, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "It's none of your business."
Junwoo raises an eyebrow, unperturbed by Jungkook's sharp response. "Looks like it is, since you're being a moody bastard about it."
Their father lets out a sigh, the situation clearly getting more charged by the minute. "That's enough, both of you." His gaze flicks between his two sons, a stern warning in his eyes. But Jungkook is beyond caring right now, his frustration quickly boiling over. "Shut your fucking mouth, Junwoo. I told you it’s none of your business, so just stop it with your fucking bullshit, or I will make sure that you do." he snaps, almost daring his brother to push further.
The room goes dead silent, no one has ever heard Jungkook speak like that before. Junwoo's smirk drops instantly, his face paling as he stares at his brother like he just went too far. Their father, usually the picture of patience, looks seconds away from grabbing Jungkook by the ear and dragging him out for a talk.
"Jungkook," their dad says, voice low and dangerous in a way that means ‘you are treading on thin ice.’ "Go home and help your mother there." He head gestures to across the street, where their small house sits. It's not an offer, it's an order.
Jungkook freezes. For a split second, his anger flickers, replaced by something like regret as he registers the sheer weight of what he just implied. His brother is visibly stunned, their father's face darkening in a way that makes Jungkook swallow hard. He knows this isn't about work anymore. This is about disrespect, a line crossed. His jaw clenches as he forces out, "...Fine." Without another word, Jungkook turns on his heel and storms out the door, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence in his wake.
___
At school, the next day, Jungkook walks through the hallways alone, his head almost always down. He doesn't make eye contact with anyone, avoiding his friends and keeping his expression closed off and distant. His mind wanders, replaying yesterday's events in his head. His argument with you, that fight with his family. The guilt and regret now gnawing at his insides.
He turns a corner, and then stops short, seeing you up ahead, talking with a group of your friends. Jungkook's heart clenches at the sight. He can tell you're not yourself, the carefree, cheerful girl he knows is nowhere to be seen. Instead, you look pale and weary, with shadows under your eyes, like you didn't sleep all night.
Seeing you like this makes him want to cross the hallway, to pull you close and ask what's wrong, but he clenches his fists, forcing himself to stay put, remembering just how badly your last conversation went.
Later in the evening, the sky outside is streaked with red-orange as the sun begins to set. Jungkook is helping his mother prepare dinner, his hands working automatically, peeling potatoes and cutting vegetables on autopilot. He isn't really focused, his mind far away.
His mother doesn’t fail to notice his absent-mindedness, either, her gaze fluttering to him from where she's setting the table. "You're quiet today, kookie." she comments, her voice soft and soothing. "Is something on your mind?" His father must have told her everything that happened yesterday, from you helping out to him finally snapping.
Jungkook glances up, his fingers stopping mid motion. For a moment, he considers lying, just telling her he's fine, but his mother has always had a knack for seeing through him, especially when he's lying. So he sighs, setting the knife down. "Just...thinking, mom." His voice is noncommittal, not wanting to say more.
His mother gives him a thoughtful look, clearly sensing that there's something weighing him down. She pauses in her work, resting her hands on the edges of the counter. "About what?" she prompts gently. "It's not like you to be this quiet."
Her question strikes a nerve. Jungkook's jaw tightens, his hands clenching. It's on the tip of his tongue to say he's just tired, to brush off her concern and change the subject. "It's...complicated," he mutters.
“Your father told me about yesterday, about y/n coming to help out at the shop, then her leaving upset after you two spoke alone for a bit.” A muscle clenches in Jungkook's jaw as his mother talks, confirming that she knows about your visit. He picks up the knife again, resuming his task, his motions a little rougher than necessary. "Yeah, that happened," he grumbles, trying to downplay the whole affair. "It's not a big deal."
His mother raises an eyebrow at his dismissive response. "I'd say it's a pretty big deal. The girl's parents think highly of themselves. For a daughter of theirs to willingly spend time in *our* shop..."
Jungkook grimaces at her words. The implication stings- that you're too good for the likes of him and his family. He sets the knife down again, the force making a thunk. "That's what everyone keeps saying," he mutters under his breath. "That she's too good for me, that we're wrong for each other, as if I don't know that." His voice drips with sarcasm, but beneath it, there's a raw edge of hurt. He's sick and tired of the constant judgment, the looks, the comments from both families.
His mother's expression softens, sensing the real depth of his distress. "Kookie-" she begins, reaching out a hand to touch his, but he pulls away before she can, his eyes fixed on the countertop, his jaw tight. "I don't want to talk about it, mom. Please."
His mother's face hardens, the patience in her eyes giving way to something sharper.
"Oh?" she says, voice dangerously low. "And why is that? Because you're too proud to let a girl from a 'good' family show kindness without it being some grand gesture?"
Jungkook flinches at the directness of her words- but he doesn't back down. "Because I know what they think," he snaps back. "You all do. That we're not good enough for them."
With that, Jungkook just leaves, walking away to his bedroom and leaving his mother. The distance between you two has become sickening for him, and he can’t help but feel guilty about everything he said to you, how he was trying so hard to push you away.
___
So later that night, whilst you’re at home and trying, but failing, to sleep, you start to hear faint knocks on your window. You jolt upright in bed at the sound, your heart leaping into your throat. The rest of the house is dark and completely silent- your parents and brother are fast asleep.
For a second you wonder if you imagined it, but then you hear it again, a light tap, barely more than a brush of knuckles against the window. You slide out of bed, your feet moving quietly across the floor. Your body is tense, every sense alert as you approach the window.
When you pull back the curtains, you're greeted with the unexpected sight of a familiar figure standing below, Jungkook, looking up at you in the moonlight. The sight is horrifying, he’s trying so hard to keep himself up using the small railings on the side of your hanok. Your jaw drops as you gasp, quickly pulling him in to make sure he doesn’t fall or isn’t seen by anyone awake.
Jungkook stumbles slightly as you yank him inside, but he recovers quickly, landing in a crouch on your bedroom floor. The second the window is shut again, he exhales hard, like he was afraid of being caught too. He's breathless from climbing up and probably panicking, his eyes darting around to make sure no one else is awake before they land back on you. "Hi," he says quietly, softer than usual, as if unsure how this conversation will go after everything that happened between you yesterday.
“Hi?!” You repeat, hitting him square in the chest. “You stupid, reckless, idiot!” Your voice has moved from low and quiet to a whisper shout now. “You could’ve fallen from the window, you could’ve slipped, what on earth are you doing?!”
Jungkook winces at your scolding, rubbing his chest, you really hit him hard. But there's a hint of a smirk on his face too, as if he's relieved you're still worrying about him. "Calm down, y/n.” He whispers back, his tone still hushed. "It wasn't that high. I'm fine." But his words are not enough to reassure you, you need to make sure he’s okay.
Your hands run up and down his arms, touching his shoulders, his chest, checking for scrapes. Jungkook can't help but smile as you poke and prod at him, he's fine, really, but he lets you fuss over him anyway, enjoying the attention. "I'm in one piece, see?" he murmurs, grabbing your wrists to stop you fussing. "Not even a single scratch."
After your sure he’s fine and stop worrying, the anger from the other day comes straight back. “You have no right to be here right now, not after everything you said.” Your tone is cold again.
The smile falls off his face at your words, the teasing light in his eyes is quickly replaced by a more serious look. He takes hold of your wrists again, his touch gentle but firm. "I know," he says quietly, looking you in the eyes. "I know I don't have any right, but I had to see you."
You frown at first, but you know he feels bad about everything and you’re sick of being so far from him. So you just sigh, remembering that if your parents found him in here, they’d surely go crazy. “We have to be quiet…”
Jungkook nods, his grip on your wrists loosening slightly. "I know," he murmurs back, keeping his voice barely above a whisper now. He hesitates for a second, then steps closer to you, lowering himself so that he's sitting on the edge of your bed. His eyes flicker toward the door briefly before returning to you. "Just...let me stay for a minute," he says quietly, almost pleadingly.
“I don’t really want to speak to you right now, Jungkook….you hurt me.” Those words strike like a dagger in his gut.
The guilt is written all over his face, in the way his eyes darken, the way his jawline tightens. He looks like he's fighting back every urge in his body not to reach out and touch you again. Even now, when you're mad at him, when you're pushing him away, he still wants to pull you close. His voice is low, almost a whisper. "I know," he says softly. "I know I did."
“And now, all of a sudden, you’re coming back?”
Jungkook flinches at the accusation, his hands clenching into fists on his knees. "Yeah," he admits quietly- no excuses, no justifications. "All of a sudden." He exhales hard through his nose before finally looking up at you again. "Because I missed you, y/n." He says bluntly, as if that's supposed to make it better. "And because I'm an idiot who thought pushing you away would be easier than seeing us fail later."
He's silent a second, like he's waiting for you to say something, to kick him out or slap him for being a complete and utter moron. But you don't. You just stand there, your expression closed off, but there's a flicker in your eye, you're listening. Jungkook feels the hope growing inside him again, even as he swallows down the guilt. "I thought if I didn't let myself have you," he adds, his voice ragged, "it wouldn't hurt as much later."
His words get through to you immediately, you can’t stay mad at him for long. You bite back a smile and take his hand. “What would your parents say if they knew you snuck out in such a dangerous way?”
Jungkook lets out a breath, almost a laugh, but not quite. "My dad would kill me," he admits, squeezing your fingers back. "And my mom would cry for an hour straight." He hesitates before adding "But you’re so worth it." He lifts his free hand to brush the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, the gesture is small, but it speaks volumes. "You’re worth all the risks, beautiful." he murmurs quietly as if that explains everything, and for you, it does.
“I don’t know what my parents would do if they found you here…” The thought alone half scares you to death. Your words hang heavy in the air, the reality of the situation sinking in: he climbed up to your second story bedroom in the middle of the night, risking being caught for the chance to see you.
Jungkook's jaw clenches as his eyes flicker towards the door again. He knows the risk, he knows how dangerous it is, and he still chose to come. For you.
You’re both quiet for a moment, just thinking. A doubt lingering at the back of your mind. “Are you still mad at me?”
Jungkook's breath hitches, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Mad at you?" he repeats, as if the idea is so absurd it almost offends him. "y/n, I'm not-" He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale through his nose before looking up at you properly.
"No," he says firmly. "No. I'm mad at myself. For saying all that crap yesterday." His thumb rubs over your knuckles again, an unconscious gesture of reassurance. "I never should've made it sound like you were wrong for wanting this."
“I just can’t let us go, I won’t” You shake your head, your grip tightening on his hand.
Jungkook's breath stutters. For a second, he just stares at you, like your words have knocked the air right out of his lungs. His own grip on your hand goes painfully tight before he forces himself to loosen it. "Then don't," he says hoarsely, like it's that simple. "I'm never letting go either." He leans in closer now, pulling you in and wrapping arms around you.
You chuckle as he holds you tightly, sniffing him (it’s just one of your habits) and feeling your heart warm instantly. “You smell like fish.”
That comment makes a grin break out across Jungkook's face, his own laughter a low rumble in chest. "Thanks a lot," he replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes like he's being dramatic. "I smell like hard work."
He doesn't let go of your hand, in fact, his thumb keeps rubbing lazy circles over your knuckles, almost unconsciously now. "What about you?" he jokes, leaning down and bumping your shoulder with his nose. "You smell like...expensive perfume?"
You laugh, burying your head in his chest, speaking softly again after a moment. “I’m sorry, Jungkook, I don’t like what we said the other day, or yesterday..”
The playfulness falls away from Jungkook's face, his expression going softer. He shakes his head. "Don't apologize, baby." His voice drops to a whisper again. "It's not your fault. I'm the one who messed up." He lifts his free hand to touch your wrist, not trapping you in place, just resting his touch there, like he wants to prove he's not letting you slip away again.
"You have no reason to be sorry," he insists quietly. "You did nothing wrong." Jungkook leans down a presses a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, but before he can pull away, your lips find his.
The moment your lips touch, it's as if something electric sparks between you. Jungkook's hand lifts to cup the side of your cheek, tilting your face towards him as he slowly kisses you back. There's a hint of desperation in the way he pulls you closer, in the way he leans into you as if he needs you to stay upright.
When he finally pulls away, it's to rest his forehead against yours- his breath a little ragged, his voice even quieter than before. "I need you," he says. "God, I need you."
“Can we try harder this time?” You whisper against his lips. “I don’t care anymore, let’s just..hide this from my parents, I don’t want to be away from you anymore.”
Jungkook doesn't even have to think about it, he nods almost immediately. "Yeah." His eyes flicker across your face, soaking in every feature like he's committing them to memory. "Yes. God, yes. Anything." He reaches up to touch your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear, his touch so gentle. "We'll be careful," he promises softly. "We'll hide this from your parents. Just don't ask me to stay away from you, because I can't."
You sigh in relief and connect your lips again. Jungkook melts into the kiss, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you flush against him. The moment is soft and slow, like he's trying to pour every unspoken ‘I love you’ straight from his lips into yours.
When he finally pulls back with reluctance, it's only far enough for him to murmur.
"Can I stay for a bit?" Not just tonight, not just in this hidden moment, but always. He doesn't say that part out loud, yet the plea is there in the way his fingers tighten slightly on your hips.
“Yeah..” You murmur, kissing his cheek and settling on your bed to lie down with him. Jungkook lets out a shaky breath at your agreement, relief flooding his features.
He follows you down to the bed, his movements careful and slow as he lays down next to you. For a moment he just looks at you, like he's making sure this is real- you, in front of him, close enough to touch. Close, but not close enough. When he reaches for you, it's to pull your back against his chest, arms winding around you tightly. "Don't want you too far," he mumbles against your hair.
You hum as you relish the feel of his body pressed behind you again, enveloping you in his ever lasting warmth. After a moment, you quietly speak again. “How was fishing today?” Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh against your hair, his arms still locked around you.
"Exhausting," he admits, voice rough with lingering irritation. "My dad made us haul in double the usual catch, probably because of that fight we had yesterday." He nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck for a second before adding: "It’s worth it now though."
The unspoken ‘because I'm here’ lingers in the air between you two. Here, in his arms, you feel completely safe, and your mind starts to wonder. “I think” You pause. “When we’re older and get married, we’re going to be the happiest people alive..” Your words are soft and hoping, the smile on your lips is completely genuine.
Jungkook's expression softens when you say the word ‘married,’ his arms pulling you even closer until his chest is flush against your back. He's completely surrounded you, his body curved around yours as his chin rests on top of your head. There's something almost protective in it, the way his body blocks out the rest of the world. At the mention of being the happiest, he lets out a little huff of breath. "Oh, we will be, I’ll make sure of it." There's no hint of doubt in his voice.
You sigh again. “I wish you could just stay the night, kook..” The way you say that makes Jungkook's heart ache, his arms tightening instinctively around you as he buries his face into your shoulder. He'd give anything to be able to stay here all night, to lie beside you and wake up to your face every morning, but he knows that's not an option, not right now.
"Me, too," he murmurs, his words muffled against your skin. "God, I wish I could."
However, the risk of getting caught still stands, so not long after, Jungkook takes his leave. You don’t let him climb out of the window again, not wanting him to potentially break a bone by falling on his way down. Instead, you both quietly go downstairs, murmuring hushed ‘I love yous’ as he unwillingly walks out and back to his own home.
——
The days that follow are a delicate balancing act: trying to keep your relationship hidden from your parents while spending as much stolen time with each other as possible. Jungkook takes advantage of every moment he can have with you, stealing little moments in between classes, after school, in the hidden back alleys at night…
One evening after successfully escaping from your mom’s incessant nagging, you go to see him at the music store like usual.
The little bell above the door jingles as you step inside, and Jungkook looks up from where he's been organizing a stack of vinyl records. His face lights up instantly at the sight of you, like he's been waiting for this moment all day.
"Hey," he murmurs, voice low so no one else hears. He nods toward a quieter corner in back where there are fewer customers lingering around. "Have you come to see me or buy something?"
“I missed you.”
Jungkook's face melts at your words, the hard line of his jaw softening as he steps closer. "You saw me this morning," he reminds you in a hushed tone, but there's no real annoyance behind it, just quiet fondness. Still, he leans in just enough to brush his nose against yours discreetly before pulling back with a smirk.
"I missed you too." Jungkook keeps a firm grip on your wrist as he guides you through the aisles, his touch warm and grounding.
The back of the store is quiet, mostly just shelves of older records and equipment that's rarely touched anymore. Jungkook locks the door, then pulls you behind a particularly tall stack before turning to face you, arms caging either side of your head. "Here," he murmurs, low enough that no one else would hear if they stood outside the door, but loud enough for you to feel it. "Now we're finally alone."
You giggle and place your hands on his chest, letting him take your sun hat off.
Jungkook's hands are careful as he lifts the hat from your head, his fingers lingering in your hair for a second longer than necessary. The moment it's off, he tosses it onto a nearby shelf, like now is when things can finally get serious.
He leans in closer, voice dropping to an even lower murmur, "Gonna miss this if you keep giggling like that." His breath is warm against your lips as he says it, almost teasing, but not quite.
You smile and bite your bottom lip, keeping your eyes fixed upon him. “How has your family been?” You ask him this because you know what he wants, but you want to make him wait a bit.
Jungkook doesn't move, just stays standing there in front of you, close enough to breathe each other's air. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at your question, but he can't help his gaze flicking to your mouth for a moment before he actually answers your question. "They're fine," he mumbles, keeping his voice down. "My brother's still as annoying as ever, and my dad's getting even more strict about work lately."
He looks like he's on the verge of saying more, but then his eyes narrow slightly. "...How about yours?"
At the mention of your own family, you just shake your head, not wanting to talk about them and the way they continue to injure your relationship with them. “Let’s just not…” You start, your voice a quiet murmur. Thankfully, Jungkook immediately takes that as a sign to switch topic and distract you.
He doesn't need to be told twice. The way you shut down even the mention of your own family immediately tells him what he needs to know: no more talking about it.
Instead, Jungkook presses closer to you, leaning in until his body is flush with yours, pinning you up against the shelves. "Hey, beautiful," he murmurs, his gaze darkening as his fingers find the bottom of your shirt. "Wanna know what I'm thinking about?"
“Hm?” You hum, looking back up at him and waiting for a reply.
Jungkook smiles, smug and sweet all at once, as his fingers trail up the bare skin of your stomach. He stops just below your ribs, the tips of them tracing soft lines back and forth. "I'm thinking..." He leans in so that his words are a whisper against the shell of your ear. "...About all the things I wanna do with you in this tiny corner. Right now."
Both his words and the faint tickle on your stomach from his touch bring a smile to your face, the tension from earlier easily forgotten. “That’s scandalous, Jungkook.” You warn, bringing your hands further down to rest at his abdomens. A low, breathy sound escapes him at your words and actions, somewhere between a laugh and a growl.
One of his thighs slips between yours, and he presses even closer, trapping you in place against the shelves. His hands keep moving, tracing feather light touches along your skin. "That's the idea, baby," he replies quietly, nipping at your earlobe playfully.
He laughs again at your reaction, his voice dropping impossibly lower as his head dips down to brush his lips along your neck.
Your eyes close at the sensation, having desperately craved his touch for so long. “You’re so good..” Your voice is all low and sultry, completely immersed in the feeling of his lips against your neck.
"I try my best." He murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. His hands slide up under the hem of your dress, fingertips running up your sides, sending a shiver down your spine.
"You drive me crazy, though." His mouth moves along the column of your throat, teasing kisses, nibbling gently just below your jawline. "God, you have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, voice rougher than ever as he nips at your collarbone. "Dressed in these dresses all the time, being all beautiful...you drive me insane, princess."
His words make your heart skip a beat, and you can feel your cheeks start to warm slightly. “I’m a…princess?”
Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh at that and pulls back for a moment to look at you properly. His eyes rake over you once, taking in every detail, then he nods. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice a low rasp. "You're a princess. My beautiful, gorgeous princess." The way he gazes at you is almost reverent, like you really are priceless. His hands skim higher up your sides.
You whimper at both his words and touch, pressing your forehead against his chest. “Need you, kook.”
Jungkook's breath hitches at the sound of your whimper, his grip tightening reflexively. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath, voice strained with restraint. His eyes are dark as they flicker over you, lingering on every little reaction he pulls from you. He leans in closer again, lips brushing against yours this time. "Say that again, baby." he murmurs, almost begging.
“Want you now…” Your voice is almost a whine, desperate for his attention.
Jungkook does not need to be told twice, his lips promptly crash against yours, tongues swirling around each others as his hands find the buttons of your dress. Your lips remain connected as he starts undoing them, stopping when only the upper half of your body is partially exposed. He reluctantly pulls away from the kiss, forehead still pressed against yours as he watches your eyebrows furrow at his actions.
“Not going to take it all off, princess.” He murmurs, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, then continuing. “It’s too cold back here, don’t want you to get sick because of me.”
You want to roll your eyes and protest at that, but it’s no use, you know Jungkook will make you keep the dress on. Despite his words, he still takes his own shirt off, which makes you chuckle and bite your lip, hands immediately finding his bare biceps. “I thought it was too cold?”
Jungkook gives you a look. “I’ll survive.” He doesn’t give you a chance to reply as his lips find your neck, making you gasp and quickly forget what you were going to say. You smile and lean your head back against the wall as he starts sucking on the sweet skin of your collarbone, giving him more access.
After leaving multiple open mouthed kisses there, his head moves down to the column between your breasts, fingers coming up to tease your hardened nipples through your lacy lilac bralette, adorned with flowers and bows.
Jungkook groans at the sight of it. “Fuck, y/n…why do you do this to me, baby? You know I can’t take my time with you here.” He swirls his tongue around the fabric, making you moan softly and tangle your fingers around his hair. “It’s your favourite one, kook…” Your words are quiet, not able to come out any louder as you only focus on the sensation of Jungkook’s tongue on your skin.
He grinds against you shamelessly, unclasping your bralette and placing it to the side. His eyes rake over your body for a moment, then he dives back in to capture your lips. “So, so beautiful, princess…” His voice is a quiet murmur against your lips, hands gently beginning to knead one of your breasts whilst continuing his slow dance against your mouth.
Your own hand travels down, finding the hardening bulge through his jeans, gently palming it. At your actions, Jungkook grunts and bites down on your lip softly, pulling away then taking both your wrists and easily pinning them above your head. “Don’t do that. Be a good girl, okay?”
When you nod, Jungkook keeps his hand pressing your wrists together, whilst his other finds the hem of your dress, pushing it up and exposing your already saturated panties. Jungkook tuts and shakes his head, grinning as he slips a finger under the edge of the soaked fabric. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so wet?”
You whine softly at both his words and the feeling of his finger rubbing your clit in slow circles. “Please…” You grind against his finger, desperate for some friction.
“Please what?” Jungkook repeats, eyes fixed on yours as you keep them closed. You don’t reply immediately, and Jungkook takes that as an opportunity to slip a finger inside you, just watching your face as it twists in pleasure, your mouth opening slightly as you gasp, listening to the sound of your wetness as his finger pushes in further.
You moan when his finger starts to move inside you, back arching off of the wall as he adds another, stretching your walls. His lips find their place on yours again, Jungkook swallows your moans as he moves his fingers faster, pushing deeper inside and finding that special spot.
“yes, m- there, kook, right there…” You can already begin to feel a knot forming in your lower belly, you clench against his fingers, rolling your hips against his hand for more. When Jungkook adds a third finger, you’re not far from cumming, and he can see this, so he thrusts his fingers faster and moves his mouth up to your ear, nibbling gently on your earlobe for a moment.
“Let it go, princess, you’ve been so good.” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss under your jaw. “Come on, cum on my fingers.” His words do a good job at pushing you over the edge, the knot in your belly snapping as you cum all over his hand, coating it with your sweet juices.
Jungkook’s fingers continue to fuck you through your orgasm, and you can’t help the moans that escape you as you start to slowly come down from your high. His eyes remain on your face the whole time, cock straining the seams of his jeans as your moans start to turn into small whimpers.
“well done, baby.” Jungkook presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth as he removes his digits from your heat, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking on them fervently. You watch him with intensity as he moans at the taste of you on his tongue, then takes them out and smears his saliva against your lips.
You soon whine and pout your lips, wanting, no, needing more. “Jungkook..” You whimper, grinding your hips against his. “Need more…”
Jungkook groans, releasing your wrists from where they were pinned above your head and cradling your face. He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your lips. “Okay, princess, I’ll fuck you. But you have to be a bit more quiet this time, okay?”
You nod quickly, watching Jungkook step back and unbutton his jeans. Licking your lips greedily, you moan at the sight of his massive cock pressing hard against his black boxers, saliva forming at the corners of your mouth.
Jungkook quickly grabs a condom from the pocket of his jacket, pushing his boxers down and pulling it on. You absolutely cannot handle the sight of his cock springing out of his boxers and slapping against his abdomen, and you can’t control the way your own fingers travel down your body to start rubbing against your clit.
Jungkook notices what you’re doing and groans, stepping closer. “Fuck, baby, you’re so impatient.” He softly kisses your shoulder, hands finding your hips as he lines his tip up against your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You both moan at the feeling, you drop your hand from your clit as it comes up to hold onto Jungkook’s arm for more stability.
He starts to push into a little further and that’s when you start to feel the pleasurable burn, his thick cock stretching your walls completely. “Doing so good, princess.” Jungkook presses small kisses to your jaw as he pushes in fully with one hard thrust, making you moan and dig your nails into his bicep.
After a moment of staying inside you like that, he starts to gently thrust in and out, groaning against your neck whilst you gasp and lean your head against the wall.
Jungkook’s pace gradually starts to quicken, he chases your moans with kisses until his lips move down, enclosing around a sensitive nipple. The extra attention on the bud makes you moan louder, one of your hands pushing his head harder against your chest.
His thrusts start to become less gentle and more rough as you both start to approach your high. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head so that it’s not hitting the wall too hard but his hand instead as he continues to speed up his thrusts.
“Yes, there!” You moan as he starts to hit that spot inside you again. He’s so big, you swear you would feel him if you pressed down on your stomach, Jungkook fills you up snugly every time, always leaving you satisfied.
“y/n, princess….” Jungkook moans your name as he feels you clench around him, approaching your orgasm, and his, too.
His hand moves down from your hip to your clit, rubbing again, coaxing you into letting go completely. “Come on, baby, let go for me.” He whispers, and that’s all you need.
Your orgasm hits you harder than ever, your vision going white as you gush all over, moaning Jungkook’s name again and again. He is not far from you, burying his head against your neck as he releases into the condom, chanting your name repeatedly whilst thrusts continuing to fuck you both through it. His hand continues cradling your head, gently rubbing circles into your scalp as it protects you from the wall.
Jungkook’s thrusts begin to slow down, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from your highs. His lips soon find yours, the kiss is sloppy, tired, but you love it nonetheless. He rests his forehead against yours as he stays inside you a little longer. “So proud of you, baby, you did so good.” Jungkook murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth before pulling out, taking off the full condom and throwing it away, then taking a napkin to clean you up gently.
You hold onto Jungkook’s waist as he cleans you up, and fixes your dress. Your flushed cheeks start to turn back to normal as he kisses them repeatedly whilst telling you how much he loves you. He then pulls his boxers and pants back on, then pulling you back into his arms as you both sit down on the floor.
“I love you, Jungkook.”
“I love you more, princess.”
___
Later, when the shop is closed and the lights are dimmed, Jungkook still keeps you tucked against him, his chin resting on your head as he lazily traces circles into your hip. The two of you are now curled up behind a stack of crates.
"Come over for dinner," he mutters, not a question. His family's house isn't far, his mom would probably scold him if she knew either of you hadn’t eaten yet.
“Okay..” You reply, pecking his cheek softly. The gesture makes a hint of a smile tug at Jungkook's lips, his gaze meeting yours as his hand comes up to cradle the side of your face. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, almost soft and reverent again, before he lets out a quiet laugh. "My mom's gonna be all over you again, you know," he murmurs, eyes glittering teasingly. "She adores you."
You can’t help the smile that appears on your face at his words whilst you both stand up, his hand steadying you as your legs wobble a little. His mom is so lovely, having welcomed you immediately into the family and always supporting the relationship between you two. “I adore her too..”
Jungkook's expression softens as he fastens the last button of his shirt, watching you re-adjust your clothes with quiet affection. He moves closer again, just enough to press a lingering kiss to your forehead before reaching for the hat you left behind earlier. "C'mon," he says, gently slipping it back onto your head. "We can take the long way so no one sees us." His fingers lace through yours naturally, like they have always belonged there.
___
The walk to Jungkook’s house is quiet, comfortable in its silence. He keeps a firm grip on your hand, occasionally swinging it back and forth with a boyish grin, like he's just so happy. He walks so close that every now and then your shoulders brush, the contact sending a spark through you each time.
When the old Jeon house comes into view, he pauses on the sidewalk, giving your hand a light squeeze. "Ready?" He murmurs, lifting his free hand up to adjust your hat again. "Remember. My mom's gonna try and feed you to death."
You laugh, knowing he’s telling the absolute truth. “Your family is so…wholesome.” Jungkook laughs at the way you phrase that, like ‘wholesome’ is a foreign word to you. "Yeah," he chuckles. "Yeah, they are...sometimes a little too much." He nudges you with his shoulder playfully. "Especially my mom, she’s always worried about everyone." He gives your hand another squeeze as the porch comes up, adding slyly: "Good thing she loves you."
The screen door opens before Jungkook can even reach for the handle, revealing his mom standing at the top of the porch steps, hands on her hips. "There you are, you're late," she scolds him, though there's no real malice in it. She turns her gaze to you, lips immediately pulling into a warm smile.
"And you brought y/n, too. Come on in, come on in." She steps back, holding the door open for you in invitation.
“Good evening, Mrs Jeon.” You greet her kindly as she pulls you into a tight hug. Jungkook grins at the familiar scene, his mom's arms immediately wrapping around you, squeezing you tight before she ushers you inside. She's all warm smiles and warm greetings, fussing over how skinny you look and how you should come over more often. "Come, come," she says, still fretting. "I've just put on dinner. You need to eat something, y/n, you’re skin and bones."
The Jeon house is warm and cozy, as always.
Jungkook's mom has outdone herself this time, there's an array of dishes spread across the table, and it smells amazing. The rest of his family is all present too, including his dad, who raises his brow at the way Jungkook has his arm around your shoulder as you sit down. Jungkook's dad doesn't say anything yet, but he can't help the hint of approval in his eyes when he glances between the two of you.
As you and Jungkook take a seat at the table, you turn to his father, not having properly greeted him yet. “Good evening, Mr Jeon. How is work at the shop going?”
Jungkook's dad gives you a friendly nod, smiling. "Hello, y/n. I must say, I can't complain," he replies. "It's been busy lately, which is good." His gaze flicks to Jungkook, something unreadable passing over his face. "This one here's been a great help with that."
Jungkook bristles a bit under his dad's praise, his grip on your shoulder tightening almost subconsciously. His mom swats his dad's elbow, giving him a look like that almost says ‘don't embarrass him’, but Jungkook’s dad just chuckles and shakes his head, enjoying teasing his son.
___
After a warm and loving dinner at the Jeon house, Jungkook walks you three quarters home, just like he always does, so that there’s no risk of your parents or anyone you know seeing you together at this hour.
The walk back is quiet and familiar, Jungkook walks close to you, his hand wrapped around yours as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles idly, humming a little song under his breath as the two of you walk. When the two of you reach the halfway mark, though, he stops suddenly, tugging your hand. He pulls you into a side street, a small shortcut through the neighborhood he always uses.
The street is quiet and dark, the only light coming from a streetlamp a few feet away. It casts long shadows over Jungkook's face, but his expression is clearly still visible. "Hey," he murmurs, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes. "Can I ask you something?"
You nod and look up at him, a little confused. “What is it?”
He hesitates for a moment, staring down at you in the low light. There's something almost vulnerable in his gaze now, a raw, uncertain look that's unlike his usual cocky attitude. His hand lingers by your face, fingertips drifting over your cheek.
"Promise you won't laugh," he finally says quietly. "Or get mad."
“I…I don’t know, Jungkook, what’s wrong?”
His expression darkens, not in anger but in frustration. "What’s wrong is that I hate it," he mutters, taking your other hand in his and twining your fingers together. He takes a step closer, almost invading your space. "I *hate* not being allowed to be seen with you. I hate having to hide us like we're some dirty secret." His gaze flicks across your face again. "I want everyone to know you're mine, I want to hold your hand when I drop you all the way home."
You sigh, understanding his frustration, but ultimately having no solution for it. “Me too, but, I just don’t want to risk not being able to see you anymore, kook.”
For the first time, Jungkook hesitates, it's a valid concern. He knows how your parents feel about him, about the two of you. If- no, when they find out, they might do everything in their power to keep you apart.
He grips your fingers tighter, his jaw working like he's trying to hold back every argument that's on the tip of his tongue. "You really think that could happen, don't you?"
“…Maybe..” It’s absolutely not a secret that your parents would go ballistic if they knew that you went behind their backs and spent time around him, with his family…
Jungkook's face goes a little still at your words, like he had forgotten the possibility. He exhales hard through his nose, eyes flickering over your expression as if searching for something to argue with. But when he finds nothing, his grip loosens just slightly. "Fine," he mutters finally, his voice strained but conceding. "We'll keep hiding."
But there’s a quiet anger in the way he says it now, like this is a compromise that guts him more than you realise.
“I’m sorry…” You just wish you weren’t in this situation, that your parents would be less judgemental, but you have to face your reality.
Jungkook's expression softens again, It's clear that all that anger isn't directed at you. "Don't be," he mutters, giving your fingers another squeeze. "It's not your fault." He lets out a bitter little laugh. "I'm the one always starting these stupid arguments."
You don’t reply with anything, just looking down at both your shoes, partially avoiding his gaze. Jungkook tugs playfully at your hand again, eyes flickering over your expression. "Don't go quiet on me now, baby." he teases, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You always give me hell when I act all moody."
That makes you smile and look up at him again, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him closer. Without missing a beat, Jungkook's arms loop around you, returning the hug tight. He presses his face against the crook of your shoulder, inhaling quietly. You can almost feel how much tension he lets go of just by holding you close. "I'm sorry for pushing," he murmurs against your skin, voice soft and muffled. "I just...don't like hiding."
“Don’t be sorry, kook, I hate hiding too.” Your head is buried in his neck, you press a small kiss to the soft skin there, and then inhale and exhale. “I love your smell.”
Jungkook stiffens for half a second, then he bursts into quiet laughter, his face still pressed against your shoulder. "God, you're weird," he mutters, but there's no real annoyance behind it. He leans back just enough to glance at the front of his shirt, still dusted with faint traces of salt and fish from earlier. "You really like this?" His smirk is teasing now as he nudges your nose with his own. "Even though I smell like an entire dock?"
You press your face back to his neck and inhale again. “My favourite.”
Jungkook chokes on a laugh, his entire body jerking at the sudden press of your nose against his throat. "Okay, now you're just-" He cuts himself off with another stifled sound, hands flying up to grip your shoulders, not pushing you away, just holding onto something. "God, I can't believe this is my life." He tips his head back slightly to give you better access like the absolute dork he is.
“Why?” You murmur, lips gliding up and down his neck. Jungkook's face is still burning, but he finally manages to glare at you, half exasperated, half hopelessly endeared. "Because," he huffs, fingers flexing against your shoulders. "No one else in the world would be this obsessed with a guy who reeks of dead fish." He says it like an accusation, but there's something unbearably soft in his eyes when they meet yours.
You frown and pull away, looking up at him again. “You don’t reek.”
Jungkook's gaze softens instantly, almost panicky as he catches sight of the frown on your face. "Hey," he murmurs, one hand leaving your shoulder to touch your chin, urging you to smile again. "Hey. Hey, stop that." His thumb brushes over the line between your eyebrows, smoothing away the crease. "I was joking," he adds, voice softer, almost pleading. "I'm glad you like how I smell, really. Just…fish? You could aim a little higher, princess."
“But I like it.”
Something in Jungkook's expression softens even more, almost unbearably tender now. He's quiet for a moment, eyes flickering over your face, like he's still processing this whole situation. You actually prefer the way he smells? "You're the weirdest person in the world," he mutters, more to himself than anything else. "You know that? Completely, irrevocably weird."
You both laugh a little at that, until you sigh again, closing your eyes. “I don’t want to go home yet…”
Jungkook's expression flickers, something almost anxious in his gaze when you say that. He hesitates for a second before he responds, fingers on your cheek tightening again, as if he's worried you're about to disappear. "You can't stay out all night," he murmurs, and somehow his voice goes even lower. "Your parents will panic."
“I just want them to accept you, then you’d be able to stay over all the time…”
Jungkook's expression twists again, like that simple sentence is physically painful. He looks almost guilty when he mutters your name. "You know they won't," he murmurs, gaze flickering over your face. "I don't want to keep getting your hopes up like this."
But even as he says the words, his other arm slides around you, pulling you a little closer, like he can't resist. "But God. I want it, too. So bad. Can't even tell you how much I wish they'd agree."
“Let’s wait some more….then when the time is right, we’ll tell them…” Although, you know that the time will almost always be wrong.
____
A few days later, after a weekend of visiting various family members who are somehow still stuck in the past, and dealing with the constant nagging of your parents, you’re back at the music store to see Jungkook again.
He’s at the counter, manning the store like he always does, when you step inside. His head snaps up the moment the bell above the door rings, and the way his face lights up when he catches sight of you makes it almost worth all the sneaking around. He's around the counter in seconds, one arm looping around your waist to pull you close. "Hey," he murmurs, voice low.
Your eyes light up as soon as you see his smile. You love his cute little bunny grin, it makes you forget all your troubles instantly. “Hey. I would’ve come earlier, but my mom left the house later than usual.”
Despite the excuse, Jungkook still pouts slightly, pulling you even closer. He's shameless about it too, one arm wound tight around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. He even shamelessly drops a kiss to your neck. "Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses." His voice lowers as his grip on you tightens ever so slightly. "I don't care. I'm still gonna be whiny about it."
You laugh, your nose scrunching up slightly as his breath tickles your neck “Hey, guess what? So, this weekend, my parents are taking jongin (your little brother) to my grandmother’s house for a while, they’ll be gone all weekend..”
Jungkook pauses for just a second, lifting his head to glance down at you. It doesn't take him long to figure out the implications of what you're saying. His expression slowly lights up at the realization, his arm tightening around your waist again. "Are you suggesting we…?" His voice is a little hoarse as he tries, and fails, to keep the excitement out of it. "The whole weekend?"
You nod excitedly, you almost can’t believe it, either. “Yeah….finally, you can stay over…”
Jungkook lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. His grin is boyish, almost giddy now. He actually looks so ridiculously happy that it makes your heart give a little tug. His chin returns to your shoulder, face hovering a little closer to your ear this time. "You're sure they're going to be gone all weekend?" His voice dips lower, the hand on your waist squeezing again. "No chance of them coming home early?"
“I don’t think so..” Your grandmother lives five hours away, and your parents always have business to sort out there, so they almost always return two days later.
Jungkook hums quietly, nuzzling into your neck, almost like he can't help himself. "Good." His fingers slide across your waist, tugging you closer, nearly molding your bodies together now. "Then I'm staying the whole weekend." His voice vibrates against your skin as he presses another kiss to the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe.
___
The weekend finally rolls around, and Jungkook's excitement is almost palpable. He's been walking around like a kid in a candy store since you mentioned the idea, practically vibrating with anticipation. He shows up to your hanok the moment your parents pull out of the driveway, a bag over his shoulder and a grin plastered to his face.
He drops his bag the moment the door closes behind him, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist. "You're all mine for the next 48 hours," he murmurs, practically purring.
You can’t control your giggles as you pull him further inside. “I know! Let’s make cookies!”
Jungkook pulls back a little in surprise, eyebrow raising at the unexpected answer. "Cookies?" He blinks a couple times before his face breaks out into a smile. "You want to make cookies, y/n?" He can't help but give you a teasing smirk. "Of all the things we could be doing, you want to bake?"
“Yes! come on, we need sweet fuel for later…” You exclaim, dragging him towards the kitchen.
For all of Jungkook's excitement for the weekend, he still takes a moment to look around the hanok when you drag him inside.
There's a soft look of wonder that passes over his face, almost like he can't help being a little mesmerized. It's clear he feels somewhat out of place standing in your grand kitchen, but he masks it by teasing you instead.
"This kitchen alone is bigger than my entire house," he mutters, still letting you tow him across the tile floor.
“Oh come on, kook, that doesn’t matter.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, but the grin on his face is wide, almost lopsided. "Fine, fine," he mutters, letting you drag him into the kitchen. "But only because I'm starving."
He watches as you pull out ingredients with a little too much interest, he's clearly not used to this kind of luxury, and before leaning in close again, his voice lowers conspiratorially. "Fuel for later, you said? I think we better make a big batch."
You giggle and pull him closer, starting to look through recipe books for the cookies, but eventually, it just morphs into both of you kissing and strong arms sitting you up onto the counter.
Jungkook's hands slide around your waist the moment he realizes you're not actually focusing on cookies anymore. He hums against your lips, warm and content as his fingers tangle in the fabric of your shirt, yanking you closer with zero subtlety. "Cookies are boring," he mumbles between kisses, voice rough with amusement, and something far more desperate. "This is better."
This goes on for a little bit, however, what you don’t realise is that your parents are somehow standing in the doorway.
Neither you nor Jungkook hear the front door open, too wrapped up in kissing for it to even register. His hands are still tangled in your shirt, fingers tracing along the dip of your spine, when your parents enter the room.
It's your father's voice that finally snaps you both back to reality, his tone sharp and disapproving. "What on earth do you think you're doing?!"
Jungkook's head snaps up at the sound of your dad's voice, his expression going from blissed out to pure panic in a matter of seconds. He freezes immediately, still half holding you in his arms as he slowly turns to face your parents. He swallows hard, throat suddenly dry, his face going white when your dad's gaze drops to the two of you: your shirt rumpled, his hands gripping your waist, the clear evidence of what you were both doing.
You are horrified. The image of your parents standing frozen in the doorway, your brother nowhere in sight, just watching you and Jungkook make out. “Mom! Dad!” You quickly slip off the counter, your face pale and guilty.
Your mother's expression is thunderous as she stares at the scene. She steps into the room, eyes narrowing even further when she sees how close you and Jungkook are standing. She opens her mouth to speak, but your dad beats her to it.
"Get your hands off of my daughter," he snaps, voice sharp. His gaze flicks between you two, face darkening even further when he realises how rumpled you look, hair disheveled and your button down partially undone.
Jungkook swallows hard at the look on your dad's face, his fingers loosening from your shirt like they've been burned. He steps back immediately, hands slightly raising in surrender as he tries to keep his expression respectful despite the fact that your own parents are looking at him like he's just committed a felony.
Your mom steps closer, her eyes flickering over your mussed up appearance with obvious disapproval. She gives you a once-over, gaze lingering on the state of your shirt, and her lips press into a disapproving line. "This is why we don't want you two spending time together," she mutters. Jungkook has the decency to look guilty now, too, his face is pale, almost as white as chalk. He tries to speak, to explain himself, but your dad's next words cut him off before he can even get a sound out.
"We've told you a dozen times how we feel about this relationship," your dad says gruffly. "I thought I made myself clear: you are not to see this boy."
“Why?!” You can already feel tears brimming, you surely did not expect the evening to go this way. Jungkook's breath hitches at your sudden outburst, his hands clenching into fists as he tries, and fails, to keep quiet.
Your dad stiffens, jaw tightening, clearly not used to being challenged by anyone, let alone you. "Because," he says sharply, "he is beneath us." The words land like a punch straight to Jungkook’s gut. His face pales even further, if that was possible, but there's something burning in his eyes now too: anger and humiliation all tangled up together.
“No, stop it!” You want to do something, cover Jungkook’s ears so that he doesn’t hear what your parents have to say about him, or just throw some magic potion and disappear from this moment. Your father looks thoroughly unimpressed by this outburst. If anything, he only looks more incensed by your reaction. "You need to start thinking about your future, y/n. " he snaps, his voice rising to match yours. Your mom pipes in now, her voice sharp and disapproving.
"You have no idea how much we've sacrificed to get where we are," she mutters. "You're throwing away your potential for a boy who can't even afford to wear proper clothes."
Jungkook flinches at this, his jaw tightening. He looks like he's about to snap, but when he opens his mouth to respond, your father beats him to it. "You will both quit this nonsense right now," he says sharply, looking between the two of you. "I won't allow this to continue." Your mother nods in agreement, still eyeing you disapprovingly. "We shut this down months ago, y/n, and now you’ve gone behind our backs."
“No, please! I want to be with him!”
Your father scoffs at that, eyes darkening further as he crosses his arms. "You're just a child," he says bluntly. "You don't know what's right for you." Your mother chimes in again, her expression cold. "This isn't up for debate," she adds. "We've said it before and we'll say it again, you will not see this boy. We want better for you."
“I’m nineteen, I’m old enough to make my own choices!” All you want is for them to understand, to allow you to indulge in a good, healthy relationship, no matter who it is.
That doesn't seem to sway your father any. He huffs a laugh, more out of frustration than anything else. "You're still in school," he says. "You're still under our roof, and you are not choosing a broke fisherman's son over your future."
You can’t help but just break down, your tears start flowing uncontrollably. Jungkook moves the second he hears your choked sob, his hand darting out to catch yours, squeezing tight.
Your father quickly stiffens at the display, his face twisting in anger as he steps forward again. "Enough." His voice is sharp enough to make you flinch too. "This ends now. I'm not having this boy influence you any further." Your mother nods in agreement, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval as she watches Jungkook cling to your fingers like they're all that's keeping him standing there right now.
You shake your head, not listening to their words. “I’ll….i’ll leave if I have to!”
Your father freezes at the threat, his face going from anger to shock in seconds. Jungkook's grip on your hand tightens immediately, like he's physically bracing for this moment. "Don't," he whispers under his breath, eyes darting between you and your parents with something close to panic in them now too. But it’s too late, the damage is already done as far as they're concerned: their daughter would rather run away than listen? That’s worse than anything else so far today.
“Please.” You continue to plead, refusing to let them win so easily.
Your father is quiet for a moment, jaw clenching and unclenching as he tries to think his way through this new threat. He glances between you and Jungkook, gaze flickering back and forth before stopping abruptly on your hands, which are still locked together. "You will do no such thing," he mutters finally, voice firm. "You are not tossing everything away just to run off with a boy whose family is not even a quarter of our means. This whole thing has gone on long enough."
“No…no!”
Your father’s eyes narrow at your continued protests, temper clearly beginning to unravel. "You have no idea of what it means to be on your own, to depend on someone else for everything," he snaps. "We gave you every luxury you could ask for so you could have a proper future, and this is how you repay us: by falling in with a boy whose family doesn't even-" He falters, gaze flickering over Jungkook's appearance. "-whose family *constantly* struggles to make ends meet."
Jungkook's face twinges at the subtle jab, the insult clearly landing hard. But he keeps his mouth shut this time, the hand clutching yours almost painful now. Your mother speaks again from the background, voice strained and disapproving. "You need to stop being selfish, y/n. You're just a child, you can barely even take care of yourself. What kind of future do you think you can have with a boy like this?"
You maintain eye contact with them, rubbing your eyes and keeping your chin up defiantly. “I’m not going to stop seeing him.”
Your father loses it at that, his face darkening in a way you've only seen a few times before. "You will not be seeing this boy again," he says, each word slow and deliberate, like he's barely holding back from shouting. "And if I catch him here one more time-"
Jungkook finally cuts in then. "Sir." His voice is firm for once, though still quiet, grip tightening on your fingers as if to say: don't push this any further right now. Your father's gaze flicks to Jungkook, eyes narrowing at the interjection. It's obvious your dad is surprised at suddenly being called out, but Jungkook doesn't back down this time, he just holds your hand tighter and takes a little half-step forward.
"I promise," he says quietly, eyes locked on your father, his whole body tensing as if for a fight. "I will never come here again, I respect your family, but I will never agree to stop seeing your daughter. I love her too much."
Your father looks like he's about to explode, the muscle in his jaw ticking at Jungkook's words. Your mother looks equally infuriated, eyes narrowing into slits as she gazes between your linked hands. But for all his temper, your dad seems strangely speechless for a moment, too shocked by the blunt honesty of Jungkook's confession to know how to respond. His shoulders are practically shaking with anger, but his voice is almost eerily level when he finally speaks. "What makes you think you have anything worthwhile to offer her?"
Any hint of hesitation vanishes from Jungkook's face at the question. He looks like he's been waiting for it, his stance going rigid again as he holds your dad's gaze evenly. "I'm working two jobs to save money," he says, gaze never wavering. "I don't come from a rich family, but I work hard. I'm reliable and responsible, I can provide. Your daughter will be well taken care of, I swear."
The certainty in his voice seems to catch your father off guard. His eyes dart to you for a moment, gaze flickering to the way you're clinging to Jungkook's hand like a lifeline. After a few seconds of silence, your mother’s voice rings out instead, cutting through the tension. "And what about college?" She asks, raising a pointed eyebrow at Jungkook. "You can't honestly expect her to give up her education, her future, just to run off with you."
“No one’s saying I’m going to run off, mom!” You wipe your eyes again with your free hand. You know you probably look like a mess right now, but you can’t seem to care. Jungkook's grip on your hand loosens slightly, as if he's bracing for the worst.
Your father scoffs at your words, crossing his arms over his chest again, clearly not buying it. "Oh? So you're going to balance a relationship with this boy and your studies?" He glances pointedly at Jungkook’s work-roughened hands before looking back up at you with raised brows. "And how long do you think that will last?"
Your mother nods in agreement from beside him. "It's impossible." Jungkook's expression hardens again at their words, determination flashing in his eyes. "It can be done," he says firmly, not missing a beat. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it work."
Your mother shakes her head immediately at that, eyes flickering over your interlocked fingers with obvious disapproval. "She needs to focus on her studies, not be distracted by this." The dismissal in her voice is clear, like she doesn't even believe what she's saying, or at least like she doesn't think Jungkook's capable of actually pulling it off.
Your father makes a sound of agreement before he chimes in as well. "Don't be ridiculous," he mutters, eyes skimming over Jungkook's worn clothing again. "A boy like that could never properly support her. He would weigh her down."
Jungkook's body tenses up even more, like he's physically stopping himself from lashing out now, and when he speaks, his voice sounds almost strained. "I'm more than capable of supporting her," he insists, gaze flickering between your parents as if daring them to question him. Your mother rolls her eyes at the audacity of his statement, while your father outright scoffs, his expression clearly showing just how little he thinks of that. "You're a fisherman's son," he says bluntly. "What makes you think a boy with no money can even think about building a relationship, much less sustaining one?"
Jungkook bristles at the blatant insult, jaw clenching so tightly it looks like his teeth might crack. For a moment it looks like he's actually going to lose his temper, but somehow he still keeps his voice level when he speaks again. "Just because my family isn't as wealthy as yours doesn't mean I can't provide for her. She'd be loved, happy, taken care of, safe," he says firmly. "Isn't that all you really care about?" He looks directly at your parents, almost challenging them to say otherwise.
Your mother actually huffs at the question, eyes narrowing into slits. "Don't pretend you understand what we care about," she says sharply. "You can't give her any of the luxuries she's used to."
Your father continues, voice just as firm. "She deserves a wealthy boy. Someone her own class." He gestures pointedly at the way you and Jungkook are holding hands. "Not a lowborn fisherman who could never even dream of buying her a proper ring."
It's clear that your parents are running out of steam now. They look frustrated, almost resigned as they glance at each other in a moment of silent communication.
Your mother is the first to cave, letting out a sharp sigh. Your father shifts back a step too, glancing sideways at Jungkook again like he's still not quite sure about this whole thing. "You need to think about your future," he says again, but there's a hint of hesitance in his voice that wasn't there before.
Jungkook sees the hesitation, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly as he takes a slow step forward. He keeps his voice quiet, careful. "I can work," he says, not begging anymore, but stating it like fact. "I will. I’ll save up for anything she needs."
Your father looks at him for a long moment before finally sighing too, deep and defeated-looking, like this is an argument they know they're losing. Your mother doesn't say anything else either, just folds her arms over her chest with an expression caught between irritation and resignation now too.
The silence hangs heavily in the room for a few seconds, thick enough you could cut it with a knife. Finally your father speaks again, and although his voice still sounds firm, there's something almost cautious in it now too. "If that's the case," he mutters, gaze flickering across the two of you, "There's something we need to discuss first." Jungkook stiffens slightly at that, his grip on your hand tightening again. He looks at your dad with wary eyes, nervous, but trying to hide it.
Your mother steps in before he can even ask. "We're not saying yes," she clarifies quickly, her tone firm. "But if this boy is serious, we will set up a meeting with his parents." She gives Jungkook a pointed look over that last part, the clear implication being they expect him to be respectable enough for an introduction after all this time sneaking around with their daughter.
Jungkook's heart is pounding in his chest, a mixture of anxiety and cautious hope warring for dominance on his face. He glances sideways to meet your gaze, swallowing hard as he nods, then looks back up at your parents again. "I'll ask them," he says, his voice still quiet and respectful. "When would you like to meet?"
There's a moment of silence as your parents share another one of those looks again, like they're debating the best strategy to proceed from here, but then your father speaks again, and there's something almost grudgingly accepting in his eyes. He exhales through his nose, arms crossed as he studies Jungkook, like he's still searching for a reason to say no.
"Tomorrow evening," your mother cuts in before your father can overthink it further. "We'll expect you and both of your parents at the house by seven." Her tone is sharp, but there's an undercurrent of something else too, almost like she’s testing him one last time: "Don't be late."
Jungkook blinks once, stunned into silence, before nodding stiffly again: "Yes ma'am."
You frown at the mention of a meeting with his parents. “That’s not…why is that necessary?”
Your mom raises a single eyebrow, the question almost making her laugh. "Why is it necessary? So we can discuss your future together." She glances over you and Jungkook again, gaze flickering down to your still clasped hands. "It's a formality, really. For the sake of the families."
___
When the doorbell rings the next evening, Jungkook nearly flinches from nerves, his heart hammering so hard he feels like it might actually burst through his skull. His palms are sweaty too, fingers clenching and unclenching almost compulsively as he glances sideways at his parents. His father is standing beside him, expression unreadable, the only visible sign of tension being the muscle ticking in his jaw as they all stand together and wait for the door to open.
The door swings open a few seconds later, and your parents stand in the doorway on the other side, both dressed up a little more than usual and wearing almost equally unreadable expressions. Your mother is the first to speak, eyes flickering between the group at the door, gaze pausing when it lands on Jungkook. "You're right on time."
Your father steps up to greet them too, expression still neutral. "Come in," he mutters, the invitation almost grudging. He even steps aside, holding the door open wider to let them in.
You walk into the hallway at the sound of the front door opening, heart skipping a beat when you see your parents greet Jungkook's, and the sheer nervousness on Jungkook's face as he stands a silent step behind the adults.
His eyes flicker to you for a split-second, almost as if he's seeking reassurance, then back to the adults again as they exchange polite greetings. It's almost surreal, your respective parents finally meeting like this after months and months of sneaking around.
Jungkook's father nods stiffly, his grip on the doorframe tightening just slightly as he takes in the lavish interior of your home. His mother steps forward next, offering a small but polite bow, though her expression is still guarded too. "Thank you for inviting us," she murmurs to your parents, her voice careful and measured.
Your father gives them both a curt nod before turning back toward the living room where tea has already been set out. "Please." Your parents lead the way to the adjoining living room, the adults all taking seats in the comfortable armchairs as you and Jungkook trail behind. The silence feels almost unbearable as you both sit down on the sofa, and when you chance a nervous glance at Jungkook, he's sitting on the edge of his seat, body visibly tense.
Your parents and his are engaged in small talk about your school and the general neighborhood, but no one's relaxed, the air in the room is thick with tension and expectation. The small talk continues, mostly between your parents, with the occasional terse response from Jungkook's father, his shoulders are still tensed, his fingers still clenching and unclenching on his thigh. Your parents are doing their best to make conversation (and being polite about it), but there's an undercurrent of something else too- an undercurrent of criticism, almost like they're trying to find things to disapprove of.
Finally, your mother shifts in her seat, pinning Jungkook and his parents with a pointed look. "If you'll excuse my candor…we just want to understand something."
Jungkook almost flinches at the abrupt shift in topic, immediately sitting up straighter and looking over at your mother with wide eyes. "Yes ma'am?" Your mother takes a moment to study him before leaning forward in her chair and folding her hands in her lap. "We now know the two of you have been seeing one another for some time," she says bluntly. "What we want to understand is: how serious is it?"
Jungkook hesitates for a split-second, tongue darting out to wet his lips, but then he steels himself and looks over at your mother again, his own expression guarded. "It's serious," he says simply.
His mother and father both glance at him at that, almost surprised at the firmness in his tone. Jungkook takes a breath, trying in the slightest way to keep your parents from seeing the faintest trembling in his hands. "I….I care a lot about your daughter," he explains quietly. "I'd never do anything to hurt her."
Both your mother and father look a little taken aback at that, like they hadn't expected such a direct answer. Your father is the first to respond, his own voice guarded as he studies Jungkook across the coffee table. "What are your intentions, exactly?"
Jungkook lets out a slow breath, holding his gaze, and that time there's almost a challenging edge to his voice. "With all due respect, sir…my only intention is to make her happy for as long as she'll let me." Your father stiffens slightly at the boldness of that answer, his jaw clenching as he leans back in his chair.
Jungkook's mother speaks up then, her voice quiet but firm: "We raised him to be respectful," she says, eyes flickering between your parents with something almost protective in her gaze now too. "He won't take advantage of your daughter."
There’s a pause after that, your father and Jungkook’s staring each other down for a long moment before finally sighing again, almost reluctantly. Your mother watches it all with narrowed eyes though, like she still isn’t entirely convinced yet either. She is the next one to speak, a skeptical expression on her face as her gaze flickers over Jungkook's rumpled clothes again. "You said you care about our daughter a lot," she says bluntly, voice measured. "And you seem like a respectful young man." She pauses, her gaze flickering to the way Jungkook's fingers are subconsciously toying the seam of his tattered jeans again, almost like she's just caught onto his nervous habit. "But there is one thing we need to address, if you're serious about dating."
Jungkook's jaw tightens once more when he realizes what the focus of her next question is going to be, he's already tensing up again like he's bracing for a blow. "What is it?" he asks, voice quiet.
Your father cuts in, the words almost sharp. "We know your family is…..not very wealthy," he says, gaze flickering over Jungkook's clothes again. "You don't have a lot of money. You don't even have a car."
“Dad-“ You start.
Your father interrupts you with a stern look, the sharp edge to his voice making you fall immediately silent. "Let me finish," he says sharply. "All we're saying is, you're not from the same class as our daughter. That will mean the two of you have different goals in life, different lifestyles." His gaze flickers back to Jungkook. "It raises questions about the practicality of this relationship. You don't have any way to provide for our daughter financially, let alone even begin to give her the kind of life she's accustomed to."
Jungkook's hands clench into fists on his knees, knuckles going white from the pressure. He keeps his voice steady, barely, but there's a quiet intensity in it when he answers. "I'm working for that." His eyes lift to meet your father’s again. "Every day I save money. Every job I take is so one day, she won’t have to worry about anything."
His mother nods firmly beside him too now, as if silently reinforcing what he just said, while your parents share yet another one of those unreadable looks between them, almost like they still aren't sure if this boy can really pull it off or not. Your father studies Jungkook for a long moment, his expression unreadable, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he weighs the answer.
Finally, he leans back in his chair with a slow exhale. "Fine." The word is gruff but not quite dismissive anymore, almost like there's something begrudgingly impressed about it too now despite himself.
Your mother watches quietly before speaking up again herself. "We will approve of this for now," she says, her tone still firm but less hostile than before. "But if things don't work out, we expect an end to this relationship."
Jungkook nods stiffly, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. "Understood," he says, voice quiet but firm. His fingers finally relax slightly in his lap, though the tension in his shoulders is still obvious. "I won't let you down."
Your father gives him a slow once-over before exhaling through his nose again, almost like a silent fine, and your mom just watches with narrowed eyes, still not entirely convinced…but willing to give it this one chance for now at least too.
___
Around one month has passed of you two not having to sneak around anymore, and it is going great, you are the happiest you’ve ever been.
Jungkook is still in disbelief that this is actually allowed and approved, like he half expects to wake up one morning and find out it was all a dream. But no, it's real. The way you can now walk into the market with him without hiding, how he gets to kiss you goodnight on your front steps like it’s nothing, how his mom even brings over little baskets of fresh fish for your family sometimes whether they want them or not.
He grins as soon as he sees you after work these days too, always pulling you into some kind of hug or another while muttering something stupidly affectionate under his breath: "Missed you." Like an idiot.
And one night, when jungkook is at your house having dinner with your family, your father starts talking to him about a new job opportunity opening up in his friend’s company for people with little experience.
Jungkook pauses mid-bite, chopsticks freezing halfway to his mouth as he processes the sudden change in topic.
He glances at your father, almost wary because last time this man brought up a job it was to criticize him for not having one, but there's something different about the tone now too. Your father leans back slightly, studying Jungkook with an unreadable expression before continuing.
"It's entry-level," he admits gruffly. "But it pays well." A pause, then adds, almost reluctantly, "And they have good benefits."
Jungkook blinks once as that word registers. benefits. The fact that your father just brought that up at all, like he's actually taking this seriously. He slowly sets his chopsticks down on the table, keeping his eyes on your father’s face. "What kind of job is it?" His voice comes out almost even, but there's a barely contained hopeful note to it now too.
Your father gives Jungkook a once-over like he's silently sizing him up again, this time with a different look in his eyes. "Administrative. You'll do basic office work," he grumbles. "Filing, data entry, taking calls, that sort of thing." A pause, then adds almost begrudgingly again "They'll train you, so you don't need any experience."
He glances between you and Jungkook for a moment, almost like he's searching for something. "It pays well," he repeats.
“But..Jungkook’s working at his parents’ shop, and we still have to go to school.” You reply.
Jungkook's fingers twitch as he fights the urge to reach for your hand on the tabletop. He gives your father a slow nod instead, keeping his expression neutral. "I know," he says quietly, voice not quite betraying the hope that's suddenly sparking in his eyes, and then adds, almost carefully. "But I can switch my shifts down to weekends."
Your father studies him for a long moment before nodding, like he thinks this kid might actually be serious about making this work. "That still won't get you into college, though."
Jungkook clenches his fingers on the table, jaw tensing as the hope he'd felt only a moment ago falters somewhat. He knows your father is right, he isn't stupid, and it's frustrating, especially when your mother chimes in now too. "College is important," she adds, voice firm. "Most people from your class don't have much opportunity to go as it is, let alone finish." Your father picks up where she left off, tone just as blunt. "A college degree opens more doors."
“So…what are you saying?”
Your father looks at you like the answer should be obvious. "I'm saying, Jungkook has a chance to get ahead here," he mutters. "And I think he’d be a fool to pass it up." He glances between the two of you, expression still unreadable. "Think about it. That company will hire you even without a degree, you could be making decent money right now. Instead of scraping by for years, trying to save little bits here and there. If you get experience in the right place, there's potential for more career opportunities later on too."
You look at Jungkook, and mutter. “What will your parents do without the extra help?”
Jungkook hesitates at the question, he's clearly torn between making the smart decision and not being a burden to his family. His parents work hard, his father goes out to fish at the crack of dawn, and he's even up later most nights to help them in the market. Jungkook feels guilty even thinking about them having to pick up the slack in all the shifts he works, but at the same time he can't deny that this would be his big break too. He'd finally be making a little bit of money instead of pinching every penny he can spare.
“If you’re interested in the offer,” Your father starts, “I could recommend you to my friend, you’d get the job in no time.”
Jungkook's breath hitches at the offer, his hands nearly freezing mid air where they’d been fidgeting with his chopsticks. He blinks, gaze darting between you and your father like he can't quite believe what he just heard. His throat bobs as he swallows hard before speaking again. "You would do that?" His voice is quieter than usual, almost hesitant, like this is too good to be true.
Your father raises a brow at him but nods once anyway. "If I think you're serious about making something of yourself."
___
Jungkook feels like he's dreaming.
He can't believe how much things have changed in just a few short weeks. He's now making decent money. He can afford to buy little gifts for you sometimes, small things, like coffee on a cold morning, or little snacks he knows you like. He doesn't have to save up for everything anymore.
He keeps pinching himself half the time, like he's expecting it all to be a hallucination, but it's not. It's really happening, he feels almost like an adult.
Whilst you and him are walking along the river on one sunny evening, he tells you to close your eyes and places something in your hands. “Jungkook.” You giggle, opening your eyes and unwrapping the small bag he just gave you. “What is this?”
He grins at your reaction, happy that he could surprise you. "Open it and see, beautiful." he says, almost bouncing on his toes. He'd been saving up for a while to get the gift, it wasn't much, but it was a real treat for him to afford. He's anxious to see what you think though, shifting from one foot to the other as he waits for you to open it.
Your hands work quickly to unwrap the tissue paper, eyes widening as the gift is revealed. It's a necklace. Simple but so pretty, a gold chain with a delicate little butterfly pendant dangling off it.
Jungkook watches you closely, holding his breath. He's clearly worried you might not like it, this is the first big gift he's gotten you, after all; the first time he actually had the money to do something like this. "Is it…is it okay?" he finally asks, voice still hesitant.
“Jungkook!” You instantly throw your arms around him and press your lips against his.
He laughs against your lips, clearly relieved and elated that you like it. His hands tighten on your waist as he pulls you closer too, kissing you back just as fiercely, like he's savoring the sudden intimacy. He pulls away after a moment though, still holding you close as he grins down at you. "Do you like it?" he asks again, just to be sure.
He'd been worried you'd think it was too small or too cheap, that this gift wasn't worth all the hours he'd worked extra, saving up enough money.
“I love it! But, kook….you need to save your money, or help your parents, not buying me jewellery!”
Jungkook pouts at that, actually pouting, his grip on you tightening like he's offended.
"I did save money first," he defends, tilting his chin up stubbornly. "And I helped my parents with extra shifts too." He leans in again to press another quick kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to give you a pointed look. "Don't argue with me about this."
“I love it so much.”
Jungkook melts at the words, his stubborn pout softening into something far more affectionate. He kisses you again, slower this time, lingering like he's trying to memorize the way your lips feel against his. When he finally pulls back, there’s a stupidly smug little grin on his face. "Good, I'd buy you ten more if I could."
You smile and kiss him again. He lets out a soft hiss in surprise as you lean in, his arms tightening immediately around your waist to pull you closer, his fingers curling into the back of your shirt, like he wants you as close as humanly possible. He kisses you back fervently, tongue tracing the seam of your mouth before slipping inside the second you open it too. He tastes faintly of coffee…the usual bitter sweetness that's become one of your new favorite things.
“Am i coming over for dinner tonight?”
Jungkook pulls back just enough to glance at you, though his hands are still tight on your waist, like he doesn't quite want to let you go yet, eyes still a little hazy from the kiss. He takes a second to process the actual question, finally answering with a slow, slightly dazed nod. "Mhm. You're coming over."
He lets out a short laugh then, voice quiet but undeniably affectionate. "My mom always says you need to come again soon, you're basically another member of the family at this point."
You laugh as Jungkook grins, that adorable, almost boyish smile he always gets whenever he's around you. He steals another kiss, because he literally can't resist, before reluctantly pulling away. His hands remain on your waist though, as usual, like it physically pains him to not be touching you for more than a few seconds.
"Come on," he says then, tugging you gently in the direction of his house. "The sooner we get there, the more time we'll have before my parents expect us at the table."
You walk alongside him, fingers laced with his. It's early evening now, twilight casting everything in soft purple and orange light. There's a faint breeze blowing through.
Jungkook walks with a little bit more spring in his step than usual, his fingers giving your hand an occasional little squeeze like he can't contain his excitement. It's the weekend, which means he got the day off for once. And you have the night off, which means no sneaking around and getting home before dark tonight. Just him, you, and a whole evening together.
Jungkook's house soon comes into view, the familiar little market sign still hanging by the front door. The smell of something cooking drifts through the air, probably his mother’s s famous kimchi stew, or at least that’s what he hopes it is. He squeezes your hand again as you approach, grinning when he hears his mother calling from inside. "Jungkook-ah! You two are late!"
He rolls his eyes but doesn't let go of your fingers, if anything, he holds on tighter. "We're not even a minute past time," he mutters under his breath to you before raising an obedient shout back toward the kitchen. "Coming in now!"
He tugs you inside, still clinging to your hand as you step through the front door. You're immediately assaulted by the mouthwatering smell of spices, definitely his mother’s kimchi stew then, and the sounds of his father and brother chatting at the kitchen table. His mother comes bustling into view then, drying her hands on a dish cloth as she fixes you with a stern look of feigned annoyance: "Finally. I was starting to think you wouldn't show up at all."
“Hi, Mrs Jeon.” You politely greet her, smiling as she pulls you into a hug. Mrs. Jeon squeezes you tight, her grip surprisingly strong for a woman her size.
"Hello, my sweet girl," she coos, patting your back before pulling away just enough to cup your face in her hands, inspecting the necklace Jungkook gave you with obvious approval. "He finally bought it! I was starting to think that boy would spend all his money on bicycles instead of gifts."
Jungkook makes an indignant noise from behind you. "Mom!"
Mrs. Jeon glances over your shoulder to where her son is standing, shooting him a teasing little smile. “What? It’s true, is it not?" She ruffles his hair affectionately, ignoring Jungkook's half-hearted sound of protest at being babied, before wrapping an arm around your shoulder to start shepherding you in the direction of the kitchen table. "Come sit. I just finished cooking."
Jungkook's father and brother are both already sitting, chatting idly amongst themselves. Mr Jeon glances up when you walk into the room, his lips tugging into a grin. "Well look who finally arrived," he says, though there's a hint of fondness in the way he says it. Jungkook mutters something indistinctly under his breath about not being that late, but sits down anyway, tugging you down into the seat next to him. Mrs Jeon joins a few seconds later, immediately starting to ladle the stew into bowls again. "Now, everyone eat before it gets cold."
You all fall into the familiar routine of eating dinner, the table quickly filling with the sounds of chopsticks clicking and quiet chatter. His mother keeps glancing between you and Jungkook too, eyes flitting to the way his leg is pressed against yours under the table, the way he keeps sneaking little smiles and glances in your direction when he thinks no one is looking. She hides her own smile at the sight though, exchanging a knowing look with her husband instead.
“This is delicious.”
Mrs. Jeon lights up at the compliment, nodding happily over the rim of her spoonful of stew. Jungkook smiles at her through his own mouthful, giving the back of your hand a little squeeze where his hand rests under the table. His foot also hooks around your ankle, gently tugging your legs closer to him like he has to be touching you somehow or else he won't be able to concentrate on food.
The meal continues as normal, small talk drifting between bites, everyone occasionally offering compliments to Mrs. Jeon for the food. Jungkook's dad and brother are mostly silent, too focused on eating for the most part, but Mrs Jeon is clearly in a talkative mood. She keeps asking questions about how school is going, if you have any upcoming tests or projects you're struggling with. Jungkook mostly stays quiet, just silently listening to you talk, his foot still hooked around your ankle under the table, the warm press of his leg against yours never leaving.
Finally, the meal starts to wind down, the stew slowly disappearing from bowls, stomachs comfortably full. Mr Jeon sits back with a sigh, patting his stomach with a contented moan. "Ah, that was delicious." He shoots his wife a grin as he says it too, though she just rolls her eyes at the praise.
"Of course it was," she says, gathering up the dishes as she rises from the table. "No one helped me cook today so all the credit is mine."
You also stand up, starting to take dishes to the sink and clear the table. Mrs Jeon tries to wave you away when you start helping, insisting that you're a guest and don't need to pitch in, but Jungkook immediately scrambles out of his seat to help clear the table too, shooting his mom a pointed look over his shoulder. She huffs in feigned annoyance, but the corners of her mouth are tugged up like she's secretly pleased anyway. His dad just snickers under his breath at the sight of the two of you, clearly finding it endearingly familiar.
Jungkook bumps his shoulder against yours as he moves to the sink beside you, already reaching for a dish towel like it's second nature. "Dad's laughing at us," he mutters under his breath, voice teasing but warm. He starts drying whatever plate or bowl you pass him without even looking, movements automatic from so much practice doing this with you by now.
Mrs. Jeon watches the two of you from her spot at the table too, arms crossed but smiling. "Aish, these kids," she says fondly to no one in particular. "Acting like they've been married for years." Jungkook huffs out a half-laughing scoff at the words, eyes still fixed firmly on the bowl he's drying like he's trying to hide the way his cheeks are turning pink.
Mr Jeon grins from the table, glancing between the two of you like he's actually considering the suggestion. "At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if they were," he remarks, earning himself a nudge from his wife for his trouble. She rolls her eyes, but smiles too in spite of it. "Hush, you. Don't encourage them."
Once the table is fairly clean and empty, Mrs Jeon leans against the counter beside you, drying her hands on a dish towel as she gives you that look, the one she's been giving for weeks now every time Jungkook stays at your house.
"Stay over, tonight, y/n." she says bluntly, ignoring his choked noise of amusement from where he's still elbow-deep in soapy water next to you. "Please." The word is sugar-coated but firm, like it's not even a request anymore so much as an expectation at this point too. "It’s too late to walk home now anyway."
You chuckle, feeling appreciated. “Okay, if it’s no trouble.” His mother beams at your response, clapping her hands together once like she's just won some kind of victory. "Good."
Jungkook groans loudly, burying his face in the soapy water for a second before resurfacing with wet hair sticking to his forehead. "Mom, you’re always so embarrassing." Mrs Jeon just ignores him, already bustling off down the hall to presumably grab you some extra pajamas.
___
Later, Jungkook sits on the edge of the bed, already changed into a loose shirt and shorts and watching you carefully as you get into one of his mother's soft pajama sets. They're a little too big for you, the fabric baggy and hanging off your shoulders in a way that makes his brain go a little bit hazy when he looks at you. You look so small and soft right now, so utterly pretty in these clothes that are meant to be his mom’s instead.
He swallows hard and looks away, trying to get his thoughts and hormones in order. It's already late, the moon is shining through the window, painting everything a silvery blue. Mrs Jeon had already been in to say goodnight and remind the two of you to keep his bedroom door open, because they're still determined to be at least a little parental, before she and his dad turned in for the night too.
The house is quiet now, just the faint sound of cars passing by outside and your quiet breathing as you sit beside him on the bed.
Jungkook turns to look at you then, his eyes roving over your face, tracing the shape of your face in the soft moonlight.
You catch his gaze and smile. “Are you alright, kook?”
Jungkook’s eyes drift from your face to your hands, clenched in your lap, the silver bracelet he once got you glinting in the pale moonlight. He hesitates for a moment, debating whether to answer honestly. "Yeah," he says finally, quietly. "I'm fine."
His voice is quiet, like even speaking too loudly will break the fragile hush that's fallen over the room. A beat of silence. Then Jungkook reaches over, fingertips brushing against yours. "I just…can you come closer for a second?"
All you can do is laugh, you always know exactly when Jungkook is too shy to ask for something. “Do you want some attention, is that it?” He doesn't even answer with words, just shifts over on the bed to make room for you before holding out an arm, an unspoken yes. His other hand is still reaching for yours though, fingers curling slightly like he's already missing your touch. The second you settle against him, he exhales hard, burying half of his face into your hair as if trying to memorize this moment.
Jungkook lets out a soft noise of approval as you settle into his lap, immediately wrapping his arms around you like he can't help himself, fingers splayed across the small of your back to keep you close. He inhales slowly as your scent washes over him, warm and familiar like home. He pulls you just a little bit closer, eyes drifting shut as his entire body relaxes against you.
"You're so warm," he mumbles into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "And soft."
You just hum and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin.
His lips ghost against your skin as he continues, soft pecks against your temple and the bridge of your nose. "Pretty." His hands roam- over your back, down your arms and then back up again, tracing every curve like he can't get enough of touching you. Jungkook then pulls you even closer, arms tightening around your waist like he doesn't want a single millimeter of space between you two. “I love you," he murmurs into your hair, voice almost too soft to hear as dreams pull you under.
___
The next morning, you wake up slowly, warm sunlight on your skin, familiar arms around you, a warm body at your back, a quiet, steady heartbeat. You blink open your sleep-heavy eyes to find that Jungkook is still fast asleep behind you, face buried in your hair, arms still looped loosely around your waist as he breathes steadily against the back of your neck.
For a moment, you just lie there, trying to process the fact that this is your life now. You're here, wrapped in his arms. He's real, not just some sweet dream or distant possibility. He stirs then, the soft sound of a sigh escaping him as he nuzzles a little closer. His arms tighten around you, like even half-asleep he's determined to keep you close. His nose brushes against your neck, warm breath fanning across your collarbone.
"Mm," he mumbles, just a soft, sleepy sort of noise. It sounds a lot like the beginning of your name. He takes another deep breath too, like he's trying to memorize your scent. "Smells good," he mumbles again, still half asleep but just coherent enough to put his thoughts together.
“Hi.” You murmur, reaching a hand behind you to find his.
Jungkook's eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, still heavy with sleep but lighting up almost instantly when he registers that you're awake too. "Mm." He rubs his face against your shoulder, almost like a cat nuzzling for affection, before finally pulling back just enough to blink down at you properly. His hair is a complete mess, wild and sticking up in every direction, and there’s an imprint from the pillow on one side of his cheek.
He grins though, slow and lazy "Morning, beautiful."
You turn around in his arms, reaching up a hand to smooth his hair down slightly. “Morning.”
Jungkook leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a second as you smooth his messy hair down. "Mm," he hums, the sound low and content in his throat. "Your hands are super soft." He cracks one eye open again to peer at you through sleepy lashes, lips quirking up when he sees how close your face is to his now too. "Are we supposed to get out of bed yet?" The question is mumbled, almost hopeful.
“I think your mom’s making breakfast…”
Jungkook groans dramatically, flopping his head back against the pillow. "Breakfast."
He says it like it's a personal offence, like he was this close to getting more sleep and cuddels, but then he hears the distant sound of pans clattering in the kitchen and sighs again. "She probably made rice porridge."
A pause. His arms tighten around you slightly as if considering ignoring breakfast entirely for a few more minutes…until his stomach betrays him with an audible growl too.
“Rice porridge is delicious.” You declare, inhaling slightly and already smelling the scent of it.
Jungkook groans again for good measure, though the sound is somewhat undercut by another rumble from his stomach in the process. "Shut up," he mutters at it with a scowl, as if his stomach has personally offended him somehow. He makes no move to let go of you though. He buries his face against your shoulder, voice still muffled when he continues. "I want to get up, but I don't want to move."
You laugh and start shifting off of him, trying to pull him off the bed. Jungkook just tightens his grip on you immediately, clinging to you like a koala. "No," he protests. "Stay."
His grip is surprisingly strong for someone who’s fighting off sleep, holding you in place even as you try to wriggle out of his reach. "Just a few more minutes," he says, voice still half-sleepy enough to have a little whine in it too. Until, his mother’s voice travels upstairs as she calls you both down for breakfast.
He sighs, almost like his mom is his own personal alarm clock, pulling him out of his sleepy bubble. "Ugh." He finally relents, letting his grip on you loosen so that you can get up. He sits up on the bed, rubbing his face with both hands. His hair is still a mess and there are still pillow creases on one side of his cheek. All in all, he looks adorably sleep-rumpled.
A grin invades your face. “Put a shirt on before your family sees.” Jungkook blinks at you, then looks down as if only just realizing that, yes, he’s still shirtless. He grabs the first thing in reach, the wrinkled tshirt that came off sometime last night, and yanks it over his head with zero grace, still half asleep and moving like a zombie too. "Happy?" he grumbles through fabric covered hair.
His mom shouts from downstairs again. "Jungkook-ah!" He groans louder this time before flopping back onto the bed dramatically. "Five more minutes…"
Eventually, Jungkook shuffles down the stairs behind you, still looking utterly mussed from sleep, hair like a bird's nest, shirt wrinkled, eyes half-lidded and a stubborn sulk still on his face. His mom gives him a once-over when he stumbles into the kitchen, one eyebrow raising in an unimpressed look at his disheveled appearance. "You could have combed your hair," she says, though the words are fond.
He glances up from yawning into his hand long enough to shoot her a look too. "Too much effort, mom." he grumbles, his voice still rough and not fully awake-sounding yet.
Mrs Jeon just rolls her eyes and pokes him in the shoulder. "You look like you were dragged through a bush backwards."
"Mmph." Jungkook bats her hand away, but his lips are curving too, fighting back a sleepy grin at the criticism. No matter how many times she says it, it's still a familiar old line by now.
You start to help Mrs Jeon set the table, laying out the familiar plates and utensils for breakfast. Jungkook watches you both from where he's slumped into a chair, still only about half awake, not even bothering to hide the way his eyes keep drifting over the shape of your body like all he wants to do is go back upstairs and snuggle under the covers.
His mom is oblivious to that though, just bustling around the kitchen as she sets the table too, setting out various side dishes and a steaming bowl of rice porridge. She shoots him another look when she notices he's staring at you instead of helping. "Sit up straight," she says. "You look like a slob."
"I'm tired," Jungkook groans in response, head thunking against the table like a petulant child. Mrs Jeon shoots him a withering look that's almost fond, like she's used to this behavior by now. "And you think this is an excuse?" she says dryly, whacking him on the back of the head as she passes by. "You can help clear the table later then. Sit there with that stupid face."
You snort and shake your head. “Yeah, sit there with that stupid face.”
Jungkook lifts his head just long enough to shoot you a pouty, betrayed kind of look, like you're supposed to be on his side instead of laughing at his very rough start to the morning. He slumps back against the table dramatically, mumbling under his breath. "Some help you are…"
Throughout the meal, Jungkook's mom dotes on you, making sure you have extra food and seconds when you say you're full, insisting that "you're too skinny" and need to eat more.
Jungkook mostly just sits back and watches as she bombards you with questions and attention, eyes roaming over you as he eats quietly. Mine, his mind whispers like an echo.
He can't help but feel a little smug at how much praise you're getting from his family, at the way his mom can't stop telling him how lucky he is for having you. His eyes dart over to you then, his expression going soft as he observes the faint flush dusted on your cheeks from all the attention.
Yeah, he thinks to himself. 'I am pretty damn lucky.'
___
Days continue to pass in a blur of classes, homework, and time spent working or with friends. Jungkook continues to spend his free time with you though, studying together, watching movies, going to cafes and restaurants. He always finds a way to get you alone somewhere too, always finding some excuse to drag the two of you away to somewhere more private. He can't keep his hands off of you either, always finding some way to touch you, whether that's putting an arm around you or playing with your hair while you study.
Sometimes, he still can't quite believe this is his life, waking up in the morning and actually heading to a real office job. He gets there early most days, always eager to start his shift, and leaves late too. His boss has already commended him on how well he's doing for someone so young with no experience before this.
And then there’s the paychecks, thick stacks of cash that make his stomach flip when they land in his hands at the end of each week too. "This is mine." He'll mutter under breath as counts bills over dinner at your house or back home with family members watching proudly from across the table.
It’s safe to say that your relationship isn’t going anywhere. Your parents have grown to love Jungkook, admiring the hard work and the dedication he’s putting towards you, his job, and the future. It’s not long before you both start college, continuing to grow together and fall deeper in love with each other.
a/n: omg!!!! I’m super happy that I can post this now, after having spent a lot of time writing + editing it! I hope everyone enjoys this, it’s quite a longer fic so I’m not sure if it will get a bit boring or not :) I’m hoping to post again soon but I’ve been really busy lately, so I’ll have to see 🥹 thank you to everyone who has been reading my other fics, I really appreciate it. My inbox is always open, and requests are always welcome! 😊
in which…In a home filled with tired mornings, messy floors, and gentle kisses between chaos, love grows quietly. Between ‘ma’ and ‘dada,’ between sleepless nights and small victories, you and Jungkook learn that family isn’t built in perfect moments, it’s built in the ordinary ones that feel like home.
pairing: girldad!jungkook x mom!reader
genre: modern au | married life | domestic fluff |
warnings&tags: pure fluff | mild kissing | cuteness |
word count: 4.8k
___
The apartment is quiet in that fragile, early morning way where the world feels like it’s holding its breath. The sky outside the bedroom window is still dim and grey, and for a moment you’re floating somewhere between sleep and waking.
Then the sound comes through the baby monitor on your nightstand- a soft, wavering cry that immediately pulls you out of the sleepy haze. Your body reacts before your mind does. You sit up slowly, pushing tangled hair out of your face while the exhaustion presses heavy behind your eyes. Nights have been rough lately; between work stress, bills, and the constant responsibility of caring for someone so small, you rarely feel fully rested anymore.
Still, the cry pulls at something deep in your chest. You’re about to slide out of bed when the bedroom door creaks open and you see Jungkook there, sleepy and rumpled in the hallway light. His hair sticks up in every direction, and his voice is quiet when he murmurs, “I’ve got her.” You nod, but you’re already standing, because neither of you ever really wants to miss a moment with your daughter.
The hallway light is a little too bright for tired eyes, but the sound of those small cries pulls him toward the nursery without hesitation. Parenthood still surprises him sometimes; he used to imagine it as something distant and abstract, something that belonged to older versions of himself. Now it fills every part of his daily life, the tiny socks on the coffee table, the bottles drying by the sink, the quiet hum of the baby monitor that never seems to turn off.
When he gently pushes open the nursery door, the familiar smell of baby powder and warm blankets greets him. Your daughter is in her crib, tiny fists flailing in dramatic frustration, cheeks flushed pink from the effort. The moment he leans over the crib and whispers her name softly, the crying falters into small, confused hiccups.
“Hey, hey…what’s all this about?” he murmurs, lifting her carefully into his arms. She’s warm and impossibly small against his chest, her tiny fingers immediately grabbing the front of his shirt. When he turns toward the doorway, he sees you leaning there watching them with sleepy eyes and a quiet, soft expression that makes something warm settle in his chest.
You step closer, brushing your fingers over your daughter’s soft hair as she calms down in his arms. Being a mother still feels surreal sometimes. There are days when the responsibility feels so huge it makes your chest tighten, when you worry you’re doing everything wrong or that you’ll somehow miss something important. But when she’s like this, small and sleepy and trusting, it reminds you why you’re trying so hard.
Jungkook lowers himself onto the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery, the wood creaking softly as he settles. When he reaches for your hand and gently tugs, you climb onto the arm of the chair beside him until the three of you are pressed together in a sleepy bundle. Your daughter lets out a soft sigh, her tiny hand gripping the fabric of his shirt like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Jungkook presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, then turns and presses another one against your temple. You lean your head against his shoulder, eyes half closed as the rocking chair sways slowly. “We’re doing okay…right?” you whisper quietly, because sometimes the doubt creeps in when everything is too quiet.
He looks down at both of you for a long moment before answering, the rocking motion slow and steady beneath the three of you. Life hasn’t exactly been simple lately. Work has been unpredictable, the kind where every week feels like it might bring another unexpected problem, and there are moments when he lies awake at night calculating bills in his head.
But right now, with your daughter curled safely against his chest and your hand resting lightly over hers, those worries feel far away. “We’re more than okay,” he murmurs eventually, voice soft but certain. Almost as if she understands the conversation, your daughter squirms suddenly and lets out a tiny, surprised laugh, an accidental sound that makes both of you freeze in shock. Then you both start laughing quietly too, the kind of laughter that comes out tired and warm. Jungkook’s eyes light up instantly. “Did you hear that?” he whispers, like she’s just performed something incredible. He presses a kiss to her cheek, then leans closer and kisses you slowly, gently, like he’s sealing the moment in place.
___
By the time afternoon arrives, the apartment has shifted from quiet morning calm into gentle chaos. The living room floor is covered with a soft blanket surrounded by toys that your daughter mostly ignores. She’s lying on her back kicking her feet enthusiastically at absolutely nothing, fascinated by the way her hands move through the air. You’re sitting cross-legged nearby folding tiny baby clothes into small uneven piles, occasionally pausing just to watch her.
Jungkook is lying on the rug beside her, completely absorbed in entertaining her like she’s the most important audience in the world. He makes exaggerated faces, crosses his eyes dramatically, and pretends to gasp in shock every time she wiggles. Normally he’d be embarrassed acting like that in front of anyone else, but for her he’ll do anything. “Look, she’s smiling again,” he says excitedly, like he’s announcing a major discovery. You laugh softly, shaking your head at how easily she’s wrapped him around her tiny finger.
Watching them fills your chest with something warm and complicated. Some days the worries crowd your mind- about money, about the future, about whether you’ll be able to give your daughter everything she deserves. There are moments when you feel like life is racing forward faster than you can keep up. But right now she’s just a baby giggling at her dad’s ridiculous expressions, and somehow that makes the world feel smaller and easier to manage.
Jungkook gently offers his finger, and she grabs it with surprising strength, holding on like it’s the most fascinating object she’s ever discovered. “She’s strong,” he says proudly, like he personally trained her. You roll your eyes affectionately and scoot closer, settling down beside them on the rug. The sunlight spilling through the window warms the room, catching the soft strands of your daughter’s hair as she stares up at both of you.
Jungkook reaches up automatically when you sit beside him, tugging you closer until you’re leaning over his shoulder. Your daughter’s eyes move back and forth between the two of you, wide and curious like she’s trying to understand what’s happening. Jungkook smiles softly, then tilts his head up to kiss you. It’s slow and warm, familiar in that comforting way that only comes from years together. His hand stays loosely wrapped around your daughter’s tiny fingers while the other rests against your cheek. You can feel the quiet affection in the way he kisses you, gentle and patient, like there’s no rush for anything else. Your daughter lets out a small confused noise, staring at both of you like she’s deeply suspicious of this interaction. You pull back slightly, laughing under your breath. “She’s judging us,” you whisper. Jungkook grins, brushing his nose against yours before leaning up to kiss you again.
___
Evening settles in gradually, the sky outside turning warm shades of orange before fading into soft blue. Dinner is quick and messy, eaten in shifts while the other person holds the baby. Your daughter babbles happily in her little chair like she’s contributing to the conversation, waving her hands excitedly whenever one of you speaks. Jungkook occasionally leans over to kiss her cheek between bites, which makes her squeal in delight every time.
Later, after a warm bath that leaves her smelling like soap and clean blankets, she grows sleepy in your arms. The apartment grows quieter again as night approaches, the earlier chaos settling into peaceful stillness.
By the time you place her carefully into her crib, she’s already half asleep. Her tiny hand curls near her face, her breathing slow and steady as she drifts off completely. You linger there for a moment longer than necessary, adjusting her blanket and brushing a fingertip over her soft cheek. When you step back into the hallway, Jungkook is already waiting there. He slips his arm around your shoulders without thinking, pulling you gently into his side as the two of you stand together in the nursery doorway.
The soft glow of the nightlight spills across the room, casting gentle shadows against the walls. After a long day full of tiny responsibilities, the quiet feels almost sacred. You lean into his side, resting your head against his shoulder while your hand slides over his where it rests around you. For a moment neither of you says anything. Jungkook presses a soft kiss into your hair, then another against your cheek, lingering there. Your fingers intertwine with his automatically, the familiarity of the gesture comforting.
Standing there together, watching your daughter sleep peacefully in the dim nursery light, something inside you settles. Life is still complicated. There will still be stressful mornings, unexpected problems, and days when both of you feel overwhelmed. But in that quiet moment, with Jungkook’s arm around you and your daughter sleeping safely just a few steps away, it feels like the two of you have somehow built a small, warm world that’s strong enough to hold all three of you.
___
The next morning doesn’t arrive quietly. Instead, it begins with a loud, determined babble echoing through the baby monitor, followed by the unmistakable thump of tiny feet kicking the mattress of the crib. Your eyes flutter open slowly, your brain still foggy with sleep, until you hear Jungkook groan softly beside you. “She’s awake,” he murmurs into the pillow, sounding equal parts exhausted and amused. You glance at the clock and sigh quietly, it’s earlier than either of you would like, but your daughter has clearly decided the day should begin. Before you can even sit up properly, Jungkook is already pushing himself out of bed, dragging a hand through his messy hair.
A few seconds later you hear his footsteps padding down the hallway, followed by the creak of the nursery door opening. The babbling gets louder instantly, transforming into an excited squeal that makes you smile despite the tiredness.
Inside the nursery, Jungkook leans over the crib just in time for your daughter to bounce excitedly on her wobbly legs. The moment she sees him, her whole face lights up like he’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever encountered. “Good morning to you too, princess.” he laughs quietly, scooping her up before she can topple sideways. She grabs onto his shirt immediately, pressing her cheek against his shoulder like she’s already decided this is the perfect place to start the day.
When you appear in the doorway a minute later, rubbing your eyes and leaning against the frame, Jungkook glances up and smiles softly. “Someone’s in a good mood today,” he says, gently bouncing her in his arms. Your daughter turns her head toward you at the sound of your voice, letting out a happy little squeal and reaching one tiny hand in your direction.
You step closer, brushing a kiss against her warm cheek before resting your head briefly against Jungkook’s shoulder. Mornings are always chaotic now- diapers, bottles, laundry, trying to get yourselves ready for the day while keeping a tiny human entertained, but there’s something about these slow moments that makes the exhaustion easier to handle.
Jungkook hands her to you while he stretches his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to wake up properly. The moment she settles in your arms, she grabs a handful of your hair with surprising determination. “Ow, hey,” you laugh softly, gently freeing the strands from her tiny fist. Jungkook watches the whole interaction with quiet amusement before leaning forward to press a soft kiss against your lips. It’s quick and sleepy, but warm enough to make your chest feel lighter.
Breakfast ends up being the usual juggling act. You sit at the kitchen table with your daughter on your lap while Jungkook moves around the kitchen making toast and pouring coffee. She’s fascinated by everything, the clinking of dishes, the sunlight hitting the table, the way Jungkook keeps making exaggerated “wow” faces every time she bangs her spoon against the tray of her little chair. “She’s going to think that’s normal behaviour,” you warn him, trying not to laugh as he dramatically gasps at every tiny movement she makes.
“It is normal behaviour,” he argues with mock seriousness. “She’s clearly a genius.” Your daughter responds by smacking her spoon against the tray again, clearly pleased with the attention.
___
Later in the morning the apartment fills with the quiet noise of everyday life. Laundry hums in the background, the kettle whistles occasionally, and your daughter spends a surprising amount of time staring very seriously at one of her stuffed toys like she’s having an important conversation with it. You sit on the couch answering a few work emails on your laptop while Jungkook sits cross-legged on the rug with her, helping her stack colourful plastic rings in a tower that she immediately knocks over with delighted laughter. “Hey! I worked hard on that,” he protests dramatically every time she destroys it. She just squeals and claps her hands, clearly thrilled by the chaos she’s creating.
At one point, she crawls determinedly toward the couch, pulling herself up against your leg with a proud little grunt. You glance down just in time to see her wobble slightly before steadying herself. “Jungkook,” you call softly, trying not to startle her. He looks over instantly, eyes widening as he watches her standing there with your support.
For a moment neither of you moves. Your daughter looks between the two of you like she’s deciding whether this whole standing thing is worth the effort. Then she lets out a triumphant little noise and plops back down onto the carpet. Jungkook laughs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. “Did you see that?” he says, like it’s the most impressive achievement he’s ever witnessed.
___
The afternoon drifts by slowly after that, filled with small moments that seem insignificant but somehow mean everything. Your daughter naps curled against Jungkook’s chest while he sits on the couch, one hand gently rubbing slow circles on her back. You take the opportunity to finally shower and change into something comfortable, the warm water helping ease some of the tension that’s been sitting in your shoulders all week.
When you come back into the living room, you pause for a moment just watching them. Jungkook is half asleep himself, his head tilted back against the couch, your daughter breathing softly against his chest. The sight makes something warm bloom in your chest.
You sit beside him carefully so you don’t wake her, brushing your fingers lightly through his messy hair. His eyes open slowly at the touch, blinking up at you with a sleepy smile. “Hey,” he murmurs. You lean down and kiss him softly, careful not to jostle the small sleeping bundle between you. His free hand finds yours automatically, fingers intertwining without thought. For a moment the three of you sit there in comfortable silence, the quiet hum of the apartment surrounding you.
___
When evening comes again, it brings the familiar rhythm of bath time, pajamas, and the slow process of convincing your daughter that sleep is actually a good idea. Jungkook kneels beside the bathtub making ridiculous bubble beards while she splashes water everywhere with enthusiastic determination. You’re laughing so hard at one point that you have to lean against the wall to steady yourself. “You’re encouraging her,” you manage between breaths. “I’m bonding with my child,” he insists, though he’s clearly enjoying himself just as much.
By the time she’s finally clean, dry, and bundled into her soft pajamas, the apartment feels warm and peaceful again. You rock her gently in the dim nursery light while Jungkook leans against the wall nearby, watching both of you with a soft expression. Her tiny hand curls around your finger as her eyes slowly begin to close. When you finally lay her down in the crib, she barely stirs.
The two of you linger in the doorway again, just like the night before. Jungkook slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side while you both watch your daughter sleeping peacefully. After a moment, he presses a soft kiss against your temple, then another against your cheek. Your hand finds his automatically, fingers intertwining as you lean into him.
Outside the window the city continues moving, cars passing, distant voices drifting up from the street, but inside the nursery everything feels quiet and steady. And standing there together, watching your daughter sleep while Jungkook’s arm rests securely around you, it feels like the two of you have somehow created a small, safe world where love exists in the simplest things: sleepy mornings, messy afternoons, soft kisses, and the tiny sound of your daughter breathing peacefully in her crib.
___
The next few days pass in that same gentle rhythm, where time seems to blur together in a mix of ordinary moments that somehow feel important.
One afternoon, the living room is filled with warm sunlight spilling through the window, catching dust particles in the air and making everything feel softer somehow. Your daughter is sitting on the rug surrounded by toys she’s only half interested in, her tiny legs sticking straight out in front of her while she studies a stuffed bunny like it’s a complicated puzzle. You’re sitting on the couch nearby with a mug of tea that’s already gone cold, watching her while you try to finish answering a few work messages on your phone.
Across the room, Jungkook is assembling something that looks suspiciously like a baby walker, though half the pieces are still scattered across the floor around him. Every few seconds he glances up just to check what your daughter is doing, like he’s worried she might accomplish something incredible the moment he looks away.
She suddenly decides the stuffed bunny isn’t interesting enough and begins crawling across the rug toward Jungkook with determined little grunts. He notices immediately, abandoning the instruction manual and stretching his arms out toward her. “Where are you going, huh?” he says softly, his voice automatically shifting into that warm, playful tone he only uses with her. She pulls herself upright by grabbing onto his knee, wobbling slightly but refusing to let go.
You watch the interaction with quiet amusement, because moments like this happen constantly now, your daughter discovering new tiny ways to move through the world while Jungkook reacts like every single one is a historic achievement. He steadies her gently with one hand while brushing her hair away from her forehead with the other. “You’re getting stronger every day,” he murmurs.
She stares up at him with those wide, curious eyes that always seem to be trying to figure everything out. For a moment, she just studies his face like she’s memorizing it, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Jungkook smiles softly at her, clearly content to sit there forever if she wants. Then she opens her mouth like she’s about to babble the usual stream of nonsense sounds she makes throughout the day. Instead, a small, careful sound comes out.
“D…da.”
You freeze instantly on the couch, Jungkook blinks.
Your daughter looks extremely pleased with herself, repeating the sound with slightly more confidence this time. “Da…da.”
For a moment neither of you moves, the entire room falling into stunned silence like the world itself has paused. Jungkook slowly turns his head toward you, eyes wide in disbelief. “Did she-” he starts, then stops because your daughter says it again, louder this time.
“Dada!”
You burst out laughing before you can stop yourself, the sound bubbling out of you in pure disbelief. Jungkook looks like someone just told him he won the lottery and he’s still trying to process it. “No way,” he whispers, staring down at her like she’s just performed actual magic. Your daughter claps her hands together happily, apparently thrilled by the reaction she’s getting.
“Say it again,” Jungkook says softly, leaning closer to her like he’s negotiating with a tiny celebrity.
“Dada!” she squeals proudly.
You slide off the couch and join them on the rug, unable to stop smiling even though you’re shaking your head. “Wow,” you say dramatically. “Okay. So that’s how it is.” Jungkook immediately looks guilty, like he somehow cheated even though neither of you had any control over this moment. “Hey, I didn’t teach her that,” he protests weakly, though he’s clearly glowing with pride.
Your daughter looks between the two of you like she’s trying to figure out why everyone is suddenly so emotional. Jungkook scoops her into his arms, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to her cheek while she giggles loudly. “You said your first word, baby.” he tells her softly, like she understands exactly what that means. She grabs his face with both tiny hands, squishing his cheeks together while babbling happily.
You lean closer, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. “You know,” you say thoughtfully, pretending to be very serious, “statistically babies say ‘mama’ first most of the time.” Jungkook laughs under his breath, resting his forehead lightly against yours while still holding your daughter between you. “Maybe she just knows I’m her favourite,” he teases quietly.
Your daughter immediately interrupts by smacking his chin with her tiny hand.
“Okay, maybe not,” he admits.
The moment settles into something warm and playful as the three of you sit there on the rug together. Jungkook lets her hold onto his fingers while she babbles happily, occasionally attempting another proud “dada” like she’s testing how the word feels. Every time she says it, Jungkook’s entire face lights up again like it’s the first time.
Eventually he glances at you, his expression softening as he watches the way you look at her. “She’s growing up way too fast,” he murmurs quietly.
You nod a little, resting your head lightly against his shoulder while your daughter sits between you, holding both of your fingers like she’s anchoring herself there. “Yeah,” you say softly. “But we get to watch all of it.”
Jungkook turns slightly and presses a gentle kiss against your lips, warm and lingering in that quiet way that feels natural now. Your daughter immediately makes a curious little noise, staring at both of you like she’s deeply suspicious of this interaction. When you pull back, you can’t help laughing softly.
“Don’t worry,” you whisper to her, brushing her hair back gently. “You’ll understand eventually.”
She responds by proudly declaring “Dada!” one more time.
Jungkook groans in amused disbelief while you laugh again, the sound filling the warm afternoon light of the apartment. And sitting there together on the floor with your daughter between you, her tiny hands gripping both of yours like you’re the centre of her whole world, it feels like one of those moments you’ll remember forever, even years from now, when life has changed again and she’s grown into someone bigger than the small baby who just spoke her very first word.
___
After that afternoon, the word doesn’t stop echoing through the apartment.
It slips into everything, quiet moments, background noise, even the way your thoughts wander when you’re half-focused on work or laundry or trying to remember what you were supposed to do next.
Your daughter keeps testing it like it’s a toy she’s newly discovered, sitting on the rug and proudly announcing “dada!” at completely random intervals, as if she’s checking whether the world still reacts the same way each time. And every single time, without fail, it does.
Jungkook acts like he’s trying to stay calm about it. But he’s absolutely not calm about it.
He tries to pretend he is, clearing his throat, nodding seriously, acting like it’s just another normal day, but the way he looks at her every time she says it gives him away completely. It’s softer than usual, like something inside him has loosened in a way he didn’t even realise was tight. You notice it most when he thinks you’re not looking: the way he pauses for half a second longer than necessary just to watch her, the way his hand instinctively finds hers or yours like he needs to stay grounded in the moment.
___
And then one morning, the “dada” stops being the main event.
It happens quietly.
You’re in the kitchen, hair tied up messily, trying to make breakfast while your daughter sits in her highchair banging a spoon against the tray like she’s conducting an orchestra. Jungkook is beside her, half leaning against the counter, sipping coffee that’s definitely gone cold by now. The apartment is filled with soft noise, cutlery, morning light, the faint hum of life continuing.
Your daughter suddenly stops banging.
She looks at you. Properly looks at you, like she’s deciding something important.
Jungkook notices first, his voice already softening. “What is it?” he murmurs, almost to himself.
You glance up just in time to see her straighten slightly in her chair, tiny fingers curling around the edge of the tray. Her mouth opens like she’s about to babble, but she doesn’t. She just stares at you, very seriously, like she’s been thinking about this for a while.
And then, in a small, careful voice that doesn’t quite land perfectly but is unmistakably deliberate-
“Ma.”
You freeze, the spoon in your hand stops mid-air.
Jungkook goes completely still.
Your daughter waits.
Like she knows, like she’s giving the world time to understand.
“Ma,” she says again, a little clearer this time, blinking up at you like she’s proud but also slightly unsure if she did it right.
There’s a beat of silence so heavy it feels like the entire apartment is holding its breath.
Then Jungkook lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a breath of disbelief. “Oh my-” he starts, but doesn’t finish, because you’re already laughing in shock, covering your mouth with your hand as your chest tightens in that overwhelming way only moments like this can do.
“She said it,” you manage, voice breaking slightly. “She actually-”
“Yeah,” he says, staring at her like she’s just rewritten reality. “She did.”
Your daughter, very pleased with herself, claps her hands once like she’s concluded the conversation.
Then, as if she doesn’t want anyone to feel left out, she adds softly-
“Dada.”
And then looks between you both like, see? I balanced it.
That’s when Jungkook loses it properly, laughing under his breath as he leans forward, resting his forehead against the edge of the counter. “She’s diplomatic,” he says dramatically. “Already emotionally intelligent.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling so hard it hurts. “She’s one and she’s already managing both of us.”
He straightens up, walking over to you with that familiar softness in his expression, the one that always shows up when things feel too full in his chest to say properly. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, lingering for a second too long before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
“Hey,” he murmurs quietly. “You heard her too, right?”
You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”
He glances down at your daughter again, who is now very satisfied with herself and currently trying to eat the spoon instead of using it properly. “That’s… kind of everything,” he says softly.
And you understand what he means without needing more words.
___
The weeks after that feel different in small ways.
Not in anything dramatic. Life is still life, laundry still piles up, work still sends emails at the worst possible times, sleep is still something you both negotiate in fragments, but there’s a shift in the air that neither of you says out loud.
She starts saying more words.
Little ones at first. Unclear ones. Half-formed sounds that only you and Jungkook can interpret like secret codes. She calls the cat “ka,” the sun “su,” and occasionally just points at random objects and declares them with full confidence like she’s naming the world as she sees it.
But she keeps saying both.
“Ma.”
“Dada.”
Like she refuses to choose, refuses to rank love, like it all just exists equally in her small universe.
And somehow, that feels right.
___
One evening, everything slows down again.
The three of you are on the living room floor, scattered like you’ve collapsed there naturally rather than chosen it. There’s a soft film playing on the TV nobody is really watching. Your daughter is leaning against Jungkook’s chest, half asleep, her small hand curled around his sleeve like she’s holding on without thinking about it.
You’re beside them, head resting against his shoulder, fingers lightly tracing idle shapes on the blanket.
Jungkook shifts slightly, adjusting her so she’s more comfortable, and she mumbles something sleepy against him. He smiles instantly, brushing his fingers over her back in slow, calming motions.
“You tired, hm?” he whispers.
She doesn’t answer properly. Just presses closer.
He looks at you then, quietly.
There’s something in his expression that feels heavier than words. Not sadness. Not worry. Just awareness. Like he’s standing in a moment he knows he’ll want to remember exactly as it is.
“You ever think about how strange this is?” he asks softly.
You hum slightly, not opening your eyes. “What is?”
“This,” he says, gesturing faintly between all three of you. “Us. Her. This life.”
You open your eyes then, watching your daughter breathing against his chest, so small and completely safe there. And for a second you understand what he means, how strange it is that something so ordinary can feel so overwhelming.
“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “But it’s ours.”
He nods at that, like it settles something inside him.
Then he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your daughter’s head. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. After a moment, he turns and kisses you too- soft, slow, like he’s anchoring himself.
And you stay like that for a while, just the three of you.
The world outside continuing, as always, but somehow not reaching you here.
Because in the end, it isn’t about the first word, or the second, or even the way time keeps moving forward whether you’re ready or not.
It’s about this.
This small, ordinary, impossible kind of love that builds itself quietly in between mornings and mess and laughter and exhaustion.
And as your daughter shifts in her sleep, murmuring something that sounds like both “ma” and “dada” at once, you realise she’s already understood something the world is still teaching you both:
Love doesn’t have to choose where it belongs.
It just stays.
a/n: honestly felt tears in my eyes whilst writing this, they’re too cute for me. Looking for new ideas/recommendations for a series rather than a smaller fic, requests are always open! 🙂
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⤷ in which…months after everything changed, you and Jungkook learn what it really means to build a life together - sleepless nights, small apartments, quiet happiness, and a love that somehow grew stronger through it all.
a/n: hiii this is an epilogue to unplanned, unavoidable, us. as requested!! It’s only short, but I hope it satisfies everyone’s hunger for more 😛 pls let me know if you have any suggestions |
warnings: noneee (actually just a little kissing)
word count: 1.5k
READ FIRST
____________________________________________
Morning arrives slowly in your small apartment, not with the sharp alarm clocks and frantic rushing that once defined the beginning of your days, but with a gentler kind of awakening that feels softer around the edges.
Pale sunlight filters through the thin curtains, spilling warm gold across the floor and creeping gradually over the quiet mess that now fills your living room - tiny socks tossed over the arm of the couch, a stack of folded baby blankets beside the rocking chair, a half empty bottle sitting on the coffee table where someone forgot to bring it back to the kitchen in the middle of the night.
The place doesn’t look like the carefully controlled apartment you and Jungkook once tried to maintain when life felt like a delicate balancing act of work deadlines, unpaid bills, and the constant pressure of being young adults trying to figure out what stability even looked like. Now, the apartment looks lived in, full, chaotic in a way that somehow feels comforting instead of overwhelming.
You wake slowly in the bedroom, the familiar heaviness of tired muscles reminding you that sleep is still something that comes in broken pieces these days, but the sound that truly pulls you into consciousness is the quiet, rhythmic breathing coming from the bassinet beside the bed.
Your head turns automatically toward it before your brain is even fully awake, the instinct carved deep into your body now after months of midnight feedings and soft lullabies whispered in the dark. And there she is - your daughter - curled beneath a pale yellow blanket with her tiny fists tucked near her face, breathing slowly in the peaceful way only babies seem capable of.
For a moment, you just watch her, your chest tightening with the same overwhelming rush of emotion that still surprises you even now, months after she first arrived screaming and red faced into a hospital room that suddenly changed the entire direction of your lives.
Jungkook is still asleep beside you, one arm thrown loosely across the mattress where you had been lying earlier before you shifted to check on the baby. His hair is messy in the soft morning light, falling across his forehead in uneven strands, and there’s a faint crease along his cheek from where it pressed into the pillow all night.
You study his face quietly, the peaceful expression he only wears when he’s completely exhausted reminding you of how different he looks these days compared to the anxious boy who once paced your tiny bathroom while waiting for that pregnancy test to show its result. Back then everything had felt uncertain, the two pink lines on that little plastic stick had seemed almost impossible to process, like your future had suddenly been rewritten without asking for permission.
You remember the way your hands trembled when you showed Jungkook the test, the way fear wrapped tightly around your chest as your brain raced through every reason you weren’t ready for something so enormous. You had both been struggling with work, juggling unstable finances and unpredictable schedules, trying to hold yourselves together while the world around you felt constantly on the edge of tipping into chaos. A baby had never been part of the plan - not yet, not for a long time - and in those first few days after finding out, the fear had been louder than anything else.
But life, you learned very quickly, doesn’t ask whether you feel prepared before it starts moving forward.
Jungkook stirs slightly beside you as the baby shifts in the bassinet, her tiny body wriggling beneath the blanket with a soft noise that barely qualifies as a cry. His eyes open almost instantly, still heavy with sleep but immediately searching the room with quiet awareness until they land on the bassinet next to the bed.
The moment he sees her, something warm spreads across his expression in a way that still makes your chest ache with affection. He pushes himself up slowly on one elbow, leaning over the side of the bed to peer down at the tiny sleeping face like he’s checking to make sure she’s still real. “She slept almost five hours,” he murmurs softly, his voice hoarse from sleep but filled with gentle amazement.
The words make you laugh quietly because the idea of five uninterrupted hours now feels like winning the lottery. Jungkook reaches down carefully and adjusts the blanket around the baby’s shoulders, his movements slow and practiced in a way that proves how much he has learned over the past months.
Watching him like this still fills you with a strange kind of wonder. Because when you first found out you were pregnant, Jungkook had been just as terrified as you were, maybe even more. There had been nights when he sat beside you on the couch with his head buried in his hands, whispering worries about whether he would be a good father, whether he could provide enough, whether he would somehow fail the tiny person who would depend on him for everything.
Yet the moment your daughter was born, something shifted inside him so quickly it almost felt magical.
He had held her in the hospital with shaking hands, staring down at the tiny bundle wrapped in pink fabric like he was looking at the most important thing in the entire world. And from that moment forward, Jungkook never hesitated again.
He learned everything. How to swaddle her properly when she cried in the middle of the night, how to warm bottles without overheating them, how to walk slow circles around the living room at three in the morning when she refused to sleep anywhere except against his chest.
He took on fatherhood with the same quiet determination he had always shown in everything else, except now there was a softness layered into his strength that made your heart ache every time you watched him interact with her.
Jungkook glances back at you now, catching the way you’re watching him with that soft expression, and smiles before leaning down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Morning,” he murmurs.
“Hi,” you whisper back.
For a few moments, the two of you sit quietly in the soft morning light, listening to the quiet breathing of your daughter and the distant hum of the city waking up beyond your windows. And as you sit there, you find yourself thinking again about everything that happened after the pregnancy test changed your lives.
The first few months had been hard, not because you didn’t love each other, but because loving each other didn’t automatically solve the practical realities of preparing for a baby.
There were doctor appointments squeezed between work meetings, long discussions about finances spread across the kitchen table late at night, moments when fear crept back in and made you question whether you were strong enough to handle everything that was coming.
But slowly, almost quietly, things started to fall into place. Jungkook’s freelance work began gaining more traction, one client turning into three, then five, until his laptop was constantly filled with commissions and long design projects that finally started bringing in steady income.
Your own job changed too, your boss surprising you with flexibility and support you hadn’t expected when you first nervously explained your situation. And through everything, Taehyung and Jina stayed exactly where they had always been - right beside you.
They helped paint the small nursery corner of your apartment when your belly became too big to bend comfortably, they showed up with groceries and home-cooked meals on nights when exhaustion made cooking impossible, and they reminded both of you, again and again, that you weren’t doing this alone.
Jungkook lifts the baby carefully from the bassinet now, cradling her against his chest with the practiced ease of someone who has spent months learning the rhythm of her tiny body. She stirs slightly, her small fingers curling instinctively into the fabric of his shirt as he rocks gently back and forth near the bed.
You watch them with quiet amazement. A year ago you thought the pregnancy test meant the end of your carefully imagined future. Instead, It became the beginning of something far bigger than you ever expected.
Jungkook glances over at you again, his eyes warm as he sways slowly with the baby in his arms. “You know” he starts thoughtfully, “I used to think our lives were falling apart when we found out about her.”
You tilt your head. “And now?”
He smiles softly. “Now it kind of feels like everything finally started making sense.”
The baby makes a small sleepy noise against his chest, and suddenly the apartment - small, cluttered, filled with tiny socks and quiet laughter and the steady warmth of the life you’ve built together - feels like the safest place in the world. Because the future that once terrified you has slowly transformed into something else entirely. Not perfect, not easy, but full of love in ways you never imagined possible.
As Jungkook presses a soft kiss against your daughter’s head before leaning down to kiss you too, you realize something quietly wonderful about the life you almost feared. It didn’t ruin your plans, it simply gave you better ones.
⤷ in which…when you fall sick, your beloved boyfriend Jungkook stays by your side as caretaker, but your symptoms turn out to be something neither of you expected - you’re pregnant. What follows is fear, uncertainty, and two people trying to navigate an unplanned future together while holding on to each other.
pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x sick!reader
genre: slice of life | unwanted pregnancy | established relationship |
warnings: mentions of pregnancy | mentions of throwing up + fainting | little angst | kissing |
word count: 12.4k
a/n: this is just a little something I had sitting in my drafts from a while ago, been kind of busy so I’m not planning to release the first chapter of my series until next week maybe : < thank you so so much for all the likes on my recent posts and 163 followers!!! I hope you guys enjoy ☺️ requests are always open
EPILOGUE !!
____________________________________________
You wake slowly, like you’re being pulled up from deep water by a rope that keeps slipping through your fingers. Your head feels heavy, stuffed with cotton and heat, and every time you try to focus your eyes on the ceiling above you, the world tilts faintly as if the room itself is breathing.
The blanket tangled around your legs feels too warm, yet the air against your skin sends chills racing down your arms, and it takes a moment for you to realize that your entire body aches in that dull, stubborn way that makes even turning your head feel like an effort.
You vaguely remember falling asleep in the middle of an unfinished email, the glow of your laptop fading somewhere beside you while Jungkook told you for the fifth time that you needed to rest.
You remember brushing him off because there were deadlines and meetings and responsibilities that didn’t care if you were tired. But now your throat burns when you swallow, your limbs feel like they belong to someone else, and the quiet apartment around you feels too still for the frantic pace your life has been moving at for months.
Somewhere in the kitchen, a cupboard door shuts softly. The sound floats through the apartment in that careful way that tells you someone is trying not to wake you, and you already know who it is before you hear the kettle click on.
Jungkook has always been like that when he’s worried - gentle, deliberate, moving through the space like every noise might disturb something fragile.
Even half asleep and feverish, you recognize the rhythm of his presence. The way he hums under his breath when he’s thinking, the way the floor creaks once near the fridge because he always steps on the same board.
You want to call out to him, but your voice feels stuck somewhere behind the ache in your chest, so you settle for pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders and closing your eyes again, hoping that maybe if you rest long enough your body will reset itself and you can pretend none of this happened.
But the bedroom door ends up opening few minutes later anyway.
The hinge gives its usual quiet creak, and warm light spills into the dim room before soft footsteps approach the bed. The mattress dips as Jungkook sits down beside you, and even before his hand touches your forehead, you can feel the warmth of him - solid, steady, and familiar in a way that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his palm presses gently against your skin, and the contrast between the coolness of his fingers and the heat in your body makes you flinch slightly. You force your eyes open, blinking up at him through the haze of the fever, and his face immediately tightens with concern.
“You’re still really hot,” he says quietly.
You try to smile. “I told you it’s just a cold.”
But Jungkook hasn’t slept properly since three in the morning. He noticed something was wrong long before you admitted it. It started with the way you rubbed your temples during dinner last night, then the way your voice sounded rough when you tried to laugh at something he said.
You kept insisting you were fine, brushing him off with tired little smiles that didn’t reach your eyes, and he tried to let it go because he knows how much you hate being fussed over. But when he woke up in the middle of the night and found you sitting in the living room with your laptop, wrapped in a blanket and shivering while sweat dampened the back of your neck, something in his chest tightened in that familiar, helpless way that always happens when you push yourself too far.
Now, sitting beside you on the bed, he studies your face with a quiet intensity that makes his chest ache.
Your cheeks are flushed with fever, your hair sticking messily to your forehead, and the dark circles under your eyes look worse than they did yesterday. You look exhausted in a way that goes deeper than just being sick, like the last few months have been draining something out of you little by little.
He knows why. He knows the pressure you’ve been under at work, the way your boss keeps dangling the possibility of a promotion while piling more responsibility onto your shoulders. He knows about the rent increase the landlord mentioned last week, the savings account that never seems to grow fast enough, the quiet late night conversations the two of you have had about whether you should move somewhere cheaper or somehow make this work.
You’re carrying too much, and Jungkook hates that he can’t take more of it from you.
He brushes your hair away from your forehead again, slower this time. “You’ve been saying that for hours,” he says softly.
Your groan is weak but stubborn. “Because it’s true.”
The truth is, you hate the way he looks at you when you’re sick. Not because it’s annoying or overbearing - Jungkook has never been the type to smother you - but because there’s something painfully gentle in his eyes that makes you feel fragile in a way you’re not used to.
You’ve spent most of your life being the reliable one, the person who keeps moving even when things get difficult, the one who doesn’t stop just because your body wants to. Being forced to lie here while someone else takes care of you feels strange and uncomfortable, like wearing clothes that don’t quite fit.
Yet Jungkook just sighs softly beside you. You feel his hand slide down from your forehead to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek as if he’s checking to make sure you’re still real. The touch is so gentle it almost hurts.
“You should’ve told me earlier,” he murmurs.
You want to roll your eyes, but you know that’d be unreasonable. “I did tell you.”
“No,” he says quietly. “You said you were fine.”
The difference between those two things hangs in the air, and you don’t answer right away. Instead you close your eyes again, leaning slightly into his palm before you can stop yourself, because even through the fever and the exhaustion there’s something incredibly comforting about the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.
“You have work today,” you mumble eventually.
“I called in.”
Your eyes snap open. “You what?”
Jungkook had expected that reaction. Your eyebrows knit together in immediate concern, the fever momentarily forgotten as you push yourself halfway upright in the bed. The movement clearly costs you more energy than you expected because you sway slightly, and Jungkook instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hands settling around your shoulders.
“Easy,” he murmurs.
“You can’t just call in,” you insist hoarsely, even though your voice cracks halfway through the sentence. “You already took time off last month when the cafe was short staffed.”
At the moment, Jungkook is sort of in-between jobs. He mainly does freelance graphic design, but he’s not been receiving many requests lately, resulting in him having to get a job at the cafe nearby.
“That’s exactly why I can call in,” Jungkook replies calmly. “Minho owes me like five shifts.”
“But still-”
“y/n.” Your name leaves his mouth in that gentle but firm tone he rarely uses, the one that instantly makes you pause.
He studies your face for a moment before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The contact lingers longer than usual, his lips warm against your overheated skin.
“You’re sick,” he says quietly. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
The simple certainty in his voice makes your chest tighten unexpectedly, and you don’t realize how emotional you feel until your eyes start burning.
It’s embarrassing, honestly. You’re a grown woman with a mild fever, not someone who needs to cry about it. But the last few weeks have been relentless - late nights, endless expectations, the creeping fear that you’re somehow falling behind everyone else your age who seems to have their lives figured out.
Some of your friends are buying houses, some are getting married, some are already talking about kids.
Meanwhile you and Jungkook are still arguing about rent, still calculating grocery budgets, still wondering whether the future will ever stop feeling like something slightly out of reach.
So when he presses that gentle kiss to your forehead and tells you he’s staying, something inside you cracks just enough for the tears to spill over. You turn your face into the pillow quickly.
“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs softly, trying to hide the immediate panic as he tries to figure out if he’s said something wrong.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
“I said I’m fine.” Your voice sounds small even to your own ears.
A moment later you feel the bed shift again as Jungkook moves closer, his arms wrapping carefully around you from behind. He pulls you against his chest, one hand resting lightly over your stomach while the other rubs slow circles along your arm.
“You don’t have to be fine all the time,” he whispers, and somehow that only makes everything worse.
___
Jungkook hates seeing you like this.
Not because your vulnerability makes him uncomfortable - if anything, it makes him want to hold you even closer - but because he knows exactly how hard it is for you to let your guard down.
You’ve always been the strong one, the planner, the person who keeps things moving when life gets messy. Even when things were difficult between the two of you last year, when money was tight and stress turned small disagreements into bigger ones, you were the one who kept saying you’d figure it out.
But lately he’s been noticing the cracks, the late nights, the headaches, the way you stare at your laptop sometimes like it’s personally betraying you. So when your shoulders start shaking softly against his chest, Jungkook tightens his arms around you without hesitation. He presses another kiss into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo and something warm that always reminds him of home.
“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs.
“I’m just sick.”
“You’re both.”
You really can’t argue this time.
Outside the apartment, footsteps echo faintly in the hallway, followed by the familiar sound of laughter from the unit next door. Jungkook glances toward the wall automatically.
“Sounds like Taehyung and Jina are up,” he says quietly.
Taehyung and Jina are the couple who live in the apartment two doors down from you. The first night you two moved in, they had accidentally got the wrong door and tried to stumble in drunk, causing you and Jungkook to literally shit yourselves as you thought someone was trying to break in and fumble with the lock.
The next morning, however, a way more sobered up Jina and Taehyung came to your door with an apology and two bottles of wine, promising you it would never happen again and making them your best friends forever.
Almost as if on cue, a loud knock suddenly echoes through the apartment door, followed by Taehyung’s unmistakable voice shouting from the hallway: “Jungkook! Tell Jina you took the coffee she bought last week!”
Jungkook closes his eyes, and you let out a weak laugh against his chest. Somehow, despite the fever burning through your body and the endless list of problems waiting outside this small apartment, the moment feels just a little bit lighter.
The knock on the door echoes again, louder this time, followed by the sound of someone leaning dramatically against the hallway wall outside. You can practically picture the scene without moving - Taehyung slouched with exaggerated patience while Jina stands next to him with her arms crossed, pretending she’s not amused by his theatrics.
The two of them have been your neighbors for almost a year now, close enough that your lives have quietly woven together in ways that feel more like family than friendship.
You hear Jungkook sigh softly, the kind of long suffering sigh that says he loves his friends but also knows they have the worst possible timing in the universe. His arms loosen around you as he carefully helps you settle back against the pillows, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders like you’re made of glass.
The small domestic tenderness of the movement makes something warm spread through your chest despite the fever, and when he leans down to press another lingering kiss against your temple, his lips stay there for a moment longer than necessary, like he’s silently checking that you’re still here.
“You stay here,” he murmurs quietly, brushing your hair away from your face again. “I’ll deal with them before Taehyung breaks the door down.”
You try to protest automatically, because the idea of Jungkook playing caretaker while you lie here uselessly still doesn’t sit comfortably with you, but your voice comes out weaker than expected and dissolves into a tired cough halfway through the sentence. Jungkook’s expression shifts immediately, concern flashing across his face so quickly it almost startles you.
“Okay, that’s it,” he says gently but firmly, pulling the blanket higher around you as if that will somehow contain the illness. “You’re not moving from this bed for at least a few hours. I’m making soup, tea, probably forcing you to take medicine you’ll complain about, and if you try to work today I will physically hide your laptop.”
“That’s emotional blackmail,” you mutter.
“It’s survival strategy.”
You roll your eyes weakly, but the truth is you don’t have the energy to argue. Jungkook smiles faintly when he sees your resistance fade, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek before standing up.
From the hallway, Taehyung knocks again.
“Hello? Jungkook? I know you’re in there. I thought it was rude to keep someone waiting outside?”
Jungkook groans under his breath, then opens the apartment door to find exactly what he expected.
Taehyung is leaning sideways against the wall with the casual elegance of someone who somehow manages to look like a model even while wearing mismatched socks and an oversized hoodie, while Jina stands beside him holding two mugs of coffee and watching him with the patient amusement of someone who has been dating him long enough to know this behavior is permanent.
The moment Jungkook opens the door, Taehyung straightens up with exaggerated excitement.
“Finally!” he exclaims. “I thought you were ignoring me.”
“You’re knocking like a police officer.” Jungkook mutters.
“I knock with passion.”
“No, you knock like you’re trying to arrest someone.”
Jina snorts quietly beside him, lifting one of the mugs in greeting. “Morning,” she says warmly. “We brought coffee because Taehyung drank the last of ours and tried to blame the empty jar on you.”
“I was framed.” Taehyung says immediately.
“You were caught holding the jar.”
“It was circumstantial evidence.”
Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaustion tugging at his patience. Normally he would laugh and let the moment stretch into one of those easy morning conversations that often end with the four of you sitting around the kitchen table for hours, but today the worry sitting heavy in his chest refuses to loosen.
“y/n’s sick,” he says quietly.
The mood changes instantly. Taehyung’s expression shifts from playful to concerned, and Jina’s eyebrows knit together in immediate worry.“How sick?” she asks.
“Fever.” Jungkook replies. “She’s been pushing herself too hard again.”
Taehyung exhales slowly. “That girl is going to work herself into the hospital one day.”
“Don’t say that.” he mutters.
___
You hear the murmur of voices from the hallway and instinctively strain to listen, though the fever fuzzes the edges of everything and makes the words blur together. Still, you catch enough to know what’s happening: Taehyung’s concerned tone, Jina asking questions, Jungkook explaining in that quiet voice he uses when he’s trying not to worry anyone else and reassure himself.
A small part of you feels guilty knowing they’re all out there discussing you like some fragile situation that needs to be managed. You hate being the center of concern, you hate feeling like the weak link in a life that already feels precarious. But another part of you - the tired, aching part that’s been quietly begging for rest - feels oddly comforted by it.
Your eyes drift toward the bedroom door just as footsteps approach again, and a moment later Jungkook returns with Taehyung and Jina following behind him.
Jina’s expression softens immediately when she sees you curled up in the bed. “Oh honey,” she murmurs, setting the coffee mugs down on your bedside table before sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress. “You look miserable.”
“That’s a strong word,” you croak.
“You have the complexion of a tomato.”
“That’s slightly less flattering.”
Taehyung leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he studies you with theatrical seriousness. “I diagnose you with terrible decision making and chronic overworking.”
“You’re not a doctor,” you mumble.
“I have intuition.”
“You once tried to fix a toaster with a butter knife.”
Taehyung’s eyes narrow. Even at 26, it’s like talking to an immature frat boy. “That toaster was disrespecting me.”
Jungkook watches the interaction with quiet relief. The room feels lighter already, Jina’s calm presence has always had that effect- she brings warmth with her in a way that settles everyone around her, while Taehyung fills the space with chaotic humor that somehow makes even stressful situations feel manageable.
They’ve been like this ever since the four of you became friends: a strange little support system built out of shared dinners, borrowed sugar, late-night conversations about life that stretch into the early morning hours.
Still, Jungkook can’t quite shake the tension in his chest. He moves to sit beside you again, his hand automatically finding yours beneath the blanket. Your fingers are warm - too warm - and he squeezes them gently while watching Jina press the back of her hand against your forehead.
“Yeah.” she says after a moment. “That’s definitely a fever.”
“See?” Jungkook mutters.
You groan quietly. “Everyone’s acting like I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying,” Taehyung says casually. A pause. “Probably.”
“Taehyung,” Jina warns.
“I’m being supportive!”
Jungkook just sighs, you try to laugh, but the effort makes your head spin. The room tilts slightly, forcing you to close your eyes again as a wave of dizziness washes over you. Immediately, you feel Jungkook’s hand tighten around yours.“Hey.” he murmurs softly.
“I’m okay.” you whisper.
“You’re not okay.”
“Semantics.”
His thumb begins tracing slow circles across the back of your hand, a small repetitive motion that somehow steadies you more than the medicine probably would. When you open your eyes again, Jungkook is watching you with that same quiet intensity that always makes your chest ache. “You need to rest,” he says gently.
“I need to send three emails and finish a report.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I can do both.”
“No you can’t.” The stubbornness in his voice makes Taehyung chuckle softly from the doorway.
“Wow,” he says. “Look at you two arguing like a married couple at nine in the morning.”
Jina elbows him. “She’s literally sick.”
“Emotionally sick from capitalism.”
“That’s not helpful, Taehyung.”
You close your eyes again, exhaustion pulling at you like gravity. Jungkook watches you slowly drift toward sleep again, your breathing evening out as the conversation around you fades into the background. The tension in your face softens slightly, and he brushes his thumb gently across your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand.
He’s scared.
Not in a dramatic way, not in the kind of panic that makes people act irrationally, but in the quiet, persistent way that lingers beneath every thought. The last year hasn’t been easy for either of you. Money problems, unstable jobs, the constant pressure of trying to build a life when it feels like the ground keeps shifting under your feet.
Some nights he lies awake wondering whether he’s doing enough, whether he’s strong enough to carry the weight of the future you both keep trying to imagine. And now you’re sick. Maybe it’s just exhaustion, maybe it’s just stress, but the sight of you curled up in bed like this makes something protective rise in his chest with fierce determination.
He leans down and presses another soft kiss against your hair. “You’re going to be okay.” he whispers quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Across the room, Taehyung and Jina exchange a small glance. Because even they can feel it - the strange, uncertain tension hovering quietly in the background of this ordinary morning. And none of them know yet that this fever is only the beginning.
___
You wake again sometime later, though the concept of time feels strange and slippery, like trying to hold water in your hands. The light in the room has shifted slightly, warmer and brighter than before, which means at least an hour or two must have passed.
Your body still feels heavy and warm, the fever sitting beneath your skin like a low burning fire, but the pounding in your head has softened enough that you can think a little more clearly.
The first thing you notice is the quiet clinking sound coming from the kitchen, followed by the soft murmur of voices drifting down the hallway. Taehyung’s voice rises occasionally in dramatic bursts while Jina shushes him, and somewhere in between you hear Jungkook’s lower tone responding patiently.
The smell of something warm and savory begins to creep into the bedroom - broth, garlic, maybe ginger - and it makes your stomach twist in a strange, uncomfortable way that you can’t quite explain. Hunger and nausea seem to exist at the same time inside you, confusing and unpleasant, and you press the back of your hand against your mouth for a moment while breathing slowly through your nose.
The bedroom door opens a few seconds later, Jungkook steps inside carrying a steaming bowl carefully balanced in both hands, and the moment he notices you’re awake his entire expression softens into something gentle and relieved. He moves toward the bed quietly, setting the bowl on the bedside table before sitting down beside you like he’s approaching a frightened animal. “Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey,” you mumble back, your voice still thick with sleep and illness.
“How are you feeling?”
You think about the question for a moment, scanning your body for an honest answer. Everything aches faintly, your throat is still a little sore, and the strange nausea twisting through your stomach hasn’t fully settled. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you admit.
Jungkook nods slowly. “That tracks.” He had expected the fever, but what he hadn’t expected was the way his chest tightens every time you move even slightly, as if your discomfort is something he can physically feel inside himself.
While you were sleeping, he made soup in the kitchen with Jina hovering nearby offering practical advice while Taehyung sat at the table dramatically googling symptoms and reading them aloud like a medical thriller narrator.
Jungkook tried to ignore him, but every once in a while one of the symptoms would sound vaguely accurate and he’d feel a flicker of worry ignite again in his chest. He knows it’s probably nothing serious. People get sick, people get fevers, stress alone can knock someone down for a few days. Still, when you sit up slowly in the bed now, Jungkook instinctively slides one arm behind your back to help support you. “Careful,” he murmurs.
“I’m not made of glass,” you say weakly.
“You’re currently made of fever and stubbornness.”
“That’s just my natural state.”
He smiles faintly at that, adjusting the pillow behind you before picking up the bowl again.“Soup,” he announces.
You look at it with suspicion, and the smell of it hits you immediately. At first it’s comforting - the warm scent of broth and vegetables, something simple and familiar - but then your stomach flips sharply in protest, and suddenly the smell feels overwhelming. You swallow hard, pressing your lips together as a wave of nausea rises unexpectedly in your chest.
Jungkook notices instantly, his eyebrows knit together as he watches your expression change. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” you say quickly.
“You just looked like the soup personally offended you.”
“I’m just not that hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Your stomach chooses that exact moment to twist again. You close your eyes briefly.
“Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, setting the bowl back down. “That’s not normal.”
“It’s just the fever.”
“You look nauseous.”
“I’m sick, Jungkook. Nausea is part of the job description.”
From the doorway, Taehyung leans in dramatically. “Have we considered alien parasites yet?”
“Taehyung,” Jina says flatly from the hallway.
“I’m brainstorming.”
Jungkook just ignores him completely. His focus is entirely on you, watching every tiny movement in your face like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. He reaches out carefully, brushing his fingers along your jaw before tilting your chin slightly upward so he can study your eyes. “You’re pale,” he murmurs.
“I’m literally burning up.”
“You’re pale and burning up.”
“That sounds impressive.”
“y/n.” Your name comes out softer this time, threaded with quiet worry.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room settles into a strange silence where the only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall and Taehyung whisper arguing with Jina about something in the kitchen. Then Jungkook sighs. “You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard lately,” he says quietly.
“That’s not new.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
You lean back against the pillows, exhaustion tugging at your body again. “You think I don’t know that?” you whisper.
You hate this conversation. Not because Jungkook is wrong - he isn’t - but because acknowledging it out loud makes everything feel heavier somehow.
The truth is that the last few months have been exhausting in ways that go deeper than physical tiredness. Your job keeps asking for more and more while offering nothing certain in return, your savings account never seems to grow fast enough, and every conversation about the future feels like standing at the edge of a foggy road where you can’t quite see what’s coming next.
Jungkook has his own worries too, you know that. The café where he works barely covers his expenses, and though he never complains openly, you’ve seen the tension in his shoulders when bills arrive or when his manager mentions cutting hours again.
The two of you keep trying to reassure each other that things will get better eventually, but sometimes “eventually” feels very far away.
You glance up at him now, noticing the faint dark circles under his eyes. “You should’ve gone to work,” you say quietly.
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
“You can’t keep missing shifts because of me.”
“Stop,” he says immediately, voice calm but firm. “First of all,” he says slowly, “I didn’t miss work because of you. I chose to stay home because my girlfriend is sick and clearly exhausted and probably would’ve tried to work herself into another fever if I wasn’t here.”
“I would not.”
“You absolutely would.”
“That’s speculation.”
“That’s experience.”
Taehyung’s voice floats in from the hallway. “He’s right, y/n, you need to listen.”
“Stay out of this,” you call weakly.
“I’m emotionally invested.”
Jina laughs quietly somewhere behind him, and Jungkook shakes his head but there’s a small smile tugging at his mouth now. Then he looks back at you, and the humor fades into something softer.
“You take care of everyone else all the time,” he says gently. “Let someone take care of you for once.”
His words settle somewhere deep in your chest. Before you can respond, another wave of nausea hits suddenly and unexpectedly, stronger than before. You clamp a hand over your mouth, leaning forward slightly as your stomach twists violently.
Jungkook reacts instantly. “Whoa - hey -” He’s beside you immediately, one arm around your shoulders while the other grabs the trash can from beside the desk and pulls it toward the bed. “Breathe,” he murmurs softly.
You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his voice and the steady warmth of his hand rubbing slow circles along your back. After a few tense seconds the nausea passes, and you sag back against him weakly. “That was…unpleasant.” you mumble.
Jungkook’s hand stills. “y/n.” he says slowly.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t usually get nauseous when you’re sick.”
You blink, for a moment neither of you says anything. Then Taehyung’s voice drifts in again from the hallway. “You know what else causes nausea?”
“Taehyung,” Jina says sharply.
But the word hangs quietly in the air anyway. Pregnancy.
For a few seconds after Taehyung’s comment, the entire apartment seems to fall into a strange kind of silence, the kind where no one wants to acknowledge what was just said but everyone heard it clearly.
You remain sitting on the edge of the bed, Jungkook’s arm still wrapped firmly around your shoulders while his other hand continues rubbing slow, grounding circles along your back. Your stomach has settled slightly, but the lingering nausea leaves a sour taste in your mouth and a foggy uneasiness in your mind.
The word hangs there -pregnancy- uninvited and almost ridiculous considering everything else happening in your life right now.
You and Jungkook barely have the time or stability to manage rent and groceries some months, let alone even imagine a child. The idea feels so far outside the realm of possibility that your brain almost rejects it instantly, pushing it away like an intrusive thought that doesn’t belong here.
Still, the quiet tension in the room makes your chest tighten slightly, and when you glance up at Jungkook you notice that he’s gone unusually still, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor like he’s trying very carefully not to react too quickly.
Taehyung clears his throat from the hallway.“Okay,” he says after a moment, his tone suddenly awkward in a way that’s rare for him. “That sounded a lot less dramatic in my head.”
“You think?” Jina mutters.
“I was trying to be helpful.”
“You are physically incapable of subtlety.”
Jungkook exhales slowly, he hadn’t meant to react. But the moment the word was spoken, his brain immediately began connecting pieces in a way he didn’t want it to. The nausea. The exhaustion you’ve been dealing with for weeks. The strange smell sensitivity when he cooked eggs two mornings ago and you complained the scent was “aggressively offensive.”
At the time he assumed it was stress, or maybe the beginning of the cold you’re dealing with now, but suddenly those memories rearrange themselves in his mind into a pattern he doesn’t fully understand yet, and the thought makes his chest tighten in a strange, unfamiliar way. Still, he refuses to jump to conclusions.
You’re already overwhelmed, the last thing you need right now is unnecessary panic about something that might not even be true. So Jungkook simply shifts slightly closer to you, tightening his arm around your shoulders in a quiet protective gesture before pressing a gentle kiss against your hair.
“Taehyung,” he says calmly, “maybe don’t play medical detective right now.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You googled symptoms whilst eating our cereal.”
“That’s how modern medicine works.”
Jina sighs loudly from the hallway. “Taehyung, come help me in the kitchen before you diagnose someone with space rabies.”
“That’s a real concern.”
Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, you lean your head back against his chest, letting the steady warmth of his body anchor you while your thoughts try to settle. His arm remains wrapped securely around you, his fingers occasionally brushing lightly against your arm or your shoulder in those small unconscious touches that he always does when he’s worried. The intimacy of it feels grounding, even comforting, but the word from earlier keeps echoing faintly in your mind no matter how hard you try to ignore it.
Pregnant.
It feels impossible.
You and Jungkook have talked about the future before - late at night, lying in bed with the lights off while the city hums quietly outside the windows - but those conversations always felt distant and hypothetical. Kids were something that belonged in a version of your life where finances were stable, careers were settled, and neither of you were constantly calculating grocery budgets or worrying about rent increases.
That version of life doesn’t exist yet.
Your stomach flips again slightly, though this time the nausea is milder, more like a lingering uneasiness than a full wave.
Jungkook notices immediately. “You okay?” he murmurs softly.
“Yeah” you whisper.
“You sure?”
“Just…tired.”
He presses another soft kiss against your temple. “I know you are.” Jungkook gently guides you back down onto the bed a few minutes later, adjusting the pillows carefully until you’re lying comfortably against them while he pulls the blanket up to your chest again.
The caretaker instinct in him has fully taken over now, and every movement he makes is careful and attentive, like he’s trying to anticipate your needs before you even voice them. He grabs the bowl of soup again, stirring it lightly before holding it out toward you with patient determination.
“Try a few bites,” he says softly. “If it still makes you nauseous we’ll stop.”
You look at the bowl skeptically. “If I throw up again I’m blaming you.”
“That’s fair.” He lifts the spoon toward you, waiting patiently until you reluctantly open your mouth. The soup is warm and mild, the flavor gentle enough that your stomach doesn’t immediately protest this time. You swallow slowly, surprised that it actually feels somewhat comforting.
“Okay,” you admit quietly after a moment. “That’s…not terrible.”
Jungkook smiles faintly. “I’ll add that to my resume.”
“You burned ramen last week.”
“That was a structural failure of the pot.”
You manage a weak laugh, and the sound seems to visibly relax something in his shoulders. He feeds you another spoonful.
___
In the kitchen, Taehyung whispers loudly.
“Do you think they heard us?”
“Yes.” Jina whispers back.
“Do you think I ruined everything?”
“You didn’t ruin anything, but maybe don’t shout pregnancy theories across the apartment next time.”
“I said I was brainstorming.”
“You brainstorm like a thunderstorm.”
Taehyung sighs dramatically. “I’m just worried about them.”
Jina softens slightly. “I know.”
“They’ve been stressed for months.”
“I know.”
“And if something like that actually happened-”
“Then they’d figure it out.” she says gently.
Taehyung nods slowly.
___
Back in the bedroom, the soup bowl is half empty now. You feel a little better - still feverish, still exhausted, but the warmth in your stomach helps ease some of the dizziness that was lingering earlier.
Jungkook sets the bowl aside and wipes your mouth gently with a napkin like it’s the most natural thing in the world, the tenderness of the gesture making your chest ache in a soft, complicated way.
“You’re really going all out with the nurse routine.” you murmur.
“You deserve it, babe.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Not to me.”
Your eyes meet his, for a moment neither of you says anything, then you sigh quietly. “Jungkook.” you whisper.
“Yeah?”
“What if we never catch up?”
His eyebrows knit together slightly as he tries to figure out what you mean.
“With life” you clarify. “With everything we’re supposed to have figured out by now.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, then he reaches out and gently takes your hand. Jungkook squeezes your fingers softly, his thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles while he looks at you with that same steady expression he always has when conversations turn serious. “You know something?” he says quietly.
“What?”
“I don’t think anyone actually has it figured out.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“But it’s honest.”
You stare at him.
He leans forward slightly, resting his forehead gently against yours. “I know things feel messy right now,” he murmurs. “Money’s tight, work is stressful, the future feels like a giant question mark. But we’re still here, we’re still trying, and as long as we’re doing that together, I’m not really that scared.”
His words settle warmly in your chest, then he presses a soft lingering kiss against your lips. It’s gentle and slow, more comfort than passion, but it makes your entire body relax slightly. When he pulls away, his hand comes up to brush your hair behind your ear. “I’m here, I’m always here.” he whispers.
___
The quiet calm that settles over the bedroom after that kiss feels fragile in the best way, like a moment suspended gently between everything that has already gone wrong and everything that might still be uncertain ahead.
You’re still warm from the fever and heavy with exhaustion, but lying there with Jungkook so close makes the weight of it all easier to carry somehow. His hand hasn’t left yours since the conversation ended, and the small repetitive motion of his thumb tracing slow circles along your knuckles has become almost hypnotic, grounding you in a way that no amount of sleep or medicine has managed to do yet.
Your head is resting lightly against his shoulder now, the steady rise and fall of his breathing creating a quiet rhythm beneath your cheek that makes you feel strangely safe despite the dizziness that still lingers faintly at the edges of your senses. For a moment you allow yourself to exist in that softness without thinking about work emails, rent payments, or the uncomfortable word that was dropped into the room earlier like a stone into still water.
Jungkook shifts slightly beside you. “Come here,” he murmurs quietly, sliding one arm around your shoulders and gently guiding you closer until your body is tucked fully against his chest.
“I’m already here” you mumble.
“You’re halfway here.”
“That’s the best you’re getting.”
“No it isn’t.” Before you can protest further, he carefully lifts you, one arm under your knees and the other around your back in a slow, deliberate motion that makes you gasp softly in surprise.
“Jungkook!”
“You’re burning up and dizzy,” he says calmly as he stands. “The bed feels too stuffy, we’re relocating.”
___
Jungkook carries you out of the bedroom and into the living room with the same careful focus he might use when carrying something fragile and irreplaceable. You’re not particularly heavy, but he still moves slowly, mindful of the way your arms instinctively wrap around his neck for balance and the way your forehead presses weakly against his shoulder as another small wave of dizziness passes through you.
Taehyung and Jina look up from the kitchen table when he enters the room, and both of them immediately go quiet when they see the way Jungkook is holding you. “Whoa,” Taehyung says softly. “Emergency princess transport.”
“Shut up,” Jungkook mutters.
Jina stands quickly, pushing the coffee mugs aside. “Is she okay?”
“She’s just really dizzy,” Jungkook replies.
You lift your head slightly. “I’m literally right here, you know.”
“Yes,” Taehyung says solemnly. “But you look like someone who might pass out at any moment.”
“That’s very reassuring.”
Jungkook gently lowers himself onto the couch, settling you carefully against his chest again before pulling a blanket from the armrest and draping it over your legs with quiet precision.“There,” he murmurs.
You sink into the couch cushions with a quiet sigh, letting your head rest against Jungkook’s shoulder while his arm stays wrapped securely around you. The living room feels cooler than the bedroom, and the faint breeze from the slightly open window brushes softly against your overheated skin in a way that feels immediately relieving.
Jungkook’s hand moves up to your hair again, absentmindedly brushing gentle strokes through it while his other arm stays firmly around your waist as if he’s making absolutely sure you don’t slide off the couch or drift away somehow.
“You’re doing a lot,” you mumble weakly.
“I’m just doing the bare minimum.”
“The bare minimum does not include carrying someone across the apartment like a Victorian husband.”
“I would absolutely be a Victorian husband.”
“You’d get into duels.”
“For honor.”
“You’d duel the landlord.”
“Honestly that’s still an option.”
Taehyung snorts loudly from the table. “I would pay money to watch Jungkook challenge someone to a duel over rent prices.”
Jina just rolls her eyes. “Please don’t encourage him.”
Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he focuses on the subtle details of how you’re feeling in his arms. Your skin still feels warmer than normal, though the fever seems slightly lower now, and every few minutes he notices you shifting uncomfortably like your body still hasn’t fully decided whether it wants to sleep or stay awake.
When you suddenly wrinkle your nose and press your face deeper into his shoulder, Jungkook glances down in confusion. “What?” he asks softly.
“Does something smell weird in here?” you mumble.
Taehyung looks around the room. “It smells like soup.”
“No,” you say, frowning slightly. “Something else.”
Jina lifts her sleeve cautiously and sniffs it.“It’s not me.”
Jungkook smells the air too, confused. “It just smells normal.”
You groan quietly, pressing your forehead against his chest. “Everything smells too strong.”
Taehyung’s eyes flick briefly toward Jina, she notices, but neither of them says anything.
___
A few minutes later, the dizziness returns suddenly. You’re in the middle of responding to something Taehyung said when the room shifts sharply around you, the edges of your vision blurring for a moment as a heavy wave of lightheadedness rolls through your body.
Your hand grips the front of his shirt weakly as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
The room moves very quickly then. Jina stands, Taehyung pushes his chair back. Jungkook tightens his arms around you, pulling you fully against his chest while lowering his voice into the calm, steady tone he uses when he’s trying not to panic. “Okay,” he murmurs gently. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
Your head drops against his shoulder, Jungkook presses a soft kiss against your hair once he feels your breathing stabilize. “You scared me,” he whispers quietly.
“I’m okay,” you mumble weakly.
“You almost fainted.”
“I didn’t faint.”
“You almost fainted.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s really not.” Taehyung interjects, he leans back slightly to look at you properly, his brows furrowed in concern. “y/n…when was your last proper meal?”
You blink slowly. “…lunch…yesterday..?”
Taehyung stares. “That’s illegal.”
“I had coffee.”
“That’s not food,” Jina says gently.
Jungkook just sighs, pulling you closer again, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rests protectively across your stomach without him even realizing it. His thumb begins tracing slow soothing patterns against your side while he presses another lingering kiss to your forehead. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs. “And dramatic.” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re exhausted and dramatic.”
“That’s my brand.”
His lips brush lightly across your temple again, then your cheek. “You need rest,” he whispers. “And maybe…not ignoring your health for two moments straight.”
All you can do is groan quietly.
Yet the thought of you possibly being pregnant has been quietly forming in the back of Jungkook’s mind all morning. Now, it returns again, stronger this time, and he instinctively tightens his arm around you slightly. Not in panic, just awareness, and the strange feeling that something bigger than a simple fever might be unfolding slowly inside this small apartment.
___
The afternoon slowly melts into evening without anyone really noticing when it happens. The light through the living room windows shifts gradually from bright gold to soft amber, stretching long shadows across the apartment floor while the quiet hum of the city outside begins to settle into the slower rhythm of nighttime.
You’ve barely moved from the couch since Jungkook carried you there earlier, though the position has changed several times throughout the day as your body alternates between restless discomfort and heavy exhaustion.
Right now, you’re curled almost entirely in Jungkook’s lap, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist while your head rests beneath his chin, your cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. The blanket still covers both of you, tangled around your legs and tucked carefully around your shoulders because Jungkook keeps adjusting it every time he thinks you might be getting cold.
His hand moves slowly through your hair in the same soothing motion he’s been repeating for hours, his fingers occasionally pausing to brush your forehead or trace gentle circles along your temple whenever your breathing changes slightly.
The quiet intimacy of it feels almost surreal, like the world outside the apartment has paused for a moment to let you both exist in this fragile bubble where nothing matters except the steady warmth of his arms and the quiet reassurance of his presence.
Jungkook hasn’t stopped watching you, even when you’re asleep, even when you’re quiet.
Every time your breathing shifts or your body moves even slightly, his attention snaps back to you with that same focused concern that has been sitting quietly behind his eyes all day. From the kitchen table, Taehyung has been observing the scene for hours with the fascinated curiosity of someone watching a nature documentary.
“You know,” he whispers to Jina, “if someone walked in right now they would assume Jungkook is guarding the last surviving panda on Earth.”
Jina glances toward the couch. “That’s not entirely inaccurate.”
Taehyung leans back in his chair thoughtfully. “He hasn’t moved in like three hours.”
“He doesn’t want to wake her.”
“That’s adorable.”
___
Jungkook hears every word they say, he just doesn’t respond.
His attention stays fixed on you as you sleep quietly against him, your face softened by exhaustion in a way that makes something protective twist deep in his chest. He keeps replaying the events of the day in his mind - your dizziness, the nausea, the way certain smells suddenly seem overwhelming to you for no clear reason.
On their own, none of those things would seem particularly unusual. People get sick, bodies react strangely sometimes, but stacked together like this, the pattern has started to form something he can’t quite ignore anymore. And the truth is…the possibility scares him. Not because the idea itself is bad, but because the timing feels impossibly complicated, you’re both barely holding your lives together right now. Money is tight, work is unstable. The future already feels uncertain enough without adding something as huge and life altering as a child into the equation.
Jungkook glances down at you again. His fingers gently brush your cheek, and despite everything, the thought doesn’t fill him with dread. It fills him with fierce, quiet determination.
___
You wake slowly again sometime later, though this time the first sensation you notice is the dull churning discomfort in your stomach. Your eyes open halfway before the nausea hits fully, rising quickly from deep in your chest in a way that makes your breath hitch slightly. Instinctively, you shift upward in Jungkook’s arms, pressing a hand against your mouth while the room spins faintly around you again.
Jungkook reacts immediately. “Hey-” His arm tightens around you as he sits up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
You shake your head weakly. “I feel…really sick.”
Jina is already moving toward the couch.“Bathroom?” she asks gently.
You nod quickly, Jungkook stands instantly, supporting most of your weight as he guides you carefully toward the hallway.
Taehyung scrambles to move chairs out of the way. “Emergency path!” he announces.
“Taehyung,” Jina mutters.
“I’m assisting!”
___
A few minutes later, you’re back on the couch, looking pale and exhausted but slightly less nauseous now that the worst of the wave has passed. Jungkook sits beside you again, though this time he’s positioned slightly closer, one arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders while the other holds a glass of water that he keeps gently offering every few minutes. “Small sips,” he murmurs softly.
You take one reluctantly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I still will.”
“You’re stubborn even when you’re sick.”
“That’s just my personality.”
He smiles faintly, but the worry in his eyes hasn’t faded.
Across the room, Jina quietly gestures for Jungkook to follow her into the kitchen. He hesitates for a moment, glancing down at you. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs softly.
You nod weakly.
In the kitchen, Taehyung immediately senses the serious tone and pretends to become extremely interested in the refrigerator so he can listen without looking obvious.
Jina lowers her voice. “Jungkook,” she says gently.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions…but have you considered the possibility that Taehyung might actually be right about something for once?”
Jungkook exhales slowly. “I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to scare her by bringing it up if it’s just a coincidence.”
Jina nods thoughtfully. “That’s fair.”
“But if it’s not a coincidence…” Jungkook murmurs quietly, his voice trailing off.
___
Back in the living room, you’re staring quietly at the ceiling while the distant murmur of their conversation drifts faintly through the apartment. Your body still feels heavy and strange, like something inside you is slightly off-balance in a way you can’t quite explain. The nausea earlier felt too sudden. Too intense. And the strange sensitivity to smells has been getting worse for days now if you’re being honest with yourself.
Your hand drifts unconsciously toward your stomach, the thought appears again.
Pregnant.
Your chest tightens immediately, that can’t be right, your life is nowhere near stable enough for something like that yet. You and Jungkook are still trying to figure out basic things like long-term jobs and whether you’ll even stay in this apartment next year. The idea feels terrifying, but also strangely real.
___
Jungkook returns a minute later. The moment he sits down beside you again, you instinctively lean toward him without thinking, your head settling automatically against his shoulder while his arm wraps around you once more. “You okay?” he murmurs softly.
You hesitate. “…kook?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something kind of scary?”
His arm tightens slightly around you. “Anything.”
You swallow slowly. “Earlier…when Taehyung said that thing…”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer, but his hand finds yours slowly, and the quiet tension in the room seems to grow heavier.
___
Later, you wake slowly again, not because the fever has broken but because your body refuses to stay asleep anymore, like it’s trapped in that strange space between exhaustion and discomfort where rest never quite reaches you. The apartment is quieter now than it was earlier, the kind of quiet that settles after people have been talking for a long time and the air has grown tired along with them.
Your head feels heavy against the pillow, your thoughts moving slower than usual, like they’re wading through thick water just to reach the surface. For a moment you simply lie there and listen to the distant hum of the refrigerator, the faint creak of pipes in the walls, the soft clinking of dishes somewhere in the kitchen.
It takes a few seconds before your mind connects the sound to Jungkook, and even in your feverish haze something warm and aching spreads quietly through your chest. Because even when you insisted he didn’t need to take care of you, even when you tried to pretend this was nothing more than a stupid cold, he stayed anyway, he always does.
You shift slightly beneath the blankets and instantly regret it, your stomach twisting with a strange wave of nausea that rolls through you so suddenly it steals the air from your lungs. You squeeze your eyes shut, breathing carefully through your nose as you wait for it to pass, but the feeling lingers longer than you expect, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, settling uneasily beneath your ribs like something trying to warn you that your body is not behaving the way it normally does.
In the kitchen, Jungkook is staring at a pot of soup like it personally offended him. He has already reheated it twice because he keeps getting distracted halfway through, his thoughts circling back to the same uneasy observations that have been bothering him since this morning.
At first it was easy to believe you were just sick - the fever, the exhaustion, the way your voice sounded scratchy and small when you tried to argue with him about staying home from work. But the more he watches you, the more something feels slightly wrong in a way he can’t quite explain. You’re pale, but your cheeks are flushed. You say your stomach hurts but you barely touched the soup earlier. You look tired enough to sleep for three days but your body keeps waking you up again.
Jungkook rests his hands on the kitchen counter and exhales slowly, trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling into worry that might not mean anything. People get weird symptoms when they’re sick all the time. Stress does strange things to the body, and God knows both of you have had more stress than usual lately.
Between his long hours at the studio trying to keep freelance clients happy and your job pushing you toward responsibilities you never even asked for, life has started to feel like a long list of problems you’re both trying to survive together instead of something you’re actually living. Still, when he hears the soft creak of the bedroom door opening, Jungkook turns immediately, the momentary tension in his shoulders replaced by instinctive concern as he steps into the hallway.
You barely make it halfway down the hall before he’s there. Your hand is pressed weakly against the wall, your balance wavering just enough to make his heart jump into his throat the moment he sees you. Jungkook reaches you in two quick steps, one arm wrapping around your waist automatically while his other hand steadies your shoulder, his touch firm but careful like he’s afraid you might fall apart if he holds you too tightly.
Up close, he can see the faint crease between your brows, the way your breathing is slightly uneven, and something protective flickers across his face before he even realizes it’s there. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs quietly, guiding you to lean against him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“What are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting.” His voice isn’t scolding exactly, but there’s that familiar softness underneath it - the tone he always uses when he’s trying to take care of you without making it sound like he’s taking control.
You try to answer, but the nausea hits again before the words come out, and suddenly your fingers tighten against the front of his shirt as your stomach twists violently enough to make your knees feel weak. Jungkook’s expression changes instantly. “Okay,” he says quickly, already guiding you toward the bathroom without another question. “Okay, it’s okay. Just breathe.”
The bathroom floor is cold beneath your knees when Jungkook helps you kneel beside the toilet, and you hate the embarrassment that burns across your face almost as much as the nausea itself. Being sick is one thing, but being this helpless in front of him is another.
Your hair falls forward as you lean over the porcelain, and before you can even reach to push it away Jungkook is already behind you, gathering it gently into his hand to keep it out of the way. The gesture is so instinctive it almost hurts your chest.
He doesn’t rush you or fill the silence with unnecessary words while your body fights through the nausea. He simply stays there, one hand holding your hair, the other rubbing slow circles against your back with quiet patience as if this moment - this messy, uncomfortable, humiliating moment - is just another way of loving you.
When it finally passes, leaving you shaky and exhausted, you slump slightly against him without thinking, your forehead resting weakly against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice barely more than breath.
Jungkook frowns immediately. “Why are you apologizing?” His voice is softer now, almost incredulous as he reaches for a damp towel and presses it gently against the back of your neck. “You’re sick, not committing a crime.” He crouches beside you instead of standing, making sure he’s at your level as he studies your face with quiet concern.
He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips tremble slightly like you’re trying not to cry even though you’re probably too tired to fully understand why. Jungkook brushes his thumb lightly across your cheek without thinking, the touch so tender it almost startles both of you. “Come on,” he murmurs after a moment. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
The walk back to the bedroom is slower this time. You lean heavily into him, one arm looped loosely around his waist while his hand stays secure at the small of your back, guiding you with the careful patience of someone who has already decided he will take care of you no matter how long it takes.
When you reach the bed he helps you settle beneath the blankets again, adjusting the pillows behind your head until you’re comfortable before sitting beside you with that same quiet attentiveness he’s had all day. For a few minutes neither of you speak, your fingers drift lazily toward the hem of his sleeve, holding onto the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored to reality. Jungkook lets you, of course. He always does.
“You’ve been throwing up a lot,” he says eventually, his voice thoughtful but gentle.
You grimace weakly. “That’s…usually what happens when people are sick.”
“I know,” he replies quietly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s just…weird.”
You blink at him slowly. “Weird how?”
Jungkook hesitates, searching for words he isn’t sure he should say out loud yet. Because the truth is he doesn’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it really is just a bad virus, maybe stress has finally caught up to both of you in ways your bodies can’t ignore anymore, but the strange feeling in the back of his mind refuses to disappear, growing stronger every time he watches you struggle with symptoms that don’t quite fit together the way they should.
“…I don’t know,” he admits finally.
You study his face, noticing the faint crease between his brows, the quiet worry he’s trying very hard not to show, and suddenly your own chest tightens with something deeper than sickness. Because you know that look, it’s the look Jungkook gets when life is about to throw something complicated at both of you, and neither of you are ready for it yet.
___
You don’t remember falling asleep again, but the next time you wake it’s darker outside, the soft grey evening light slipping through the curtains and painting quiet shadows across the walls of the bedroom. Your body feels strange in a way that doesn’t quite match the kind of sickness you’re used to.
The feverish heat from earlier has faded into something else now - a heavy exhaustion that sits deep in your muscles like gravity has doubled overnight. Even lifting your arm feels like it takes effort. Your stomach still aches faintly, not sharp but unsettled, the kind of discomfort that lingers in waves instead of constant pain.
For a moment, you simply lie there and breathe, staring at the ceiling while your mind tries to gather itself. Normally when you’re sick you either sleep endlessly or feel restless and miserable, but this feels different. Your body is tired in a deeper way, like it’s been quietly working overtime on something you can’t see.
A strange sensitivity prickles at your nose suddenly, and when the faint smell of garlic drifts into the room from the kitchen your stomach flips unpleasantly. You swallow hard, pressing your palm against your mouth as a new wave of nausea threatens to rise. It’s not as violent as earlier, but it’s persistent, creeping slowly upward like it’s testing your limits. “Seriously?” you mutter weakly to the empty room, dragging the blanket over your face as if that might block the smell somehow.
In the living room, Jungkook is trying very hard not to look like he’s worrying again, Taehyung and Jina arrived about twenty minutes ago after Jungkook reluctantly admitted that he might need help if this turned into a full-night situation.
Taehyung is leaning against the kitchen counter now with his arms crossed loosely, watching Jungkook stir a bowl of plain rice with the focused seriousness of someone preparing a five-star meal instead of the simplest comfort food imaginable.
Jina is sitting at the table with her chin resting in her palm, observing the entire situation with the kind of quiet attentiveness that usually means she’s thinking harder than she’s letting on. “You know,” Taehyung says eventually, tilting his head slightly as he watches his friend move around the kitchen like a nervous parent, “most people who get the flu don’t have their boyfriend monitoring their breathing every five minutes.”
Jungkook doesn’t even look up. “She wasn’t breathing weird,” he mutters defensively. “She just…sounded uncomfortable.” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “You checked twice while she was asleep.” Jungkook finally glances over, his expression both tired and stubborn. “I was making sure she wasn’t getting worse.”
Jina studies him for another moment before speaking, her voice softer but thoughtful. “Did she say anything about a headache or sore throat earlier?” Jungkook pauses slightly, the spoon in his hand hovering above the bowl as he tries to remember. “Not really,” he admits slowly. “Mostly nausea. And dizziness. She said she felt hot earlier but the fever didn’t stay high.”
Taehyung shifts his weight against the counter. “That’s kind of weird for a cold.” Jungkook exhales quietly through his nose, his shoulders tightening just slightly like he doesn’t want to acknowledge the same thought that has been creeping into his mind all afternoon. “People get stomach viruses,” he replies, though his voice lacks conviction.
Jina doesn’t respond immediately. Instead she glances toward the hallway leading to your bedroom, her brows pulling together faintly in that thoughtful way she gets when she’s trying to piece together something that doesn’t quite make sense yet.
Back in the bedroom, the smell from the kitchen grows stronger when someone opens the microwave, and your stomach reacts instantly. You sit up too quickly, your hand flying to your mouth as nausea rolls through you again with uncomfortable persistence. It’s not violent this time, but it’s strong enough to make your eyes water as you push yourself out of bed, your legs wobbling slightly beneath you as you hurry toward the bathroom.
The hallway feels longer than usual, and halfway there the dizziness hits you again- a sudden rush of lightheadedness that forces you to steady yourself against the wall. Your breathing becomes shallow for a moment while the room tilts unpleasantly around you. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself weakly. “That’s new.”
You manage to reach the bathroom just as footsteps approach from the living room, and seconds later Jungkook appears in the doorway, his expression shifting instantly from mild distraction to alarm when he sees you gripping the sink like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.
“Hey - hey, slow down,” he says quickly, crossing the room in two steps as he steadies you with both hands on your arms. His voice softens immediately when he sees the exhaustion in your face. “What happened? Did the nausea come back?” You nod weakly, leaning slightly into him without even thinking about it, your forehead pressing briefly against his shoulder as your stomach twists again.
Jungkook’s entire posture changes the moment you lean on him. One hand slides carefully around your back while the other moves to the base of your neck, his thumb brushing slowly against your skin in a quiet, grounding motion that he knows usually helps you calm down. “It’s okay,” he murmurs gently, the words low and reassuring near your ear. “You’re okay. Just breathe for a second.” The closeness of him, the steady warmth of his body, the calm rhythm of his breathing - it all wraps around you like something safe, something solid in the middle of the strange storm happening inside your body.
Taehyung appears in the doorway a moment later, his usual playful expression replaced with mild concern when he sees the two of you standing there. “Whoa,” he says quietly, raising his hands slightly. “Bathroom emergency?” Jungkook gives him a look that clearly says not helping.
Jina steps past Taehyung a second later, her gaze moving carefully over your face in a way that feels almost clinical despite her gentle expression. “Are you dizzy too?” she asks softly. You nod again, embarrassed by how weak your voice sounds when you answer. “A little.” Jina hums quietly to herself, crossing her arms loosely as she leans against the doorway.
For a moment, the four of you stand there in a strange silence. Then Jina glances slowly toward Jungkook, then back toward you, and something thoughtful flickers behind her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything yet, not out loud.
___
The apartment grows quieter after Taehyung and Jina leave, the kind of quiet that feels heavier than normal silence, like the walls themselves are aware that something important is shifting between the two of you even if neither of you has the words for it yet.
The front door closes softly behind them with a muted click, their voices fading down the hallway of the building until they disappear completely, and suddenly it’s just you and Jungkook again in the dim warmth of the apartment.
You’re sitting on the couch wrapped in two blankets because your body can’t seem to decide whether it’s hot or cold, your head resting weakly against the armrest while Jungkook stands in the kitchen pretending to wash dishes that were already clean fifteen minutes ago.
He keeps glancing toward you every few seconds like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there, still breathing, still okay, and there’s something about that quiet, constant attention that makes your chest ache with a strange mixture of comfort and guilt. Because he looks so worried, and you hate being the reason for that worried crease between his brows.
Your stomach churns again, a slow rolling nausea that has been coming and going all evening, and the smell of dish soap drifting from the sink suddenly feels overwhelming enough to make your throat tighten. You close your eyes for a moment, pressing your palm gently against your abdomen as you breathe carefully through your nose, hoping the wave will pass without sending you running back to the bathroom again.
Jungkook notices the change in your breathing almost immediately, he always does. The moment your shoulders tense slightly beneath the blanket his head turns toward you, his hands abandoning the sink before he even realizes he’s moving. In two quiet steps he’s beside the couch, crouching in front of you with the same soft urgency he’s carried all day, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee through the blanket. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but alert as his dark eyes search your face for signs of distress. “Is it the nausea again?” You nod slowly, your voice tired when you answer. “Yeah…it just keeps coming back.”
Jungkook exhales quietly, running one hand through his hair in a small gesture of frustration that he tries to hide from you but doesn’t quite succeed. “You haven’t eaten anything except crackers,” he says softly, more to himself than to you. “Your body probably needs actual food.” You give him a weak half-smile. “My body currently thinks crackers are the enemy too.”
The corner of his mouth twitches despite his worry, and he reaches forward to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The touch is warm, grounding, the kind that says I’m here without needing to speak the words aloud.
The nausea eventually fades again, leaving behind a deep exhaustion that sinks into your bones like heavy sand. Jungkook notices the way your eyelids droop and shifts closer on the couch, carefully pulling you into his arms so you’re leaning against his chest instead of the armrest.
The movement is slow and deliberate, giving you time to adjust, but once you settle there he wraps the blanket more securely around your shoulders and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. It’s not a dramatic gesture. It’s quiet, familiar, the kind of affection that has grown naturally between the two of you over years of learning each other’s habits and fears and softest vulnerabilities.
“You’re really warm again,” he murmurs against your hair, his hand moving automatically to rest against the back of your neck where your skin is flushed. “But it’s not like a fever…it’s weird.” You hum faintly in response, too tired to argue with his observations anymore. Your fingers curl loosely into the fabric of his shirt as you rest there, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. For a few peaceful minutes neither of you speak, the quiet stretching comfortably between you like something shared.
But Jungkook’s mind doesn’t stay quiet for long, because the longer he sits there thinking about the day, the stranger the puzzle pieces start to feel when he tries to put them together. The nausea, the dizziness, the way you reacted to smells. The exhaustion that doesn’t quite match a normal illness. His brows slowly pull together as the thought forms in the back of his mind - unwelcome, confusing, impossible.
He doesn’t say it immediately. Instead he watches you carefully, his thumb tracing slow circles against your arm as if the gentle motion might somehow calm the sudden nervous energy building in his chest. “Can I ask you something?” he says eventually, his voice quieter than before.
You tilt your head slightly against him, blinking sleepily. “Yeah?”
Jungkook hesitates, then he asks the question that has been creeping into his thoughts for the last hour. “When was your last period?”
For a moment, the apartment feels completely still. You stare up at him, your tired brain struggling to process the words. “…what?”
His expression is cautious now, like he’s stepping carefully across thin ice. “I’m just asking,” he says softly. “Because some of your symptoms today are kind of…specific.”
Your stomach flips again - but this time the nausea has nothing to do with sickness. You start to think back, back through the last few weeks. The stress at work, the exhaustion, the way your cycle slipped quietly past without you noticing because everything else in your life has been so overwhelming lately.
Your face slowly drains of color. “…oh my god,” you whisper.
Jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach. “You missed it?” he asks carefully.
Your hands begin to tremble slightly in your lap. “i-i think so.” The words hang in the air between you like something fragile and terrifying at the same time, and neither of you speak for several long seconds.
Then Jungkook exhales slowly, running both hands over his face as his mind races through possibilities he never expected to consider tonight. “Okay,” he says quietly, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts behind it. “Okay. That doesn’t automatically mean anything. Stress can delay things, illness can too.” But even as he says the words, the pieces keep fitting together in ways that make his chest feel tight: the nausea, the smell sensitivity, the sudden exhaustion, the dizziness.
You look up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “should we…test?”
Jungkook swallows hard. “…yeah, yeah…I think we need to.” he says softly.
___
The walk to the pharmacy down the street feels surreal. The cool evening air brushes against your face while Jungkook keeps a steady hand at the small of your back, guiding you carefully like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. Neither of you talk much during the walk, but the silence between you is thick with thoughts that neither of you know how to say out loud yet. You’re both thinking the same thing. We’re not ready. Not with the chaos in your careers, the bills, the tiny apartment, the plans you haven’t even started chasing yet.
Parenthood belongs to some distant future version of yourselves - not the two exhausted people standing under a flickering pharmacy light at nine o’clock at night.
Inside the apartment again, the small white pregnancy test sits on the bathroom counter like the most intimidating object you’ve ever seen. Jungkook stands beside you, his hand wrapped tightly around yours.
“You don’t have to look if you don’t want to,” he murmurs gently.
You shake your head slowly. “No…we should.”
The waiting feels endless, three minutes stretch into something that feels like half a lifetime. Jungkook keeps his arm around your shoulders the entire time, his thumb moving slowly against your arm in silent reassurance while your heart pounds hard enough to make your ears ring.
Then, finally, you both look down.
Two lines. Clear. Undeniable. Pregnant.
For a moment neither of you move, neither of you breathe, your chest tightens suddenly as reality crashes over you all at once, your eyes filling with tears before you even realize you’re crying. “kook,” you whisper shakily, your voice breaking on his name.
Jungkook stares at the test like the world just shifted beneath his feet. Then he looks at you, really looks. At your trembling hands, your tearful eyes, the fear written across your face, and suddenly none of the panic in his chest matters as much as the person standing in front of him.
He pulls you into his arms immediately, holding you tightly against his chest as his hand moves gently through your hair. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “baby, hey…it’s okay.”
Your voice shakes against his shirt. “We’re not ready for this.”
“I know.”
“We barely have our lives together.”
“I know.”
“What are we going to do?”
Jungkook pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands, his forehead resting gently against yours as he searches your eyes with a tenderness so deep it almost hurts to look at. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly.
His words aren’t confident or perfect, but they’re honest, and they’re full of love.
Outside the bathroom window the city hums quietly, completely unaware that inside a small apartment two overwhelmed people are standing at the edge of a life neither of them planned for yet. But as Jungkook presses another soft kiss to your forehead and pulls you back into his arms, one thing becomes clear even through the fear and uncertainty.
Being the heirs of rival mafia families means that you and Jungkook are supposed to be sworn enemies. Yet, as much as you claim to hate each other – deep down, you both know that the feeling is so much more than that. A feeling you both act oblivious to and bury under a haze of lust.
genre – enemies to lovers au, smut, denial,angst¿.
pairing – jungkook x fem reader.
warnings – explicit language, smut, pussy-whipped possessive jk, jk & oc bicker a lot, fingering, rough fucking (oc likes it rough), oc is very vocal (jk LOVES it) , mentions of creampie, spanking, oral (both receiving), titty worship, jk praises oc, squirting, okay basically they're obsessed with fucking eo. etc.
wc – 14k+
you're currently sitting in one of the most grand and luxurious ballrooms in the city. tonight is supposed to be something neutral - a friendly ceremony. one of those where every major family in the underworld pretended civility for a few hours before going back to fortresses to plan their next betrayals.
the jeon family is occupying the left side of tables, whereas your family is occupying the right - as far away from each other as possible. your father is standing near the bar, looking every bit the rich, powerful and dangerous mafia, he is, while glaring at his rival - the head of the jeon family, jungkook's father. who, in return, stares back at him with the same cold, hateful look.
they hate each other so much. if there's a feeling stronger than that, then that is exactly what they feel for each other.
your eyes continue to roam around the room until they find jungkook. he's leaning against a pillar near his family's side, looking so fuckable in that tailored suit he's wearing, with the first few buttons left open, giving you a glimpse of his chest and the ink on his shoulder. his hair is a bit longer than the last time you ran your fingers through it, which you're thankful for because it looks even better than it usually does.
he looks bored until his eyes find yours. you hate how your heart stutters at the eye contact. it's been three weeks since he last had you pinned against his office desk, three weeks since he had you whimpering beneath him, three weeks since he fucked the living daylights out of you.
you tear your gaze away first, accepting champagne from one of the servers who happens to be too scared to even meet your eyes. every few minutes you would catch him staring holes into you, eyeing you. you knew that he'd be here drinking you in and that's exactly why you've decided to wear an elegant gown that's just a little revealing - cut low at the back with a slit running up your thigh. easy access.
after a few minutes of sitting, you decide it's time to slip away for a little while. you excuse yourself and no one questions it. heirs disappear all the time, whether it's to powder their noses, make discreet calls or converse with family allies, so it's a normal thing to do without getting suspicions.
you walk through the crowd until you reach the long corridor that leads to the private restrooms, inside the women's restroom is pristine and polished. there's a massive mirror stretched across the wall above the vanity. you set your bag down and study your reflection. you look perfect, but still, you tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear and adjust your hair - not because you need to, but because you know that he'll be here soon.
and right on cue, the door opens slowly, closes once he's inside and locks. instead of turning to face him, you watch him in the mirror. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head tilted, watching you watch yourself.
"still primping?" his voice is rough and a little mocking. "thought you'd at least pretend that you weren't waiting for me."
you roll your eyes at him. "thought you'd at least pretend that you aren't desperate enough to follow me into the bathroom like some horny teenager."
he huffs out a laugh. "three weeks is a long time, princess."
"don't call me that."
"why not?" he pushes off the wall and approaches you slowly. "you know you love it when i call you that."
"i love a lot of things you do with your mouth. talking isn't one of them."
he stops directly behind you, his hands settling on the vanity on either side of you, caging you in without touching you. his scent fills your lungs, something that isn't too strong, but still expensive, that signature smell of his that's grown to give you some kind of comfort you're unable to explain.
"look at you," he murmurs. "all dressed up, standing there and trying to convince yourself you hate me."
"i do hate you."
"yeah?" his lips brush your earlobe. "then why're you shaking? nervous?"
you scoff before speaking. "because i'm imagining all the ways i can kill you."
he chuckles against your skin. "liar."
your breath hitches when you feel one of his hands sliding up one of your thighs, under the slit of your dress, until he finds your core and cups it over your underwear. his palm rests there, making you suck in a breath.
"i missed you," he says quietly,
your eyes snap to his in the mirror. he doesn't have that cocky look on his face. his eyes roam your body with that hunger that makes you feel weak.
"three weeks," he repeats. "way too fucking long."
his lips find the side of your neck.
"don't." you warn.
"don't what?" he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. "don't tell you the truth? or don't do this?"
"both." you breathe out.
"too late,"
his other hand goes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging it back so your head is leaning on his shoulder. in the mirror you watch your reflection, noticing how your lips part and eyes darken.
"look at us," he rasps against your throat. "look how fucking perfect you look with my hands on you."
you try to glare at him, but unfortunately your eyes look more pleading than anything.
"shut up, jeon."
"why don't you make me?"
you gasp in his mouth when he suddenly kisses you roughly and passionately, showing you just how much he's been needing this the past few weeks. you arch back into him without thinking, your ass pressing against his cock through his slacks, making him groan into your mouth.
your hands thread through his hair, angling his head where you want him so you can lick deep into his mouth. he groans again, and rewards you by cupping your core harder, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit causing your hips to buck forward.
"fuck," you gasp into his mouth.
he swallows the sound and kisses you harder while his fingers slip into your underwear. two of them caress your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your clit the way you like. he starts off slow at first then picks up the pace, going faster. you can't help the needy moan that slips out of you and the way your pussy clenches around him.
he breaks the kiss to murmur against your lips. "so wet already. been dreaming about this pussy for three weeks straight.
"oh, shut up," you hiss.
he pushes two fingers inside you until they're knuckles deep. your eyes flutter closed as you let out soft moans of pleasure that become more audible when he starts pumping his fingers inside you deeper. you meet the thrusts of his fingers shamelessly.
"how nice that you're clenching around my fingers in a bathroom while our families are a couple feet away plotting each other's deaths."
again, you try to glare at him but miserably fail when he curls his fingers inside you.
"jeon-"
he pulls his fingers out of you and your eyes open widely at the loss. you whip your head around to glare at him properly now. he just smirks down at you, looking all cocky again. that sight makes you want to slap him and ride him at the same time.
without breaking eye contact with you, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your arousal off his fingers. his tongue swirling around each of them slowly. you stare at him. he's so filthy and you love it.
"asshole," you say.
he ignores your rude comment and spins you back around so fast your hands slap down onto the vanity to steady yourself. you're facing the mirror fully now with him behind you. his eyes locked on yours in the reflection again. he doesn't say anything, he reaches down and unbuckles his belt, opens the buttons of his slacks then pulls down the zipper.
you watch every single thing he does in the mirror. watching as he pulls his pants and boxers down halfway. watching as his hard length springs free. your mouth goes dry (even as you mentally salivate at the sight). he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a few strokes, from the base up to the tip, spreading his precum with his thumb. he reaches down between your legs again, collects more of your arousal and uses it as lubrication on himself as he keeps stroking his cock. you clench around nothing just watching until he stops touching himself.
with one hand he reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your hips, bunching it at your hips. the other hand he uses to pull your underwear down, so it pools at your ankles. the cool air hitting your soaked core and the anticipation make you tremble a little. jungkook groans at the sight of you like this -trembling, your ass bare and pussy glistening.
"so fucking pretty." he mutters mostly to himself.
after admiring you for a few more seconds his fingers are on you again rubbing your clit until you twitch and chase the pressure for a short while before he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth again, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.
"you're disgusting." you whisper.
he leans over so his chest presses against your back and talks near your ear.
"don't act like you don't love it."
you want to say something to argue, but he's right. very much right.
he lines himself at your entrance, sliding his tip inside and pulling out, teasing you (and himself)
"jungkook–"
"tell me you want me." he says.
you bite your lip when he sinks in a little deeper, stretching you open.
"say it, princess."
"fuck you." you hiss.
he lets out a little disbelieved scoff. but pushes in slowly, filling you with his large length until he's all the way in, buried to the brim with his hips flush against your ass. you both freeze, eyes locked in the mirror. both of you looking wrecked. jungkook flexes inside of you causing you to whimper. he stays there buried inside you, not moving, just giving you a stern look.
you put your pride aside and whisper, "i want you, jungkook."
"good girl." he murmurs.
he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. again and again. his thrusting in and out of you drives you insane. your palms slide against the vanity, fingers curling, wishing you could grip on something instead.
"faster," you demand with a sweet gasp.
he leans down, speaking near your ear. "beg for me."
you lift your head to glare at his reflection. "fuck. you."
he grins, knowing his luck wasn't going to work. he gives you what you want. he increases his pace, fucking you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the entire time you try your best not to look away from him. you want to watch him fuck and mark you.
his free hand slides up your back pushing it down so you're arching beautifully, giving him a better and deeper angle. your moans and his groans grow louder as the pleasure builds for both of you.
"you feel too good," he pants. "so tight and wet. you've really been waiting for me, hmm?"
"i wasn't." you lie as your walls flutter around him.
"liar." he growls and punctuates it with a hard thrust.
you cry out from pleasure and a little bit of pain. one of his hands slide down to find your clit, rubbing it circles that match his brutal thrusts.
"jungkook- fuck. don't stop."
"i won't," he says through gritted teeth. "not until you're coming all over my cock."
you whimper and clench hard around him. the sensation causes him to groan loudly.
"f-fuck," he grunts.
you do it again. your walls clamp down on him hard making his thrusts stutter. his hips slam forward one last time, buried in completely before he halts his movements.
"stop," he grits out. "stop clenching me like that, you're gonna make me come too fast."
you let out a breathless, mocking laugh before speaking. "poor baby. can't handle it?"
after registering your words, his hand comes down to deliver a sharp smack to your ass. the sting is delicious and causes you to involuntarily flutter around him again.
"brat," he hisses. "if you want me to fuck you properly then behave."
you force yourself to relax, trying to loosen your muscles even though your body is screaming to pull him deeper, to keep him there inside you where he belongs.
the second you unclench around him, he rewards you but pulling all the way out and slamming back in with a force that has your eyes rolling back.
he sets a perfect pace that makes it impossible for you to stay quiet as much as you can try. sweet loud moans and profanities leave your mouth that is definitely audible to anyone outside; "jungkook– oh God–yes right there! – fuck–"
he curses under his breath before placing his palm over your mouth, muffling your loud, inappropriate sounds before you attract any attention.
"shh. you wanna get us caught? want your father kicking down the door while i'm balls deep in his little princess?"
the image of that terrifies you. it would be an abomination if something like that ever happened. your father has been very vocal about his pure hatred for the jeons, including the one currently giving you one of the best fucks of your life. but still jungkook always feel too good for you to control yourself, so unfortunately you cannot help the whiny, muffled moan that slips out of you.
"fuck's sake."
he slides two fingers past your lips, pushing them deep in your mouth until they hit the back of your tongue.
"suck." he orders. "keep that pretty mouth busy."
you obey without hesitation. wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue the same way you'd done to his cock more times that you could count. thinking of the blowjobs you've given him makes you hum around his fingers, eager to feel him in your mouth again.
"that's it." he rasps. "prettiest sounds i've ever heard."
you whimper around his fingers. his thrusts get harder and deeper, making your toes curl.
after a few minutes, your pussy starts fluttering around him causing his breath to hitch.
"there it is," he groans and picks up the pace even more. "love when you do that. when your greedy little cunt starts begging for it."
you try to speak, try to beg, but his fingers are still deep in your mouth so all that comes is a desperate, garbled whine.
"come with me. let me feel you." he orders.
after the last thrust, you release with a muffled sob of his name. your pussy spasms and milks him so hard he swears violently under his breath. he follows you right after, burying himself as deep as possible and releases inside you until you feel it leaking out around him, dripping down your thighs. his hand goes up to cup your jaw gently, tilting your face so he can leave a soft kiss on your temple before carefully pulling out. you whimper at the loss, he watches himself leaving you as your combined release drips.
"fuck, that's so hot."
you shake your head despite the heat warming up your cheeks at his words. "we have to get cleaned up, jeon. we've got something to get back to."
he reaches for one of the thick towels from the stack on the counter and wets it under the tap. he kneels behind you. the sight of jeon jungkook on his knees in a tailored suit is definitely something out of your wettest dreams.
he cleans you up, wiping between your thighs. he's so gentle it surprises you, because some seconds ago he was fucking you like he hated you. once most of the evidence is gone, he looks up at you and leaves the softest kiss to the back of your thigh before standing up again.
"don't get used the princess treatment, yeah?" he murmurs, tossing the towel in the bin. "next time i'm leaving you dripping down your legs."
you roll your eyes at him for the one millionth time. "next time you'll be lucky if i let you touch me at all."
"sure."
he turns his attention to your messy appearance. your dress is a bit creased and still bunched up at your waist. your hair looks - well it looks like you've been thoroughly fucked, which of course you were. your lipstick is smudged and your mascara smeared under your eyes. he steps in close and starts fixing you. neatening your dress, adjusting your dress's straps with his fingertips mistakenly grazing over your breasts.
"careful." you warn.
he hums amused and then moves to your hair, combing it with his fingers and brushing a stray strand behind your ear in a way that seems way too tender for people who are supposed to be enemies.
"there," he says quietly, stepping back to survey his work. "you look almost respectable again."
you turn to face him now. he looks delicious. his hair falls into his eyes, lips swollen from your kisses, his collar wrinkled and he's a little sweaty. he looks like he deserves the best and sloppiest head in the world.
you reach up without thinking, straighten his collar and smooth his shirt. before you can pull away, he catches your wrist and holds it there, near his chest.
"why're you looking at me like that, hmm?" he asks, staring down at you.
"like what?"
"like you want me to take you again. i will if you want me to."
you yank your hand free from his hold. "in your dreams, jeon."
"yeah, almost every night." he shoots back with a smirk.
you ignore his statement, despite the wanted eruption of butterflies you feel in your stomach. jungkook checks his watch with a sigh.
"we've been gone too long already." he says.
"you go first. i'll wait for a while then come out."
he nods before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. he gives you a little smirk then slips out the door. you give it at least two minutes before exiting the bathroom and slipping back into the hallway.
once you get back to your family's table you take your seat next to your mother, softly wincing at the dull, delicious ache between your legs. your mother turns to you immediately, her eyebrows knitting.
"what took you so long?" she asks while her eyes inspect you. "and your hair... it's a mess. are you alright?"
you force a smile. "i wasn't feeling well. must be the champagne and all the people. i needed a minute to breathe."
she studies you for another few seconds before her face softens. "poor thing. we won't stay much longer, i promise. your father's already been itching to leave anyway."
she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "you sure you're okay?"
"fine, mom, really."
she squeezes your hair once then turns back to whatever conversation she was having before you came. across the room, you see jungkook at his table again. he's sitting with his legs spread and an arm draped over the back of another chair. he looks so hot, still so fuckable, you wish you had agreed to let him take you again.
a server places a dish in front of him. a large piece of steak with some vegetables on the side. he picks up his fork and knife and digs in as if he hadn't just fucked his sworn enemy senseless in a bathroom minutes ago.
you've grown to learn that jungkook loves food, he loves eating. loves the way food feels on his tongue, loves the flavours, loves everything about it. but you've also grown to learn that if there's anything he loves to eat more than food - it's you.
you can't help but think about how he devours you like he's a starved man, instead of the rich, cocky bastard he usually is. the way he feasts on you, holding your thighs spread open until you're crying, shaking and begging him to stop but also to keep going.
your whole body heats up traitorously fast. damn jungkook and the stupid effect he has on you.
•───୨୧───•
a week passes by slowly, excruciatingly slow. all because it's been seven days of radio silence between you and jungkook. no messages, no random calls ending with you two having phone sex, no nothing. not that you really expected anything else, that was the deal. fuck and forget and hate each other. except this time you can't find yourself enjoying the last two very much.
you've spent most of the week locked in your own head, isolated in your fortress of an apartment. the one your father spent hundreds of thousands on. another one of the luxuries in your life that's starting to feel like a cage.
your parents love you, you know that, it's unquestionable. but love, in your family comes with terms and conditions. because your mother had complications getting pregnant again, you're an only child. the sole heir, the future of an empire that's built on money and dead bodies. you have a lot of expectations. one day the power will be yours, whether you want it or not.
and of course, you do not want it.
you want something better, something that actually makes you happy, something that's nothing like the obligations you're forced to have.
you want to write, live in your head and put your wildest thoughts on a piece of paper. you want to express all the thoughts you've never gotten to word into a book - every fantasy you've lived, every fantasy you have yet to live. it's all you ever wanted since you were a little girl.
you've majored in literature at a university your father only tolerated because it was an ivy league and it looked good on paper.
even in your free time, writing feels like the only thing that allows you to be your true self. so when you can, you write. most of the stories you write about one specific person you despise. jungkook. he's such an interesting source of inspiration for you, especially in all of the erotic stories you write. well of course he would be. that man gives you the time of your life every time his dick is buried deep inside you.
But your dreams and ambitions don't really matter. Because at the end of the day, your parents want security, powerful alliances and legacy. And lately whenever you were alone with your parents they started dropping hints.
"Have you ever thought about settling down?" your mother would casually ask.
Your father would nod before adding on. "There are good guys out there. Sons of men we trust. Strong families. It would solidify things."
They didn't name anyone yet, but you knew many of their friends from over the years. They were all powerful, all of them safe for you. All of them so fucking boring you wanted to scream.
You didn't argue with them because you didn't think you had a right to. You have to please your parents no matter what. Even if it means putting your own happiness on the line.
So you spent the next week in your own isolated bubble - writing whatever came to mind, treating yourself to whatever you wanted, ignoring the ache between your legs that could go away if you had Jungkook.
By saturday morning you still weren't feeling too good. Which is why you've decided to text your best friend Megan for a little spa day - which of course, she immediately agreed to.
After the most relaxing day of facials, body scrubs, massages, manicures and pedicures - you and Megan are finally feeling surreal, chilling in a jacuzzi. After a while of silence, Megan turns her head to look at you.
"You've been rather quiet today. What's up?" she asks.
"I'm always quiet."
"Not like this." she nudges your foot under the warm water with her own. "Something's on your mind. I can see you're thinking too hard."
"I'm just tired." you lie.
"bullshit .
You crack one eye open, noticing that she's watching you. Who are you kidding? This is Megan, your best friend of over nineteen years. If something's wrong with you, she'd definitely know.
You let out a defeated sigh. "It's a lot." you admit. "The empire, the expectations
. And there's - the rest of it,"
"The rest of it being your extremely hot, extremely forbidden hate sex situationship with Jeon Jungkook.?"
You groan and give her an annoyed look. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting. I'm just stating facts." she gives you a small smirk. "You two still pretend you hate each other's guts while simultaneously trying to break each others's pelvis everytime there's a gala?"
You glare at her. "I do hate him."
"Mmh."
"I can't stand him."
"Sure."
"He's arrogant, stupid, fucking annoying-"
"That's funny, you say." Megan cuts in. "You light up like a Christmas tree the second his name comes up."
You open your mouth, close it then open it again. "I only need his dick." you force the words out, knowing that they might not be entirely true. "That's it. Hate fuck. No feelings. No complications."
"It's okay to want more than that, you know." she says softly.
"I don't want more. I just want to write. I want to be free. I want to be... happy,"
Megan reaches over and squeezes your shoulder. "It's okay, y/n. You're allowed to want all of that. You shouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to."
You swallow a little lump forming in your throat. "They think marriage will fix everything and we'll have more power. They haven't said it yet but I can feel it coming."
"So what're you gonna do when they pick someone?" Megan asks softly.''
"Then I guess I'm gonna have to learn to live with it." you let out a bitter laugh.
She doesn't say anything, silence sits between the two of you for a minute before she bumps her shoulder with yours.
"Jungkook's not on that list, is he?"
You grin in disbelief. "Definitely not. My father would sooner shoot him than shake his hand."
"You're not gonna miss him afterwards?"
You don't answer her right away. Because if you had again, it would taste too bitter. Would you miss Jungkook? You're not just scared to admit the truth to Megan, you're afraid to admit the truth to yourself as well. The ugly truth that's been developing for the past few months.
"That doesn't matter."
Megan smiles sadly. "You're gonna be okay."
You lean in closer and lay your head on her shoulder, feeling relieved that you've finally gotten some things off your chest,
•───୨୧───•
Once you get into your apartment, you kick off your shoes by the door and take off your coat, dropping it somewhere. With a loud sigh, you head straight towards the bar cabinet and grab the most expensive wine you have and pour a generous glass.
As you sip on the wine, you think to yourself. You don't want to marry some stranger. Wake up next to someone you know absolutely nothing about. Be with a person whose touch would feel foreign to you. Someone who would be polite with you, instead of the possessiveness you're now used to.
But, at the same time, you don't want to disappoint your parents. Legacy means everything to them, so you're not going to let them down. Even if it means spending the rest of your life being a miserable trophy married to a business partner.
Just as most times when you're feeling stressed or uneasy, your mind wanders off to Jungkook. How addictive his touches are. How rough he can be, yet so gentle. How he fucks you so good, you can't think of anyone else but him.
You want him here right now. Want him to shove you against the nearest surface, wrap your legs around his waist and fuck every last coherent thought out your head. You want him here to make you forget all about the weight of the crowns you never asked for...
You set the wine glass down and pick up your phone, opening your messages with him. Most of the texts are filthy things - provocative, sexy pictures sent to each other. Coordinates for hookup spots. Before you can think yourself out of it, you're typing a message
You : you busy tonight?
The three dots appear almost immediately,
Jungkook : yeah. Got things to handle til late.
After reading his message you let out a highly frustrated groan and carelessly toss your phone onto the couch.
"Fucking asshole. Busy when I need something."
You gulp down a huge sip of wine before you end up cursing him out.
You love sex, love the intimacy of it, love the way it feels, love absolutely everything about it. You've always been a rather needy woman, always. And when things first happened with Jungkook, your needs had become even more unbearable.
The first time with him happened almost a year ago. You were both dealing with business when something went wrong for both of you. You both ended up hurt, cornered somewhere with nowhere to go - stuck with each other.
The details of what happened that night is a story for another time ;) But somehow, for some reason, Jeon Jungkook had ended up kissing you. For unknown reasons you had started kissing him back. You kissed each other as if you were fighting, tongues colliding together, teeth clashing,saliva dripping down your chins.
Soon enough clothes were getting pulled off, bodies were gettting marked up and you were moaning the name you despised the most as he gave you the best orgasms of your life.
Since then, the two of you had made it a thing. Instead of killing each other, you used each other - fucking where you could - in his car, in yours, in private jets, in warehouses, in hotels he'd book.
The sex you have with Jungkook was undoubtedly the best thing you could ever experience. He's perfect when it comes to giving you a good time. He loves when you ride his face, loves eating you out until you're oversensitive and screaming his name, loves fucking you good and edging you until you're crying, creampies he'd finger back inside you while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. There are so many things that you and him have tried and have yet to try, and the thought of that excites you every single time.
You're certain Jungkook loves this as much as you do, if not, he loves it even more than you do. He is pussy-whipped for you. You can tell by the way he moans when he sinks into you, the way he messages you at the oddest hours to tell you how horny he is thinking about you, the way he usually cancels everything if you send him something provocative, and so much more.
It's just a mutual hate-addiction thing between the two of you. You hate his guts. You tell yourself that every time you come around his cock. And anyways, he's just a cocky bastard who loves to get under your skin, especially when he teases you about your 'princess' status even when he's balls deep inside you.
You want to kill him sometimes, strangle him with your bare hands, shoot him - anything.
But there's another part of you that hated those thoughts (even though you'd probably wouldn't actually kill him). Sometimes you thought to yourself; What if you don't actually hate him? "What if you and him actually got to know each other? What if there could be something more between you two?
You push the thoughts away, drinking some more wine. Jungkook's a good fuck. The best fuck. You don't need more, neither do you want more. You just need him to relieve your stress and give you pleasure. But unfortunately, tonight he isn't coming.
You walk to your bedroom, lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling, trying not to think about how empty your bed feels since Jungkook isn't in it. You try not to imagine him on top of you, pinning you down, kissing while promising to fuck you exactly how you like it...
•───୨୧───•
The next few days go by quickly. You haven't done much, since there wasn't a lot for you to do - other than a few errands your parents asked you to handle, or random outings with Megan.
It's been a bit boring, but rather peaceful and relaxing, the only thing that had been worrying you was the fact that you had no messages from Jungkook. Not a single text asking to see you, not a single picture from him, not even a single voice note. Usually he'd reach out at least once or twice a week, sometimes more if the week had been boring. But now there's been nothing but silence.
Throughout these days you've tried to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, you don't even care. He's busy, he's an asshole, maybe he's got his dick up someone else. It's fine. Good for him. It doesn't bother you. You don't need him.
Except you do need him. And that's been abundantly clear every time you touched yourself and failed to bring to yourself even a quarter of the pleasure he brings to you.
By Thursday evening you were feeling rather miserable, and to make your matters worse, your phone buzzed with a message.
Mother : Sweetheart, we have another event this Saturday. Your father insists we all attend together. Dress appropriately.
You groan loudly. Yet another night of forced smiles, politics and fake performances. You're so tired of it, you almost tell your mother that you're in no mood to attend when you remember something. Jungkook will be there, of course he will. None of the Jeons ever miss prestigious events, they show up to these things as if it's the biggest blessing.
You're itching to see Jungkook. He hasn't said anything in longer than usual, so you're very curious about his whereabouts. On Saturday night you'll corner him somewhere quiet and kick him in his groin and demand he tell you why he's been ghosting you.
•───୨୧───•
It's finally Saturday night. You're standing in front of your mirror assessing how you look. You look beautiful, wearing a long, emerald-coloured dress with the neckline dipping enough to show some cleavage and a slit that shows your thigh every time you take a step. Your hair is let down and you've touched up with just a bit of make-up. You look perfect, but inside, you're far from it – you're feeling nervous.
Once you reach the venue with your parents, you enter and take your seats. As discreet as possible, you start scanning the crowd. The Jeon table is already occupied. Mr Jeon sitting beside his wife, along with some of their other family and advisors, but no Jungkook. Your heart drops. Jungkook is always here, he'd never miss such events.
You force your gaze away and accept a glass of champagne from a passing server. Your mother says something to you, but you barely register her words, since your mind is completely elsewhere. Where the fuck is he?
You keep your eyes forward as the elderly host welcomes all the guests. For the next couple of minutes you watch as people converse with one another. Watching as you sit alone, hoping that he'll just show up soon – not because you're eager* to see him or anything! But because he really deserves to get kicked in his balls. That's all.
After a while, the doors open again. You turn your attention to the late arrivals, and there Jungkook is. Painfully looking as handsome as ever in a black tuxedo with his hair a little messy, just as you like it. His movements cause multiple heads to turn to him and look at him with either respect, admiration or envy.
But he's not alone. A woman is clinging to his arm. She's beautiful and elegant-looking wearing a silky pink gown that hugs her curves. She leans into Jungkook as they walk, her head tilted on his shoulder, and he... he's smiling at her. Smiling at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the room.
The glass of champagne freezes halfway to your lips. They walk over to the Jeon family table together. When Jungkook's mother sees them, the warmest smile spreads across her face. She stands to greet the woman, lightly kissing both her cheeks. "So lovely to see you again, darling." she says clearly enough for everyone around them to hear. The girl smiles back sweetly and lets Jungkook guide her into the seat right beside him.
A cold shiver runs down your spine. You force your gaze back to the stage to whatever the host is talking about. Your fingers tighten around your glass, you're certain it might break. A few minutes later, you glance back at Jungkook, he glances at you too, making brief eye contact before he looks away. He looks away as though so very recently, he did not fuck you so passionately, so needily.
Your blood turns to ice. Is this why he ghosted you? He found himself a real girlfriend? One who he can bring to fancy events. Someone who his mother clearly approves of. Someone who isn't a secret he has to hide. You want to walk over there, yell at him and beat the shit out of him, but how can you?
Despite all the anger you're currently feeling, buried deep beneath, something you don't want to acknowledge is that you may be hurt. But of course, you tell yourself that you don't care who else he fucks, who he dates because you hate him. And right now you hate him more than ever.
You don't look at him again, you keep your eyes anywhere but him. Though many times, you've gotten the feeling of him looking at you.
You look completely unbothered, but mentally you're cursing him. Piece of shit. How dare he?
The event isn't even halfway done when you watch movement in your peripheral vision. Jungkook and the girl are standing. He murmurs something to his mother before offering the woman his arm again, she takes it with a smile. He walks her toward the exit with his hand on her lower back as she continues clinging to him.
You endure the rest of the event with your parents, until it's time to go home.
•───୨୧───•
The days after the event were unbearable for you, and unfortunately for everyone around you as well. You were being rather bitchy to your assistants, your mother and anyone else really. Everyone has been getting the worst of your mood swings.
One of the days, you had printed a booklet filled with pictures of Jungkook's face so you could use them on dummies at your family's private shooting range to practise your headshots. And not so surprisingly, you had blown the heads off of all the dummies. At a sparring session, you had taped one of the pictures to the punching bag and beat it up, vividly imagining that it actually was Jungkook
A few nights after that, as if he was trying to get under your skin, he had the audacity to message you.
Jungkook : you up? Can I come over.
The audacity that this man has astounds you. You type messages swearing at him before deleting them, deciding to be mature and block him instead.
the following evening you sit at your desk and decide to pour your rage into pages. You describe your male as very similar to Jungkook (which you often do) and describe the female lead as similar to you. In your little story, the female lead becomes aggravated with the male and ends up trying to physically harm him.
Somehow, things end up becoming even more tense between them and they share the most heated kiss, until things elevate. You write the scene until it starts to read like something too close to reality. Something too close to what you and Jungkook would end up doing.
You slam your laptop shut, telling yourself that none of those stories you've written are about him. None of the stories you've written in there are anything about the experiences you've had with him. You'd never write about him. You love to write whereas you have nothing but hate for Jungkook. It would be too ironic.
୨୧
On Saturday evening, you're still feeling quite awful. You need something urgently, something to make you feel good. You reach in your freezer for some soju, just to help quiet the noise in your head. You're about to open the bottle when you hear a sound upstairs, the sound of your window opening followed by steps.
Your heart skips a beat. Nobody gets past your security, absolutely nobody.
Quietly you take one of the knives from your kitchen drawer. Your parents have made you train how to fight, you know how to use weapons, so you know exactly how to draw blood without killing.
You walk up the stairs to your bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked open; you push it open with your shoulder whilst keeping your knife raised. A hooded figure is stepping in, a figure you recognise immediately despite the darkness. Once he's properly inside, he gently closes the window.
Without hesitation, you close the distance, hook your arm around his throat from behind and yank him backwards and hold the knife firmly to his throat.
"Don't move." you warn him.
He freezes before pulling his hood down.
"Hey hey, it's me." he says quickly with his hands up. "It's just me, princess. Put the knife down."
You stare at the side of his face, remembering how he brought another woman to the event, yet still has the guts to show up here as if you're just going to allow it. Your grip on the knife doesn't loosen, instead you press it harder against his skin.
Jungkook's breath hitches and his eyebrows knit together, his confusion turning more cautious.
"Baby... what are you doing? It's me." he whispers.
You lean in closer so your lips brush his ear.
"What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?" you ask. "You think you can just come here after ghosting me?"
Jungkook swallows. "I just came to see you. I've been calling and texting, you haven't picked up once. I thought something was wrong."
You huff out a bitter laugh. "Something wrong? Yeah. You. You're what's fucking wrong, Jeon."
He blinks once, confusion mixing with his fear. He's scared, not necessarily scared of the knife being pressed to his throat (he's been threatened with worse), he's scared of you, like this.
"You blocked me?" he asks.
"Yes, I did."
He exhales through his nose. "Then why the fuck are you acting like i ghosted you on purpose? I've been-"
"Shut up." You press the knife even harder, until a thin red line appears on his skin "You're stupid for coming here. I don't want to see you. I could kill you right now and nobody would know."
His adam's apple bobs. And then faster than you can process, he twists. His forearm knocks the knife out of your hand while the other grabs your wrist tightly, causing the knife to clatter on the floor. You don't even have time to gasp when he spins you and slams you back against the wall, pinning both your hands on top of your head, using one of his hands.
He uses his body to keep you in place, his chest pressing against yours, his hips flush against yours, his thigh slotting between yours. Your breath hitches when his free hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, a bit roughly.
"Gotcha." he teases
Your heart's racing so fast, you're almost sure he can feel it.
Fuck, you love this. You hate that you do. You love the way he manhandles you, so rough and possessive, all dominating. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, your nipples harden and you feel that little flutter in your lower belly. But even despite your growing arousal, you're still so fucking angry.
He leans in slowly, his nose brushing the side of your neck. Earlier on you had the longest bath, shaved, used the sweetest smelling soap and applied your favourite moisturizer. You've done that for yourself, to feel good. You surely did not expect Jungkook to be here inhaling your smell as if you're a drug. He exhales shakily, letting out a soft groan.
"Fuck," he curses against your throat. "You smell so good."
His kisses on your neck start off soft, then they become open-mouthed, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You gasp when he starts biting you. He goes further up to suck just below your ear, hard enough to leave a mark.
"What's wrong, princess?" he asks roughly. "You're angry. Talk to me."
You keep quiet, not wanting to answer him. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.
"Baby..."
"Don't call me that."
He exhales through his nose again, sounding a bit frustrated. He kisses your neck again while rolling his hips against you, grinding his hardness against you causing you let out an involuntary high moan.. Jungkook pulls back to look at you again.
"Tell me what I did."
You say nothing, he waits for your answer that is not coming anytime soon. You just stare up at him. He sighs before dropping his forehead to yours.
Soft and almost pleading, he asks; "What's wrong? Why are you being like this?"
Hearing him ask what's wrong, as if he's not the source of your anger further enrages you. You're not sure what comes over you, but you do what you've been meaning to do – you knee him square in the balls.
He groans and sucks in a sharp breath, followed by a few curses. He stumbles to the side, one of his hands going down to cup himself as the other hand braces on the wall. The pain he feels is strong, but it's not excruciating. It was your intention just to hurt him a little, not to break your favourite part of him.
After the pain seems to fade, he straightens with his jaw clenched. You don't wait to see how he recovers, instead you walk towards the bedroom door, eager to get away from him. If he values his life, he better get out the same way he came in.
You make it about three steps to the door when suddenly strong arms are being wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet. You squeal, shocked and furious.
"Jungkook! Put me the fuck down!"
He does not listen to you, instead he carries you over to your bed and drops you face down on it. Before you can get up to swing at him, he delivers a very hard smack to your ass. Involuntarily you let out a high pitched gasp, jerking forward a bit.
The delicious sting of his smack goes straight between your legs. Fuck. You hate how your body betrays every single time. You're a sucker for his hands on you, you've always been one. You love his touches - whether they're rough or gentle, punishing you or praising you. The second Jungkook touches you, your brain short circuits and you get rather excited*
He leans over you, so his chest is pressed against your back. One knee is between your thighs to keep you spread open. He delivers another smack to your ass, this time it's even harder. You fail to hold back the moan that makes its way from your throat, it's so needy that you want to punch yourself.
"There she is." he murmurs against your ear lowly. "My princess making those pretty sounds for me."
"Fuck off." you try to say, as petty as possible. Though, it just comes out breathless.
He chuckles at that, rubbing your ass cheek softly, soothing the skin through your thin, silky shorts. His hand goes down to caress you where your thigh meets your ass cheek. He bends to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss there then a lot more.
You squeeze your eyes shut. How the hell can he do this? How can he climb through your window, man handle you, spank you and kiss you so intimately after everything?
You hate him so much right, yet you've missed him too. You've spent nights alone, dreaming of him being here, doing exactly what he's doing now. But now he's here, aching to please you and all you want to do is dig his eyes out. Jungkook shifts a bit, pressing his hips forward so you can feel exactly how hard he is.
"Been thinking about this pretty pussy nonstop. You gonna make it better, baby? Or you gonna keep being a brat and making me beg?"
You bite your bottom lip, wanting to do both of those options. But you're still feeling petty so you keep quiet instead, not giving him any answer.
He lets out a long, frustrated exhale. "You're really gonna do this tonight."
Again, you don't answer.
"Do you want me gone?"
"Yes."
He stops for a few seconds, breathing in and out, his cock throbbing against your ass. Eventually, he sighs deeply and pushes off you. The sudden absence of his weight on you feels awful. You didn't think that he'd actually get off.
"Fine," he says softly. "If that's what you want."
He stands, adjusts himself and turns to your room window, walking toward it. Once you hear him opening it, panic claws its way up your throat. You roll over fast.
"Jungkook. Wait "
For a while, he stands there for a moment, with his back turned to you. Slowly, he turns back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, you notice that he looks a little hurt.
"I'm not gonna force you. If you want me gone, I'll go."
You stare up at him with your chest tight. You want him to stay, you need him to stay, and you hate the fact that you do.
"Don't go." you whisper.
Jungkook sighs, walking back over to you. You're looking up at him with the prettiest expression he's ever seen. Your eyes are a little glassy, your lips slightly parted. The look undoes him, makes him weak, so fucking weak. He's faced dangerous men who've had loaded guns pressed to his forehead, and even then he'd been okay. But with you - you unravel him in ways he never thought were possible.
He stops right in front you. He reaches out, his knuckles grazing your jaw. His hand opens to cup the side of your face as his thumb caresses your bottom lip. Your breath hitches, he uses the opportunity to press the tip of his thumb inside your mouth. Your lips close around it gently first before you start sucking and twirling your tongue around it while maintaining eye contact with him.
Jungkook swallows hard, his other hand balling into a fist at his side as if he's trying to hold himself back from grabbing your hair and yanking you down to suck onto something else.
"What's the matter, baby?" he asks rough, yet tenderly. "You've been so mad ever since I came."
He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, brings it to his own mouth and licks your spit off it with his eyes locked onto yours. You stare back at him, your mouth opening and then closing, still holding back your answer.
Jungkook sighs again softly before leaning down close. So close that his nose brushes yours.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks.
You give him a confused, almost amused look. How dare he act polite now after spanking your ass the way he did?
Your lips pout just a little - enough for him to understand what you're saying. He grins, closing the distance. The kiss starts off gentle and soft. But you're not in the mood for his gentleness or softness. Your hands fly up to his hoodie, bringing him closer to insert your tongue into his mouth whilst kissing him harder.
He lets you dominate for a few seconds until he takes control as usual. His hand makes its way to the back of your neck, threading into your hair to tilt your head exactly where he wants it. His other hand goes to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you like he's trying to suffocate you, it's filthy and possessive. His tongue thrusts into your mouth making you whimper into his mouth. He sucks onto your bottom lip, nips on it then soothes it with his tongue
You try to fight for dominance – pushing against his chest, trying to change the angle, trying to get control. Jungkook just tightens his grip, growls low in throat and keeps dominating you. Until the memory of him walking into that event with that woman on his side, smiling with her, being glued to her, his mother beaming at her as if she's her future daughter-in-law - the memory hits you, ugly and unwelcomed. You bite down hard on Jungkook's lip.
He winces and breaks the kiss with a hiss, a little bit of blood blooms on lip. He looks at you with something dark and wild in his eyes, before suddenly placing his hands on your hips and flipping you onto all fours with effortless strength. You squeal, surprised. Before you can snap at him, his fingers find the waistbands of your shorts and your underwear underneath and pulls them down.
They pool at your knees, so now you're presented to him with your bare ass up, back arched and pussy glistening. He groans before leaning down to sink his teeth into one of your ass cheeks, biting on it as revenge.
You gasp and moan loudly at the same time. "Jungkook-"
He soothes the mark almost immediately, kissing his bite mark softly.
"Payback." he says against your skin.
He leans down lower, spreading you wider with his hands before latching his mouth on you. He doesn't start off slow, he licks you from your entrance to your clit greedily. You cry out loudly, your hips bucking back against his face.
He groans into you as if you're the best thing he's ever eaten. Because you are. He missed this – he missed you. Missed the way you taste, missed the way you get so wet for him, missed the you sound. He eats you out like he's starving. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking softly then becoming harder, thrusting his tongue into your entrance, while his tongue nudges your clit every time.
You're loud, you're always extremely loud. Moans escaping you loud and needy. "Jungkook- fuck. Right there, don't stop."
He hums against you, the vibrations turning you on even more. His hand grips your thigh tightly, holding you in place to prevent you from moving an inch from his mouth. After a very few minutes, you're shaking, moaning even louder.
"Jungkook- I'm- ah."
Jungkook always knows when you're close. He doubles his efforts, sucking and tongue fucking you even harder until you're releasing while moaning his name. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking you up slowly until you're whimpering softly. He pulls back to breathe, before leaving a few pecks on your swollen and sensitive pussy
He straightens and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You turn over so you can watch him. He reaches behind his neck to pull his hoodie over his head, his shirt follows afterwards.
You missed this sight more than you'd ever admit. The sight of Jeon Jungkook standing near your bed shirtless, flushed, looking so lustful. He's definitely the most attractive man you've ever seen – handsome, tall, muscular, tatted. You can't look away from him.
He catches you staring, his eyes darken and he gives you a small smirk. His hands move to his belt so that he can unbuckle it and put it aside. He pulls down the zip on his pants and pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard, thick and leaking at the tip.
You get off the bed, getting to your knees. Your mouth waters and your pussy clenches at the thought of having him in your mouth as soon as possible. At this moment all you think of is how you're about to give him the best head. You're concerning yourself with the event, with the other woman, nothing.
You wrap your hand around his thick cock and guide the tip to your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, licking and swallowing the precum. Jungkook hisses through his teeth. One of his hands finds the back of your head - not controlling your movements, just holding instead.
"Ah fuck, good girl..." he breathes.
You hum around him, content at the praise. You know he likes it so you take him deeper and hollow your cheeks as you suck on him. You've given him head countless times so over time you've learnt how to give him the most enjoyable time.
You're pleasuring him exactly the way he likes – deep throating with saliva dripping down your chin. Jungkook's hips start jerking, chasing your mouth as you start bobbing your head.
"Just like that." he groans.
His free hand finds yours near his thigh and he intertwines them together.
"You're taking me so well, princess."
You moan around him, high and needy. Again, loving his praise. You pick up the pace, going faster until wet, slurping sounds fill the room. Saliva drips down your chin onto your chest, but you don't stop, you suck him deeper until your eyes water. Jungkook's losing it. His hand grips your hair tightly now as he thrusts into your mouth as gently as he possibly can.
"Gonna come-" he pants. "You want it down your throat?"
You answer by twirling your tongue around him, trying to take him impossibly deeper. He groans as he comes hard, down your throat. You swallow it as your head still bobs slowly. Jungkook curses under his breath.
When he finally stops pulsing, you pull off slowly until the tip is out your mouth with a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You look up at through your slightly wet lashes, he stares down at you with an unreadable look.
You stand up slowly and sit back on the bed, propping yourself on your elbows. Jungkook stands there frozen for a few moments. Fuck, you're gorgeous. Eyes watery, chin wet, hair messy. He wants to tell you, wants to drop to his knees and tell you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, that just looking at you makes his heart flutter, that he'd climb through your window every night if he could, just to see you for five minutes.
But the small ache that's still there in balls reminds him that you'd probably knee him again if he tried to be soft with you. So he doesn't speak, he just climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. He kisses you filthy and hungry. Your tongues slide together, tasting each other. Both of you moan and groan into each other's mouths animalistically.
It's one of your nastiest make-out sessions yet - teeth clashing, tongues colliding. He sucks onto your tongue, pulls it between his lips and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He grinds against you causing his cock to slide against your inner thigh.
You arched up into him, nails digging into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He breaks the kiss to lift your camisole top up so it bunches at your arms. He doesn't pull it completely off yet, he just leans down and licks between your cleavage. He comes back to lick one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth.
You gasp, back arching off the bed and fingers flying to his hair. He groans around your nipple before switching to your other breast. He sucks and bites on it, making sure to leave his marks on you. As he sucks on the one, he palms the other, squeezing while using his thumb to play with your nipple.
"Gonna fuck you so good tonight." he mumbles roughly. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so every time you walk you'll remember I was here, so you remember that you're all mine."
You love this side of him. You love how possessive he sounds over you, how he praises you, but the words do not sit right with you tonight. 'Mine.' When he walked into that event with someone else by his side. The anger suddenly surges back, but you don't say or do anything yet. You know how you're going to torment him and you're about to enjoy it more than anything.
Jungkook pulls your camisole off completely, tosses it somewhere then gets his pants and boxers off. He's completely naked now. He settles between your thighs while he keeps kissing you wherever he can reach – on your throat, your collarbone and between your breasts.
One of his hands reaches down to wrap around his length, guiding himself to your entrance. He nudges the tip through your folds, teasing the both of you and he smears his precum with your wetness until you're both softly groaning. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and wild and lustful.
"You want me, baby?" he asks, his voice rough and heavy with restraint.
You stare up at him, your nails now digging into his shoulders a bit angrily. Instead of answering him, you lift your hips, trying to slide yourself down onto him, taking him slowly. Jungkook curses and pushes in the rest of the way, stretching you open until he's buried all the way.
You both freeze for a second, breathing in each other's air. After a short while, Jungkook starts to move into you. His hands find yours and he intertwines them above your head. He pulls out then sinks in even deeper with a loud groan.
"Fuck." his forehead drops down onto yours and his eyes flutter shut. "This is the best feeling in the world. Nothing comes close to this.
He truly means it. To him there's nothing better than being buried inside you and feeling you wrap around him. It's addictive to him, he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy and be the happiest man on Earth.
You're soaking wet, allowing him to thrust into you with ease. He moves slowly at first, pulling out and pushing back in, until he goes deeper and harder. Fucking you in the way that drives you insane for him.
By now you're moaning, unfiltered and needy. Your nails rake down his back, hard enough to leave your marks on him. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him deeper.
Jungkook loves how you get when he fucks you. He loves how needy you get, how pretty you sound. He doesn't know why it gets him so hard and turned on, why hearing you fall apart because of him makes him feel so possessive over you. Jungkook wishes he could experience this feeling forever. Just you and him, being so intimate and desperate for each other.
"Listen to you." he groans against your ear, fucking you harder now. "So loud for me. Taking me so well."
You're enjoying this way too much. Jungkook is being so perfect tonight. He's rough and praising – just the way you love him. You can feel him everywhere, on top of you, inside of you, surrounding you.
This has to be one of the best fucks you and him have ever had. Maybe it's because you're angry at him, and maybe it's because you felt something you'd hate to admit when you saw him with that woman. Maybe those are reasons why you're enjoying it so much, it's because a part of you is glad that he's here, pleasuring you.
But even as you melt under him and the pleasure builds, your mind still wanders off to places you wish it wouldn't. What if he fucks that woman like this? What if he whispers the same filthy praises in her ears? What if he tells her that being inside of her is the best thing ever?
Your nails grip into his back harder, with a small intention to hurt him. To make your marks on him even more visible and obvious. Jungkook hisses, both in pain and pleasure. His pace increases as if you marking him turns him on more.
"Fuck, mark me up, baby." he pants. "Let everyone know who I belong to."
You almost let out a bitter laugh, because it sounds so ironic. Purposely, you clench around him hard, pussy fluttering tightly around his cock causing Jungkook's perfect rhythm to stutter. A moan escapes Jungkook and his hips jerk forward.
"Fuck – don't - don't do that–"
He loves when you do that, when you squeeze tightly, clenching around his cock, trapping him inside you. But on the downside, it makes him come way too fast – embarrassingly fast. Every time you do it, he begs you to stop. His hips thrust forward as he pant.
"Baby stop. I'm gonna – "
You do not stop, instead you clench and unclench around him until he's groaning loudly and releasing into you. He buries his face in your neck, hips bucking as he comes with a curse.
When it's over he stays there breathing hard with his hands still laced with yours. The bliss for him does not last. He lifts his head slowly and looks at you, realising that he hasn't made you come. You're just looking at him with something mean in your eyes. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together.
He does not like this. He never ever likes coming before you. It feels wrong, like he failed you somehow. He always wants you to come first, or at least to come with him. That's how it should be. Your pleasure before his own. Your pleasure is his priority.
He pulls out slowly and braces himself on his forearms above your head. "Baby..." you notice he sounds quite pissed off. "What the fuck was that?"
You blink up at him, looking like the picture of innocence. "Hmm?" you hum sweetly. "What was what?"
Jungkook stares down at you. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something. He wants to question you, wants to accuse you. He wants to ask what the hell is going on in that head of yours? Why are you doing this? He swallows his questions and leans in slowly to kiss the corner of your mouth before pulling back to look at you.
You stare at him, he's all flushed with his hair messy. You can't help but think that he looks cute like this. Way too cute for someone who can kill with his bare hands. Your heart does something stupid and infuriating. You hate him for making you feel this way.
He reaches down, grabs his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe between your thighs where his release still spills out. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lines himself at your entrance again.
You're still wet, but still, he pushes in slowly until he's deep inside. You both exhale. He stays still for a second, feeling how you're still lightly fluttering around him. He starts to move through your tight walls against your sensitive spots that he knows so well. He knows your body better than his own, so he definitely knows how to give you a good time.
You moan right against his ear and he groans lowly in response. He buries his face in your neck and starts kissing you there, open-mouthed and hungrily. You tug his hair, pulling him closer, motivating him to pick up the pace. Your breasts bounce with every one of his thrusts and Jungkook cannot stop staring at you.
"You're so pretty when you're getting fucked." he rasps.
He hooks his hands under your knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders. The new angle allows him to sink in even deeper. Your eyes flutter shut at the perplexing feeling.
Minutes pass, sweat forms on Jungkook's temple, dropping down to his jaw, making him look even hotter. His stamina is insane, he could usually go on for hours. His focus right now is on making you come all for him.
He's been very needy as of recently, since he hasn't been sexually active in a very long time, so when he feels his own pleasure building in his lower belly and his thighs starting to shake, he's not surprised.
He can feel that you're close as well, your pussy starts fluttering around him. You're so close. He brings your legs down and hooks them around his waist so he can hover over you with his forearms braced on either side of your head. He's close enough to you that you both breathe in each other's breaths. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth and you cheek bone before leaning to your ear to speak roughly.
"I'm close, baby. Come with me." he whispers. "Please – wanna feel you come on my dick. Wanna come together."
Your pussy flutters around him greedily and he groans. "Fuck, yeah–"
You're milking him hard, making his head spin. He cannot hold himself, he comes hard, burying himself inside you with a moan, his hips jerking through it. He waits, waiting to feel your walls seize him deep and gush around him. But there's nothing, absolutely nothing. You're panting and breathing heavily but you haven't released.
Jungkook processes it for a few seconds, then slowly, he pulls out. His cock is still hard, but softens now that the pleasure is being replaced by something else entirely. He braces himself on his forearm, hovering over you.
He asks, low and quite annoyed, "Are you doing this on purpose?"
Again, you look up at him innocently. "Doing that?" you tilt your head at him, faking confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Jungkook clenches his jaw. He exhales through his nose, frustrated. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're not coming. You're holding it back just to fuck with me."
You let out a small scoff. "Maybe you're just not doing a good enough job."
The words hit Jungkook right where it hurts the most. He freezes for a few seconds. Then his eyes darken, his fingers grip the sheet as if he's trying to hold himself back. What you just told him is the worst thing you could've ever told him, it bruises him like nothing else. You've told him that he isn't good enough for you, that he could not satisfy you.
He growls low, "You fucking brat."
He roughly flips you over so you're on your stomach. You gasp and barely have time to brace yourself before he yanks you up, so you're on fours in front of him. Your face is pressed into the sheets and your ass in the air. His slaps your ass cheek hard, so hard that the sound echoes in your massive room. You yelp and moan, jerking forward.
His hand wraps around throat, tilting your head back so you're arching. He pulls you up until your back is against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. His warm breath fans your ear. His other hand goes down to deliver a smack directly to your clit. You cry out shamelessly, pain and pleasure shooting through you.
"Stop your fucking shit." he growls against your ear. "Right now."
You laugh breathlessly, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Why? What are you gonna do about it, Jeon?"
His grip on your throat tightens slightly and his teeth graze your earlobe. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."
His hand between your thighs moves up higher, he slides two fingers through your folds, circling your clit. You whimper, melting into his touch even as you try to stay defiant.
"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he murmurs. "You think I don't know how you're trying to make me mad?"
His fingers press against your clit harder as he kisses your neck, sucking onto the marks he's left. He inserts his fingers inside you again, curling them deep. He finger-fucks you until you're panting and moaning again.
He carries on until he knows you're about to release, but still, you don't. You refuse to give him what he so desperately wants, you continue denying yourself just to spite him. You're still winning whatever fucked up game this is.
Jungkook pulls his fingers out abruptly and uses his hand to deliver another smack to clit before cupping it, feeling you throb against him. He tries to catch his breath, he's fuming at this point. What kind of torture is this?
But Jungkook being Jungkook, is not going to give up. He lines himself at your entrance again and sinks into you in a hard thrust. You moan, nails digging into his arm where it holds you across your stomach. Again, he starts fucking you, but harder and deeper now, keeping one arm securely around your waist and the other loosely around your neck.
You're so loud, whimpering and moaning softly – those sweet sounds he lives for. He goes on for long until he can feel the pleasure building for himself, warning him that he was going to come yet again but he can still feel you holding back.
He stops moving, his hips thrust forward one last time and he stays buried deep inside you. He lets out a frustrated groan as his forehead drops to your shoulder, both his hands moving to your hips now.
"What is your fucking problem?" he asks furiously, almost pleading.
For a moment, you say nothing. Then you finally let it out. "I can't stand you." you say, your own voice furious. It kind of sounds like you're at the verge of crying. "You're so stupid, Jungkook. So fucking blind. How can you be here, fucking me, when you brought someone along with you to the event? Let your mom beam at her, like she's something important to you–"
Jungkook freezes, although his grip on your waist tightens as he processes your little outburst. After a few seconds, he huffs out a laugh against your neck.
"Is this funny to you!?" you hiss, yanking forward trying to pull away from him.
His cock almost slips out of you, but you don't make it away because he pulls you back against him so roughly, your ass recoils against his hips. You hate yourself for the pure moan that spills out of you.
Jungkook's lips brush your ear as he speaks, "You're jealous." he says, smug and delighted.
"I'm not jealous." you spit, rageful. "I hate you. I hate that you think you just parade with someone else, then climb through my window like I'm yours to fuck whenever you want me."
"Oh, princess." he pulls out and thrusts inside you. "You are still mine. And yeah, I brought someone else to the event. She's just a family friend. An old arrangement my mom's been pushing for years. She doesn't mean shit. I don't want her, baby."
"Bullshit."
He presses a soft, tender kiss to the side of your neck. "You think I'd risk everything, my reputation, my life – just to be someone who isn't you?" his tone turns serious, losing the smugness. "You're the only person I want."
You're speechless, not believing what you just heard. But of course, you're not going to admit how happy his words have made you, so instead you clench around his cock hard. He winces and his hips jerk forward.
"Fuck." he grunts, letting out a ragged breath.
He sucks another mark onto your neck while rolling his hips into you.
"You think I look at anyone else the way I look at you?"
He thrusts into you deeply again, making you moan and arch your back.
"You're the only one," he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "The only one who makes me this stupid, this weak. This fucking desperate."
He punctuates each sent with a thrust before sticking to the perfect rhythm that has you moaning his name. He removes the hand from your throat and brings it down to your breasts to knead them.
"Look at these tits. So fucking perfect." he groans. "You know how many times I jerked off thinking about them?"
He pinches one of your nipples, making you whimper before he soothes it.
"You're so tight," he continues, his hips carry on thrusting in and out of you. "So wet, so fucking greedy. No one else feels like this."
He sucks more marks onto your neck while his hand goes down to rub your clit, causing you to cry out his name.
"Jungkook–ah"
Fuck. He wants those sounds in his mouth, he wants to swallow it, he wants to taste you. He grabs your face with his other hand, turning it to give you a messy kiss. He pushes his tongue inside your mouth,exploring and swallowing your pretty sounds.
Jungkook doesn't even understand what he wants anymore. All he knows is that he wants all of you. He never wants to ever pull out, he just wants to spend the rest of his life buried deep inside of you. His thrusts become even more relentless. He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. He puts a hand on your hip, pulling you against him to meet his thrust.
You're fluttering around him wildly, more than usual. Your breathless words become incoherent now, making Jungkook dizzy.
"Come on, baby." he growls against your mouth. "Come for me. I need to feel you."
You shamelessly scream his name as you gush around him. Warm liquid drips down his cock, soaking his thighs and sheets. Jungkook's eyes open wide as he feels the sensation, the wetness drenches him from the base to the tip. His thrusts stutter as he continues slamming into you
"Oh fuck–"
Jungkook is gone. He must be in paradise.
He releases, burying himself as deep as possible, coming into you while panting. He carries on going while you tremble and whimper beneath him.
When it finally ends, he collapses over you, his forehead on your back. He stays inside of you, not being able to out since you're still fluttering around him.
Jungkook is astounded. After a moment, he finally speaks. "Fuck... you just squirted all over me."
You immediately stiffen, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment. You try to squirm away, but he tightens his hold on you, staying inside of you. You bury your face into your pillow and let out a mortified groan. Jungkook softly kisses your shoulder and then your neck.
"That was the hottest fucking thing ever." he rasps against you. "I'm gonna make you do it again and again."
You whimper, wanting to protest, but deciding against it, because you know that once Jungkook wants something, he's determined to get it. Especially if it revolves around you.
•───୨୧───•
Minutes later, the room is quiet. Jungkook lay on his back, an arm over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. The sheets are damp beneath him, but it doesn't bother him. He stares at the ceiling, thinking.
He turns his head to look at you. You're laying on your side, facing away from him with a blanket covering half your naked body. Jungkook looks at you in pure admiration and desire. He could go again right now. Slide inside you from the back and go for another round or two, but he decides not to – he's a bit tired and you must be even more.
The distance between the two of you feels wrong, he wants your bodies to be touching, he wants contact with you. He shifts over, closing the gap until your back is pressed against his chest. He puts his arm over your waist, bringing you closer to him. You let him pull you close until your ass is nestled perfectly in between his thighs. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent – you smell like your sweet body wash, sweat, sex and mostly him. He kisses your neck a few times.
"Why're you so away from me?" he asks, against you.
You sigh. "I feel gross." you admit.
"I don't." he kisses under your jaw softly. "I feel incredible."
He caresses your stomach soothingly. "But I do think you should pee. And we should shower."
"Yeah..." you say.
He kisses your shoulder one more time before standing up. "Come on." he lets out his hand for you to take.
You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Your legs are wobbly so he steadies you by holding you and guiding you to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Jungkook opens the taps, making sure that the temperature is perfect for you, while you pee.
After you're done, you step past him and into the shower. He follows after you. The hot water cascades over you, it feels absolutely amazing. Jungkook squeezes some of your body wash into his hands, planning to wash you. But you shrug him off, not wanting him to touch you.
His hands fall away. He takes a moment to look at you. You look really tense as if something is wrong. As much as he wants to, he doesn't try to get you to tell him. He just stands under the shower next to you and washes himself as well.
Once you're both done, you turn off the tap. Jungkook grabs a towel and wraps it around you. He then gets two more, one to wrap around hips and the other for your wet hair.
"Thanks." you tell him
He nods before following you out the bathroom and back to your bedroom. The sheets are a disaster so he takes them off, dumps them into the laundry basket and puts new ones on the bed.
Jungkook glances at you every now and then, watching as you dry your hair with a stoic expression. He finds his discarded boxers and puts them on before getting into bed with a tired sigh.
He watches you pull over a silky, short sleep dress and tie up your hair. You look like something out of a fever dream. A little ruined, his marks all over you, limping a little. You're so beautiful.
You get into the bed next to him, laying on your side, facing him now. None of you speak, you just stare into each other's eyes.
After a while you speak. "When did you start being so... affectionate?"
He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.
"Most of the time you just fuck me and leave, or I leave. You don't stay, hold me or do any of this."
Jungkook gives you a small smirk and moves closer to you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you against him so that there's absolutely no space between you. He dips his head to peck your lips then looks at you again.
"I feel bad.. For making you think that there was someone else."
You snort softly in disbelief.
"Although," he smirks. "You being jealous was so adorable."
You smack his chest. "I was not."
He hums sceptically. "Sure you weren't."
"I was not."
"Uh huh."
You glare at him, half-heartedly. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer to make you snuggle against him.
"Goodnight, baby."
"Goodnight, Jungkook."
୨୧
The next evening comes quickly. Jungkook snuck out of your room early in the morning, making sure that nobody had seen him. Before leaving, he cradled your face in his hands and kissed you deep and desperately, asking you to unblock him and text him when you can. After he left, you felt a great sense of relief, but also missed him.
The rest of the day went by sprightly. You made yourself a delicious breakfast, you wrote and took a heavenly bath. Around six, your mother texted you, telling you to come by for dinner and to dress elegantly. You chose a beautiful outfit and got ready.
Soon, you're arriving at your family's estate, walking inside your childhood home to the dining room. When your mother sees you, she stands up and walks over to you.
"Sweetheart, there you are." she kisses your cheek before leading you to the table.
Your eyes wander over the scene before you. Your father sits at the table, across Mr Kim* and Mrs Kim, both of them looking sophisticated as always. And beside the, Sits a guy around your age.
He's tall, handsome, almost bewitching, you find yourself staring at him for a few seconds too long. You vaguely recognise him. He's Taehyung, heir of the Kims.
Your mother squeezes your waist gently and a little too enthusiastically. "Y/N, you remember the Kims?"
You nod politely, faking a smile.
"This," your mother says excitedly, "is their son, Taehyung. Taehyung, this is our daughter."
Taehyung stands. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly." he says, sounding rather amused.
"Likewise."
Your mother beams, looking between the two of you. "Why don't you sit, darling? Dinner's almost ready."
You nod and walk over to the table, taking a seat. Taehyung slides into the chair next to you and you catch the scent of his cologne, it's almost identical to Jungkook's, though you find Jungkook's much more preferable.
Your father clears his throat before raising his glass to make a toast. "To family and legacy."
Everyone raises their glasses and clinks together. Your mother waits until the clink fades, before she speaks.
"Sweetheart... we wanted to tell you this in person."
You stare at your mother with a poker face, though your awful suspicion grows. You want to throw up when your mother actually confirms your fear.
"Taehyung is your fiancé."
hii pookies, i worked so so so hard on this! i hope you guys enjoyed it🩷if you're interested, you can find part two on my patreon. either as a normal product — Best mistake 02 or on my membership tier — rkive (comes with other benefits, i will be posting everything on here first, along with extras in the future. feel free to check it out). also, ios users please try purchasing via the web to avoid paying extra fees. and once again, if you guys do support me, please know that i sincerely appreciate you <3
warnings – y/n's kinda emotional, mentions of period sex, possessive and kinda crazy jk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral, fingering, praising, jk makes out with her pussy, deep and rough sex, boob sucking, explicit language, i cannot mention a few things as it will spoil the story lol, but there's drama and a lot of cracking, etc...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
It’s giving Prince!jungkook, getting ready to announce his engagement. The crowd is eager to find out who their princess is going to be and how finally managed to get their prince to settle down.
— 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 —
It’s a random Wednesday afternoon, the streets are filled with floral decor and banners. An announcement was made that morning, Prince Jungkook as something to tell the people. The streets filled with citizens eager to hear the news.
The sun was at its highest when the horns blew, silence washed over the crowd as Jungkook stepped out onto the balcony. It took him a second to adjust to the brightness.
His citizens erupted in cheers! A smile overtook his face as he took a moment to center himself. He knew he wanted to marry you. And you consistently reassured him that he was it for you.
It was one thing keeping your relationship out of the public eye. But now coming forward to share you with the world and possibly face scrutiny was slightly unsettling. And to top it off it was an engagement announcement.
Jungkook took the time to wave at the crowd, giving them the opportunity to take pictures and get some energy out.
When he felt things had calm down a bit, he reached back into the balcony doorway. You stood there waiting. He put his hand out for you to grab. There was a slight shake to it, but his eyes shined with the love he carries for you.
With a deep breath, you slide your hand into his and step out to be with him.
You stood there, by his side, where you were always met to be.
— 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 —
AN: it’s super late when I typed this on my phone. Also it’s been a while since I wrote anything, so please forgive any mistakes.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
It’s giving Prince!jungkook, getting ready to announce his engagement. The crowd is eager to find out who their princess is going to be and how finally managed to get their prince to settle down.
— 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 —
It’s a random Wednesday afternoon, the streets are filled with floral decor and banners. An announcement was made that morning, Prince Jungkook as something to tell the people. The streets filled with citizens eager to hear the news.
The sun was at its highest when the horns blew, silence washed over the crowd as Jungkook stepped out onto the balcony. It took him a second to adjust to the brightness.
His citizens erupted in cheers! A smile overtook his face as he took a moment to center himself. He knew he wanted to marry you. And you consistently reassured him that he was it for you.
It was one thing keeping your relationship out of the public eye. But now coming forward to share you with the world and possibly face scrutiny was slightly unsettling. And to top it off it was an engagement announcement.
Jungkook took the time to wave at the crowd, giving them the opportunity to take pictures and get some energy out.
When he felt things had calm down a bit, he reached back into the balcony doorway. You stood there waiting. He put his hand out for you to grab. There was a slight shake to it, but his eyes shined with the love he carries for you.
With a deep breath, you slide your hand into his and step out to be with him.
You stood there, by his side, where you were always met to be.
— 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 — 💜 —
AN: it’s super late when I typed this on my phone. Also it’s been a while since I wrote anything, so please forgive any mistakes.
