here for bts.

Once he spots you, though, everything softens. His eyes go all boba-round and warm, crinkling at the corners as a smile stretches across his face. That stupid pretty one that makes your chest feel full. He straightens up a little.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you say when you reach him, rising on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck. You hug him tightly. You melt into him without thinking. His hands naturally land on the small of your back, holding you close in his embrace.

“It’s okay, baby.” Jungkook leans back just enough to press a little kiss to your lips.

One of his hands dip even lower, brushing over the curve of your butt and the light fabric of your skirt. It doesn’t take long before he grazes bare skin, catching just the edge where the hem ends and you begin.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“Oh, it was so fun!” you beam, hands coming together in an excited little clap in front of your chest. You bounce slightly.

It had been a long day filming at one of the major companies in Seoul, part of that new show about the behind-the-scenes process of producing k-pop songs. The set was huge – too many lights, too many people, and so many cameras that you couldn’t even look around without feeling watched.

Everything felt loud and fast and intimidating, like you were going to mess up just by standing there.

“I was still really nervous in the beginning because there were a lot of people, but I did what you told me over the phone this morning and reminded myself that just being there already meant I belonged. That in a little while this would be just another thing that I’ve overcome.”

Dare you mention that just this morning, you felt like throwing up at the thought of today’s schedule – and yet, somehow, it turned into something you ended up loving. Getting to work on something you’re genuinely passionate about, surrounded by new people who love it just as much as you, felt amazing, inspiring.

“I told you it wouldn’t be as bad. You wanted to call in sick,” Jungkook reminds you, teasing you with an arched brow.

“I felt so anxious this morning!”

“You underestimate what you’re capable of.”

“Anyways.” Your shoulders slump slightly. “I’m exhausted now.”

“We can just go to my place if you want.” He gently tucks your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

“No. I wanna go to the Han River with you,” you say, lips tugging into a pout.

Jungkook grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it over his head. A glimpse of his toned abdomen flashes before his black tee falls back into place. He swings the hoodie around your waist, draping it carefully before tying it snug at the front.

“Can’t drive my bike in a short skirt like this,” he explains in a mumble, smoothing the hoodie down over your butt.

“You helped me pick out this outfit this morning.”

If you’d been left alone in your anxious spiral this morning, you probably would’ve just thrown on whatever comfy thing was closest. But after Jungkook talked you down over the phone, his voice all soft and steady, you felt a little more okay. Okay enough to want to feel pretty, at least. So you stood in front of your overflowing closet, doors hanging open, letting him help you pick something out over facetime.

“Yeah well. You look pretty. I wasn’t thinking about logistics.”

You roll your eyes, but your face warms anyway. “You’re the logistics.”

“Sue me for getting distracted.” He pecks your temple, grinning as he pulls back.

Then he crouches next to the Harley, lifting the seat to reveal a small storage compartment. With a bit of manoeuvring, he pulls out a black helmet, matching his own.

He turns back to you and holds it out like it’s something delicate. “C’mere,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back gently before slipping the helmet over your head and securing the strap under your chin.

“Too tight?” he murmurs, adjusting the strap with the pads of his fingers.

You shake your head.

He grabs his own helmet from the handlebar, slipping it on with practiced ease. The engine rumbles to life with a twist of his wrist, loud and steady. He swings one leg over the bike and settles in before turning to glance at you over his shoulder. He holds his hand out to you.

“Hop on, baby.”

You take his hand, grabbing his shoulder with your other one for leverage as you climb on behind him. Your hands move to circle his middle once you’re properly sitting.

“You good?” He cranes his neck back to you, looking you over.

“Yes,” you reply, hugging his back. “Drive safely, please.”

The engine hums beneath you, the vibration slipping through your legs and settling in your chest as Jungkook coaxes the Harley onto the road.

The wind rushes past in silky ribbons, threading through your hair and curling under your skirt, making you curl closer into his back. His hoodie sways around your legs, and his scent, clean laundry and the last bit of cologne clinging to his skin, fills your lungs. You rest your cheek against the strong curve of his back.

Seoul twinkles around you in bits and pieces, like someone sprinkled glitter across the skyline. Streetlights blink down like stars with somewhere to be.

At a red light, Jungkook reaches for your hand without even looking, like it’s second nature. His fingers find yours and give them a slow, reassuring squeeze that makes your chest flutter. Then his hand drifts upward, trailing a lazy path along your arm before slipping behind him. His touch lands on your thigh, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It’s just a small stroke, but enough to send a little spark dancing up your spine.

Eventually, the buildings thin out, replaced by the open stretch of the Han River, glistening under the city’s glow. Jungkook rolls into a quiet patch near the railing and cuts the engine.

“My mum would kill me if she knew I was riding a bike with you,” you say.

Jungkook huffs a laugh as he slips off his helmet. With a little shake of his head his hair falls back into place. “My mum would kill me for letting you ride it with me.” He turns slightly to look at you, flashing his soft dimple as he reaches to unclip your helmet.

“And yet,” you retort as he helps lift it off your head, “here we are.”

“Reckless,” he grins, brushing your hair back into place. “But cute.”

~

After a quiet walk along the river, you settle onto a bench facing the water.

“I even got a bit of the lyrics done for the song we finished producing,” you say, tucking your hands into your sleeves

Jungkook hums, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and letting it rest behind your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You need to let me listen to it.”

“I’m not giving you the song.”

“Ah, it’s always worth a try.”

“I’ll start working with you when you guys are over this...era of music you’re in right now.”

“Era of music?” Jungkook scoffs. “You find new words how to describe the fact that you don’t like the new music every time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you whine, falling into his teasing. “It’s not that I don’t like the new music. It’s just not my type of production,” you quickly defend, truthful.

“At least let me listen to it.”

“When I’m finished you can.”

He lets out a small groan. “I’m terrible at being patient.”

“Oh, I know. Don’t have to remind me.” He’s an impatient boyfriend disguised as your number one fan (which, let’s be honest, he is). Always acting like he’s not trying that hard – when really, he’s the most obvious about it.

You roll your eyes every time he launches into a totally casual, totally unplanned, “hey, wanna show me a little something?” but you love it, every time. You love the way he sneaks into your world like that. Softly, stubbornly.

The sneaky bribes, the casual shoulder nudges, the way he tries to coax you into playing something, anything, even if it’s unfinished. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s just a late night, the two of you curled up on the couch, guitar perched on your lap, him humming half-written lyrics with his knees touching yours and a smile tucked into his voice. Songs that only live between you two.

“I’ll show it later to you,” you finally say. There’s not much of a fight when it comes to Jungkook. “Missed you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, hugging his arm.

“We should do something before my schedule gets crazy again.” Jungkook pats down his front pockets. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Like a small vacation?”

“I’d love that.”

You eye him as he slips a cigarette between his lips, cupping the flame with one hand as he lights it. The cigarette glows at the tip, smoke curling past his cheekbones and drifting in the opposite direction as he tilts his head to avoid blowing it your way. You still wrinkle your nose and lean your head away, your clutch around his arm loosening.

“You’re buying me ice cream for smoking next to me,” you mutter, half playful, half serious.

He exhales to the side again, then flicks the ash off the end with a small grin. “I was already gonna.”

You give him a look. “Not the point.”

“I know.” He tilts his head toward you, eyes tracing your face like he’s trying to read something only he can see.

You sigh, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping through, but your fingers find his again anyway, slipping between them. He’s warm, even with the breeze coming off the water. The smoke lingers in the air between you, but his scent cuts through it – familiar, stupidly comforting.

“I say we go on a weekend trip to Jeju,” Jungkook says, his gaze fixed ahead.

Your head pops up. “That seafood restaurant,” you gasp, eyes widening.

He watches you, smiling at your excitement.

“We have to go,” you say, tugging his arm. “I still think about that abalone porridge from that tiny place by the harbour, you remember? With the old lady who called us lovebirds.”

“How could I not?” Jungkook laughs. “She told me to marry you or someone else would.”

You laugh too. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Jungkook snorts, flicking the half-smoked cigarette away and stubbing it out under his shoe. He turns back to you, and you feel his finger brush over your ring finger – it's a subtle, fleeting touch, but you wouldn’t dare miss it.

“I wouldn’t ever let that happen.” He leans in, catching you in a warm kiss.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips, then pull back slightly. “But don’t kiss me after you’ve just smoked.”

Jungkook sighs like you’ve wounded him. Dramatically. Then he leans back in, peppering kisses along your cheek, down the slope of your jaw, and onto your neck, ignoring your protests with every one.

“Jungkook,” you warn through laughter, swatting at him half-heartedly. “We’re not at home.”

“But I still love you the same.” It’s a gentle murmur against your neck, nuzzling the skin there before leaving one last kiss just below your jaw.

“Jungkook.”

He finally pulls back, just enough to meet your eyes, and his teasing fades into something more softer, more quieter.

“I love the way you say my name.”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, just slightly lifting the corner of his lips. But his eyes hold the sincerity behind his words, the soft glow of them making you feel like you’re the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

Every time Jungkook says this, you’re reminded of when you still wore uniforms and shared secrets in the quiet spaces between classes. When he said it for the first time, you thought he was poking fun at you like the others for pronouncing words differently because you grew up abroad, in the US.

He told you it sounded softer, rounder, like it meant something more when it came from you. He said it made him feel like someone safe. Someone yours.

He doesn’t say it often, but every time he does, you’re reminded of the past. And a soft, nostalgic feeling settles in your chest at the memory of fifteen-year-old Jungkook and you falling in love for the first time. It’s a bittersweet ache because when you think of that time, all you see is blue, but Jungkook was the one thing that still felt warm. Like hope tucked into a person.

And now, years later, even with everything you’ve both grown through and grown out of, that version of him still lives in moments like this. In quiet confessions and shared glances.

Heat nestles in your cheeks. You look away – straight at the river with the twinkling lights reflecting off of it. They remind you of his eyes.

“What?” His voice carries a teasing lilt, like he can’t quite place where your sudden shyness is coming from, but he’s definitely enjoying it.

“I dunno,” you mumble under your breath, hiding your face on his chest while keeping your eyes trained on the water. “I just get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“By what?”

“By how much I love you.”

“Wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“I do too.”

You smile into his shirt, warmth blooming in your chest.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You really know how to kill a man,” he murmurs, voice low and a little awed.

You look up at him at that.

“I love you more,” he says eventually, like it’s the simplest truth. “Like... stupid amounts. Heart-aching amounts.”

You giggle, nose scrunching. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You started it.” He peers down at you, eyes soft. “Now let me be in love with you in peace.”

“I’ll let you love me in peace after we get snacks.”

“Will I ever witness a day where you don’t want something sweet?”

“Nuh-uh.” You shake your head with exaggerated seriousness. “The day can’t successfully end until you’ve had a sweet treat.”

“I actually think you’re singlehandedly keeping the candy industry alive.”

“I should be thanked, honestly.”

You rise to your feet, brushing invisible dust off your skirt as you stand in front of him. Jungkook doesn’t move right away. His eyes trail down to your legs, then to the hem of your skirt, fingers reaching out to tug it just a little lower with that automatic protectiveness he tries (and fails) to hide.

“You’re not cold, baby?” he asks, nodding toward his hoodie tossed over the bench behind him.

“No, I’m okay.”

Still sitting, he tugs you gently by the hips until you’re standing between his knees. His hands find your waist like magnets, thumbs stroking slow circles against the sliver of skin where your top has ridden up.

“I like this spot,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your stomach, right above your belly button. You flinch a little, giggling, fingers slipping into his thick hair.

“You’re such a menace,” you say, voice light, but you don’t pull away.

“And you’re so pretty,” he says, looking up at you from where he’s still crouched against your tummy. His eyes are warm, sparkling. “Like... dangerously pretty. You know that?”

You bite your lip. “Stop.”

“I’m serious.” He rests his chin just above your waistband, arms looping around the back of your thighs like he’s not letting go anytime soon. “Sometimes I think you’re not even real.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “That’s what people say right before they do something stupid.”

He grins up at you, squeezes your thigh just enough to make you squeak. “Then I must be about to do something really stupid.”

“I feel like that’s something for home. Not public.”

“You think so?” He tilts his head slightly.

“Jungkook.” It’s meant to be a chiding. But instead, it escapes softer than you intended, more like a puff of air. Like we shouldn’t but I wanna know anyway. Like stop talking... but actually, no – keep going please.

Instead of backing off like any reasonable person would, he smirks, then has the audacity to give your butt the lightest squeeze, fingers quick and shameless.

You squeal, jumping back. “Jungkook!”

Flashing you a smile that’s somehow both innocent and guilty, he casually grabs his hoodie from the bench and stands up.

You stare at him, half scandalized, half trying not to smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he says, slinging the hoodie over one shoulder glancing over at you with that smug softness that drives you crazy. “You wanted snacks, no?” He grabs your hand.

You narrow your eyes, but your feet already fall into step beside his.

~

It’s not a long walk until you reach the next convenient store.

“It looks kinda busy in there,” you tell Jungkook, peering through the glass. “I’ll just run in real quick. You can wait out here.”

Jungkook squints into the store, brows furrowed. “Who’s in there? I don’t want you going in alone if there’s some creeps.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him with your elbow. “It’s just a group of girls. Relax,” you say. “What do you want?”

He pulls his black card from his pocket. “Nothing for me. Just treat yourself, baby.”

You snatch the card from his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.”

~

You exit the store with a slightly overstuffed plastic bag tugging at your wrist. Being a girl who loves snacks, is hopelessly indecisive – and has her boyfriend’s black card – is a dangerous combo.

Jungkook tilts his head, trying to sneak a look inside the bag. “What’d you get?”

“Too much to name,” you say breezily, fishing out the ice cream resting right on top. “Got this for us, though.” It’s the ice cream that comes with two sticks so you can snap it in half and share. “I always think of you when I see this,” you admit, passing him one half after cracking it down in the middle.

“Ah, I didn’t want to eat any sweets today.”

“Too late,” you tease, nudging it closer to his mouth. “You already kissed me, so that’s off the table.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “That counts?”

“It absolutely does.” You raise your brows. “Now eat, please.”

He leans forward and takes a small bite straight from your hand. “Happy now?”

“Very much so.” You swipe the pad of your finger over a smudge of ice cream at the corner of his mouth, then lick it off with a grin.

He huffs a quiet laugh, head tilting as he watches you with that impossibly fond look. “You’re trouble.”

“Says you!”

With a sigh, he takes it from you. “You’re only getting away with this because you’re cute.”

“I know.” You smile around the ice cream in your mouth. “I can’t have a boyfriend who says no to a sweet treat.”

You fall into step beside him, walking slowly as you both nibble at the halves in your hands.

“I’m dieting.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer, just shrugs, proving your point.

That’s when your mind slips, just a little, to all the ways you used to be like this. All the self-destructive habits he had to gently pry from your grip. Jungkook has saved you many times. And you want to be there for him just as much he was there for you when no one chose you. When he was the only one who saw you – really saw you – and still chose to stay.

You reach for his hand, linking your fingers through his.

“I feel like sometimes you live your life like it’s harder than it has to be. Like you’re holding yourself back, setting rules that you don’t have to follow.”

Jungkook lets out a quiet breath. “I know,” he mutters, squeezing your hand. “You’re the first person who made me think maybe I deserve ease too. You make it feel okay to slow down.”

“Am I?” you ask sceptically. You hope you do, but are you actually?

He tips his ice cream in your direction.

You laugh. “Baby steps.”

You glance up at him. He’s licking his ice cream, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth like he doesn’t even realize it’s there. It makes your chest ache a little. In that sweet way.

“Jungkook?”

His head turns slightly, face lit soft by the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. His eyes flick to you, a soft, curious glint catching in them as your gaze meets his. You lean your head against his arm.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sticking with me through every version of myself.”

It’s a thought that catches you off guard – maybe not entirely, you’re not sure – but suddenly it’s there, clear and undeniable. A reminder that, through every change, every version of yourself, he’s never left. Whether you’ve been at your best or your worst, he’s always stayed. And sometimes, it’s hard to wrap your mind around the fact that someone can love you through all of that.

“There’s never been a version I didn’t love,” he says quietly, like it’s not something he even has to think about.

Your heart stumbles a little, eyes stinging in that warm, fuzzy way that only he can cause.

“You make it really easy, you know,” he adds, brushing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. “Loving you. I don’t even think about it. I just do.”

You blink up at him, lips twitching into the kind of smile that only he gets to see. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He tugs you closer to him, your sides brushing with each step.

------------------ Day 1

The moment you step inside, your eyes take in the breathtaking suite. White-washed walls, soft linen curtains swaying from the sea breeze, a private infinity pool overlooking the ocean. Jungkook watches you, arms crossed, fondness written all over his face.

“This is so nice,” you gush, spinning to face him. “I don’t think I’ll ever wanna leave.”

Jungkook sets the luggage down, smirking. “Well, we have a week.”

Your smile grows. Something in your chest feels so warm. You turn to him, eyes gleaming. “What should we do first?”

Jungkook steps closer, voice low and playful. “Hmm. I can think of a few things.”

You shove his chest, laughing, “Yah Jeon, behave.” He chuckles, arms wrapping lazily around your waist, pulling you in. “No promises, baby.”

----

You practically bounce on your feet as you slip on your sandals, the soft sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains of your hotel room. “Okay, okay, I’m ready!” you chirp, spinning to face Jungkook, who is still leaning against the doorframe, watching you with pure amusement.

His arms are crossed, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been ‘ready’ for the last fifteen minutes.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your bag. “I am! Let’s goo”

Jungkook doesn’t move. Instead, he reaches out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into him, his nose brushing against yours.

His voice drops, teasing. “You’re really just trusting me with everything, huh?”

You nod immediately. “Of course. You’re the planner, I’m just here to have fun.” Jungkook exhales a quiet laugh, his fingers trailing lazily up your arm.

He leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. It’s warm. Sweet. Dangerously distracting.

You blink up at him, refusing to fall for it. “Jeon Jungkook, if you don’t take me outside in the next ten seconds, I’m leaving you here.”

He laughs—full, rich, and so effortlessly attractive—before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him.

“Alright, alright,” dropping a quick kiss to your temple. “Let’s go.”

And with his fingers laced through yours, he leads you out—the two of you finally stepping into your first day in Greece.

The scent of fresh-baked bread, sweet honey pastries filling the air as you and Jungkook wander through the bustling market. Your fingers brush against the beautifully painted souvenirs, woven baskets, your eyes wide with excitement.

“Jungkook, look at these!” you gasp, holding up a tiny, hand-carved olive wood frog.

He chuckles, watching you with pure amusement. “You don’t even like frogs.”

You scowl. “Yeah, but look at his little face.”

Jungkook shakes his head, ruffling your hair before grabbing the frog figurine and paying for it without a second thought.

You blink. “I wasn’t actually gonna—”

“Too late,” he smirks, handing it to you. “Now it’s yours.”

Before you can respond, the scent of something sweet and buttery hits your nose, making you immediately turn toward a food stall.

You grin. “We have to try those.”

The vendor hands over a small plate, and before you can even grab a piece, Jungkook picks one up and holds it to your lips.

Your eyes narrow. “You’re feeding me now?”

“Open.”

You roll your eyes but let him feed you, the sweet layers melting on your tongue. A small hum of satisfaction escapes you before you glance at Jungkook.

“ Good, huh?” he smirks.

Instead of answering, you take another piece, holding it up like you’re about to feed him.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in. “See? You like it when I—”

But before he can finish, you smirk and pop the piece into your own mouth instead. You burst out laughing, wiping a crumb from your lip. “Tastes good.”

Jungkook gapes at you, half-glaring, half-amused. “You little—”

Before he can finish, you grab his wrist and drag him toward the next stall, giggling.

“We have so much more to eat,” you sing-song.

Jungkook lets you pull him away, shaking his head with amusement.

The market fades behind you as you and Jungkook wander through the winding streets, hand in hand.

The air is warm, salt-kissed from the ocean breeze, and the soft sound of distant waves crashes below the cliffs. White-washed buildings, blue domes line the path, vibrant bougainvillea flowers spilling over terraces.

Jungkook squeezes your hand lightly. “Still trusting my planning skills?”

You grin. “So far, you’re doing great, boyfriend.”

He chuckles, his dimple peeking out, and just when you turn to admire the view—Click.

You blink. “Did you just take my picture?”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide it. He’s holding up his phone, looking way too pleased with himself.

“Yup.”

You narrow your eyes, stepping closer. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.” He smirks, slipping the phone into his pocket.

You gasp. “Jungkook!”

He laughs, stepping back just as you lunge for his phone.

“Oh, baby, don’t even try,” he teases, holding it high above his head, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

You huff, glaring up at him. “What if I looked bad?”

Jungkook stands confident. So annoyingly sure of himself.

“You looked perfect.”He says it so easily, like a fact, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. For a second, you forget what you were even mad about.

Jungkook grins, clearly noticing your reaction. “What? No comeback?”

You snap out of it and quickly grab your phone, flipping the camera. “Okay, if you’re gonna take pictures of me, I’m getting yours too.”

Jungkook doesn’t protest as you start clicking away—a mix of stolen shots and silly ones.

“Okay, now pose,” you instruct, biting your lip to stop your smile.

Jungkook scoffs but obeys, shoving his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly, looking effortlessly model-like.

You pause. “That’s unfair.”

“What?”

“You just naturally look good in every picture.”

He laughs, stepping closer. “Says you?”

Before you can argue, he pulls you in, flipping the camera to selfie mode. “Let’s take some together,” he murmurs.

And just like that, you spend the next ten minutes giggling, making faces, taking videos. Jungkook kisses your cheek in one, in another, he makes you laugh so hard your eyes disappear.

The pictures—some blurry, some too close, some candid. but when you look at them later, you realize they’re perfect in every way that matters.

----

The sun is lower in the sky now, everything's in warm shades of gold as you and Jungkook walk along the soft, white sand. Your sandals dangle from your fingers, the ocean breeze cooling your skin.

Jungkook is beside you, his hand lazily intertwined with yours, his other tucked into his pocket as he watches the tide roll in.

“Okay,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence. “This might be the prettiest place I’ve ever seen.”

Jungkook hums, glancing at you instead of the view. “Yeah. It really is.”

You turn to look at him—only to find him already looking at you.

Before you can overthink it, something catches your eye—a small wooden stall set up just a little ahead, tucked beneath the shade of a few palm trees.

“What’s that?” You tug on Jungkook’s hand, pulling him toward it.

The stall is lined with handmade jewelry, delicate silver and gold pieces glinting in the fading sunlight. Small sea-glass pendants, braided anklets, thin rings on display.

“Ohh, these are cute,” you murmur, running your fingers over the bands.

Jungkook watches as you casually slip one onto your finger, admiring how it looks before turning to him with a grin.

“Should we get matching ones?” you joke, wiggling your fingers.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Matching rings?”

“Yeah, why not?” you tease. “It’ll be like a little vacation memory.”

Jungkook hums, studying the rings for a moment before wordlessly picking one up. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, slipping it onto your finger himself.

Your breath catches. You glance at him, expecting a smirk, some teasing remark—but he’s quiet. Focused.

The ring fits perfectly.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up to meet yours, and for a second, neither of you say anything.

“Guess we’re married now,” he quips, breaking the silence with a cheeky grin.

You snort, shoving his shoulder. “You’re so dumb.”

But just as you’re about to make another joke, you pause. because Jungkook is still looking at the rings.

And before you can ask, he casually grabs another one—the exact same design—and slips it onto his own finger.

He lifts his hand beside yours, comparing them. “Now we match,” he hums, completely unbothered, like it’s the simplest thing in the world making your heart stumble.

----

You collapse onto the bed, sighing dramatically.

Jungkook chuckles, setting his phone down before joining you, his body warm and solid beside yours.

Jungkook lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers, the ring glinting under the dim lights.

“So,” he muses, voice low and playful. “How does it feel to be my wife for seven days?"

You snort, rolling over to face him. “Delusional.”

Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling, before pulling you into his chest. “You love it.”

You hum, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “Maybe.”

His hand finds yours, fingers absentmindedly tracing over the band on your finger.

Neither of you take the rings off.

Neither of you even think about it.

------------------- Day 2

The warm afternoon sun bathes the streets as you and Jungkook browse a small outdoor market. Small shops, displays filled with handcrafted goods and souvenirs.

You stop at a small stall, admiring intricately painted ceramic plates. An older woman, the vendor, smiles at you.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she says, her accent thick with warmth.

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes! My husband and I are visiting for the first time.”

Jungkook chokes on his water.

You hear him cough violently beside you, his hand gripping the bottle like it betrayed him.

The vendor laughs. “Ah, newlyweds?”

“Oh, yes,” you continue smoothly, holding Jungkook’s arm. “We’re having the best time. He planned everything so perfectly.”

You feel him staring at you—his entire existence malfunctioning in real-time.

The woman smiles warmly at Jungkook. “A good husband always takes care of his wife.”

Jungkook clears his throat.

“Oh—uh, yeah,” he mutters. “That’s… me.”

You beam, squeezing his arm. “He’s really amazing. Very thoughtful.”

Jungkook’s ears turn pink.

Once the woman turns away to wrap up your purchase, he leans down, voice low.

“Do you hear yourself?” he mutters.

You grin, still holding onto his arm “What? I’m just staying in character. You said we're married soo...we'll be a happy married couple throughout this trip.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, shaking his head but smiling.

“Oh my god.”

----

Jungkook immediately drops onto the bed, groaning as he stretches his arms above his head.

You plop down beside him, nudging his side. “Tired, husband?”

He groans louder, covering his face with his hands. “If you call me that one more time…”

You grin, rolling onto your stomach to face him. “What? That’s what you are.”

Jungkook peeks at you through his fingers, eyes narrowing. “You’re having too much fun with this.”

You hum, twisting your ring on your finger absentmindedly. “You should too. I mean, you’re already wearing the ring. You might as well act the part.”

Jungkook lifts his hand, inspecting the matching band on his finger. He’s silent for a moment, before—

“I should start calling you ‘wifey’ then, huh?”

Your eyes snap to his face, and—yup. He’s smirking.

“Don't you dare,” you mutter, sitting up immediately.

Jungkook grins wider, propping himself up on his elbows. “Wifey, can you get me some water?”

“I will pour it on your face.”

He laughs, absolutely loving this. “Wifey, should we get couple bathrobes too?”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it.

Jungkook wheezes, rolling away from your attack before bolting up from the bed.

“Okay, okay! I’m going for a swim,” he calls out, grabbing a towel.

You glare at him, crossing your arms. “You’re banned from speaking for the next hour.”

Jungkook grins. “That’s okay.”

With zero shame, he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion, revealing every defined muscle and tattoo.

Jungkook walks out to the pool—leaving you sitting there, absolutely speechless.

----

The water is cool against your skin, the evening air warm, as you float lazily in the pool. The view of the twinkling lights stretches out beyond the infinity edge.

Jungkook is across from you, leaning against the pool’s edge, his arms resting on the surface, watching you with that look.

The same one from earlier. like he’s amused. Maybe a little dangerous.

You try to ignore it, focusing on the soft ripples in the water.

A small wave splashes against your stomach. Your eyes snap up. Jungkook is still there, expression unreadable. But his fingers, barely submerged, are moving.

You narrow your eyes splashing a wave back without hesitation.

Jungkook gasps, dramatically wiping his face. “Oh, you wanna play?”

Before you can react, he swiftly moves, strong, closing the space between you in seconds.

Your breath catches as his hands find your waist, pulling you against him in the water.

“You’re really pushing your luck, wifey,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.

Your hands find his shoulders, fingers pressing into firm, wet skin. “And what are you gonna do about it, husband?”

Jungkook grins, kissing you.

The water ripples around you as he pulls you even closer, one hand firm on your hip, the other tracing up your spine. His lips move slow, consuming, his breath mixing with yours.

You let out a small gasp, fingers curling in his hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing against yours, making you feel lightheaded.

He lifts you. Just enough for your legs to wrap around his waist, water dripping between you as his lips trail down your throat.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, heat pooling low, desire crashing into you like the waves beyond.

“Jungkook—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, voice rough, pressed against your skin. “Let me take care of my wife.”

-------------------- Day 3

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir slightly, but before you can move, a strong arm tightens around your waist.

A deep grumble vibrates against your back. “Where are you going?”

You smile sleepily. “Nowhere.”

Jungkook nuzzles into your neck, his voice raspy with sleep. “Good. Stay.”

His fingers trace lazy patterns on your bare skin, warm, possessive. You hum, relaxing into his touch, “Why are you so tired?

Jungkook grunts. “Because my wife wore me out last night.”

Your face heats instantly. “Oh my god—”

He chuckles, pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder. “Mmm. You liked it.”

You turn to glare at him, but he’s already smirking.

“You’re annoying.”

“And you love it,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, his lips brushing your temple.

You pretend to protest, but honestly?

You could stay like this forever.

-------

The climb isn’t too long, but the slight incline has you huffing just a little.

“Jungkook, are we almost there?” you ask, pushing back a strand of hair as the warm breeze kisses your skin.

Jungkook, walking ahead effortlessly, doesn’t even look winded. He glances back at you with a smirk. “Tired already, wife?”

You narrow your eyes. “You dragged me up here. I should’ve just—”

You stop mid-sentence, sighing dramatically. Jungkook chuckles. Without another word, he crouches down in front of you, patting his back.

You blink. “What are you doing?”

He tilts his head. “What does it look like? Get on.”

Your lips twitch. “Are you sure? I’m not exactly—”

Jungkook turns slightly, raising a brow. “Did I stutter?”

You giggle, placing your hands on his shoulders before hopping onto his back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Jungkook adjusts his grip on your thighs, lifting you with ease.

And just like that—he carries you up the trail like you weigh nothing.

You press your cheek against his, grinning. “You’re really strong, huh?”

Jungkook hums. “You’re really lucky, huh?”

Laughing, you pepper soft kisses along his jaw, his cheek, his temple.

Jungkook exhales sharply. “Y/n.”

You blink innocently. “What?”

He grins, shaking his head. “You’re distracting me.”

You laugh against his skin. “What, can’t handle a few kisses?”

Jungkook’s grip on you tightens slightly, his voice dropping just a little lower.

“Keep testing me, wifey.”

You don’t get a chance to respond—because before you know it, you’ve reached the top.

And when Jungkook finally sets you down, he doesn’t let go immediately.

Instead, he lifts his phone, angling the camera before pulling you close against his side.

“Say wifeyyy.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

You still say it. and when you peek at the screen—the view behind you is breathtaking. But the way Jungkook is looking at you in the frame?

His gaze is soft, lingering—something deep. Like he’s seeing something even more beautiful than the world around him.

---------------------- Day 4

Jungkook walks beside you, hands in his pockets, sunglasses on, looking effortlessly cool—until you drag him straight into a clothing store.

“You’re making me shop?” he groans.

You grin, already browsing. “Of course.”

Jungkook exhales, resigned. “Fine. But if I’m suffering, I get to rate your choices.”

And just like that, he ends up sitting on one of those plush chairs outside the fitting room, watching you like this is some kind of mission. You try on a few outfits, twirling in front of him.

Jungkook’s commentary is pure chaos.

“Too frilly.” “Too serious.”

“That one makes you look like a cute little menace—get it.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Eventually, you pick out two dresses, and a jacket for your boyfriend.

No.

Husband.

At the counter, you pull out your card, ready to pay—only for Jungkook to casually slide his in before you can react.

“Jungkook—”

“Got it.” He says it so effortlessly, like it’s nothing.

You stare at him. “I was paying.”

Jungkook shrugs, grabbing the bags. “Not when I’m here.”

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can—

The cashier smiles warmly. “You have a very thoughtful boyfriend.”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

The cashier’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, I’m so sorry—”

You smile sweetly. “He’s my husband.”

The cashier relaxes, “Ohh! You two make a lovely couple.”

You squeeze Jungkook’s arm, pressing close. “Thank you! He’s the sweetest hubby, really.”

Jungkook just stands there. Blinking.

The cashier laughs. “You’re a lucky woman.”

You beam, looking up at Jungkook. “I know.”

The moment you step outside, he leans down, murmuring lowly.

“You did that on purpose.”

You grin. “And?”

Jungkook shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

Your arms are full of shopping bags, and Jungkook is carrying even more.

“You have a problem,” he groans, adjusting the bags on his arms.

You grin, unfazed. “Correction: we have a problem.”

Jungkook exhales dramatically. “I need a refund on this marriage.”

You gasp, clutching your chest. “How dare you? After all we’ve been through?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch. “Come on, let’s find food before you convince me to adopt a souvenir shop.”

----

The night market buzzes with life—Fairy lights and lanterns glow overhead, casting a golden hue as soft music drifts through the lively streets.

You and Jungkook wander through the crowd, sharing bites of food, laughing as he tries to steal yours.

You pause by a musician playing a soft acoustic song, his voice melting into the warm night.

You turn to Jungkook immediately.

His eyes narrow. “No.”

You bat your lashes, pouting. “Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Jungkook,” you whine, nudging him relentlessly.

“No.”

Puppy eyes.

Jungkook groans, running a hand down his face. “Oh my god, stop looking at me like that.”

He swears under his breath before finally stepping forward. “You owe me,” he mutters.

The musician grins, strumming the guitar as Jungkook casually leans in and starts singing.

His voice melts into the night, smooth and effortless, blending perfectly with the melody. Conversations quiet, heads turn, people pause to listen.

You watch in awe, your heart tripping over itself.

Jungkook, who claimed he didn’t want to sing, looks completely in his element.

By the time the song ends, the small crowd cheers and claps—and Jungkook glances at you, shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, but he’s smiling.

You beam, grabbing his hand. “And you’re amazing.”

Jungkook lets you pull him away, fingers intertwined, the warmth of the night wrapping around you both.

------------------- Day 5

The small cooking studio is bright and welcoming, filled with the scent of fresh, warm bread.

Jungkook snickers as you struggle with your apron. “Are you already losing?”

You glare. “Shut up.”

He grins, effortlessly tying his own. “You sure you don’t want to just let me cook?”

“Nope,” you're determined.

Jungkook just laughs, clearly amused.

The class begins, and predictably— you’re a disaster.

Your dough refuses to knead properly, your vegetables are questionably chopped.

Jungkook, of course, is thriving.

“I can’t believe I’m married to this,” he sighs dramatically, shaking his head.

You elbow him. “EXCUSE ME?”

He smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry, wifey. I’ll make sure we don’t starve.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips a little at the way he says it.

Midway through the class, Jungkook’s phone vibrates.

“Work,” he mutters, frowning. “I’ll be quick. Don’t burn the place down.”

You wave him off. “Go, go.”

With Jungkook distracted, Jay—the instructor—steps over your station to help.

“How’s it going over here?”

You laugh sheepishly, “Terrible. I think I’ve offended the cooking gods.”

Jay laughs. “You’re not that bad.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, yeah, this is pretty bad,” he grins.

“Try using less force,” he suggests, guiding your hands gently.

You try again, still failing miserably.

“Okay, maybe a little more force than that.”

You groan in frustration, but it only makes him grin.

“At least you’re enjoying yourself,” he says.

You laugh, shaking your head.

Jungkook returns just in time to see you laughing easily, comfortably—with the instructor.

He steps back beside you, sliding an arm around your waist effortlessly.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asks.

You blink up at him. Sweetheart?

Jay nods. “We were just fixing the dough.”

Jungkook hums, but his hand stays on you.

For the rest of the lesson, he’s suddenly way too attentive. Helping you, adjusting your apron, calling you ‘wife’ three times in five minutes.

Oh, you know exactly what’s happening.

And honestly? You love it.

----

The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. The evening air carrying the salty scent of the ocean. Jungkook walks ahead, leading you toward a parked motorbike.

“Wait. You—”

Jungkook swings his leg over the seat effortlessly, grinning as he pats the space behind him. “Get on.”

Your eyes widen. “Jungkook. Where did you even get this?”

He smirks. “Rented it.”

You stare. “When?”

He shrugs, slipping his sunglasses on. “Had some free time.”

You cross your arms. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Jungkook chuckles, reaching for your wrist and pulling you closer. “It’s a surprise, baby. Now, come on.”

Jungkook pats the seat again, smirking. “Scared?”

You narrow your eyes. “Not even a little.”

Swinging your leg over, you settle behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Jungkook hums in approval, his hands resting on yours.

“Hold on tight.”

The bike roars to life, wheels kicking up dust as he speeds down the open road.

Wind rushes through your hair, the world blurring around you in a mixture of colors and motion.

You gasp, laughing as you tighten your hold on him. “Jungkook—!”

He laughs too, a sound so free, so full of joy, that it makes your chest tighten.

“Like it?” he shouts over the wind.

You press your cheek against his back, grinning against the fabric of his shirt. “I love it!”

Jungkook grins too. And then—he speeds up.

You squeal, tightening your grip. “Jungkook, slow down!”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought you weren’t scared?”

You huff, smacking his stomach lightly.

Jungkook laughs, slowing just a little.

He rides for a while, taking you through winding coastal roads, past cliffs overlooking the sea, the salty air mixing with the scent of his cologne.

He leads you both to a secluded viewpoint overlooking the ocean.

The view is breathtaking—endless ocean stretching toward the horizon, the sun dipping lower, turning the water into molten gold.

You don’t even realize you’re still holding onto him.

Jungkook turns slightly, his voice lower now. “You can let go, you know.”

You nuzzle against his shoulder. “Don’t want to.”

His fingers gently brush against yours.

Then, a whisper, almost lost in the sound of the waves.

“Then don’t.”

------------------- Day 6

You wake up expecting another fun day of exploring, but something feels different. Jungkook is way too calm. No teasing smirks. No cryptic questions.

Just casual, relaxed Jungkook, who kisses your forehead and says, “Let’s just take it easy today.”

Huh?

You squint at him. This man has been planning every second of this trip and now he suddenly wants to ‘take it easy’?

But okay, fine.

You two spend the day strolling around, checking out small shops. and every time you try to read his expression, he just smiles.

Like he knows something you don’t.

By late afternoon, you can’t take it anymore. You stop in your tracks and grab his arm. “Jungkook, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, pretending to be clueless.

“You’re… too normal?”

He snorts. “And that’s suspicious?”

“VERY.”

Jungkook just laughs and pulls you into a hug. “Baby, relax. Just enjoy the day, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious as ever, but decide to let it go.

As you head back to the hotel, Jungkook casually says, “Oh, by the way, be ready by 7.”

Oh. Okay??

So here you are standing in front of the mirror, holding up two dresses.

Jungkook’s lack of details has you overthinking. What exactly are you dressing for? Something fancy? Something casual?

With a sigh, you call out, “Jungkook, help me pick.”

He walks over, eyes flicking between the two options. “Try them on.”

You huff. “Can’t you just choose?”

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Nope. I wanna see.”

Rolling your eyes, you slip into the first dress—a soft, elegant choice. Pretty, but… safe.

You step out, twirling slightly. “This?”

Jungkook hums, tilting his head. “It’s nice.”

Nice?

You narrow your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites back a grin. “Try the other one.”

You sigh but change into the second dress—a sleeveless, ankle-length beauty. fitted at the top, flowing softly down your waist, hugging you in all the right places.

You step out, smoothing the fabric "This one?”

His eyes drag over you, slower this time. His lips part slightly, but no words come out.

You raise an eyebrow. “Well?”

Jungkook swallows, his voice lower. “Yeah. That one.”

You smirk, turning back to the mirror. “Thought so.”

----

Jungkook leads you outside, where a sleek, black car is already waiting.

You blink, surprised. “Wait… you booked a private car?”

Jungkook grins, opening the door for you. “Of course. Only the best for my wife.”

You roll your eyes, getting in, biting back a small smile.

As the car glides through the city, Jungkook’s hand finds yours, thumb tracing small circles.

You glance at him. “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nope.”

You huff dramatically. “I hate you.”

Jungkook just smirks, leaning closer. “No, you don’t.”

It doesn't take long when the car pulls up to the venue. He opens the door for you.

“We’re here,” he murmurs, squeezing your fingers.

You step out, and your breath catches instantly. The place is breathtaking. Not extravagant, not overwhelming—just perfect.

The entrance is lined with soft, golden lights. Delicate floral arrangements fill the space, their scent carried by the evening breeze. The tables are set with warm candlelight, elegant yet cozy decor, the entire atmosphere radiating love.

It’s exactly what you’d love.

You turn to him, eyes wide with awe. “Jungkook…”

He watches you, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips.

“You like it?” he asks softly.

Your chest tightens. “Like it? It’s.. beautiful.”

Jungkook grins, leading you inside.

But as you take it all in, you speak softly, “You shouldn’t have spent so much..”

Jungkook stops, turning to you. His brows furrow slightly, as if he doesn’t understand. With a small chuckle, he leans in, his voice gentle.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Do you really think I wouldn’t give you the world if I could?”

Your heart stumbles. A small smile making to your face.

Jungkook pulls out your chair, helping you settle before taking his seat across from you. The soft candlelight flickers between you, casting a golden glow over his features.

And the way he’s looking at you? Like you’re the most beautiful thing in the room.

You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “You’re staring.”

Jungkook shrugs, unbothered. “Yeah.”

Your heart stumbles.

The conversation flows easily—laughter, teasing, deep moments that make your chest tighten. And just when you think the night couldn’t get any more romantic, Jungkook stands, offering his hand.

“Dance with me?”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Here?”

He nods toward the open space, where soft music plays in the background. “Why not?”

You hesitate for half a second before slipping your hand into his. Jungkook guides you effortlessly, his touch firm yet gentle. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, swaying to the soft melody.

Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, your cheek pressing against his chest.

“I love you,” Jungkook murmurs.

Your heart melts.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “I love you, too.”

Jungkook’s smile softens before he leans in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips.

Everything else fades.

It’s just you, him, and the feeling of being completely and utterly loved.

----

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, comfortable—Jungkook’s fingers lazily tracing patterns on your palm as he holds your hand.

Once inside the room, you kick off your heels, sighing dramatically.

Jungkook chuckles. “Tired?”

You turn to him, smirking. “Emotionally, yes. My husband was incredibly romantic tonight. It was overwhelming.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears turn pink. “Shut up.”

You gasp. “Oh my god, are you blushing?”

He groans, grabbing your waist and pulling you into bed with him.

You yelp, laughing as you land against his chest.

His arms lock around you, holding you close. “Stop talking.”

You grin against his skin. “Never.”

Jungkook sighs dramatically, but his grip tightens.

You shift slightly, tilting your head up to look at him softly, “Seriously, though… tonight was perfect. Thank you.”

His gaze softens. “Anything for you, baby.”

Your heart melts as you snuggle deeper into his warmth.

Jungkook presses a lazy kiss to your forehead.

------------------- Day 7

From the moment you wake up, there’s a heaviness in your chest.

It’s the last day of your trip.

Tomorrow morning, you’ll be on a flight back home, and this dream-like escape with Jungkook will be just… a memory.

You sigh, leaning into his warmth. “I don’t want this to end.”

Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We still have the whole day, baby.”

You both decide to just walk..with no specific destination in mind, hand in hand, strolling through the streets, weaving through flower stalls, sharing street food, laughing at nothing. The weather is perfect—bright but breezy, the sky painted in soft blues and wisps of white clouds.

Everywhere you turn, there are vibrant flowers in bloom, colors bursting against the golden buildings.

Jungkook squeezes your hand. “Happy?”

You look up at him, feeling the sun, the wind, the warmth of his palm against yours.

“Very.”

You don’t know how long you walk. Until—You turn a corner—

An open, breathtaking garden.

Sprawling fields of flowers in every shade imaginable. The gentle breeze carries their scent, petals dancing in the wind.

And the sunset—oh, the sunset. Burning gold, soft pinks, and deep purples, stretching endlessly into the horizon.

“...Wow.”

You step forward instinctively, tugging Jungkook’s hand, drawn to the beauty before you.

Your fingers graze the petals of a flower, eyes wide with childlike wonder.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath.

Jungkook doesn’t respond.

Because he’s not looking at the flowers. He’s looking at you. The way your hair moves with the wind, strands catching the golden light. The way your lips part slightly in awe, the way your eyes shine with pure happiness.

His chest tightens, something deep and unshakable settling in his heart.

He clicks his camera. Capturing you—this moment, this feeling. The shutter sound makes you turn around, still grinning.

“Kook, this place is amazing, isn’t it?”

Jungkook steps forward, silently plucking a small flower from a nearby bush. gently tucking it behind your ear.

You laugh lightly at the gesture—until you notice his expression.

He’s just… watching you.

So much love in his eyes, so much depth—like he’s seeing something more than just this moment. The laughter fades. He leans in without a word.

A soft kiss. Slow. So full of emotion that your heart aches. When he pulls away, you whisper against his lips, breathless. "What was that for?”

Jungkook’s gaze holds yours. He smiles, voice barely above a whisper.

“Just like that.”

----

As the sun lowers into the horizon you're back to the beach, golden hues, the waves lapping gently at the shore.

You and Jungkook sit side by side on the sand, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns in it.

His arm rests behind you, his presence warm and comforting. Neither of you speaks much—there’s no need to. The silence is peaceful, filled only by the sound of the waves and the distant laughter of kids playing nearby.

Jungkook glances at you, softly smiling. “Feeling better?”

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Today was perfect.”

He presses a kiss to your hair. “Good.”

You both sit there, soaking in the moment, letting it settle into your bones like something you never want to forget.

Your attention shifts to the group of kids laughing a little ways down the beach.

Something about their pure, carefree joy makes you smile.

You’re standing up, dusting the sand off your dress.

“I’ll be back.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Where are you—”

But you’re already walking toward the kids.

Jungkook stays seated, watching as you crouch down to talk to them, as they giggle, as you laugh with them.

Watching as your eyes shine with excitement, your hair catching the evening light, your smile so full of warmth it makes something deep inside him ache.

His chest feels… tight, full. Happy in a way that words can’t describe.

You fully immerse yourself in the game they’re playing, running around, helping them build something in the sand, laughing like a child yourself.

Jungkook can’t take his eyes off you.

After a while, you lean down, whispering something to one of the kids.

The said kid rushes toward him, stopping right in front of him with big, excited eyes.

“Your wife wants to know if you want to play with us!”

Jungkook blinks.

Then—he chuckles, shaking his head, completely endeared.

“Wife, huh?” he muses, standing up and dusting off his pants.

The boy nods eagerly. “She said you have to say yes.”

Jungkook sighs dramatically. “Of course she did.”

But he’s already walking toward you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Didn’t even spare the kids, huh?” he teases, wrapping an arm around your waist playfully.

You grin up at him. “Nope.”

Jungkook shakes his head, but he’s smiling—smiling so, so much.

For the next hour, the two of you run through the sand, playing, laughing, losing yourselves in the moment.

Jungkook picks up a kid, spins them around, their giggles echoing through the air. You chase another, only to get caught yourself, falling onto the sand in a fit of laughter. And through it all—Jungkook watches you. His heart aching with love, with something deeper, something infinite.

Because this?

This is what happiness feels like.

The walk back to the hotel is quiet, peaceful—your hearts still full from the evening.

As soon as you step inside, you both head to the bathroom, washing off the sand. Jungkook runs a towel through his damp hair, watching as you step out first.

You make your way to the mirror, fingers reaching up to remove your earrings. Jungkook wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Your eyes fall to his hand—the matching ring on his finger. Then to yours. You chuckle softly, turning in his embrace.

"Our fake marriage ends tonight,” you tease, holding up your hand.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker, something unreadable passing through them.

He exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, lifting your hand to his lips. “We still have a few hours left.”

His voice is low, filled with something that makes your breath catch.

He kisses you. The kiss is slow, consuming—like he’s memorizing the way you taste, the way you feel, the way this moment exists.

Jungkook’s hands trail down your back, feather-light, deliberate.

You feel the slow unzip of your dress. You shudder, anticipation curling in your stomach, making your breath hitch.

His lips stay on yours, teasing, soft, even as his fingers push the fabric off your shoulders. The silk slides down your arms, skimming your skin before pooling at your feet.

Jungkook leans back slightly, his darkened gaze sweeping over you. His tongue flicks over his lips, jaw tightening.

You feel warmth creep up your neck. “Jungkook…”

A small smirk tugs at his lips. “You’re shy?”

“Shut up,” you breathe.

He chuckles, shaking his head, but his hands are already lifting you effortlessly. You gasp softly as he carries you to the bed, his grip firm, steady.

Jungkook lays you down gently, hovering above you, his fingers gliding over your skin—his lips follow, trailing soft kisses from your collarbone, across your chest, moving lower. Jungkook takes his time. His mouth brushes against your skin—slow, reverent.

His hands map every curve, every dip, every part of you that he wants to claim. You writhe beneath him, warmth spreading through your body, your fingers threading through his hair.

He looks up, his gaze locking with yours, something intense flickering in his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky, thick with emotion.

Heat coils in your stomach, your heart hammering.

Jungkook smirks softly. “Still shy?”

You bite your lip, refusing to answer, but he just chuckles. Jungkook’s fingers trail down your spine, teasing.

His lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, sucking lightly as his hands slide to your back, unhooking your bra with practiced ease.

The fabric falls away, and his hot mouth lashes onto your breast, tongue swirling, sucking, teasing.

A gasp escapes you, your back arching into him. His hand already trailing lower, over your stomach, between your thighs. His fingers press over your soaked panties, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm.

“So wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your hips lift slightly, desperate for more. Jungkook smirks against your skin, pushing your panties aside before slipping his fingers through your folds.

His touch is gentle but firm, working you open, drawing soft, breathless moans from your lips.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging. “-kook…” His name falls from your lips, breathy, desperate.

That seems to snap something in him. He pulls his fingers out slowly, making you whimper at the loss. You reach for his t-shirt, tugging at it impatiently.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. He pulls it over his head, revealing golden skin, hard muscles, the sculpted lines of his chest.

Your hands immediately roam over his torso, feeling every ridge, every flex beneath your touch.

He kisses you again, claiming. As his lips move against yours, you lower your hand, palming him through his pants. Jungkook groans against your mouth, his hips twitching at your touch. Tugging at his waistband, you push his pants down, and he helps, kicking them off.

Your fingers wrap around his thick, heavy length, stroking slowly. Jungkook shudders, his head dropping into the crook of your neck. His hand moves between your legs again, teasing your entrance, feeling just how ready you are.

You grab him, lining him up at your entrance. Jungkook’s gaze meets yours, dark, burning. Your body stretches, molding to fit him perfectly as he pushes in.

A moan rips from your throat, but Jungkook swallows it, his lips pressing against yours. He moves slow, savoring every second, letting you feel everything.

One hand strokes your cheek, his thumb caressing your lower lip. You part your lips, taking his thumb into your mouth, sucking softly.

Jungkook’s eyes darken instantly, his jaw tightening. His pace quickens, thrusts deep and deliberate, every movement pushing you closer to the edge.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving scratches—marks that he welcomes.

“I—I'm close,” you whimper, body trembling beneath him.

Jungkook’s breath is ragged, his forehead pressed to yours. “Hold it,” he rasps, his voice raw.

Your body trembles beneath him, every nerve overwhelmed as Jungkook keeps his slow, deep thrusts steady. His breath is hot against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

Your fingers clutch his back, nails dragging over his skin, and he groans, hips stuttering for a moment. “Jungkook-,” you gasp, legs tightening around his waist.

You whimper, toes curling, mind blurring.

Jungkook leans down, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss, swallowing your moans. His thumb trails between your bodies, finding that sensitive spot, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

You arch into him, body tightening.

“Now,” he breathes, voice low, commanding. “Come with me, baby.”

He thrusts deep, hitting exactly where you need him. Your body shatters, waves of pleasure crashing over you, moans spilling from your lips as you fall apart beneath him.

Jungkook groans deeply, burying his face in your neck as his release follows, hips jerking, his body shaking with the force of it.

He holds you so tight, as if trying to keep this moment frozen in time. Both of you pant heavily, bodies tangled together, skin sticky with sweat.

Jungkook stays inside you, his weight warm, loving.

His arms wrap snugly around your waist, pressing slow, lazy kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, anywhere he can reach.

Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, trailing softly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

Your heart is still racing. After a moment, he lifts his head, his dark eyes finding yours, heavy with something deep, something endless.

You smile, tired but content. “What?”

Jungkook just stares, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers trace soft, absentminded patterns over your skin, the other still intertwined with yours.

He speaks, softer than a whisper, almost like an afterthought, “Do you want to marry me again after this trip?”

A soft, breathless laugh escapes you. “What?”

Jungkook doesn’t waver. His hold tightens slightly, thumb brushing against your knuckles. A little more hesitant, but still so full of love—

“Do you want to marry me, Y/N?”

The weight of his words settles over you—warm, overwhelming, all-consuming.

Your lips part slightly, heart stuttering.

But then—you realize something.

You stare at him for a moment, and then, to his surprise, a soft chuckle slips past your lips.

Jungkook’s brows furrow slightly, confused.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, biting your lip, eyes twinkling. “Did you really just propose to me in this situation?”

His ears turn red instantly. A soft groan escapes him as he buries his face in your shoulder.

“Just answer,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

Your chest tightens—so full of warmth, so full of love you can barely contain it.

Cupping his face, you bite back a bigger smile, your voice soft,—

“Don’t you already know the answer?”

Jungkook’s breath catches. He murmurs, softer this time.

“I want to hear it.”

You pull him down, your lips brushing against his as you whisper—

“Yes. I’ll marry you again, husband.”

His breath shudders—something raw, something so full of love it nearly breaks you.

He's kissing you.

Slow. Endless.

Like a promise, like a vow, like something unbreakable. His hands tighten around yours, fingers lacing together.

Your matching rings glinting under the dim light.

Blending together.

Like fate. Like love.

Like something that was meant to be all along.

That’s what Coach said. No sex, no masturbation, orgasms 100% completely verboten. He knows this is not going to go down well with you. From the very start of your relationship, you have never gone that long without sex. Jungkook isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it; he’s not sure if you will be either. A tiny part of him worries what it might do to your relationship – you’re stronger than that, aren’t you? This won’t hurt your relationship, will it? You’ve been together for years now, four weeks without sex can’t change anything… Right? Jungkook knows in his heart of hearts that it’s right but the thought of four weeks without you is so unutterably awful that he also can’t believe it won’t change things.

He flops face-first onto the sofa next to you and squirms immediately as you rake a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Absolutely none of that from now on.

“You ok?” you ask and he can’t answer because the answer is no and he’s not going to be for another four weeks, another 29 days in fact. He mumbles nothing into the sofa.

“Just tired? Training hard today?”

Training wasn’t hard, especially. This conversation we’re about to have is hard, Jungkook thinks. Keeping his face shoved into the sofa cushion, he breaks the news.

“Jungkook,” slight impatience in your voice now. “I cannot understand you when you talk into the sofa; what’s going on?”

He lifts his head slightly but can’t bring himself to look at you.

“Coach says we can’t have sex until the fight.”

“WHAT?”

“We can’t have sex until the fight,” he repeats, quietly, miserably.

He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, still not daring to look at you.

“But that’s four weeks away! Four weeks!”

“I know!”

He takes your hand and kisses it, leaning up on his elbows. He rests his head on your thigh, bumping it gently as if he were hitting it against a brick wall. He mumbles under his breath, as close as he ever got to invective against his Coach (whom he nevertheless trusts and respects deeply). You’re being quieter than he expected you to be and it makes him nervous. He expected outraged protestations, reasoned arguments, begging and pleading. But you’re sitting and thinking.

“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”

“He says it’ll improve my focus, power, and aggression if I don’t come between now and then…”

You hum in response and he risks a peek at your face. You’re smirking and something about it makes his stomach drop.

“So… You can’t come, but I can do whatever I want, hm?”

He hadn’t considered that. Of course, that makes sense; you’re not wrong, but Jungkook realises this with absolute horror. Not being able to fuck you for four weeks was going to be bad enough as it is, but four weeks of getting you off without a single second of relief for him? He feels sick.

“Noooo! Baby, please. Please, you have to do this with me.”

It’s not his usual role, but he is not above begging. You shake your head.

“No way; four weeks is a long time and I’m not fighting anyone.”

“I know it’s a long time! That’s why we have to do it together!”

“On the contrary, my sweet, little biscuit, the whole point is that we don’t do it together, isn’t it?”

You lean down and kiss his nose but it is of no comfort. He’s pouting now, both furious and devastated at this turn of events. When you start running your hands through his hair again and his dick twitches, he groans; this will kill him, he thinks. Stone cold dead, this is going to kill him. He holds your hand tight and looks at you, finally, dead in the eye, eyes wide and pleading, his absolute best puppy dog.

“Please,” he begs. “Please.”

“Why don’t we have one last night?” you suggest and Jungkook groans because he knows that tone. “You can start tomorrow. One night won’t make a difference, surely?”

You slide down the sofa until your faces are almost level and Jungkook is about to rest his head where your thigh was, but discovers your breast in its place. He holds still. This is his first test and, while you might have a point, he’s got rules to follow and he can’t break now, not at the very first hurdle. He’s got better self-control than that, hasn’t he?

“Hm?” you continue. “Start tomorrow… Come on, Kookie, please.”

He wants to say yes, of course he does, but if he’s going to last four weeks, he’s going to have to practise saying no.

You slide off the sofa onto your knees on the floor and he eyes you carefully. You’re dangerous and you know it. When you trail your fingers down his spine and kiss the back of his neck, he shivers.

“I want you so badly,” you whisper in his ear and he groans. You slip your hand underneath his T-shirt and he’s sticky with sweat. “I didn’t have you yesterday and now we have to go four weeks? Kookie, I can’t take it… Be good to me, Jungkook, please.”

He loves it when you beg. Hearing his name in your mouth all high and whiny, tremulous with need and desire. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Goosebumps follow your hand on his back and he shivers, groaning into the sofa, fists clenched again.

“My love, stop it, please. We can’t.” His voice is weak and he can’t believe how weak he’s feeling; if you persist might longer, he genuinely feels he might snap and he’s ashamed that his self-control is apparently all but non-existent. He must do better.

“But I’m so wet already.”

Fuck. He snaps. He kneels up and looks at you, your innocent, little face, a devil in disguise. If you’re just playing with him, just teasing, you’re going to be in big trouble.

“Get up,” he commands, slapping the sofa. You obey without hesitation and he grabs you by the legs, pulling so you’re falling onto your back. He tells him yourself you were lying, of course you won’t be wet; you’re just teasing him and he’ll tell you off and ask you to take this seriously and it’ll all be fine. Then he yanks down your trousers and your underwear.

“FUCK.”

He brings his hands to his face and rubs.

“Fuck, I thought you were lying just to tease me, but fuck, you really are.”

You are. Looking at you is almost painful; he’s desperate to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, legs spread, and all he has to do is touch you. But he can’t. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He shuffles back away from you slightly, hands moving to reach you and then pulling back. He swears again.

When you spread your legs wider and shuffle yourself down closer to him, he has to stand. He has to do something with his hands: clenching at his sides, on his hips, on his head, over his face. He’s pacing, too, unable to look at you once again. It would be all too easy to take his own trousers off, let his dick out of its cloth prison and fuck you into the sofa. He has to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself doing just that.

“Kookie,” you coo. “Aren’t you going to touch me? I need you… No one touches me like you do.”

Jungkook is open-mouthed and he has to turn away. He growls, deep in his throat, and gently places his fists on the kitchen counter, when what he really wants to do is smash straight through it. His whole body is tense, fighting itself in an agony of indecision. He needs you to stop; he’s sure you won’t. Not when you’re having this effect on him. He should’ve seen it coming. He knew you wouldn’t take the news well; for some reason, he didn’t expect you to immediately be so defiant. You were always so pliant and obedient for him. But then, this isn’t really his rule and you and his coach didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.

He freezes when he hears the unmistakeable squelch of you plunging your fingers in your wet heat. Then you moan. Then you whimper.

“Jungkook, please.”

He can barely control his breathing as he stands, still with his back to you, unable to block the sound of you from his ears. He should be the one drawing those moans from you; he should be the reason your breathing is hitched.

He decides quickly that you have a point. He can’t come but that doesn’t mean he can’t do anything he likes. He crosses the space to the sofa in three large steps and forces your hand away from you. He doesn’t see the expression on your face as you look up; he’s too busy staring at his next meal. He squeezes your thighs hard and lowers his mouth to you.

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe and it goes straight to his dick.

He moans loudly as he licks from your core to your clit, drinking you in. He licks through your folds, not wanting to miss a drop. He swirls his tongue around your clit before sealing his lips and sucking hard; you grab at his hair and he flicks his eyes to you but your head is tipped back, your back arching off the sofa. He pulls your thighs, bringing you even closer, smothering him, burying him but if he can’t breathe, he doesn’t notice. He notices the pitch of your whines tilt; he notices your breath come quicker; he notices your thighs twitching under his hands; he notices you tugging harder and harder at his hair. He watches you as he works, alternately swirling his tongue across your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking, until you’re screaming, your body writhing, shuddering under the waves of your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears repeatedly, almost sure he hears you saying the same, but he can’t move his mouth from your lips; all that fresh arousal dripping from you has his name on it.

You squirm and bring your legs together, your feet pushing against his shoulders and he relents, shifting backwards but still gripping your thighs tight.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you but fuck, I fucking love your cunt.”

His hands move higher, his thumbs spreading your lips, running up and down, the slick noises they make like music to his ears. He whines as he drops his head to your thigh with a heavy sigh. He squeezes his eyes tight shut for a moment, trying not to lose all control even as his cock aches in his pants, desperate for you.

While he’s trying to keep it together, you extricate yourself from his grip and sink onto the floor. While he’s off-guard, you spread his legs and slot yourself between them. It’s only when his dick jumps as you slide your hands up his thighs that he realises what is happening. He leaps up and away from you in one, quick, fluid motion.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, hands tangling in his hair, twisting his T-shirt, gripping the kitchen counter, anything to stop them wandering to the bulge in his trousers. He’s painfully hard now, twitching with almost no provocation; his restraint is hanging by a thread.

“Jungkook,” you call for him, still kneeling on the floor. “Kookie, come here, let me help you.”

He growls and takes a deep breath. If he even looks at you right now, he knows he’ll snap.

“I’m going to shower.”

He has to get out, get away from you, anywhere will do.

“You better not wank in there!” you call after him. “Or I’m going to be really upset!”

He chuckles bitterly; as if he would ever choose his hand over your sweet mouth. He strips quickly and steps into the shower, turning the temperature as low as it’ll go and the power on full blast. He gasps as a strong stream of icy water hits him; he shudders and shivers and forces himself to stand still. He’s panting and his skin turns red under the blast but he can’t move, not until he’s flaccid, not until he’s stopped thinking about your beautiful pussy and your soft, hot mouth and no-! Enough of this. He calls to mind all his least favourite things, conjuring up the worst images he can, disgusting, horrible, anything. He just has to stop thinking about you.

When he’s finally showered and clean and soft, he leaves the bathroom. It’s not late, but you’re already sitting up in bed, naked as you always are, and he groans, trying to avoid looking at you.

“Hey now, that’s not fair,” you tell him, sulking with an exaggerated pout as he takes the towel from his waist and rubs it over his hair.

He almost chokes on his indignation.

“Not fair? Me not being fair? And what do you call that, out there? Is that fair, huh? And this?” He gestures to you, chest on display, arms just slightly squeezing your breasts together, as if you think he won’t be able to tell. “Is this fair?”

Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he sits next to you on the bed; he simply will not survive the next four weeks if he can’t get you on-side. He has to stop you reaching out to touch his cheek; he’s only just been able to lose his erection, he’s not sure he can manage another.

“I’m serious, y/n, I cannot do this.”

He’s not sure he can look at you anymore. The thought of spending a whole night next to your naked form, your soft skin pressed against him… He can’t. He can’t even think it without feeling a stir in his groin.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”

Never in his life has he been more grateful to have one. He’d sleep on the sofa or the floor if he had to, but, if he’s doing all this to improve his fighting, he needs to keep his sleep up, too.

“Jungkook! Don’t leave me!”

When he risks a look at you, you’re wide-eyed and open-mouthed, dismayed. He doesn’t ever want to be the cause of that face; his heart aches. Maybe this would affect your relationship after all. He returns to sit on the edge of the bed and takes your hand. He kisses your palm.

“I can’t- I… I can’t even look at you, right now, without wanting to jump you.” He says quietly, sadly. “I just-“

“I can put some clothes on?”

Your hopeful face squeezes his heart and he wishes that would be enough.

“No, baby, thank you but we both know that isn’t going to help. I know what’s under there.”

“So, we’re not even going to be able to sleep together for the next four weeks?”

“No, we will, I promise. I just… Right now, I just need to get away from you.”

He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, but fails. He misses you already.

“Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”

Jungkook isn’t sure. He’s not sure the one thread of sanity he’s clinging to will last, but he has to give you something.

“Of course, you can,” he answers, with only a little hesitation. “But please… Be nice…”

You take his face in his hands and he shivers. You kiss him once, firmly, and then again, softly, sighing against his mouth. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss you again, wants to melt into your mouth and roll your tongue with his. Then he feels temptation in his groin and has to pull away.

“Night night, my little custard cream.”

“Night night, my love.”

He leaves, and shuts himself in the spare room, wondering just how on earth either of you will make it through the next 29 days.

THREE WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook isn’t home so you’re taking the opportunity for a little Me Time (courtesy of your favourite rabbit). It’s been a week since the last time you came (courtesy of Jungkook) and you’re on edge. You feel a little guilty for the way you behaved, but you’ve been good this week in penance, even though you’re already missing him terribly.

At night, when he wraps himself around you, his hard chest against your back, his strong arms holding you tight, you feel a steady pulse in your core. You want desperately to shift, just push your hips back a little, bring his hand to cup your breast, do something to address your need of him. It’s worse than usual because, of course, you always want most what you can’t have. Isn’t that a universal truth? Last night, you even wished he would go and sleep in the spare room again; having him so close to you, knowing that you can’t touch him like you wanted to was beginning to get unbearable.

Hence, Me Time.

Jungkook is out and not due back soon so you have plenty of time to take things slow. Or at least, that’s what you intend. You take a nice, long, hot bath; apply your favourite body lotion: a rich, thick, cocoa butter that makes you feel expensive; you potter around the apartment for a while in your sexiest lingerie – there’s no one to see you, but it makes you feel sexy anyway. You think about Jungkook. You think about his hair, too short for your preference at the moment; you like it a little longer, a little wavier, giving you plenty to grab onto at the nape of his neck just as at the crown; you like it when it flops into his face and he pushes it back; you like when he lets you plait it and style it, just for the two of you, just for fun.

You think about his beautiful, brown eyes: huge and wide, bright and shining, so open and innocent. You think about the way he looks at you sometimes, like you’re his entire world, like he’s looking at the most beautiful, peaceful sight he’s ever seen. You think about the way he looks at you at other times: like you’re prey; like he’s calculating exactly the right way to destroy you; his eyes dark, black, piercing; eyes that silently command and will be obeyed.

You think about his mouth: his soft, pink lips and two straight rows of perfect white teeth; you think about his mouth on yours, the unyielding pressure of his lip ring, the hard bite of his teeth on your bottom lip, his soft, wet tongue rolling against yours; his soft, wet tongue swirling around your nipple; his soft, wet tongue licking through your folds, flicking across your clit, his lips tight around you as he sucks. You think about his long fingers, their reach; his strong hands and how they direct and control you, pinning you down and lifting you up.

You think about his cock, the prettiest you’d ever seen (though you weren’t surprised, given the rest of him); in perfect proportion, neither too long nor too thick, a slight, gentle curve, smooth but for one thick vein running the length of it. It makes your mouth water just to think of it; your pussy throbs, missing it and you settle on the bed. You can feel the crotch of your underwear is already sticky and your heart is already thumping but you’re still telling yourself that you’re going to take this slowly, because you have plenty of time.

You discard your bra, teasing your nipples beneath it, twisting at the barbells that run through each of them, remembering the way Jungkook had reacted the first time he saw them, as if it were Christmas morning and they were a brand-new puppy and a skateboard. You slip a hand down behind the waistline of your knickers and exhale sharply as you spread your juices across your clit. You’re aching now, with desire, with frustration but you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You let your fingers work slowly, gently, dipping down between your lips to your entrance, exploring your folds, teasing and tapping your clit. It was almost like stepping into a bath: enveloped in warmth as blood rushed to the surface of your skin, cocooned in pleasure as it radiates outwards from your core to the tips of your toes. Goosebumps spread as a shiver rushes down your spine.

Then you get out your rabbit and the lube and shuffle out of your underwear. You coat the toy with lube, wipe your hand against yourself and turn it on, letting it rest against you for a moment, cycling through the settings until you reach your favourite. You think, not for the first time, as you slip it inside you, smoothly, easily, how much you wish you had one of these moulded from Jungkook’s cock. He thought you were joking the first time you said it, but you weren’t then and aren’t now. You want to be able to have him inside you even when he wasn’t around – or at times like this when he is around but isn’t allowed inside you. Nothing compares to him and while this toy might get the job done, it will never be the same.

The little rabbit ears press intently against your clit as you angle it inside you and start to rock your hips, working out a long, soft moan. You tip your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the coiling pressure in your abdomen. You cycle to another setting – higher, faster, more insistent now – and whimper with every breath as your climax comes closer.

“God, I’ve missed that noise.”

You sit up with a jolt to see Jungkook at the bedroom door, eyes roving hungrily over your naked body.

“Jungkook,” you gasp. “What are you doing here? I thought you had plans.”

He shrugs.

“Changed ’em... Though I might be sorry I did.”

“I thought you were going to be out... But since you’re here...”

You beckon him to the bed as you switch off the toy. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sigh as he approaches you on the bed. You’re surprised; you thought he would refuse, hold back, protest even a little. Maybe this would be easier than you thought.

He looks at the rabbit, appraising.

“How does it compare, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a smirk just ghosting over his lips.

“It doesn’t, Kookie.” You flop backwards onto the mattress again. “Nothing compares to you.”

“Let me help you.”

You sigh with relief, waiting to hear his trousers unzip or the shuffle of cloth as he undresses but it doesn’t come. Instead, you hear the quiet whirring of vibration as Jungkook turns the rabbit back on. He chooses a different setting – short, intense pulses – and slips the toy back inside you, pushing the ears hard into your clit, forcing a choked moan from your throat.

“Jungkook... Kookie, no. I want you.”

The look on his face is fierce but softens when he looks into your eyes. He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear.

“You know you can’t have me now, baby. Stop playing dirty.”

He takes a hand and pushes low on your stomach as he rocks the toy inside you and changes the setting: insistent, hard vibration that almost sets your teeth chattering.

“Fuck,” you whisper as your walls start to clench and all your muscles tighten and you’re whimpering, mewling, seconds from climax, your breath catching in your throat. You’re a band stretched to its limits and just as you’re about to snap, Jungkook pulls the toy from you and sits back on the bed, not touching you.

“Wh-.. I...”

You look at him, dazed and confused, as he stands up and takes the toy with him out of the room.

“Where are you going?” you call after him, your voice weak and strangled.

You’re itching with frustration and impatience and when he returns, only a minute later, you turn to him, outraged. He’s empty-handed and he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and tucks your hair behind your ear sweetly.

“What are you doing?” you ask, still breathless, heart still pounding in your chest.

He leans closer to you, resting on his forearm on your chest, lightly crushing you beneath his weight as he takes your hand in his and directs it to his crotch, where you can feel his dick, semi-hard under his trousers.

“I’m showing you how hard this is,” he whispers menacingly in your ear. “You’re still not playing fair, little miss.”

He stands and walks out of the room, looking back over his shoulder at you.

“If I don’t get to come, you don’t get to come!” he calls.

You give a little, angry shriek and throw a pillow at him, which misses by miles, and you storm out after him.

“I did not sign up for that!” you shout, giving him a shove.

He grins at you and raises his eyebrows.

“What’s mine is yours, baby.”

“No way! No way! You know the second you leave, I can just make myself come.”

“That’s true,” he admits as he checks his watch, “but I’m not leaving again tonight.”

Furious now, you move closer to him, your hands on his hips. You lick your lips and move a hand between you, palming his erection. His eyes flutter closed.

“Two can play at this game, Jeon,” you hiss, sliding your hand between his trousers and his boxers, running your finger up his turgid length.

“Don’t call me Jeon.”

“Isn’t it your name?”

He tips his head back and bites his lip as you finally breach his boxers, wrapping your fingers around him, squeezing lightly.

“You only call me Jeon when you’re pissed,” he chokes out.

“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed.”

His head tips forward again and he looks at you as you sink to your knees, pulling his clothes down with him. You see him swallow hard.

“Not sure you thought this through, did you?” you ask, swiping your tongue across his head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum. “Here you are, all hard and ready for me...”

You take a hand through your lips, sweeping up your arousal and spreading it on the head of his dick.

“And me all ready for you...”

You wrap your lips around him and take him until he hits your throat, looking up at him through your lashes, then you come up and pause, just holding him in your mouth, your tongue running back and forth across the underside. Jungkook grunts and his eyelids flutter closed. You can see his fists clenching on either of him.

“Y/n...” he groans, quiet and strangled.

“Mm?” you hum, not taking him from your mouth, and you notice the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenches. “You started this,” you remind him, as you trail sloppy, wet kisses down the length of his hot, smooth cock. “I was going to be nice to you, but you had to go and spoil it.” You run your tongue flat across his balls as your hand continues to pump his shaft and he moans.

“Fuck, I miss you,” he whines, his voice high and tight as you run your tongue back to his head, enveloping him in your mouth once again. “God, fuck.”

You hollow your cheeks and suck, your hand and mouth moving as one. Jungkook’s fist moves to your hair, gripping tight, not directing you, just to have something to hold on to. As you push lower, tipping your head to take him into your throat, he jerks.

“No, no, no, stop! Stop.”

He pushes you back by the shoulders and stands, his breathing ragged, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard. You let him stand there, recovering; you stay kneeling at his feet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, each more aggressive than the last. He pulls his boxers and his trousers back on and looks at you, eyes wild. “No.”

“Kookie... Please.”

You pout up at him, put your hands on his thighs, and shuffle just an inch closer.

“No. Fuck, no, I can’t. I can’t.” He looks at you, alternately desperate and resolved and then shakes his head. “Baby, god, I want to. You know I want to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

His hand is in your hair again, gently pulling you upwards, pulling you closer. He kisses your cheek and your lips, each little peck lasting a little longer than the last, until he just barely parts his mouth and you grab his bottom lip in your teeth. He moans and pulls away.

“No, no, no, no,” he whispers. “I can’t.” He swallows hard and looks skyward again, praying for strength. Then he repeats his no before stalking off into the spare room, cursing under his breath.

You sigh, more frustrated than ever, and, having spotted your stolen sex toy on the bathroom counter, you go back to finish what you started.

TWO WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook is sleeping in the spare room again. He says it’s because you’re not to be trusted, but what he means is that he isn’t to be trusted. He could barely trust himself around you before, but two weeks into the ban, he can’t risk taking any chances. Especially not with the way you’ve been behaving.

Apparently, so you tell him, there’s very little evidence to suggest that sex before a sporting event has as negative effect on performance.

“I even read,” you say, not for the first time, “that not having sex for a while lowers your testosterone so it’s not just that having sex isn’t bad, it might even be good! Don’t you want that?”

He’s trying to block you out. You’ve already told him this and he’s already told you that he’s doing as he’s told. He focuses on the TV, trying to get invested in the storyline, trying to care about the characters while you pester him relentlessly. He has to grit his teeth together and breathe carefully.

“Don’t ignore me, my little hobnob.”

You always pull out that biscuit when you think he needs to lighten up. He tries not to grin, not very successfully, because it’s such a ridiculous name – who calls a biscuit that, really? Then you slip your hands around his waist and rest your chin on his shoulder.

“I miss you,” you say, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back.

He sighs, dropping his head, carefully trying to revel in your touch without giving in too far.

“I miss you too, love. Just two more weeks.”

You sigh, aggravated, and sit back.

“Yeah, two more weeks; we’re only halfway through. We have to do all of this all over again. Is that really what you want?”

“No, of course it’s not!”

Of course, he doesn’t want it. What he wants is to pin you down and eat you out ’til you’re screaming and then he wants to fuck you like his life depends on it, spend himself on you so hard he literally can’t move. What he wants is the opposite of this. Why can’t you understand that?

He turns to you, shifting his body around and reaches for your hands.

“Of course, it’s not what I want. I want you all the time. Why do you think I’m sleeping in the spare room again? I can barely stand sitting with you like this; every part of me is screaming at me to just take yo-“

“Then do it! Do it! I’m telling you, the science is on our side!”

He has to take a deep breath; he knows you may well be right. And he doesn’t like the thought of doing all this for no reason, for, if the article you read is right, the possibility that he’s actually less strong, less powerful in the ring, but he’s on a path and he has to stick to it.

“I’m doing what Coach says,” he tells you, sounding more resolved than he is. “I hired him for a reason and he’s already said he can notice a difference. This fight is so important and I have to follow him to the letter. I am sorry. I am…”

He is what?

He puffs out his cheeks and sighs. He doesn’t know what to say. There aren’t words for this or, if there are, he doesn’t know them. He leans forward and grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. He knows he shouldn’t, knows how dangerous this is, but he misses you so much and he’s so upset and you’re so upset and he has to do something.

You scoot forward and sit yourself in his lap. His heart hammers in his chest, anxiety or desire or a heady mix of both, he’s not sure but his mind is slipping away from him and he’s not sure he cares anymore. He wraps his arms around you as his tongue finds yours. You’ve hardly had this much of each other over the last week and he’s ravenous. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue and he feels a stirring in his crotch. He can feel you, just above him, and he wants to push you down, roll your hips over his, but he daren’t; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself if you do.

He's breathless with the need of you and it catches in his throat as you grind into him. He moans and bites hard at your bottom lip; you keep going, kissing him hard so that he can’t speak.

Jungkook gathers up his strength and pulls back, holding you tight in place so you can’t chase after him. He’s breathing heavily and his hand trembles as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Y/n…” He doesn’t know if it’s a plea or a warning; he doesn’t have any more words to follow. There isn’t anything he can say or do that will make this situation anything other than torture. Nothing will make you feel better than being fucked by him, fucked hard, nothing more and nothing less. He knows because he feels the same. He’s almost dizzy with desire; he’s giddy but clinging with desperation to the last remnants of his self-control. There’s a tiny voice at the back of his head proud of him for having come this far, but he can’t listen to it because we all know what comes before a fall and he can’t afford a fall like this.

It's the title. It’ll be his first title. This win will put him on the map. This win will establish him as a real, professional boxer, one to beat; this will be, he hopes, the first of many belts, many titles. His coach has real faith in him, he believes he can make it to world champion if he works hard enough. And Jungkook wants it. He wants to work; he wants to win. And now, he has to win. Losing is not an option. And once he has won, once this is over – in two, long, painful weeks – it’ll have all been worth it and he’ll be able to have you six ways from Sunday, every day of the week.

“Please don’t stop,” you whimper and the open, desperate pleading of your glistening eyes goes straight to his dick. “Please, please.”

He’s had to resist your pleading before; he’s even enjoyed resisting your cries and pleas, but that’s when he’s been in control; that’s when he’s been ramping up to wrecking you once, twice, three times, as many times as you can take. This is ramping up to nothing and your pleading only makes him feel broken.

You bring your face to his again and he can’t back away. You kiss him with urgency, running your hands over his body beneath his T-shirt, teasing his nipples until he’s fully hard, straining against his boxers, pressing against your crotch. You strip off your own top and Jungkook’s resolve crumbles. He dips his head, lifting you slightly from his lap to kiss your breasts, to flick his tongue over your nipples and swirl them in his mouth, one at a time, until they’re tight and hard. He bites hungrily and you mewl above him, whining his name. It’s like heaven to him and he can’t believe he hasn’t had this for two weeks; the two weeks stretching out in front of you are paling, forgotten in some faraway corner of his mind.

He's kidding himself that he can last a little longer with you lifted up like this, your hips no longer grinding your core into him. He keeps his mouth occupied at your chest and squeezes your glutes in his hands, then slipping them into the wide legs of your shorts. When he pulls your underwear to the side with one hand, and slips the fingers of his other hand into your warm, waiting slip, he sighs with satisfaction. You’re tight and soft and so, so wet.

You take his face in your hands and pull him back to your mouth. The kiss is all tongue and heavy breathing, messy and far from pretty but you’re each so desperate for the other that nothing else matters. You kiss his cheek and his jaw and bite down on his earlobe, whining breathily as he presses insistently against your front wall, each curl of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge. He slips his other hand behind your underwear and spreads your slick over your clit, rubbing insistently, knowing you’re getting close. He can tell by the sounds you’re making, sounds he’d work out of you every day of his life if he could.

“God, Kookie, baby, yes.”

You plant your lips on his neck, muffling your whines and whimpers as the heat builds inside you. Jungkook groans, shivering as you suck on his neck, as your cunt clenches his fingers tight, as your legs shake on either side of him. He doesn’t stop, can’t stop even when you’re tugging his hair, even when you’re squirming, even when you’re screaming his name. He’s far away now, lost in the bliss of your velvet heat. He’s insistent and you’re so sensitive that he pulls another orgasm from you with a cry and a shudder that takes your whole body. He’s so focused on you as a way of distracting himself from his own intense, aching desire. He’s painfully hard; he can feel the spreading circle of pre-cum on his boxers; he’s not entirely sure he won’t come even if you don’t touch him.

Then you flop against him, spent, and your hand grazes his crotch and he jerks violently.

“Fuck!” he gasps and tears prick in his eyes. He can’t look at you; he stares far away, out of the window, trying to stop his dick throbbing, trying to slow his heartrate, trying without success to calm himself.

“Kookie,” you whimper, your voice shaky. “Let me-“

“No,” he whispers, no strength in his voice, no strength anywhere in his body except his stiff, swollen cock. He closes his eyes and he can feel a tear trickle down his cheek, followed by your lips as you kiss it away. He flinches at the contact and whimpers when you stroke his hair.

“I can help you,” you whisper but he doesn’t hear you.

He’s lost, his mind strangled with desperate desire. His brain is whirring, swimming, floating away from him; his fingers tingle and shake and his heart thumps erratically in his chest. He’s never been this excruciatingly turned on before and knowing that he can’t see it through is heart-breaking.

You move your hand towards the waistband of his trousers and he grabs your wrist. He’s gripping so tightly, he’s sure it’ll hurt, but he can’t be gentle now.

“Don’t-,” he starts but his words are swallowed by a sob.

You press your forehead against his and he can’t stop the whimper as you kiss him, so light, so soft. He holds your face in his hands, barely even really touching, trying not to tangle them in your hair and pull you closer. You stay like that, just looking at each other for a minute or more, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows he needs to calm down, knows he should be calming down now that you’re still but his breathing doesn’t settle and he can hear the thump of his heart and the roar of his blood in his ears.

“Baby,” he says eventually, his voice croaky and hoarse. He has to do something and it has to be something drastic. He needs a shock to the system, a full reset. “I need-… I need you to get something for me.” And he needs you to get it because he’s not sure he can walk, not sure he can move at all.

“Anything.”

“Ice. And water.”

“Huh?”

“Ice and water; I need a big, big glass- a jug of iced water please.” His voice wobbles at the end and he’s trying so hard to regulate his breathing, trying so hard not to feel the pulsing in his underwear.

“Ok…”

You shift on his lap but he can’t let you go. His fingers twine in your hair and you have to pry them out to allow you to get up.

With the relief of you off him, the air around him clears and he jumps up, taking off his T-shirt and pushing his trousers to the floor. Once again needing to do something with his hands while he waits for you, he holds them out to the side, not daring to let them anywhere near his erection, fists clenching and unclenching. He feels like he might really be on the edge of a heart attack or an aneurysm. He feels abnormal, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He could keel over.

He can hear you, the ice clinking in the glass and he taps his feet, impatient. When you hand it over, he takes it with both hands and up-ends it all over himself.

“Jungkook!” you cry, as water splashes all over the floor and the sofa and the coffee table, but it sounds distant, the shock of the water temporarily sending him far away. He’s gasping and shivering and blinking hard, then screwing his eyes tight.

“I need you to go,” he tell you, still unable to look at you.

“Go where?”

“Anywhere, baby, literally anywhere,” his voice is still wobbling, his teeth chattering. “If we’re still in the same room in five seconds, I think I’m going to die. Come or die, either way, I don’t know but please, please just go.”

“Ok, I’m going, I’m going.”

He can barely hear you; he scrubs his hands over his face, swearing over and over and over again, begging the universe to let him calm down, to make these next two weeks go as quickly as they possibly can.

ONE WEEK TO GO

Jungkook hasn’t taken any more risks since that night. And he has also told you, almost every day since, to behave yourself, to stop doing that; he’s asked if you’re trying to kill him and the truth is: yes. You’re sick of it now; it takes almost nothing to get you hot: just the thought of him, randomly popping into your head as you’re trying to send emails at work, and you’re getting wet. You can’t sleep anymore. He’s still in the spare room but you lie in your bed, thinking about him lying in the other bed, and you can’t help yourself. You make yourself come again and again but it’s never enough. You can’t believe that he’s not only managed to ruin all other men for you but also your own damn self. You know how to push all your buttons but it’s not the same when it’s you doing it, it's not the same without Jungkook between your thighs.

You know there’s only a week to go, but it’s too long and you’re too frustrated and you’re reaching your boiling point. So, you do what any other sane person would do: naked protest. You stop wearing clothes in the house entirely, getting dressed only to go out and stripping as soon as the front door shuts behind you. When you first walk into the kitchen as Jungkook is eating breakfast, he chokes on his cereal and you have to slap him on the back; you feel his eyes following you as you make yourself a cup of tea and some porridge.

Now he’s just ignoring you. He’s doing his best to stay out of any room you are in, but that’s fine. It’s a small apartment and you’ve hidden his noise-cancelling headphones, so you know he can hear you when you moan and whine, wanton and gratuitous, as you do your best to fix your frustration.

He still hasn’t broken. You’re impressed, honestly. You didn’t think that he would be able to hold out this long and, as aggravated as you are, as deeply, unutterably frustrated as you are, you can’t help but admire his self-control. Unable to be in the same room as you, he texts you and tells you that his trainer is impressed with his performance and is confident about the fight; he believes he can win. He had fucking better win is what you think, but you text back something a little more supportive.

Six days before the fight and Jungkook is in the shower. You’re at a loose end, so you decide to join him. You thank the lord that he didn’t lock the door; he’s got his back to you and doesn’t notice you there until your hands are on his waist. He cries out in surprise and goes to turn around but you hold him still, kissing his shoulder and his back and the nape of his neck. You run your hands up his abs, grab his fulsome pecs, and peeking around his shoulder, you’re delighted to see he’s already hard.

“Were you about to masturbate in this shower?” you ask him, only half-serious.

“No,” he groans. “This is how badly I want you, y/n. Why are you making this so hard?”

You giggle at his choice of words and he growls deep in his throat. He turns around and cages you in against the screen with his hands either side of you.

“In six days,” he tells you, his voice low, face serious, eyes pinning you to the spot. “In six days, I am going to fucking destroy you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight for a week; I’m going to fill you up so completely, my cum never stops dripping out of you; I’m going to make you scream so loud, our neighbours want to call the police; I’m going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you again, then I’m going to fuck you some more and I’m still not going to be done. I’m going to take this cock,” he says, grabbing it at the base and hissing hard through his teeth as he does, “and I’m going to wreck your pretty little throat and your pretty little pussy, is that what you want?”

You can only nod, mute with desire, as you can feel arousal drip down your legs and you shiver, despite the warm, steamy atmosphere. Jungkook nudges his nose against yours, eyes still black as pitch, and he whispers in your ear.

“In six days.”

Then he leans back and stands back under the stream of water.

“Now get the fuck out.”

You’re so overwhelmed, you just do as he says and he follows behind you, shutting the door – and locking it – as soon as you’ve crossed the threshold. You blink hard and, as you come to your senses, you feel too many things at once: hot, frustrated, desperate, livid, heartbroken, a little bit intimidated, a lot excited, and over and above everything else, impatient.

Jungkook stands in the shower, turning the water icy again. He’s shaking, trembling all over, and before he can get himself under control, he’s sobbing. Hands against the tiles, shivering with cold and shuddering through ragged breaths, he drops his head and cries. Cries because he’s so frustrated, because he misses you so much, because he’s so tired, because he hates disappointing you, because he’s anxious, because he’s not sleeping well at night without you, because a tiny, paranoid thought niggles at him that this is going to make you leave him, because he can’t live without you and if he didn’t know it before, he knows it now.

He cries under the cold water for so long that it stops feeling cold against his skin and when he finally steps out of the shower, his skin is livid red and icy to the touch.

He goes to stay at a friend’s house that night.

“Look, I love you so much and I miss you so much that I can’t be around you,” reads his text. “Just thinking about you makes me want to die a seriously Little Death. The fight will be over soon; just six more days and I promise, I’ll give you everything you want and more. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, please, please wait for me.”

“I love you, too, my little Bourbon,” you reply. “But I might never forgive you for this.”

“I promise, I’ll make you forgive AND forget, just wait ’til Saturday.”

He stares at his phone, wishing the messages said something different. He knows you’re joking, thinks you’re joking, hopes you’re joking, at least a little bit.

He sends a string of different kiss emojis and you toss your phone down beside you. Considering your small arsenal of sex toys without hope, you pick one at random, knowing even before you’ve started that it’s not even going to touch the sides of your desire. Your need for Jungkook has become a yawning chasm that stretches further than the eye can see; and it is a need for Jungkook specifically. For one mad moment a few days ago, you had considered the possibility of going out and getting fucked by someone else, but the second you thought it, it repulsed you: you don’t need a dick, you need his dick; you need his mouth; you need his hands. You need him, no one and nothing else. Accept no imitations. Which is really rather a pain right now.

You try to focus on your body, on the pleasure building there, the pleasant thrum in your core as you work with the vibrator in your folds and against your clit. You try to think about nothing, removing Jungkook from the equation, just emptying your mind and focusing on the physical sensations of your body.

It doesn’t work and you get so frustrated that you throw the vibrator in the bin and then, that not being enough, scoop up the others and chuck them in there, too. What’s the point of them, you think to yourself bitterly.

These had better be the fastest six days of your life or you aren’t sure you’ll survive.

FIGHT NIGHT

It was finally here. Jungkook had been working towards this for months, years, for his whole life in a way. It was both the pinnacle of his career and the first step of what he hoped would be a very long journey to the top. The final fight in his bid to be The Ring’s Super Middleweight champion: his opponent, Saul ‘Canelo’ Alvarez. Jungkook has him on reach and height, and he’s also lighter, which he thinks will be to his advantage. Canelo might be a slugger, but that’s where Jungkook excels. People think that his lightness is a disadvantage, that he doesn’t have the strength to throw hard enough punches, that he’s weak, that he’s Amir Khan. But he’s better than that. He’s agile and yes, slighter than other super middleweights, but he’s also strong and he’s also powerful and there’s nothing like seeing the surprise in his opponent’s face when he got his first punch in and they realised that for themselves. Of course, now he’s getting better known, he’s losing that element of surprise but it’s hardly the only thing he’s got in his keep.

But he’s not thinking about that. Today, just like all the other days this week, he’s thinking about you. His coach keeps telling him that he’s strong, that he seems focused, that he seems strong, but Jungkook isn’t entirely convinced. All he can think about is you; his mind is already beyond the fight and he’s anxious that this is going to be his undoing, that he’s going to have survived these past four weeks only to be so keyed up and desperate in the ring that he loses.

He wishes he could see you, just for five minutes, but you’ve been banned from his presence on fight days. You’re also banned from the gym on training days. Jungkook agrees with Coach that that’s probably for the best but it doesn’t mean he likes it. You are a distraction, there’s no denying it, but today, he really feels like he needs it. He needs you. Even an ounce, even a drop of you will do.

He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

“Kookie! Are you ok?” You sound concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“We never speak on fight days; I thought something might be wrong.”

Jungkook sighs and leans his head back against the wall.

“Something is wrong: I miss you.”

“Jungkook! Don’t scare me like that!”

He laughs and knows he was right to call you; just hearing your voice is like a balm to his fraying nerves. He already feels more relaxed.

“I’m sorry, love,” he replies. “I just wanted to hear your voice; we haven’t spoken this week.”

“I know and whose fault is that?”

“I know, I know, it’s mine, but I can’t wait to see you. Even if I lose this fight, as long as I’ve got you, I’m good, I’m a winner.”

“Hey now, you’re not going to lose, my little oat and raisin cook-”

“You don’t like that flavour cookie, do you?”

“Well, I don’t, no, but I thought I’d go with the least sexy flavour, in respect of how easy it is to get a ‘rise’ out of you at the moment.”

He snorts, appreciative of the weird, little effort.

“I think you’re right: raisins are not sexy but cookies are sexy biscuits, aren’t they? By default? Sexier than normal biscuits, right?”

“So you’re saying we need a raisin biscuit that isn’t a cookie.”

“Yeah.

“Garibaldi?”

Jungkook laughs.

“I don’t even know what that is, love, but sure, it doesn’t sound sexy.”

“Ok, then, I know you’re not going to lose, my little garibaldi.”

He laughs again and tells you that his coach has said the same thing (“… not in the same words”). He wishes he could stay on the phone with you longer; having barely spoken to you this week, he misses your voice, your presence, your conversation, just as much if not more than he misses your body. He sees his coach crossing the room, approaching him and he rings off reluctantly, but relieved he got even a minute with you before tonight.

He’s pacing in the dressing room; it’s almost time. He considered asking you not to come to this one; he’s not sure that he’ll be able to focus knowing you’re so much as in the room. The usual rule is that you’re allowed to attend but you have to sit somewhere in the back, somewhere he won’t be able to see you; he’s not sure if that’ll be enough tonight. Coach is talking to him, trying to hype him up, but he can’t hear a word. He just knows he needs to end this fight as soon as he possibly can and that means not going out there all guns blazing like a reckless thug in a bar fight; it means taking a step back (and he physically does it, takes one step back), taking a deep breath, and remembering the strategy, remembering the training. He’s ready for this (“You’re ready for this, JK,” Coach cries); he’s going to destroy Canelo (“You’re going to smash it, mate; you’re going to destroy him!”); and then he’s going to destroy you and himself in that order.

Canelo seems thrown off by Jungkook at the start: his size, maybe, his strength, his Southpaw stance despite being right-handed, Jungkook can’t be sure, but he wins the first round decisively and it’s exactly how he needs it to go: he likes to be the underdog but he likes an early lead. Spite and competitiveness can get you surprisingly far in life. He was right that Canelo is heavy and Jungkook is able to run rings around him; he thinks he might genuinely be able to get this wrapped up early, if he can just manage to hit him hard enough.

That turns out to be an ambitious goal and, halfway through, he’s slightly down on points. He’s frustrated; he can’t quite work out why his punches aren’t landing. Are they really not connecting? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Are the judges just not seeing them? He’s not sure what he can do about that. He spits out the water Coach squirted in his mouth and he’s nodding at his advice. As he stands to get ready for the seventh round, his eyes roam the crowd, not looking for anything, just looking. Then his stomach flips. He sees you.

You’re sitting in your seat, anxious and uncomfortable. It always makes you anxious to see him fight, even though you know he’s trained for this and he’s as safe as anyone else would be in the same situation, but you flinch every time Canelo lands a punch. Jungkook hasn’t lost a fight all year and you’re surprised to see him losing – even if not by many points. You hadn’t really considered the possibility of him losing, because he doesn’t. He’s Jungkook. He’s the Baby Assassin of Busan. He doesn’t lose.

But things go from bad to worse. The next rounds see Jungkook falter, making uncharacteristic mistakes and misjudgements that cost him points. As the bell rings at the end of the tenth round, you can see the frustration in Jungkook’s face from here. Your stomach twists; you know how much this fight means to him and how upset he’ll be if he loses. You try to rouse yourself; it’s not over ’til it’s over. There are two rounds to go and he’s not so far behind he can’t make it up. There’s still a chance.

When Jungkook stands for the eleventh round, you see him scanning the crowd in your direction. You panic, should you hide? Duck? Cover your face? Too late; his eyes find yours and the second stretches into eternity, just you and him, before he’s tapped by the ref and he turns away. You shouldn’t have come. You’re a distraction. You’re going to make it worse.

Jungkook is going to lose.

The bell rings and Jungkook feels sprightly, buoyed, suddenly less tired than he had done in the last round. He dances energetically around the ring, keeping Canelo moving, keeping him throwing punches and missing, throwing more punches and missing again and again. You’re on the edge of your seat; this is the Jungkook you know. All at once, he lands three punches on Canelo and leaps back out of his retaliatory reach. Then he settles in a bit closer and lets Canelo land a couple on him; this… isn’t the Jungkook you know. You can’t work out what he’s doing; you’ve not seen him do this before. You turn to the clock, watching the seconds of the round tick by. Thirty seconds left. You check the points. Jungkook still behind.

This is more like it, Jungkook thinks. He can end it. He knows he can. He just has to let Canelo let his guard down a little more, tire him out a little further. Jungkook is not letting this get to twelve rounds. It won’t happen. Not on his watch.

You’re so focused on the screen: the points, the time, that you miss what causes the crowd to suddenly surge and scream. Canelo is standing with the referee in front of him, looking a little dazed. The ref lets them continue and the round commences again. Before Canelo has even blinked, Jungkook has hit him with a left hook that you know he put all his weight into. Canelo falls to the mat and doesn’t get back up. The ref starts counting. The crowd count with him.

“8… 9… 10!”

The ref waves a wide cross in front of him; the commentator declares it a knockout; and the crowd is screaming. Jungkook’s arms are in the air, his coach lumbering into the ring to envelope him in a hug, along with everyone else, it seems, the ring suddenly full of people. You lose sight of Jungkook. You’re on your feet, straining to see over the heads of the people in front of you, who are doing the very same thing. Tiny red fists emerge from the mêlée and it’s him; you exhale a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You’re desperate to get to him. It’s over. The fight’s finally over. And he won. By knockout after a hard fight. This is absolutely the best outcome, better even than you’d hoped for. You bet he’s on cloud nine and you can’t wait to join him there.

Jungkook is buzzing. He’s done it. It’s finally over. And that means there’s only one thing on his mind. He can’t focus, is barely there as they hand him his belt, as he lifts it above his head to show the screaming crowd. People are congratulating him, slapping his back, rubbing his hair; at some point, someone takes his hands and rips off his gloves – he’s not sure where they end up. The fight was televised and a man with a microphone approaches him. He tries hard to focus on the questions, answering as quickly as he can and then the presenter asks just what he’s going to do now he’s won his first Super Middleweight title.

“Well,” he answers, “I haven’t come in four weeks so I’m going to go find my girl and fuck her in the dressing room ’til neither of us can walk straight!”

He points right at you, flicks a peace sign to the crowd and jogs back the way he entered 45 long minutes ago.

He keeps jogging all the way to the dressing room, stopping for precisely nobody. Coach tries to grab his attention, tries to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs him off. Wild horses can’t keep him from you now.

He swings open the dressing room, for a moment disappointed that you’re not there before him, but, of course you wouldn’t be. He’ll have to wait; it’s been four weeks, he can cope with another four minutes. Probably. He paces back and forth, back and forth; he chugs half a bottle of water; he almost wipes the sweat off his body, dries his hair, but then he remembers how much you like him dirty like this. Just the thought of you has got him hard already. He palms himself through his shorts and immediately has to stop himself; to come before you’ve even got in the door is unthinkable, unforgivable.

The door opens and there you are.

“Fucking finally.”

Jungkook slams his hands either side of your head, leaning down over you, sweat still dripping from his hair. He lowers one hand slowly to lock the door, his dark eyes never leaving yours, and then returns it next to your head.

“Did you have to wear fucking jeans?” he asks, laughing lightly. Of course, she’d wear jeans, he thinks, fucking tease. “Couldn’t find a dress? A skirt?”

“Sorry,” you answer, and you’re already breathless.

Jungkook kisses you, pressing his whole body against you and you sigh; god how you’ve missed this. He turns you around with one knock of his hand on your hip and he unbuttons your jeans impatiently. He shoves them roughly down your legs and you step out of them and your shoes at the same time.

“Oh baby, I don’t care. All I care about is finally getting to fuck you like you deserve. Please tell me you’re wet already. I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”

He’s usually more considerate; he would usually take his time. But this is not a usual situation. You laugh.

“Kookie, I’ve been wet for weeks, just hurry the fuck up, would you?”

He doesn’t need telling twice. He strips off his shorts and boxers and as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance, and it twitches, he gasps.

“Shit.”

He takes a few breaths, tries to steady himself. He kisses your neck, buying himself some time. He’s on a hair trigger and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t blow his load in one thrust.

“Just so you know,” he tells you, figuring there’s nothing else for it. “I’m going to last about ten seconds right now, but I promise, I’ll be ready to go again. I swear this won’t be it.”

“Just fuck me, please, Kookie. I’ll take ten seconds over none.”

Your whole body shudders as he presses into you for the first time in four weeks. You both moan low and Jungkook pauses at the bottom. You can feel him breathing heavily against your skin and he takes your trapezius in his teeth, taking a generous bite and not letting go as he drags himself backwards before thrusting in again. Your walls are spasming already; you’re so tight and he’s stretching you just right, filling you up like you’ve not been filled for 29 long days.

Ten seconds, as it happens, was an over-estimation. The way you grip him, the way he can feel your walls fluttering against him; you’re so hot and wet and tight and it’s been so long and he’s so sensitive. He lasts for all of a handful of thrusts before he’s groaning and shooting hot, white ropes of cum into you.

“Fuck, shit, sorry, baby, fuck!”

You can’t help but laugh as you turn around, keeping your legs tight together. He grins sheepishly at you and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I’m sorry, love, I did tell you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”

His hands meet across your lower back and he pulls you close for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you, too, Kookie,” you mumble against his lips, half your words eaten up by Jungkook’s mouth. You feel his tongue against your lower lip and you open up for him, sliding your tongue over his as he licks into your mouth. God, even this you’ve missed. You’ve barely even seen him in the last week, let alone got close to him, let alone touched him, let alone kissed him, even chastely. It’s overwhelming now to have him so close to you, all over you. You never want him any further away.

He moves his hands lower and lifts you up under your bum, carrying you to the sofa, where he strips you of your top and bralet – the black, lacy one you know he likes. You almost pout that he takes no notice of it but he catches you eye and grins.

“I notice, I know, I love you, thank you, but god, I don’t want a stitch on you right now. Nothing is better than you like this.” He stretches his hands out over your naked body and climbs over you. He ducks again, swallowing your next moan as he pinches at your nipple.

His mouth is everywhere, burning wherever it touches. You’re sweating and breathless and you think you won’t last much longer than ten seconds either when he finally touches you. Your cunt is quivering in anticipation, your clit throbbing a hard pulse, its echoes shuddering through you. Your back arches as Jungkook moves lower, his mouth on one nipple and then the next and then lower and lower still. He crawls off the sofa onto his knees and pulls you around, legs dangling from the edge. He spreads your thighs wide and takes a moment, looking down at your soaking wet pussy through half-lidded eyes. He licks his lips and clicks his neck from one side to the next before fixing you with a mischievous grin.

“If you even think about teasing me,” you gasp out. “I will fucking murder you.”

He laughs and kisses your inner thigh.

“You over-estimate my self-control, my love. I’m at my fucking limit.”

He is. He isn’t even close to finished with you. His cock is already stirring again as he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from core to clit and moaning lasciviously as he does. You’re already so sensitive, whining and whimpering as he sucks and slurps at you, his face buried so far into the crux of your thighs, you don’t know if he can breathe. Almost immediately, you’re cresting, arching off the sofa, thighs clamping together on Jungkook’s head as a streak of hot pleasure surges through you and fresh arousal gushes over his face.

He brings his hands to your thighs and forces them apart without breaking contact with your cunt. He doesn’t stop, no matter how you squirm; you can’t catch your breath to tell him you’re over-stimulated, to beg him to stop, to give you a second’s break. A scream breaks in your throat as he pushes three fingers inside you and you’re seeing stars. He finally takes his mouth from you and breathes heavily against you, his breath sending sprinkles of goosebumps across your skin. He curls his fingers inside you and then tips your hips just slightly, suddenly hitting the perfect spot. You’re incoherent, animal, as you moan and whimper, stuttering to another orgasm under his ministrations.

You don’t have to find a way to ask him to remove his fingers as the waves of your orgasm roll through you but just as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, his mouth is back on you. He’s gentle this time, more patient. He kisses your lips, licks through your folds slowly, moaning, his brows knitting together because it’s been so long since he’s tasted you and there’s nothing he’d ever rather eat. He buries his tongue in your hole, bumping your clit with his nose; if it were anyone else, it might be accidental, but you know Jungkook knows your body perfectly and knows exactly what he's doing. You’re raw, over-wrought, dehydrated. Your vision swims and your voice gets stuck in your throat, able only to gasp and stutter, not even able to scream his name out loud as you scream it in your head. Your hands tremble, one pushing back the hair on your head, the other finding its way to Jungkook’s hair, tangling there as if you could even dream of giving him direction right now.

His eyes flick to yours and they’re black, pupils dilated, lids fluttering quickly to a close again as he moans, vibrating lips sealing around your screamingly sensitive clit. Your hand pulls sharply at his hair, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You feel like every atom in your body has been electrified, every touch, every movement – yours or his – sending sparks straight to your core, where they’re churned up into a tight ball. Like the death of a star, your body collapses in on itself, contracting and tightening as you are reduced to little more than a silent scream, and then explodes, a supernova of ecstasy exploding within you, scattering bits of you all over the room.

When you open your eyes, you can see stars wherever you look, which isn’t far because you can’t find it within you to move a single muscle.

“You ok, my love?”

Jungkook’s face swims into view, a dopey grin on his sticky, wet face. He looks drunk or high or both. He pushes the hair off your face, your flushed cheeks, fucked-out, dilated pupils staring straight at him; he thinks you look high or drunk or both. He kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips and you’re suddenly hungry again.

“Kookie.” Your voice is hoarse and low, still strangled with need.

Jungkook hums against your mouth as he lifts you up, pressing your back into the back of the sofa.

“Kookie.”

You manage to grab his face between your palms and hold him still, giving you a chance to focus on him, see him properly.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, as eager to please and energetic as a new puppy and you have no idea how. He should be tired; he knows he’s going to crash hard, but right now, there’s adrenaline surging through him like there’s no tomorrow. He’s wired; he’s excited; he feels almost manic with love and lust and he’s so high, he can’t see the ground. He feels like he could go all night and he’s certainly going to try.

“I need you inside me, right now, right this second. Please, please, please.”

You aren’t exactly unaccustomed to begging but nothing will stop the stream of ‘please’s tumbling from your mouth. Nothing, that is, except the head of Jungkook’s perfect cock in your folds, waiting, teasing at your entrance.

He’s lifted you again, setting you on the arm of the sofa, him kneeling on the cushions; with nothing to rest against, you cling to him tight as your breath catches in your throat. He watches closely as he pushes into the tight, wet slip of your cunt, watching himself disappear into you. You want to make a joke about lasting another ten seconds but you don’t have the energy, the capacity, the mental agility to make it; you just about manage to cry his name as starts to thrust, smooth and slow at first, but soon, quicker, harder, accompanied by quiet growls and grunts as he grips you tight. You really do feel drunk, giddy, hysterical as he’s finally, finally back where he belongs. You feel tears prick in your eyes at the relief of it, the pressure, the pleasure.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Shit, I can’t wait to fill you up, stuff you fucking full. Can you take it, baby?”

He’s relieved he hasn’t come again already, though he knows he could. He’s holding back because he’s still so close to the edge. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to lose it again.

“I can take it,” you reply, voice high and tight. “Give it to me, Kookie- fuck.”

He grabs the hair at the back of your head and pulls it back, exposing your neck so he can kiss you, lick you, bite you there, moaning against your skin as you whimper and stutter.

“Kookie, shit, please. I need you to fuck me forever. God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he grunts. “Shit, won’t stop. I’m yours, baby.”

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.”

You press your lips to his clavicle, then lick a bead of sweat travelling down his throat. Jungkook moves faster still, his grip on you painfully tight as he threatens your cervix with every thrust. You’re so sensitive, you’re at an almost constant spasm around him; your limbs still heavy and weak, tingling like they’re both going numb and coming back to life. You simultaneously want this to last forever and feel like you’ll die if a single extra ounce of pleasure is put on you. Then Jungkook sucks at that one spot on your neck that makes you melt and you swear, voice wavering and breaking.

“Give me one more, baby,” he demands, so low you almost don’t hear it.

“I don’t have it,” you whimper.

“Yes, you do, c’mon, y/n.”

And he slips a hand between you, never letting his pace falter.

“Jesus, fuck!”

He touches you gently, but it’s enough to have reality slipping from view, your vision burning white, your blood roaring, screaming in your ears as you cum again. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his back, your teeth hard on the delicate flesh of his neck. It rolls through you, knocking your breath from your lungs, and once it’s passed, you’re trembling, shaking.

Jungkook is holding his breath, straining to last to fuck you through your orgasm; you’re so tight around him it’s like his brain loses signal, just a siren wailing an emergency. No thoughts, no words, when you collapse against him, he exhales, and releases into you with a long, high-pitched sigh.

He lies back onto the sofa, taking you with him.

“That was more than ten seconds, right?” he asks, breathless.

You laugh and pat his shoulder.

“Well done, little jammy dodger; I’m proud of you.”

“For lasting more than ten seconds or winning the title?”

“What title?”

The question leaves your lips before your brain has engaged and Jungkook laughs, first a little and then a lot, so much that you can’t help but laugh with him, can’t help but laugh until you’re crying, your abs hurting, you’re silent in your mirth, breathless and voiceless and hysterical.

When you finally stop, you bring your face level to his. He still has tears of laughter in his eyes and streaking his cheeks. You wipe them away with your thumb and he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“Both, I guess?” you answer.

He grins and shakes his head.

“I almost lost. I thought I was going to fucking lose,” he tells you. “That second half, I-…”

“What happened?”

“I saw you. I saw you in the crowd and I almost fucking came right then and there.” He laughs, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I couldn’t concentrate on the fight; all I could think about was trying not to get a fucking boner. Shit what a stupid fucking idea it was not having sex for four we-”

“I fucking told you!”

“I know, I know. I will never not listen to you ever again for the rest of my life, I swear. God.”

“No more sex bans?”

“No more sex bans. I am never, ever not having sex with you again.”

“Good.”

You lift yourself onto your elbows on his chest and kiss him first on the lips, then the jaw and neck and anywhere within reach.

after returning the chair to the dining table, he follows you to the dimly-lit living room. you sit down on the couch, crossing your legs and placing a throw pillow over your lap. deciding to be petty tonight, you pretend to be highly engrossed in the performance taking place at the music show.

he plops down beside you as he pulls off the black hair tie holding up the upper half of his hair, wearing it on his wrist for safekeeping.

“aish- my hair is a mess.” he chuckles when the thick locks messily fall infront of his bangs, obstructing his vision. he patiently runs his fingers through the tangles before daintily tucking them behind his ears. after getting that out of the way, he rests his tattooed arm over the backrest of the couch, his tongue unconsciously playing with his lip ring as he figures out how to capture your attention.

he affectionately kisses your cheek and gently holds your forearm, drawing random shapes on your skin with the pad of his thumb.

“hi.” he says softly. “you don’t like me calling you baby anymore? then what should i call you?”

you remain unresponsive, vision stubbornly locked on the television screen. he inches closer to block your view, tilting his head to the side so you’re left with no other choice but to look at his face. and then he calls you by your name, as if he’s testing the waters, and he doesn’t miss the disgruntled frown you quickly hide.

“see? you sulk when i say your name!” he giggles as he gets flashbacks of the first month of your relationship, when you used to be shyly tell him that hearing him say ‘baby’ instead of your name felt weird.

oh, how the tables have turned. but still . . . he gets nothing.

he sighs at the suffocating silence, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face on your neck. “baaaby, what did i do? talk to me.”

he breathes you in, the smell of his milk body wash unmistakably embedded on your skin. this means you can’t be that upset with him, right? when it’s in regards of a serious matter, you usually call him out straight away instead of beating around the bush. but you’re not looking for a solution right now. you’re giving him a punishment. that much he knows.

“i’m so tired and hungry after boxing. you know how i haven’t trained in a while. my body hurts more than usual because of it- ah, i really regret putting it off.” he rests his cheek on your shoulder, squeezing your body delicately as he watches the on-going commercial. “should we order their chicken for dinner?”

you stay motionless, letting him do whatever he wants as if he’s a ghost and you’re ignorant to his faint presence. this makes him jut out his bottom lip somberly as he racks his brain for what he could’ve possibly done today to deserve this silent treatment.

“is it something i did? or didn’t do?”

these questions are what eventually elicit a reaction from you. funny enough, the roll of your eyes puts a small smile on his face, because at least this conversation is finally going somewhere.

“okay, okay- i see. i’m supposed to know what it is, right?” he nods in understanding, sweet voice determined to unravel tonight’s mystery.

why is my baby upset with me?

“i’m still sweaty so i’ll reflect on myself in the shower.” he announces before stealing a quick kiss from your lips. this trick earns another glare from you as he walks away, which he reciprocates with a wink when he whips his head back.

“it’s alright if you don’t want to talk to me, just don’t go anywhere, okay?”

you sink down into the couch when he disappears into the bathroom, tightly hugging the pillow to your chest as you sarcastically roll your eyes.

“this is my house, too. why would i go anywhere else?”

—

jungkook heaves another sigh of frustration as he unplugs the hair dryer. despite retracing his footsteps from this morning to afternoon, he’s still as clueless as he was earlier. you were sharing stories when you ate brunch together, and you even kissed him sweet goodbye before he left for the studio. he thought that perhaps you asked him to buy something important and he didn’t read your texts, but he already checked his inbox twice and your last message was from two days ago. it was a sleepy voice memo sent at 4:01am. you were asking him to go back to bed because he was playing games in the living room again.

he taps the play button for the third time in a row, your weary and mellow voice spilling out from his phone’s speaker.

“…kook, love, don’t mind you playing in here. ermmm, but no yelling or i’ll kick you out… just go back to bed, please? i’m cold.”

“ah, shit.” the curse is accompanied by an airy laugh as he punches the bathroom countertop with as little strength as possible, tattooed knuckles turning a light shade of red. the fluttering of his heart doesn’t cease until your voice fades into silence, ticklish giddiness spreading from his stomach all the way to his fingertips.

to be brutally honest, he doesn’t know how he got so lucky. there’s nobody else on earth who can love him, handle his difficultness, and keep him on his toes as effortlessly as you do.

“no but seriously, what am i missing?!”

—

“baby, i ordered the chicken! you’ll eat dinner with me, right?”

he walks into the living room with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, finding that you’re still sitting on the same spot where he left you.

“i got that limited flavor- the one you wanted to try last time. what is it again?” he raises an eyebrow as he taps his bare foot against the floor, his forehead creasing in deep thought.

you glance up at him when his knee knocks against yours, taking the final bite from the choco cookie pepero stick you’re holding. the plastic pouch on your lap makes a crinkling sound as you bring out another one.

”map- maple crunch? that’s the one, right?”

he waits for you to tell him whether he got it right or not, but to his dismay, the seal on your lips prevail. with a dramatic sigh and droopy shoulders, he makes a beeline for the kitchen. he fills a glass halfway with cold water from the fridge, and as he chugs, his doe eyes land on the top shelf. that’s where he caught you when he arrived from the gym, and so, with his curiosity piqued, he pulls the small door open.

it appears to be empty at first, but in the dark, innermost corner hides the snacks your friend, who visited japan recently, dropped off yesterday.

and that’s when it dawns on him, the reason why your expression turned sour when you saw his face an hour ago. he shuts the door with a lighthearted chuckle, leaving the empty glass in the sink before padding back to the living room.

he supports the back of your head with his wide palm to plant a kiss on your forehead, before squatting down infront of you with his folded arms weighing down the pillow. you grimace inside your head because you’re practically held down on the couch so you won’t be able to escape his sickeningly affectionate ministrations.

“pssst.” he whispers at you, eyes glimmering with hopes met by silent disappointment. his head drops lazily on your lap, low and husky voice sounding slightly muffled as he sullenly speaks. “baby, you’re killing me here. this is the worst punishment… please, punch me instead. that would hurt less.”

and he stays like that for a little while, almost falling asleep as the soreness of his muscles starts seeping deeper into his system. maybe, just maybe, he also put himself in this position with the intention of tempting you into playing with his pretty, as you like to call it, hair. he recently learned that the longer it grows, the more attention it earns from you.

true enough, setting himself up as bait works its charm, but unfortunately, his patience meets its demise just as you’re about to give up your petty little act. he looks up at you with a sad frown and twinkling eyes, expression identical to that famous pleading face emoji, only he’s thousand times more adorable in your eyes.

you hastily chew the chocolate-y snack to hide an endeared smile, teasingly quirking an eyebrow at him before reverting your attention on the television. at this point, he decides that he has had enough. his knees collapse on the floor as he abruptly holds your face steady, greedily biting at the other end of the pepero stick until his lips inevitably crashes against yours for a sweet kiss.

“hmmph-” your dominant hand weakly grasps his shoulder out of reflex, sticky thumb and index finger pointing out so the chocolate won’t stain his white t-shirt.

jungkook pulls away with a cocky grin, teeth sinking on his lower lip before his tongue darts out to lick it.

“ugh, i hate you! first, my strawberry mochi, and now, my pepero?!”

your furious outburst causes his animated giggles to echo throughout the apartment, his sore abdominal muscles aching and heart feeling significantly lighter. your wide, striking eyes fluttering close against their own accord when your face gets peppered with apologectic kisses.

“fuck, you’re so cute. i love you. i love you. that’s why you’re angry at me? i’ll buy you more…” he wipes away the scattered wet kisses on your cheeks with his thumb. “you only took one bite and left them in the fridge. i thought you didn’t want them anymore. i’m sorry.”

the story goes: he randomly woke up around 3am again. struggling to return to sleep, he started feeling peckish and decided to venture into the kitchen. that was when he saw the transparent container of five strawberry mochi, one on the corner not even half-eaten. in his defense, that’s how your unwanted leftovers usually look. and he thought those ones… particularly looked delicious. almost criminally so.

“that’s how yummy they were. i wanted to save them! and nothing would taste the same from here, so there’s no point.” you retort with a sigh of utter defeat. the doorbell rings a second after. “…that chicken better be crazy fucking good that i forget mochi exists.”

jungkook’s precarious fate completely lies in the hands of bb.q chicken’s kitchen people. wonderful.

“i’ll get it.” he softly squeezes your arm before standing up to answer the door.

—

“why do i like this so much? i’m about to finish everything…” you mumble to yourself after taking a peek at the box of those maple crunch chicken jungkook mentioned earlier.

“jungkook, aren’t you going to eat?!” you yell out for him before taking another bite from your fourth piece of chicken, ripping off the meat from the bone using your teeth. you continue entertaining yourself with a variety show while you wait for your boyfriend to join you.

“i will!” he shouts back from the bedroom, emerging from the door a moment later. he bites the nail of this thumb out of habit, highly absorbed in scrolling and tapping at his phone screen. he automatically sits on the edge of the couch to be as close to you as possible, who transferred to the floor to feast on your dinner, without giving away the website he’s current navigating. his leg bumps against your side, and you instinctively lay your head on his thick thigh.

“is that going to take long?” you question ingenuously, thinking that he might be preoccupied with something related to work. “i want to start watching the glory. i’m so curious!”

you made it a rule to put your phones aside when you watch a show or film together, not liking any distractions from the plot (and mostly the cuddles, really). it might not be anything special, but it is your quality time together after all. two hearts intertwined by love, beating in sync, with no intentions of ever letting go. and for a little while, it’s all that matters in the world.

“download the episodes on the tablet so we can watch it in the plane.”

“what? watch it where?” you abruptly lift up your head to look at him, a look of sheer confusion painted on your face.

“what?” he mimics your tone with faux innocence, round doe eyes meeting yours. “will you ask your friend? i need the address of the local bakery where she bought the mochi.”

“are you about to fly to japan just to buy them for me?” you snicker, nudging his knee in jest.

“not just me.” he boldly raises an eyebrow, showing you a plane ticket to your name displayed on his phone screen. “we have a flight to tokyo at 5am.”

“are you insane? babe, what the hell-” you hastily remove the gloves from your hands to grab the device, reading the details written on the screen to process what he just told you. “i was just joking!”

he almost curls in on himself when he hears a pet name slip out from your lips.

yes, that was the main reason why he took a long time in the bedroom. he needed your passport numbers to book the tickets and he struggled to find your passport. in the end, he found it beneath his in the cabinet drawer.

“this feels like the perfect opportunity to finally do something this spontaneous with you. it’s valentine’s day the day after tomorrow. let’s be dauntless and spend it at disneyland instead of camping, baby.”

he nervously taps his foot on the floor as he observes your reaction, feeling a little shy after revealing his surprise. he’s not entirely confident you’ll agree with his date idea— the first and last time you went to a theme park together, he ran into a bit of trouble the day after because he got recognized. he can’t read your mind at the moment, but he knows how you’ve always felt guilty about that.

however, those worries get washed away the second you excitedly climb on his lap to wrap your legs around his waist, engulfing him in the tightest hug.

“you’re so annoying, oh my god! why are you the best boyfriend in the whole wide world? you’re really going to pull this off?!”

your whiny voice makes him smile fondly, a surge of warmth spreading through his insides because that kind of praise coming from your mouth is music to his ears.

“that means you’re going with me, right? because there’s an extra fee if i cancel on them.”

you playfully squeeze his soft cheeks together to make his lips pout, sighing dreamily at the golden boy under you. “you spoil me too much, you know that?”

“i should. i want to. it’s for valentine’s day, the day of love! and you’re the personification of love for me.”

you shrug your shoulders with a lighthearted laugh.

“i don’t know. most guys buy flowers and call it a day.”

ouch. it seems that you already forgot that’s exactly what he did for your first valentine’s day. but to be fair, he couldn’t pull off anything special because he was overseas. and he will be again this year, except it’s different because you’ll be by his side.

“…i mean, i still think gifts like that are romantic. but i’m just happier when we create core memories together.”

“that’s why i’m the best boyfriend for you. because i know your love languages.” he responds proudly, nose scrunching and corners of his crinkling as he beams.

“that you are.” you squeeze his cheeks a second time. “then i’ll pay for the hotel.”

“took care of that already. six nights. it’s where me and jimin-hyung stayed before, but there was only a room with two single beds left. we can just sleep on one of them.” he cheeses at the thought of being squeezed into a small bed together with you, not even considering the option of pushing the two beds into one.

with how fast he managed to book the tickets and the hotel room, you can vividly see how much he wants, and maybe needs, this vacation to happen. his excitement is contagious — because this is slowly beginning to feel real and you’re already imagining how beautiful your lover would look like under the bursts of fireworks lighting up the night sky of disneyland.

“hmmmm,” you purse your lips as you hum. “then i’ll take care of the food and transpo.”

“sounds good.” he repeatedly nods in agreement, hair bouncing as he does so.

“except for the strawberry mochi.” you squint your eyes at him threateningly, and he cheekily smiles in return.

“except for the strawberry mochi. i’ll buy you the entire tray of those.”

you fix his bangs as you utter an almost inaudible ‘pretty’, worried about them poking his eyes. he instantaneously melt from your wholesome gentleness, guilty of becoming all mushy when he receives said compliment.

“give me a kiss.”

“later. i taste like chicken.”

“babe, come on.” he gives you a dirty ‘you can’t be serious’ look. “you think i care about that? just this morning i kissed you after you swallowed my cum-”

“oh my god, okay! okay! shut up! that’s different!” you cover his mouth with your hand, flustered by his obscene… choice of words outside the bedroom.

he presses a kiss to your palm before you finally reward his lips with a peck, a triumphant smile replacing his pout.

“we need to start packing!” you eagerly climb off his lap, heavy footsteps striking the floor as you skip to the bedroom.

“jeon jungkook! hurry!”

his full name?!

he hurriedly puts on a clean glove on his right hand. guess he has no choice but to eat dinner while packing, he did this to himself when he booked the 5am flight after all.

“coming!”

—

you know that jungkook likes using spacious luggages when he goes on trips. that doesn’t necessarily mean that he overpacks, he just wants the extra space because he tends to especially enjoy shopping when he goes on trips. that’s why when he enters the walk-in closet, one of his biggest suitcases is already laid out on the floor.

he sits beside it cross-legged, holding the box of chicken under his chin so the crumbs won’t fall on the floor as he eats.

“which one are you bringing?”

“this.” you emerge from behind the door, slumping your upper body over the light pink suitcase as its wheels roll towards the center of the room. it’s a size smaller than his, but then again, you can just mooch off his extra space if you need it.

“cute.” he chuckles in adoration of your youthful charm. “want more chicken?”

you abandon the suitcase to crawl towards him, allowing him to feed you until you finish another piece of chicken in record time.

“okay, that’s my last one. i know i’ll get hungry at the airport again.”

“i’ll finish the rest.” he hums, feet kicking in satisfaction as he continues eating.

“then i’ll start by packing our underwear. six nights and seven days, right?” you speak in a sing-song voice, which makes him giggle yet again.

for a few minutes, he only watches you neatly fold the two sets of underwear while moaning and commenting on the chicken he’s happily devouring. later on, he exits the closet and comes back with your butterfly hairclips decorating the sides of his hair.

“i love that you wear them on your own now.”

you only notice the splash of colors contrasting his black hair after catching a glimpse of him in the middle of picking out which jackets to bring. according to the weather app, it’s less colder in tokyo than seoul, so you think you should be fine for the most part.

“i forgot where i put my hairtie again.” he explains as he sheepishly scratches his head.

“is it not on your wrist?” you ask without looking, too busy going through all the clothes you own to complete the outfits you have in mind.

“oing?” he raises his wrist to his eye-level, enlightment escalating in his brain. “ahhh- you’re right?! i thought i took it off but i got it wet it in the shower!”

“dummy.” you shake your head in amusement. “how did you not feel that?”

“you were ignoring me.” he retaliates, chest puffing up in defense. “i’ve been distracted!”

—

“what’s taking you so long? it’s an hour drive to the airport!” jungkook reminds you as he barges into the closet, unzipping your bag to check your passports for the third time.

you’re almost ready to leave. bam will be prolonging his stay with his brothers, song and paeng. the appliances have been unplugged. the two of you are already fully-dressed against the negative temperature outside. your boyfriend replaced the butterfly hairclips with a headband. he’s wearing his prescription glasses to aid him in safe driving. his suitcase is zipped up, and his backpack is hanging on his shoulder.

on the other hand, you’re having a crisis, still sprawled out on the floor like your own suitcase.

“are you finally wearing them?”

you tilt up your chin to find jungkook’s face beaming with more excitement. he’s referring to the knee-high, five-inch white boots you gifted yourself for christmas. they’re lying right infront of you as you inspect them with anxious uncertainty. you eyed this pair for months before you clicked the checkout button at last, but seeing it in the flesh somewhat intimidates you because of how big and flashy it is.

“you look sexy in those boots, baby.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging through his black t-shirt. he tucks his index finger under his chin as he envisions his plans and goals for your week-long vacation. “i packed my camera for this. i’ll film for a video, but i want to take pictures of you that have the street style, insta vibe too.”

“i do want to wear them but…” you trail off, hugging your knees to your chest as you pucker your lips in deliberation. “i read that it’s either snowy or rainy there these days. what if i slip?”

“no, no. i’m sure it’ll be fine.” he waves off your worries. “just bring them and we can figure it out when we get there.”

your boyfriend sounding inexplicably enthusiastic about this more than you has thoroughly boosted your confidence.

“okay.” you rest your chin on top of your knees, chewing on your bottom lip to conceal a smile. “i need to make space for it then. or should i get a duffel bag?”

“ey, no need for that! i’ll go pack them in mine…” he wastes no time, immediately squatting down to put the boots back in its box. “finish up here and don’t forget to turn the lights off.”

“yes, sir.” you chirp, kneeling on the floor to zip up your suitcase while he goes out to the living room where he already wheeled out his.

you stand in the middle of the bedroom, looking around as you mentally list down and cross out the essentials for your travel. you turn off every lightbulb you pass by on your way to the front door, picking up your powerbank charging in the living room, until you eventually reach jungkook who is standing in the narrow hallway.

“there you are,” you are greeted with a loving kiss planted on your forehead. “time check, time check. it’s 12:55.” he reports in a dulcet tone, slotting the strap of your bag over your head and letting it drape across your torso.

this is when it undoubtedly sinks in. hours ago, you were just sulking over something so silly and now, you’re about to leave for the airport. god, you can’t remember the last time you felt this surge of thrill thrumming in your veins. this is so out of the blue. you plan on creating a rough itinerary during the car ride and you already have several spots in mind (cough, cough. your tiktok’s fyp has been filled with recommendations courtesy of your friend and curious google searches). plus, you’re 99% sure there are things you forgot to pack, yet for some reason, you look forward to realizing what those are and stressing over where to fucking buy them in tokyo. and you highly doubt that you would feel this alive if you were travelling with somebody else rather than your best friend and your lover.

“let’s go!” you squeal, dashing past your boyfriend to push the door open.

he follows suit, hauling his luggage outside. “let’s go!” he chuckles to himself after he teasingly mimics your high-pitched tone.

once again, your childish impulses take over. you slump over the light pink suitcase to ride it, pushing the soles of your shoes against the smooth tiles to gain momentum as you roll across the quiet hallways. it’s absurd how you almost feel like you’re sneaking out, but you’ve always been one to enjoy reckless abandon.

entering a serious relationship with jungkook was a gamble you invested all your faith into. you used to feel like you were both running out of time, holding hands beneath the thick sand trickling down the hourglass. you didn’t want to have high hopes about building a life together, but you sure as hell pictured it in your mind a thousand times. and granted by a wild miracle, the universe was kind enough to breathe life into that picture. nowadays, the butterflies in your stomach wake up in the morning fluttering with life instead of fear.

“i realized something.” you voice out your thoughts as you wait for the elevator to climb to your apartment floor, sat on your suitcase with your chin propped up by the handle. “our flight is at 5am, right?“

“yup.” jungkook confirms with a nod as he zips up his windbreaker.

“then that means we can watch the sunrise from the plane!”

the new piece of information makes the photographer and videographer in him perk up with burning interest, dimples on his cheeks popping out as he lightly slaps his forehead.

“fuck, i need to drink a liter of coffee to stay awake for that.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added or removed :D

Your phone vibrates. Your boyfriend's name on the screen.

Kook: On my wayyyyyyy 🏃

You stand up, suddenly restless. You move to the mirror, running your fingers through your hair, adjusting your clothes, smoothing your hands over your skin.

Anticipation buzzing under your skin. you don’t have to wait much longer. You keep checking your phone, hands a little clammy, nerves thrumming in your stomach from excitement. It’s been so long. Too long.

The doorbell rings.

Your heart jumps. Running a quick hand through your hair, and you head for the door.

The second the door swings open, you don’t even give yourself time to process. He’s here.

Jungkook barely gets a breath in before you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, legs instinctively locking around his waist. A surprised chuckle rumbles from his chest as his strong hands catch you with ease, holding you up like you weigh nothing.

“Woah—someone missed me,” he teases, his voice rich with amusement, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in his tone.

“Of course I did,” you mumble against his skin, planting kisses all over his face—his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, anywhere your lips can reach. You feel the way his body shakes slightly with laughter, his grip on you tightening as he walks inside, shutting the door behind him without letting you go.

His scent surrounds you, warm and familiar, but there’s something different now—he’s bigger, his muscles even firmer beneath your touch, his frame broader than before. You pull back just enough to look at him properly, taking in the way his eyes soften as he gazes at you.

“Damn, baby,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a grin. “You’re not even gonna let me breathe first?”

“Not a chance,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his, your fingers threading through his oh so short hair as he holds you impossibly close.

His lips move against yours, slow at first, savoring, but then he tightens his grip, fingers pressing into your thighs as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and you whimper into his mouth, your body pressing closer—desperate to just feel him.

Jungkook groans lowly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “Fuck, baby… you have no idea how much I needed this.”

You swallow, heart pounding. “Then don’t hold back.”

His jaw clenches not wasting a second.

Before you can even process it, Jungkook is carrying you straight to the bedroom.

His lips find yours again, rougher this time, his breathing heavy as he devours your mouth. You gasp against him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

By the time he reaches the bed, you’re dizzy from the kiss, from the sheer heat of his body surrounding you. He lowers you onto the mattress, but before you can even catch your breath, he’s on you—caging you in,  hands already roaming.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice strained as he drags his lips along your jaw, down your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

His teeth graze your skin, and your body reacts instantly, arching beneath him, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

Jungkook grins against your throat. “Missed me that much, baby?”

His tone is teasing, but the way his hands are gripping you—tells you he’s just as desperate as you are.

You don’t bother answering. Instead, you pull him down, crashing your lips against his, pouring every ounce of pent-up longing into the kiss.

It’s messy, desperate, your fingers immediately working to shove his jacket off his shoulders. He lets out a low chuckle, amused by your urgency, but he doesn’t stop you. He shrugs out of the jacket with ease before tossing it aside.

Your hands barely have time to explore before he’s pulling back, just enough to grab the hem of his t-shirt.

Your breath catches as he yanks the fabric over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the full extent of how much he’s changed.

The dim light of your room casts soft shadows over his skin, the broad set of his shoulders, the sheer size of him now.

Fuck.

Your eyes roam over him, taking in everything. The way his arms flex slightly as he tosses his shirt aside. He’s so much bigger now, so much more built than before.

Jungkook's lips curls up into a smirk, dark eyes watching you as you stare, shameless. “Like what you see?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your fingers itching to feel just how solid he’s become. Instead of answering, you reach for him, gripping his wrist and pulling him back down—You need him closer.

His hands move immediately, one gripping your waist, the other sliding up your arm.

“You’re staring too much,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw before trailing down to your neck, hot and slow.

Your breath hitches as his teeth graze your skin, nails digging slightly into his shoulders, “It’s distracting.”

Jungkook exhales a quiet laugh, the sound low and knowing. With one swift tug, he pulls your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside.

His hands freeze for a second when he sees what’s underneath.

Black lace.

Delicate, barely-there black lace lingerie—the kind that clings to your curves. The kind you’ve never worn for him before.

Jungkook’s eyes darken instantly, “Fuck.” His gaze devours you, dragging over every inch of skin, before flicking back to your face.

“You wore this for me?” His tone thick with something heavy, something raw.

You nod, heat creeping up your neck, but his reaction makes you bolder. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose. “Baby…” He shakes his head slightly, his smirk returning, darker this time.

“You have no fucking idea what you just started."

His hands slip to your shorts, hooking his fingers into them. Slow.

“Off,” he mutters. “Now.”

And when you lift your hips, letting him strip them away, his eyes radiate just one thing—like he’s about to ruin you. Ruin you so right.

His hands hover over your skin, not quite touching yet, tongue swiping over his lower lip, eyes roaming over you, “You’re fucking dangerous,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

His hands move—gripping, spreading. Tracing their way up to your hips, dragging his fingers along the delicate lace, making sure you feel every single movement. The contrast of his rough touch against the soft fabric sends a shiver through you, your body reacting without hesitation.

“You like this?” he murmurs, his fingers teasing over the thin strap at your hip, “Wearing something this pretty—just for me?”

You barely manage a nod before he’s leaning down again, lips pressing against your stomach, open-mouthed kisses trailing lower.

His teeth graze against the sensitive fabric, right over your heat.

Your whole body jerks. A choked gasp leaves your lips.

"Relax, baby," he murmurs, his breath hot, teasing.

Jungkook’s grip tightens around your thighs, keeping them firmly in place over his shoulders. His breath warm against the soaked fabric of your lace.

His fingers slide along the delicate material, pressing just lightly over your heat, just enough to make you whimper.

His tongue flicking out just enough to make your thighs tremble.

Your frustration bubbling in your throat. “Jungkook—”

“Hm?” He looks up, smirking, eyes dark and playful.

You glare at him, panting slightly.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep, dangerous.

“Jungkook, please—”, you finally breathe out.

His hands flex against your thighs. “Please what?”

You swallow hard, desperate now. “Please—please touch me. No more teasing, just—”

You don’t even get to finish. Jungkook shoves the lace aside in an instant, his mouth finally pressing against your bare heat. Hot. Wet. Messy.

You cry out. He devours you whole.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans against you, hands holding you down for him. “Should’ve begged sooner.”

Your back arches off the bed, a choked moan spilling from your lips as heat floods through your veins. His tongue moves with purpose, licking up every bit of your desperation like he’s been starving for this.

“You taste so fucking good,” he mutters against you, his voice raspy. His pace steadily increasing until you’re a mess beneath him, gasping, panting.

It’s too much.

Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, your hips moving without thinking, chasing that high that’s so, so close.

“J-Jungkook—,” you breathe out, desperate now.

And then—he pulls away.

Your eyes snap open. “Wh—”

He licks his lips, his chin glistening, smirking as he watches you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your legs still trembling—

“Not yet,” his eyes dark, thumb lazily tracing your inner thigh, ignoring the way you whimper, squirming under him.

You glare at him, frustration bubbling over. “You—”

“Be patient,” he mutters against your skin, smirk never fading. He loves this—loves seeing you needy, wrecked for him.

His lips trail up, enjoying the way your body reacts, the way your breathing stutters the higher he goes.

“Still looking so pretty for me.”

His fingers tracing over the thin lace barely covering your breasts. You shudder.

He licks over the lace, dragging his tongue slowly over the sensitive peak, soaking the fabric, teasing you without giving you what you need.

“Jungkook—” Your voice is breathless, hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin.

He hums against you, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, grinning as he does it again—slow, torturous.

One hand trails lower, skimming over your waist, before hooking into the waistband of your lace panties dragging them down your legs.

His hands return immediately, fingers dipping between your thighs.

“Already so wet for me,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Messy little thing, aren’t you?”

He pushes a finger inside. A sharp gasp escaping your lips at how easily he slips in.

Your hands fly to his biceps, fingers gripping onto the hard muscle, holding on as he starts working you open.

Jungkook groans, feeling the way you clench around him, so warm, so tight.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he adds another finger, stretching you perfectly, curling just right. His pace deep, perfect.

His lips attach to your neck, sucking, biting. He wants you covered in him, wants you to see the evidence of this all over your skin when he’s done.

Jungkook feels the way your grip on his biceps trembles, nails pressing into his skin.

His fingers curl, pressing against that spot that makes your back arch off the bed, a sharp moan slipping past your lips.

And the second he presses his thumb against your aching clit, a strangled gasp rips from your throat. The added pressure sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, your hips bucking against his hand instinctively, chasing the feeling.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

His fingers move faster, deeper, his thumb pressing down just right.

“J-Jungkook—” you gasp, your voice breaking as your stomach tightens, heat rushing through you in waves.

He feels it—the way you clench around his fingers, your body shaking under his touch.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your throat, marking you again, sucking another bruise into your skin. “Come for me, baby.”

The pleasure crashes into you all at once, ripping through your body like a storm, your back arching, your thighs trembling. Your grip on him tightening, holding onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Jungkook groans at the sight, his fingers still pumping into you, dragging out your release. His thumb giving one last, lazy stroke over your achingly sensitive clit.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your grip on his shoulders tight, your nails digging in as the aftershocks ripple through you.

He pulls his fingers out bringing them to his mouth.

Your eyes widen slightly, still hazy from your high, as he licks his fingers clean.

His gaze never leaves yours.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his voice deep, wrecked, utterly sinful as he sucks the last of your release from his fingers. “Always fucking sweet.”

Jungkook’s mouth is on yours the second he finishes his filthy display, kissing you deep, consuming.

His hand slides up your body, fingers slipping beneath the lace still covering your chest.

A low groan rumbles from his chest as he cups your breast, squeezing, his thumb rolling over the hardened peak, teasing. His other hand grips your waist, holding you steady beneath him.

But you’re impatient.

The heat still buzzing through your body is too much, your need for him too overwhelming.

So you push at his chest, flipping him over in one swift motion until you’re on top.

Jungkook lets out a low, dark chuckle, his hands immediately gripping your hips, his eyes burning with lust as he watches you take control.

"Impatient, are we?" he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk.

You don’t answer. Instead, you kiss him again, messy, desperate, your hands roaming over his broad chest. His hardness presses against you through his pants and you can’t ignore it any longer.

Your fingers trail down, cupping him through the fabric. A low, gravelly groan rumbles from his throat, his hips pushing up into your hand, seeking more.

“Fuck,” he hisses, head tilting back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second.

You don’t waste time.

Your fingers move to his zipper, pulling it down with ease, and Jungkook lifts his hips, helping you tug his pants and boxers down.

And there he is. Hard, flushed, leaking for you.

You kiss your way down his chest, your lips skimming over his abs, leaving a heated trail.

You consider teasing him—making him suffer the way he did to you. But you’re too impatient for that.

So you lick over his tip.

Jungkook’s sharp inhale is immediate.

“Fuck,” he breathes, fingers tangling into your hair, gripping tight—just enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

You press your tongue flat against him, as you take him deeper.

His thumb strokes along your cheek.

“Just like that, baby,” he mutters, voice thick with praise.

A sharp curse spills from his lips, his hand tightening in your hair, his hips pushing forward just enough to make you gag around him.

His thumb wiping at the corner of your mouth.

“Messy,” he murmurs, voice filled with dark amusement, his thumb pressing against your lower lip, feeling how wet and swollen it’s become. “God, you look so fucking pretty like this.”

Your thighs clenching at his words.

Jungkook’s grip in your hair tightens, pushing you down further.

Your throat tightens, a strangled gag ripping from you as your fingers instinctively tap at his thigh.

His hold loosens, his cock slipping slightly from your mouth as you gasp for air, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

Jungkook exhales heavily, his hand sliding from your hair to cradle your jaw instead, thumb stroking softly against your damp lips.

“Shit—sorry, baby,” he murmurs, but the smirk tugging at his lips tells you he’s not really sorry.

Your breath is still uneven, but you don’t hesitate—you lower yourself again, wrapping your lips back around him, taking him as deep as you can.

Jungkook groans, his fingers slipping back into your hair.

You can tell—he’s close.

The way his thighs tense, the way his groans become rougher, deeper, the way his fingers start to tug at your hair just a little more—

And then, he pulls you off him.

Yanks your head back, his cock slipping from your mouth, glistening, swollen.

His eyes burn into yours, wild, dark, filled with something dangerous.

“On all fours.”

Your stomach flutters violently, your legs weak, but you do as he says.

You shift, turning around, your hands pressing into the mattress.

His hands slide down your waist, fingers gripping, kneading, as he takes in the view.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales, his voice filled with pure hunger.

You whimper softly, shifting impatiently, feeling the heat of his body behind you, but not enough of him.

“Needy?” His tone is mocking, but when his hand slides between your thighs, fingers teasing along your slick folds, his breath catches slightly. “God, you’re dripping for me.”

You push back against his touch, desperate for more, but he grips your hip tightly, stopping you.

“Be good,” he warns, voice low, authoritative.

You can hear it—the slick sounds of him jerking himself, as he grinds the tip against your soaked folds, teasing you mercilessly.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough, strained. “Look at you… so fucking ready for me.”

You whimper, trying to push back onto him, but his grip tightens.

Reaching over, he grabs his pants, fishing out a foil packet. You glance over your shoulder, just in time to see him rip it open with his teeth, rolling the condom onto his cock, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time.

The sight alone has your stomach tightening, your thighs clenching.

He drags himself up and down slowly, deliberately, coating himself in your slick.

You whine, pushing back onto him again, but he just chuckles.

“Impatient little thing,” he murmurs, his lips suddenly right against your ear. His teeth graze the shell, biting down lightly before he soothes the sting with his tongue.

“You wanted this, baby,” he breathes, voice deep, velvety, dripping with control. “Now, you’re gonna take it.”

He pushes in.

A gasp rips from your throat, your fingers clenching the sheets as he stretches you open, filling you inch by inch.

Jungkook groans behind you, his grip on your hip tightening, his cock throbbing as he bottoms out, completely buried inside you.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his head falling back for a second, his body trembling slightly as you both adjust to the feeling.

His hips pull back, just enough to make you feel the drag—before he slams back in, a sharp thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs.

A shattered moan escapes you, your body rocking forward, but Jungkook doesn’t let you go.

Instead—he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking you upright, your back flush against his solid, burning chest.

His mouth is on you immediately, kissing, sucking, biting at your throat, his free hand spreading over your stomach, pulling you tighter against him.

“Tell me how much you missed me, baby,” he murmurs against your already bruised skin, his hips still snapping into you, deep, devastating.

You bite your lip, smirking slightly despite the overwhelming pleasure, deciding to test him, just a little.

“No,” you breathe, teasing, taunting.

Jungkook freezes for half a second—before he groans, low and dangerous.

His hand moves up, fingers wrapping around your throat, firm—just enough to make you feel it, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

A dark chuckle spills from his lips as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

“Didn’t have my cock shoved in your pussy for months, and this is how bratty you’ve become?” he mocks, his fingers squeezing slightly, his other hand gripping your waist, holding you still as he thrusts into you harder, deeper, punishing.

His grip on your throat lingering for a moment before he releases you—only to push you down, pressing your head into the pillow.

His hips snap forward, knocking the air from your lungs. Your moan is muffled against the pillow, but it doesn’t matter—he hears it anyway.

You’re a mess beneath him, your hands gripping at the sheets, your body rocking forward with each powerful thrust.

“Feel that?” he pants, taunting, his hand sliding from your back down to your ass, squeezing. “That’s what you’ve been missing, baby.”

Jungkook groans at the way you clench around him, his grip on you tightening, his pace turning brutal, relentless.

“That’s right,” he mutters, teeth gritted, voice wrecked. “Fucking take it.”

Jungkook feels the way your body tenses, the way your walls flutter around him, and he knows—you’re close.

So he moves his free hand, slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit.

A sharp, wrecked gasp rips from your throat as he circles it, firm with his pounding thrusts.

“Come for me, baby,” he groans, his voice low, commanding.

Your legs shake violently, your thighs tightening, and then—you snap.

Pleasure crashes through you, blinding, overwhelming, your moans breaking apart as your body convulses beneath him. Your walls pulse around him, dragging him deeper into your orgasm, milking every last wave of bliss.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop.

His hips keep slamming into you, riding out your high, his movements still relentless, consuming.

Your body jerks, overstimulated, the pleasure unbearable now.

“Too much—” you choke out, your voice broken, shaking.

Jungkook leans over you, panting, pressing his lips to your shoulder, his voice rough, strained.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs against your sweaty skin, his breath hot, desperate. “Give me one more.”

You whimper, shaking your head weakly, but he feels the way your body reacts, the way you’re already spiraling again, trapped in his rhythm, in his control.

And then—it hits you.

Your second orgasm slams into you suddenly, shattering through your already wrecked body. You cry out, your walls clenching down on him, and that’s all it takes—

Jungkook groans, his hips slamming into you one last time, burying himself deep as his release finally overtakes him.

A low, wrecked moan leaves his lips as his body shudders against yours, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you tight as he spills into the condom.

For a moment, neither of you move, your bodies tangled, trembling, completely spent.

Jungkook exhales heavily, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your shoulder, his hands soothing over your body, grounding you.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse, satisfied, full of something deeper. “You’re… unreal."

You let out a weak, breathless laugh, turning your head slightly to meet his half-lidded, blissed-out gaze.

You both collapse onto the bed, Jungkook still buried deep inside you, your bodies tangled, sticky with sweat, breathing heavy, uneven.

Neither of you speak for a while, just taking your time, letting the warmth of each other sink in. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, his chest rising and falling against your back.

After a few moments, his lips find your skin.

Soft, warm kisses pressed to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. His hands glide over your waist, soothing.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice softer now, filled with something tender.

You nod, turning your face slightly toward him, feeling a little shy now that the intensity has faded.

Jungkook’s lips brush against your temple as he murmurs, “Was I too rough?” His voice is softer.

You shake your head, feeling a little shy now, but your voice is steady when you say, “No… I loved it.”

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

Slowly, he pulls out, making you shudder slightly at the loss of him. He presses one last kiss to your shoulder before getting up, disposing of the condom.

He returns—with a warm towel cleaning you up carefully, gently, his touch soft, eyes flickering up to yours every now and then, making sure you’re okay.

Once he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and slides back into bed, immediately pulling you into his arms. His body is warm, solid, safe, fingers tracing light patterns over your bare back.

For a while, you both just lay there, wrapped up in each other.

After a moment, you murmur into his chest, “When are you leaving?”

Jungkook sighs softly, his grip on you tightening slightly, like he doesn’t want to answer.

“Tomorrow morning,” he finally says, voice quieter.

Your stomach sinks a little, but before you can dwell on it, he tilts your chin up, making you meet his gaze.

A small smirk tugs at his lips, fingers sliding down your spine, slow and teasing.

“But,” he whispers, his voice low, filled with promise, “I still have time to make the most of tonight.”

An enormous and exuberant bouquet of them was the first thing you saw when you walked into the clinic earlier that morning. 

The assembly of vivid oranges, deep fuchsias, stark whites and brilliant yellows snatched your breath from the back of your throat. The flowers were spectacular and you couldn’t help but think of him. 

Tiger lilies were his birth flower after all. 

“Good morning Mia,” you greeted the blonde behind the reception desk, giving her an agreeable smile, “did someone deliver flowers for you?”

Your coworker snickered and shook her head, “someone delivered flowers for you.” She emphasized, gesturing to the dainty note that was nestled in the grand bouquet.

“Me?” You echoed, eyebrows shooting upwards as you looked over at the note. It wasn’t handwritten, no, instead a piece of simple beige cardstock, with words printed onto it in black ink. Although it was rather impersonal in presentation, you could recognize the mannerisms used in the text from anywhere.  

Mia leant her chin onto her hands while she watched realization spark in your eyes, your hands reaching for the note and plucking it from where it was positioned.

“Thinking of you majorly. I hope these make you think of me too. Counting down the days ‘til I see you again. I love you Tiny,” you read aloud while a dusting of carmine appeared on your cheeks, “he’s so cute sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?” Mia squawked, shaking her head reproachfully, “hun I think you mean all the time. Your boyfriend is a total heartthrob and phat as hell.” 

You smiled dreamily, glancing down at the note and then carefully (very gently) placed it back in its delegated spot. “You know, you sound like every girl on the east coast right now.” 

You meant it as a joke, totally lighthearted but you also weren’t wrong. 

Women of all ages shamelessly drooled over Jungkook and have been since his first season. Though you could argue that girls have been ogling him since middle school, the shift most certainly inaugurated the day he graced the ice professionally, with him adorning that infamous blue and white jersey. 

“Are you gonna open up a can of whoop ass on me?” Mia chortled with a blinding grin, shielding her face in a joking manner. 

You playfully shook your head, “no. That means I would have to smack down half of this country and Canada as well,” you snorted, lifting up the bouquet of flowers with intention of taking them to your office, “I know Kook is gorgeous. I’m not one of those wacko girlfriends that hates when people compliment my boyfriend.” 

“See, I wish I was as level headed as you. I would go batshit crazy on anyone who fawns over my partner.” 

Your lips curved upwards into a smile, “I’m not a trained psychiatrist for no reason. Need to have my head somewhat screwed on for that line of work.” 

Mia nodded in agreement and eagerly followed you down the hallway to your allocated office. 

Yes, your office. Not shared with anyone else—completely yours and yours alone. 

It was still baffling to you how far you’d progressed since graduation, and in such a short amount of time. The move to Boston hadn’t been as perverse as you’d anticipated. Sure, you found yourself homesick a couple of times within the first few weeks but soon enough you were settling in and finding your feet amidst the internship. 

Just before Labor Day (during the first six months of your internship), you were offered the incredible opportunity to conclude your internship prematurely and move into a permanent junior position. Naturally, you accepted it. 

That weekend was beyond memorable for you, as you’d not only landed your dream job but Jungkook had flown in from Toronto to celebrate with you. He stayed an entire long weekend and frankly, you barely left your apartment. He practically made it his mission to show you just how proud of you he was and he sure as hell completed that mission with flying colors. 

Understandably, it had been hard to say goodbye again after those glorious three days. But before you knew it, the two of you had developed a steady rhythm for the long distance relationship. 

And that’s why you were still going strong two years later (technically two and a half, since Jungkook loved to count the day you wore his varsity jersey as being the day you both started dating and you don’t ever debate him on that). 

“So why tiger lilies? I thought your favorite kind of flowers were peonies.” 

You placed the bouquet into the vase you kept near the windowsill, “peonies are my favorite. Tiger lily is Jungkook’s birth flower.” You kindly informed the receptionist who had quickly become one of your closest friends. 

“That makes the note ten times cuter!” Mia gushed, clapping her hands together with glimmering eyes. 

“Did you read my note?” You tried to hide your smile by sucking in your lips and raising an eyebrow. 

Mia’s shoulders immediately upthrusted towards her jawline, cheeks turning a shade of rose. “Busted… I’m sorry, I was curious!” 

“I’m just messing with you Mia, I don’t mind if you read it.” You tittered while pouring some good old Boston tap water from your water bottle into the vase.

The blonde visibly relaxed then, the tension leaving her body. “Oh wicked sweet. Wendy always bites my head off when I read her delivery notes.” She grimaced, clearly remembering a time that wasn’t too pleasant.

You went to reassure her that you weren’t that uptight, when the woman in question walked into your office unannounced. 

Speak of the devil. 

“Flowers, Y/N?” Wendy drawled, bringing her lit cigarette to her pursed lips and taking a drag. 

You absolutely despised that she smoked indoors but she unfortunately got away with a lot of things given her long-standing position with the clinic. Her nasty habit of smoking was one of the key reasons you kept Febreze in your office, as well as a fire blanket and stain remover. 

Forcing a polite smile, you nodded once, “yes. They’re from Jungkook.” You didn’t owe her any kind of explanation, but your entire body warmed with adoration any time you spoke of your boyfriend. And you simply loved that feeling. 

Wendy puffed out smoke, almost blowing it in Mia’s face whilst she glanced at the magnificent bouquet. With a click of her tongue, Wendy flicked her cigarette ash into your trash can. “Hm, a big bunch like that… either he cheated or he forgot an important date like an anniversary or birthday.”

You stiffened in response to her comment, bristling at the negative connotations. “Jungkook has a better memory than I do. Not that it’s any of your business, Wendy, but he sent me flowers because he was thinking of me.” You squared your shoulders, instinctively becoming defensive over the love of your life. 

“He’s supes sweet!” Mia raved.

You were thankful that Mia came to your aid, because you weren’t fond of the way Wendy kissed her teeth. She was a miserable woman that loved to bring down others in order to make herself feel good. You detested the fact you had to be nice to her every single day but you dealt with it for the sake of your career. 

“I see,” Wendy mused, blowing out the last few rings of smoke before ditching her cigarette butt in the trash. God, the sight almost made your eye twitch. “Perhaps he was thinking of you because he betrayed you. You know how those sports players can be, they don’t value loyalty unless it comes in the form of a uniform.”

You bristled. Her utterance prickled at your skin, making your stomach churn. The very idea of Jungkook being unfaithful to you was absurd but not entirely impossible. He resided in another country, for crying out loud. Toronto was six hundred and five miles from Boston. A ten hour drive or a two hour flight. Sure, the distance could be far worse but there was still an entire international border between you both. If he was to cheat, you wouldn’t have a clue. 

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Mia confronted Wendy on her cynicism, lips curled up in disgust. 

You, on the other hand, reached for the note stashed in the floral arrangement and held the piece of cardboard to your chest. Your boyfriend organized for a bouquet to be sent to you because he simply missed you. He wanted you to be thinking of him because you were on his mind. There was nothing backhanded about his gesture. Jungkook wasn’t like other athletes. He was in hockey for the game—for his passion—not for fame, fortune and fans. You knew this to rein true. 

“Isn’t he some hot-shot hockey player?” Wendy cackled humourlessly, resembling that on a cold hearted witch. Although really, you should replace the W with a B. “From what I’ve seen, he has girls fawning over him all the time. Men are brainless idiots that only think with their dicks. They fall into temptation too easily. Wouldn’t shock me if he’s already fucked a dozen Canadian hoochies.” 

Nasty ass bitch. “I appreciate your concern,” you mustered up the fakest, most saccharinely sweet smile, “but I know my boyfriend. I’ve been friends with him almost my whole life. He wouldn’t ever do such a thing. We are happy and we are solid.” Your voice was unwaveringly strong and composed, whilst you kept your head held high. There was no weakness displayed, therefore you knew that Wendy would ultimately fail in any attempt to tear you down further. 

“You know Wendy, if I ever get divorced in the future, I hope I’m not as callous as you.” Mia shrugged, giving you a knowing smile before exiting your office to return to the front desk. 

Wendy stalked out without another word. She didn’t even spare you a parting glance and for that you were thankful. Her negativity was stifling and this wasn’t the kind of atmosphere you wished for the first thing in the morning. 

Taking a seat in your office chair, you lifted the note from your chest and smiled endearingly at the beige cardstock. There was no chance in hell Jungkook did this out of guilt. He wasn’t wired that way. He unashamedly wore his heart on his sleeve and had since the day you first met him at the tender age of eight. Even when you were pretending to be his girlfriend during your last year of college, he could barely keep up with the charade. He lasted all but two weeks before it was real to him. He wasn’t a good liar and he wasn’t manipulative. Wendy was wrong on so many levels and you weren’t going to let her poison your thoughts. 

Retrieving your Nokia 3310 from your Guess denim bag, you immediately sifted through your address book until you found Jungkook’s contact. You decided to send him a text message. Not only to thank him, but to ease any sort of anxiety Wendy may have pinpricked. 

you

thx 4 the flowers <3 they r so pretty 

Once the message had been sent, you proceeded with setting up your desk for the day. You first client wasn’t until eleven, so you had two hours to respond to emails, reorganize your schedule for the next week in order to see as many clients as possible before your trip and call back anyone who left a voice message on your answering machine last night. 

You turned on the computer base and waited for it to beep to life. Once the little light flashed green, you pressed the power button on the monitor. Your desktop computer always took a couple of minutes to start up every morning—so you instantly perked up when your cellphone sounded, indicating that you had a new SMS. 

2 messages received from kook

anything 4 u <3  miss u supes :( can i hit u up 2nite? 

you

miss u 2 <3 yes u can call me l8r 

Glancing at the analogue clock that hung above the doorframe, you smiled to yourself. It was just past nine, meaning your boyfriend had finished his morning practice. His routine was relatively the same all year round, but he kept a strict schedule during the hockey season. It was currently the beginning of November, meaning the season had just begun last month. 

You both had tried to get you to visit Toronto during the summer, but your work schedule simply didn’t align with his pre-season training schedule. Hence why you’d arranged to visit him during the fall. It was just unfortunate that your impending trip would coincide with two of his games. 

But that was just the reality of dating a professional hockey player. 

You were in the middle of logging into Windows when your cellphone resounded once again. 

1 message received from kook 

sweet :) dats gr8. in my sched 4 9pm ok? 

you 

look at u & ur fancy blackberry LOL

1 message received from kook

r u jealous :P baby i told u i would buy u 1 

you

i dont need 1 my nokia is fine 

1 message received from kook

but i wanna spoil my gurl :D

Your heart jackhammered in your chest, like it always did whenever Jungkook was indisputably romantic. Your entire mind, body and soul yearned for him. The distance was certainly eating away at you this time and it only became ten times more difficult when he does things like that. 

you

kook u do spoil me. its ok. i luv u 4 u & not ur money 

1 message received from kook 

wish u were here so u could sit on my face

Thank god you were alone in your office, because you could feel your cheeks burning profusely. 

you 

babe im at work! can u not 

1 message received from kook 

wot i miss u! i miss ur voice ur smile ur laugh ur tits ur badonkadonk 

you

shut ur face ur so horny 

1 message received from kook 

cum do it with ur pussy :P

You rolled your eyes at his text message, albeit smiling like a goddamn buffoon. He’s ridiculous! 

you

i will delete ur digits 

1 message received from kook 

ur so hot when ur mad :D i hav a boner plz cum fix it 

you

puck u ur so annoying 

1 message received from kook 

ur so funny :P hockey jokes LOL i hav da best gf eva. i luv u

Your heart skipped a beat. No matter how goofy your boyfriend was; he never joked around with his feelings. Since the day you both graduated back in Rhode Island, the two of you never went a day without saying those three little words. Jungkook meant them with every piece of his heart and that’s why you were swooning in your office at half past nine in the morning. 

you

i hate when u do that

1 message received from kook 

no u luv it :D & me 

you

yes i do :) i miss teasing u :( 3 months is 2 long :( 

1 message received from kook 

i know tiny :( but 10 days til u r here <3

A knock could be heard from your doorframe. You looked up to see your boss, holding a Filofax and a cardboard cup holder with two steaming hot takeaway coffees. 

“Michelle, come on in.” You welcomed her warmly and gestured to the unoccupied seat adjacent to your desk. You quickly typed out a text message, so you wouldn’t leave your boyfriend hanging. 

you

i cant wait. ttyl luv u <3

1 message received from kook 

luv u 4eva <3

His text left you beaming brilliantly. God, I love him. 

“Morning Y/N. Now was it just me or was Wendy a frigid bitch this morning?” 

The miasma of marijuana pervaded your bedroom as Lisa smoked a joint while lounging on your polka dot bean bag. 

You were in the process of packing for your upcoming trip to Toronto and enlisted your roommate for help, but unsurprisingly, she hadn’t really done anything except for lighting up and indulging in the devil’s grass. 

Lisa was an eccentric person and reminded you a little of Rose—your roommate from college who was now living in Philadelphia—but they also had slightly contrasting personalities. Rose preferred to stay in her room and do her own thing until invited out, whereas Lisa didn’t know the textbook definition of personal space. She loved being involved at all times. She thrived off being the center of attention too. Both of them were good roommates though as they stopped you from overworking and falling into a stressful heap. 

“Are you nervous?” Your pixie haired roommate questioned, blowing out smoke and peering over at you with hooded, dazed and partially reddened eyes. 

You furrowed your brows. “Why would I be nervous?” 

Lisa hummed lazily, “hasn’t it been over three months? Hun, that’s like a whole season. A lot can change in that time.” 

A lot can change? 

You pondered her statement, having paused folding a pair of bootleg jeans. Although you were well aware that it’d been over three months since you last saw Jungkook in person, the sheer extent of the time passed hadn’t occurred to you. 

Who knows when you would see him after this visit. Most likely Christmas, since he will probably have a game on Thanksgiving. Last year you were able to see each other more often because you had less patients. But now with your growing client base, things are becoming a little more recalcitrant. You were able to overcome that though, so surely it wouldn’t get any worse… right? 

Fragments of doubt swum around in the forefront of your mind for a moment, leaving you chewing on your bottom lip. Thankfully Lisa was preoccupied with discarding her joint, so she didn’t see your physical reaction. 

“We’ll be fine,” you spoke, flashing your roommate an inspiriting smile (although it was to reassure yourself rather than her), “I’m sweet, chillin’. Excited for this trip.” 

Lisa smiled lopsidedly. “Baller. Make sure you take a bunch of piccies. I’ve never been to Canada.” 

“I will.” You promised her, crossing your heart and then placing the folded pair of denim you’d been holding onto for the last couple of minutes into your suitcase. 

You certainly intended on capturing as much of Toronto as you could. Despite Jungkook moving to the biggest Canadian city around the same time you moved to Boston, you hadn’t been able to make the trip there yet. Whenever you saw your boyfriend, he was the one coming to you. To be fair, out of the both of you, he was the one that could afford to drop wads of cash on airfares without batting an eyelid. He offered to pay your way countless times, but your fierce independence shone through when you bargained that if you were to come to him, you would save for the trip to Toronto and use your PTO for it. Jungkook undoubtedly understood the importance behind it, so he didn’t have any kind of rebuttal. Instead, he selected a week that would work best for him and then a plan was set into motion. 

“Are you gonna pack lingerie?” 

Cocking an eyebrow, you turned your gaze to your roommate who was no longer occupying your beanbag, but rather rummaging through your drawers instead. “Lisa!” 

She blatantly ignored your exclamation, proceeding to dig through your undergarments until she located one of your newest sets. 

“You gotta wear this!” She declared, turning on her heel to show you the sheer black colored lingerie, “I know it’ll make your coochie look fire, like for shizzle.” 

You pursed your lips, mildly unconvinced. “Did you miss the point last night where I said that Jungkook has two home games this coming week? I can’t be a distraction.” 

The last thing you ever wanted to do was to hinder your boyfriend’s focus. Especially given the stellar record his team has maintained so far in the season. The Leafs could very well make their way into the playoffs this year and you know for a fact that Jungkook needed to be at the top of his game to help his teammates achieve that goal. 

“Distraction?” Lisa snorted, tossing the set of undergarments onto your bed before turning her attention back to your designated underwear drawer. “Don’t be a total bonehead! Wait actually, do be one. Bone his brains out. It’s been three months, babe.” Your roommate smirked, dangling a blush pink babydoll from her fingertips. 

You folded your arms over your chest, shooting her a look. “Lis, you know what I mean. I don’t wanna pack with the intention of screwing my boyfriend. Jungkook and I never plan sex, it just happens.” 

“Okay I feel you,” she closed the drawer, albeit placing the set onto your dark gray comforter alongside the black pair, “but there’s really no harm in packing them just in case. Who knows? I bet he’d be happier than a pig in shit if you wore one of those.” Lisa wiggled her eyebrows knowingly and hummed to herself in triumph when you reached for the lingerie and packed in the two sets with your underwear. “You’ll totes thank me later.” 

“Whatevs,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “now since you’re actually helping me, can you do me a solid and pick out some cute fall outfits? I don’t wanna look major busted in Toronto.” 

Lisa skipped over to your closet and immediately started sifting through your clothes. “Bitch, I’d never let you look fugly.” 

You knew that statement to be a fact. Lisa had wicked sweet taste and would rather choke on a cactus than leave the house looking sloppy. She prided herself on her appearance and since living with her, she’d been quite the positive influence on your approach to fashion and personal style. She was truly your number one hype woman and never failed to make you feel good in your own skin. 

The two of you then spent the next half an hour deliberating, discussing and debating the perfect outfits for your trip. Eventually, you’d come to a unanimous decision and you were more than satisfied with the selection. 

“Have fun, okay?” Lisa pulled you in for a warm hug, once you’d packed in your disposable Kodak camera as promised, “don’t listen to the rumors. I know they’ve been eating away at you lately.” She can really read me like a book!

How could they not though? 

Every single day you were hearing more passing comments about the NHL and how hockey players loved to get all kinds of blitzed, laid and jacked up. It never really fazed you until you overheard someone on the subway a week ago, talking about the Leafs and how seventy percent of the team was made up of young men under thirty and were partying it up after every game. 

Jungkook was twenty five—bang smack in the middle of that age bracket. 

It pained you to think about him getting sloshed after a game, since your boyfriend was a cheery and cuddly drunk. He was affectionately called a ‘hangnail’ by Taehyung back in college, claiming that Jungkook was the clingiest when shitfaced. So with that being said, the possibility of puck bunnies swooping in at an after game party and trying to make moves on your boyfriend was more than probable. 

Yes, you trusted Jungkook more than anyone on this planet but you couldn’t help but worry. Who knows what kind of influence his teammates have on him? Who knows what kind of pressure he may be under by the sports media? Who knows what really goes on when you’re not talking over the phone? 

“Y/N,” the soft sound of your roommate’s voice snapped you back to reality, “are you okay? You went like dead silent.” 

You blinked rapidly. “Yeah, um, sorry. Just got lost in thought.” You forced an apologetic smile, trying not to linger on your introspection and how bewildered you felt coming out of it. 

Lips etched into a tiny frown, Lisa reached out and took your hands into her own. She gave them a reassuring squeeze, one that clearly expressed her support and comforted you within milliseconds.

“Thanks,” you exhaled, offering her a collected half-smile, “I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

“I know.” Lisa squeezed your hands once more. “JK loves you so much, hun. He looks at you like you hung every single star in the sky, invented ice hockey and stuffed crust pizza all in one.” 

Her words evoked a giggle out of you. 

“He wouldn’t ever cheat on you. And if he did fuck around behind your back, I will go nutso on that punk bitch and yank off his favorite appendage.” 

You laughed aloud this time, feeling ten times better than before. The build up of concerns had surely left your body (as your shoulders felt two hundred pounds lighter) and your stomach didn’t feel like it was churning itself anymore. 

“You’re the best Lis.” You released her hands to give her a hug in order to extend your gratitude. 

She hugged you back without hesitation. “Gotta keep it real,” she mused, pulling away and then gesturing to beneath your bed, “be sure to pack a vibrator! I expect you to return to Boston majorly fucked out or I’ll be disappointed in your boy’s game.” 

You puffed out a raspberry and shook your head. “That’s enough outta you. I think it’s time you lockdown a booty call.” You cracked a grin, playfully shooing her towards the door of the bedroom. 

“All my hookups are limp-dicked and boring! Let me know if JK has any hot teammates!” 

Lisa sauntered out of your room then, giving you a playful wiggle of the eyebrows before closing your bedroom door and leaving you alone to finalize your packing status. 

You were about to start compiling your toiletries when your Nokia beeped, alerting you of a new text message. 

And what you read then, saw all your previous anxieties and doubts evaporating into nothingness. 

1 message received from kook

2 days tiny <3 48 hrs til icu 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you tried your hardest not to appear frazzled (and frankly feel it too) over the length of the customs line at Toronto Pearson International Airport. 

You really didn’t want a border officer to become suspicious of you, especially given the fact your boyfriend was undoubtedly waiting for you at arrivals. You couldn’t afford to waste valuable time answering immigration questions when you could be spending it with Jungkook instead. 

“Yo that pilot owned when he asked who was traveling to Toronto for the Leafs games!” The man in front of you enthused, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet as the two women he was with nodded eagerly in agreement. 

“He should’ve asked which player is the best.” The shorter of the two women giggled. 

Truthfully, you knew better than to be eavesdropping but the conversation had piqued your interest now. You wondered what kind of juice you could uncover regarding Jungkook’s teammates. And knowing your boyfriend, he would want to know everything so he could tease them with it. 

“Matthew Snyder for shizzle.” The male said emphatically; leaving no room for argument. 

The taller woman laughed, “the captain? Don’t cha think that’s a bit basic?” 

“The man is a fucking legend!” The man argued defensively. “He had some of the best assists last season.” 

You mentally took note of that statistic. From what you’d learned listening to your boyfriend ramble about his hockey team for the past two years, Jungkook looked up to his captain tremendously. You were sure that he would keenly pass that information onto Snyder in a heartbeat. Not in an effort to suck up, but to praise his captain because in his eyes the man deserved it and also because Jungkook had the most golden heart and loved to make others feel appreciated. 

“He’s like almost forty,” the shorter woman snorted, shaking her head in disapproval, “the best is easily Jungkook Jeon.” 

You almost choked on air. My Jungkook?

“Oh for reals!” The taller woman giggled, reaching up to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. Seriously?

“Just because he’s young and aight looking doesn’t make him the best player on the team.” The man bit out gruffly, folding his arms firmly across his chest. Hold on… does Kook have haters? 

“Get real, of course it does! Yahoo says that he’s like the best center forward the team has seen in almost a decade. Plus he’s buff as hell. Have you seen his arms?” 

“And his tattoos! Totally yummy!” 

“And his lips? Hot damn, he could easily be an actor or a Calvin Klein model.” 

You hadn’t realized you bit down on your cheek so hard, so much so, you could now taste blood. Your entire body was on fire. Your stomach had tightened, your skin was burning, your knuckles were now white from how hard you were clutching the handle of your suitcase. Jealousy coursed through your veins and It was certainly a nasty feeling. You didn’t want to become a green monster on this trip. 

“Whatever. He’s pretty dope but Snyder is still the shiznit—oh hey we’re up.” 

Never had you been so relieved to watch people leave your line of sight. You hoped with all your might that they wouldn’t notice Jungkook when they exit the airport later. Because if they recognized him? All hell would break loose for sure. You didn’t need that on top of overhearing girls fawn over your man (as it’s not exactly the best start to your trip). 

Once you cleared customs, you breezed through baggage claim within five minutes and finally made it to arrivals. Giddiness flooded through your body as you glanced around the terminal with eager eyes. But that upbeat feeling soon deflated when you realized you couldn’t locate his all too familiar figure. 

Retrieving your cellphone from your carry on, you immediately dialed his number. Putting the phone to your ear, you waited as it began to ring on the receiving end. 

“Hello?” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. He was nearby. You were both finally in the same place. Your entire mind, body and soul really missed him so much and it was starting to hit you just how long the two of you had been away from each other. 

“Kook, babe, I’m here. Where—”

“Gotcha! It’s my voicemail. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” 

You sucked in your lips and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling discouraged that he hadn’t picked up, “hey babe it’s me. I’m at arrivals and can’t see you? Are you at a different spot in the airport? Please call me back. Love you.” Hanging up the phone, you caught a glimpse of the three people in front of you at customs earlier. You smiled to yourself, feeling satisfied that Jungkook wasn’t here to endure that madness. Maybe a little bitchy of you to admit that, but you didn’t really care. 

After another ten minutes of waiting around, you were beginning to grow antsy. You had sent him a text during that time, asking where he was and that you were still waiting for him at arrivals. 

To your disappointment, the text went unanswered. 

Did he forget? A tiny frown was now formed on your face, taking one last look around the arrivals. You’d both agreed to meet here at the time your plane was scheduled to land. And considering the twenty five minutes it took you to make your way through customs, there was really no excuse for him not to be here. 

With a heavy, disheartened sigh, you dragged your suitcase alongside you as you wandered towards the taxi rank. It hadn’t been on your bingo card for the trip to catch a cab from the airport but what else could you do? You were in a foreign city. Alone. There weren’t any other alternatives. 

Just as you trudged towards the exit, you heard the sound of your name coming from the left side of the terminal. 

Turning your head, you spot your boyfriend instantaneously. He’s rushing through the terminal, wearing a pair of straight wide leg denim, a black Tommy Hilfiger tee, a loose flannel and a pair of Chucks. His obsidian colored hair is messily swept off his face and parted in the middle.

He looked irresistible. 

As much as you want to be upset with him for not answering your call or texts, you simply can’t be. Instead, you’re overwhelmed with love for him. It’s what makes you gently place your arms on his biceps the second he stands in front of you, slightly panting with widened (and undeniably apologetic) doe brown eyes. 

“Shit baby, I’m so sorry I got held up at train—hmph!” You silenced him with your mouth, pushing your lips keenly against his own. You immediately sigh in the kiss, your body melting at the taste of him and the familiarity. 

Jungkook wasted no time in kissing you back, his adoring smile evident through the kiss as he brought his large hands to your hips and lifted you up effortlessly. A squeal ripped from your throat as he spun you around, giving you the main character energy that you’d only ever seen in movies. 

“Kook! Oh my god, you’ll draw a crowd!” You giggled, tapping his shoulder in lieu of verbally telling him to put you down. 

Chuckling with a broadened grin, Jungkook steadied you back on your own two feet and moved his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks ever so gently. “I missed you so fucking much, Tiny.” he confessed, doe eyes big and bright with nothing but unwavering love for you. 

You gazed up at him the same way, your eyes softened and glimmering with pure, unadulterated adoration. “I missed you more.” 

His nose scrunched up in the way that resembled a baby rabbit when he processed your words, his smile only becoming more radiant. 

Jungkook leaned down and placed a tender kiss to your lips once again, delicately stroking the skin of your cheek with his calloused thumb, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Four little words that you could say proudly—without hesitation—every single time. 

The two of you shared a few more sweet kisses before your boyfriend reluctantly pulled away, reaching for the handle of the suitcase you’d abandoned approximately five minutes ago when he swept you up in his embrace. 

“C’mon baby, let’s roll out.” Jungkook chimed, wheeling your luggage behind him and holding out his inked right hand for your left. You hastened in clasping your hands together and intertwining your fingers, absolutely relishing in the way your hand felt in his. 

He led you out of the arrivals terminal and towards the parking lot. “I drove,” he informed you with a light hum, “there’s no way in hell I’m letting my girl on the TTC.” 

You giggled in amusement because clearly this city had their own form of unreliable public transit, just like the MBTA back home. You couldn’t deny that you found Jungkook’s abhorrence for Toronto’s transit rather entertaining. 

Before you could cross the intersection to the parking lot, the pair of you were stopped by two timid teenagers (or so they looked like to you). 

“Hi-sorry-are-you-Toronto-Maple-Leafs-Center-Forward-Number-7-Jungkook-Jeon?” The blonde boy with spiky hair burbled, nervously rubbing his bicep as he peered up at your boyfriend. The girl next to him looked starstruck, her lips parted into a distinct zero shape and eyes blown out wide. 

Jungkook flashed them his signature smile, “sure am. You guys want a quick autograph?” 

The teenaged duo who couldn’t be older than sixteen gaped at him in salubrious shock, nodding their heads jerkingly and fumbling with their backpacks for a notepad and pen. 

“Thank you Mr Jeon, sir!” The boy rambled nervously, thrusting a high school notebook into your boyfriend’s hands with a blue ballpoint pen. 

“I’m not old enough for that yet, dude. You can call me JK,” he advised the teenagers with a knowing grin, biting on his piercing to keep in his laughter as the pair almost fainted at his offer. 

“Wow! We can call him JK!” The brunette girl beside the boy practically shrieked, her eyes glimmering with undiluted joy. “This is the best day of my life.” 

You smiled warmly down at the two teens before turning your attention to Jungkook, who had taken the liberty of drawing a hockey stick (alongside his infamous signature) and scribbled beside it: Never forget to chase your dreams — JK. 

He returned the book and pen back to the pair, watching as they both gushed over the autograph belonging to their favorite hockey player. 

“Thanks supes times a gazillion JK!” 

Jungkook bowed his head with a kind smile before the teenagers ran off in excitement, reaching for their cellphones and proclaiming that they needed to call their friends. 

“Everybody in this city is in love with you.” You mused, reaching for his hand once again and giving it a gentle squeeze. First the girls on the plane salivating over him, now those two kids flossin’ his autograph. Your boyfriend was so well known that you could argue he was a celebrity. 

He chortled, doe brown eyes glistening. “The only person I care about being in love with me is you.” 

He sure as hell earned a kiss for that heart melting comment. 

A couple of minutes later you found yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s new car and practically wheezing. 

“What’s so funny?” He grumbled, keying the trunk open and propping in your suitcase. 

You inhaled through your nose and tried not to burst out laughing again, placing your hands on your hips for support. “Jungkook. This is the car from The Fast and The Furious.” 

He grinned boyishly. “Yeah I know! How fucking sick, right?” 

You sucked in your lips and forced a nod. You wanted to cackle again so badly. Honestly, it shouldn’t even be that much of a shock to you. Ever since your boyfriend had watched the street-racing action movie in the theaters last year, he had become somewhat obsessed. So of course he purchased a Subaru Impreza. 

“You know people are gonna think you’re overcompensating.” You teased him playfully as he closed the trunk, burbling out a giggle when he tossed you the middle finger. 

“Stop drillin’ me, baby. Or I’ll have to show you just how fast and furious I can be.” He smirked, reaching over to open the passenger side door like a true gentleman (despite how raunchy his double entendre was). 

“Shut your mouth and get in the car, Toretto.” 

“Fuck!” Jungkook choked out a guttural groan, raven haired head knocked back against the headrest of his leather sofa. “How’re you so fucking good at this?” 

The praise blossoms in your chest while you continue to bob your head, taking as much of his thickness in your mouth as physically possible. Jungkook had an impressive girth and no matter how many times you sucked his cock, you still couldn’t get used to taking his size all the way. 

You then expertly swirled your tongue around his mushroom tip, focusing on the ridges where his head meets his shaft and also teasing his slit, which was oozing with dollops of pre-cum. He tasted salty on your tongue and frankly it’s a bitterness that you’ve come to enjoy after the past two years. 

Labored breaths start filling his living room, with Jungkook’s tattooed right hand delving into your hair and grasping at the strands to (gently) hold you in place. 

“Baby—ungh—fuck,” he rasped. His pelvis bucked up involuntarily, causing his cock to hit the back of your throat. You gagged briefly, not having anticipated the intrusion. “Shit sorry… sorry baby.” He almost whimpered, beads of sweat appearing at his hairline as you regained composure and continued to slurp on his throbbing dick as if it were a popsicle. 

You didn’t understand women who didn’t like giving their partners head. You thrived on Jungkook’s praises, moans, grunts and whimpers. You loved that you could make him feel like he was floating on cloud nine while being the king of the world simultaneously. Pleasuring your boyfriend was just as satisfying as receiving pleasure yourself. 

So with that being said, you never shied away from getting his cock in your mouth whenever he visited. 

“Mm,” you gargled around his length, using your left hand to fist the part of his dick that you couldn’t get down your throat. With your right hand, you dipped beneath his erection and fondled his testicles, knowing it drove him absolutely crazy when you touched him so intimately. 

“Hngh! T-Tiny… wanna come,” he practically whined, his brows knitting together while his thighs tensed. You knew he was close as his balls were drawing upwards in your palm, “wanna come on y-your tits.” He shamelessly begged while his hardened cock throbbed on your tongue. 

You moaned around his dick at his filthy words, releasing him with a lewd pop and immediately wrapping both hands around his moistened erection. His dick pulsated; hot and heavy in your grasp. 

“You’re so hard, babe.” You lifted your gaze, wanting to bear witness to the way his body responded to you jerking him off. You kept your rhythm even, briskly moving your fist all the way up and down his cock. 

Jungkook’s jaw slackened at your ministrations, his chest heaving up and down as his orgasm drew closer. A slew of strangled moans and throaty pleas of your name were thrown in with a bunch of vulgarity. The way he was losing control made you feel triumphant, as all your desire to do was bringing him immense satisfaction. 

He looked effortlessly handsome in that moment: his hair matted to his forehead by sweat, his new eyebrow piercing peeking from beneath his onyx strands, his lips kiss bitten and swollen and his doe brown eyes hooded and dazed. You couldn’t believe how this remarkable man was yours and only yours. 

The second his dick twitched in your palm, you knew he was on the verge of climaxing. “Let go Kook,” you murmured, squeezing just below the head of his cock in hope to spark his orgasm. 

It was certainly the final push he needed, because before you knew it, his orgasm washed over him and ropes of hot white cum were spurting from the bulbous tip and landing directly on your chest. 

The wine red camisole you were wearing was now irreplaceably ruined. 

You continued to pump him slowly, aiding in riding out his high as he focused on steadying his breathing. He mustered up a lazy grin, leering at you with half-lidded eyes. Nothing could ever compare to watching Jungkook fall apart during sex. Knowing you were the one to make him feel that good? Oh it boosted your confidence tenfold. 

Once his cock softened in your hand, you let go of him and leaned up to press a kiss to his awaiting lips. He kissed you back instantly, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and not being fazed in the slightest in that he could taste some of his own pre-cum. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard so quickly before.” Jungkook puffed out through a lopsided smile, reaching up to run a hand through his dampened strands.

You grinned cheekily. “Well after all, you did say you’d show me how fast and furious you could be.” 

Only a second later your boyfriend was howling in laughter and reaching for your hips, determined to tickle your sides until you too were out of breath. 

The nail salon was absolutely buzzing.

You weren’t entirely sure why people were out getting manicures and pedicures, since it was an uneventful Wednesday evening in the midst of fall and the weather wasn’t overly spectacular either. The sun had been shielded by clouds all day and it was drizzling with rain about an hour ago, making the sidewalks slippery and cold. 

The only reason you were even here was courtesy of Jungkook, who had presented a gift voucher to you this morning after you’d both indulged in a delicious round of sweet, slow, missionary sex. Lots of kisses and caresses were exchanged between the two of you, leaving you in a blissful mood all day long after your lovemaking (despite the dreary weather). 

You ought to apologize to Lisa, given the way you shot down the idea of packing lingerie as you didn’t want to be presumptive regarding sex—yet here you were, getting frisky with your man every day since you arrived. 

The primary reason Jungkook had gifted you the voucher was due to his unavoidable training schedule. 

He felt guilty that he would have to leave you alone most of the day and practice with his team for the impending game Friday night. Although you tried to reassure him that he had no reason to feel guilty, elucidating that you were well aware of what you were signing up for when coming to visit during the season (due to your unavoidable schedule this time) but Jungkook refused to take no for an answer. He wanted you to enjoy yourself and even threw in a little side comment that all the WAGs get their nails done here, so why not give it a try? 

You eventually accepted the voucher and guaranteed that you would use it. Hence why you were here, sitting in a swivel chair whilst a technician buffed at your nails. 

In the corner of the salon, resided a 36 inch Sony Trinitron television on its very own customized stand. That monstrous thing was all the rage right now (according to your father who just so happened to purchase one two weeks ago and has it proudly standing tall in his living room). 

As to be expected in downtown Toronto, the television was set to the sports channel, where the news anchors were discussing the Leafs and their upcoming game at Air Canada Center. 

“I’m not really a hockey fanatic,” your nail technician admitted while preparing the acrylic base, “but holy hell did the Leafs lock down some fine specimen.” 

You snickered at her comment and before long, the women around you were hooting and hollering at the screen. You glanced over at the television to see who captured their attention and surprise, surprise it was Jungkook and his closest teammate Felix.

The anchor on the left proceeded to divulge information about Jungkook to his co-anchor and spoke highly of your boyfriend’s statistics from last year’s season. You couldn’t stop the bright smile that etched across your lips. The co-anchor then expressed confidently how Jungkook is an indisputable asset to the team. The well renowned hat trick from the playoffs was also mentioned and the news anchors unanimously agreed that him pulling it off undoubtedly helped the Leafs finish at the top of their division for the season. 

God, you were so immensely proud of him. 

“Number 7 is sex on a stick!” The woman beside you gushed, her words getting lodged in her throat as if she was seconds away from moaning. 

“It’s too bad he has a girlfriend.” You noted quietly, keeping your eyes fixated on the table in front of you as you didn’t want to look directly at the woman or you may end up glaring. You wanted to keep things friendly so you don’t end up with acetone dunked on your head. 

The woman snorted incredulously, “puh-lease. Everybody knows that hockey players get around. That poor girl probably has no idea, meanwhile he’s swimming in coochie all week long.” 

You visibly stiffened. “He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.” Don’t blow your cover! Keep your cool! 

“Girl, you don’t even know him! My best friend’s roommate got his digits at an after party like a month ago. They text like all the time. She works for Cartier so he defs has a type. Pretty and successful.” 

You’d been pretty successful at drowning her out. The second that infuriating woman called you girl, you didn’t want to pay attention to her any further. So you simply let her words fall on deaf ears (or so you thought). 

Besides, you didn’t believe her for a minute. Anyone could make up a story about getting someone’s cell phone number, right? It wasn’t too far-fetched. And what on earth would Jungkook want from someone that works at Cartier anyway? Did he plan on trying to swindle a discount for diamond studded earrings? Unlikely. He liked sticking to the basic black and silvers. He preferred it, actually. Especially regarding his facial piercings. The whole thing seemed totally bonkers and you refused to let doubt brew in the back of your mind. 

Once your nails were finished, you graciously smiled at your nail technician and tipped the lady ten dollars for her hard work, granted the service was already prepaid thanks to the gift voucher.

You ignored the woman beside you as you gathered your things, not wanting to let you guard down. You weren’t going to allow her stupid little comments to fester. She had no idea what Jungkook was really like. Nobody in that godforsaken salon did—only you. Lisa had encouraged you not to listen to the rumors, therefore you were going to do your very best to push the canards out of your mind.  

A twenty minute cab ride later, you were now standing outside Jungkook’s lavish condo and unlocking the front door with the spare key he’d provided to you the day you arrived in Toronto. He wasn’t due home for another half hour or so, which didn’t bother you as you certainly needed some time to relax and unwind after that whole fiasco back at the nail salon. 

Padding over towards his open plan kitchen, you were in dire need for a nice glass of cold, filtered water. Reaching for the handle of the refrigerator, you paused your movements when you caught sight of the magnetic calendar adorning the front of the freezer compartment. 

Your eyebrows furrowed together instantly when you noticed a name—a female name—scrawled over today’s date and the day you had flown into the city. 

“Tiffany?” You whispered aloud, wracking your brain in hopes to figure out whether you knew of someone by that name. 

Unfortunately, you couldn’t recall anyone. 

Your phone sounded from your back pocket and you scrambled to retrieve it. There was an SMS from your boyfriend awaiting you in your inbox. 

Meekly, you pressed on the button that opened up the message and it read: 

1 message received from kook

hey tiny i’m gonna b late :( held up at training :( will b home asap 

Swallowing thickly, you dropped your hands to your sides and tried not to lose your composure. You put your phone into your back pocket so it wouldn’t fall to the ground. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Not when your brain was racing a million miles per hour. Jungkook had been late picking you up from the airport with the same excuse that training had been delayed. Now that could very well be the case, except for the fact both days on the calendar had the name Tiffany written in bolded ink. 

Is he actually seeing other people? You thought to yourself queasily, your stomach churning unpleasantly at the connotation. 

You didn’t want to lose trust in him. You didn’t want to lose faith in him. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not after seventeen years of being in each other’s lives. There had to be more to it. He wouldn’t betray you like this… right? 

Abandoning the idea of getting a glass of water, you swallowed the harsh lump in your throat and made your way to his bedroom. 

You were utterly confused. Upset. Ashamed. Pissed off. 

Doubt poisoned your mind and you were growing more anxious and devastated as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t want to envision Jungkook being unfaithful to you. That was a prescription for one disturbing nightmare. 

1 message received from kook 

just got away from team. on my way home 2u 

You left that text message unanswered again. 

Instead, you changed out of your clothes and into a pair of pajamas, albeit consistent of bed shorts and one of Jungkook’s muscle tees. Oh how you wished his clothes weren’t so comfortable at a time like this. 

Sliding into his queen sized bed, you hoisted the duvet over your body and curled up into the blankets. You forced back tears with determination; you blatantly scorned the idea of crying over this debacle. You were stronger than that. Right now, you just wanted to sleep off this headache of a day and talk things out with Jungkook when he wasn’t so wrapped up with training.

Because despite how mentally draining this was and how badly you wanted to confront him, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw him off his game. He needed to be at his utmost focus for the sake of the team. 

A short while after, Jungkook entered his bedroom with a heavy sigh and dumped his gym bag at the door, “Tiny?” 

You pretended to be asleep. Childish, but necessary for how you were feeling in that moment. 

“Baby are you awake?” He asked in a gentle voice, creeping over to the bed and no doubt taking a peek at your ‘sleeping’ form. A dejected sigh escaped his lips then. The bed dipped on the opposite side to you from his weight and you heard his palms make contact with his thighs, “stop being a pussy ass, Jeon. Don’t shit the stick. Get it off your chest. Just be honest with her.” 

Upon hearing his little monologue, you bite down on your bottom lip to prevent from making any sound. You couldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. 

You’re overthinking this. That’s all it is. 

A few reticent moments pass, with Jungkook shifting around the edge of the bed before hopping in beside you. He faintly smelled of cedar shampoo, sandalwood body wash and something that could only be described as intoxicatingly Jungkook. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest flush against your back so that your bodies were inclined. His pierced lips made contact with the back of your neck, leaving a delicate kiss at the nape before nuzzling into the curvature of where your neck meets your shoulder. 

Within minutes Jungkook’s breathing evened out as sleep overcame his body. Yourself, on the contrary, remained wide awake for hours to come. 

Overthinker. 

That should be your new middle name. 

Having woken up in your boyfriend’s thick, muscular, tattooed arms with his long fingers gently stroking through your tousled strands; you couldn’t detect a second where you didn’t feel his love. 

Jungkook loved you wholly. He loved you profoundly and he loved you unreservedly. His love language was physical touch, therefore his unequivocal love for you was designed to be expressed through acts of affection rather than spoken words. 

You felt his love earlier that morning and you unquestionably felt it now. 

It made you feel ridiculous for ever second guessing his loyalty to you. Who cares if there’s a woman’s name written on his calendar more than once? Yes, it raised concern but you shouldn’t be focusing on anything other than Jungkook and the way he expresses his feelings for you. 

“Let’s get a photo!” Your boyfriend insisted with a blindingly bright grin, his dimples making an acute appearance. 

You giggled at his enthusiasm and reached into your handbag for your Kodak. “Babe, is the view even gonna be noticeable?” You questioned, referring to the breathtaking view of Toronto City that resided below you. 

Jungkook had brought you to the world renowned CN Tower and bargained you into seeing the view from the very top. He promulgated that the locals would dub you a hoser if you didn’t follow through with it, as it was the ‘bare minimum’ for tourists.

Of course you didn’t back down from the challenge. Plus, it was well worth it as the view of the Toronto Islands was truly magnificent. 

“Sure it will.” 

“I don’t know, it’s hard to see behind that big head of yours.” You teased playfully.

His lips quirked upwards into a shrewd smirk. “You love this big head of mine. Especially when it’s between your legs.”

“Kook! We’re in public.” You chastised him. “Go to horny jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

Jungkook blew out a raspberry-esque chuckle, “oh c’mon Tiny, that hasn’t stopped us before—ouch!” 

You flicked his forehead in retaliation, evoking a disgruntled whine from your boyfriend. 

Somehow, between the banter and the bickering, you both managed to rope a kind middle aged woman into taking a couple of photos of you both with the view in the background. Jungkook had his arm proudly secured around your waist, while your hand rested on his pectoral as you both smiled for your cheap little disposable camera. You couldn’t wait to get those developed once you were back in Boston and indisputably frame the best one of the lot. 

“I was thinking we could have lunch by the waterfront?” Jungkook murmured, his lips brushing your ear as you gazed down at the view of the islands one last time. “There’s a really bomb poutine place by the ferry docks.” 

You slowly turned in his embrace and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. “Sounds perfect. I’m excited to try this Canadian delicacy you won’t shut up about.” 

“Oh trust, it’ll change your fucking life baby.” 

Lunch was just as excellent as Jungkook hyped it up to be, much to your dismay. Poutine was utterly delicious. The concoction of fries with gravy and cheese curds was surely crafted by the gods. The bright, triumphant grin your man sported when you admitted he was right could’ve easily taken out an entire village. You let his ego win that round. 

You both caught the ferry to the islands after consuming your respective servings of poutine. The ferry ride from the quay to Center Island approximated fifteen minutes and the journey across the harbor of Lake Ontario was more than pleasant. 

As you descended the ferry, you noticed that Jungkook was fiddling with the pocket of his black bomber jacket once again. He’d been doing that habitually throughout the day. You briefly wondered if there was a loose string of cotton or something that he kept getting distracted by. 

You soon forgot about that when Jungkook took your hand in his, leading you away from the docks and towards Center Island. You could hear the sound of shrieks and laughter coming from the amusement park located on the island. Already this had to be your favorite part of Toronto. 

“So one of the beaches was permitted as clothing optional this year. Wanna check it out?” Jungkook asked with a wolfish grin. 

“Is it also boyfriend optional? Cause that blows.” You couldn’t help yourself. You just had to tease him. 

“I can think of something else you can blow inst—fuck!” 

You bursted out into a fit of cackled laughter as Jungkook walked right into a fire hydrant. Talk about a physical definition and example of cockblock.

Daylight hours passed within the blink of an eye. 

Exploring the Toronto Islands had been a tranquil experience. Hand-in-hand with the love of your life, you wandered around the numerous evergreen parks and sandy beaches talking about anything and everything. 

You were originally going to bring up the name that had been scribbled on Jungkook’s magnetic calendar with dry erase, but you eventually decided against it. What good would it do anyway? You’d come to the realization that you were being silly yesterday and that you’d fallen victim to one of the seven deadly sins: envy. 

Jealousy was nothing but a fucking menace. You didn’t meticulously study and become qualified in psychiatry for nothing—you knew how the green eyed demon could affect one’s mental health and well-being. 

That heinous, viridescent leech had sucked some of the joy from your romantic life last night and you couldn’t allow that to happen again. You had the utmost faith in Jungkook and his commitment to you and this relationship. 

He’d demonstrated said commitment on more than one occasion and unashamedly exhibited his loyalty from the second your eyes fluttered open this morning, up until this very moment:

Dusk had fallen upon the City of Toronto and you were currently situated in Jungkook’s lap (atop his spectacular thighs) with your back nestled against his chest, whilst the two of you shared a funnel cake he’d acquired from the food cart outside the amusement park. 

The sun was setting over the lake and it rendered you speechless. The view was utterly breathtaking and what made everything even more special, was the way children played jovially in the water as families gathered together to behold the sunset with picnic baskets full of food and wine.

It was like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. 

“Tiny?” Jungkook’s familiar timbre broke you out of your peaceful reverie. 

“Mm?”

“I uh… I have something I wanna ask you,” he rumbled, his fingers haphazardly playing with the hem of your sweater, “it’s kinda important.” 

Now that had caught your undivided attention. 

You sat up in his lap, tilting your head so that you could make eye contact with him. Jungkook appeared to be visibly nervous, chewing on his lip ring. 

“What is it babe?” You gently tried to coax it out of him, reaching up to place your hand on his cheek. “You can be honest with me.” Please don’t let it be him breaking up with me…

He swallowed thickly then, causing his Adam’s apple to bobble in his throat. After a few beats, he cleared his throat, “I was wondering if you wanted to stay in the VIP box with the other WAGs tomorrow night?” 

Your heart clenched for a split second, before relief overwhelmed your chest. You hoped that small voice in the back of your mind felt beyond embarrassed to have second guessed him at the last second. 

“Yeah sure. I’m majorly down.” 

Jungkook broke out into his signature bunny smile. “You’re the total shiznit, baby.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully at his idioms (like always). If there was going to be one thing that would reign true throughout your relationship over time, it would be the teasing between both parties. It’s what made you and Jungkook yourselves, after all. 

Sniggering at your reaction, Jungkook encircled his arms around your waist and hauled you into his cosy embrace. His chortling slowly ceased as hugged you close, keeping his lips pressed firmly against your forehead. Despite it having been over two years, you could never quite get used to the tingling sensation of his cold lip ring directly contrasting with the heat of his lips. 

With his hands now perched at your hips, his lips began moving from your forehead to your temples and within seconds, he was peppering sweet kisses all over your face. “Kook!” The delightful gesture invoked a bubble of giggles to erupt from your mouth. And Jungkook? Well he absolutely adored the sound of your joy, so he continued his ministrations until he settled with one impassioned kiss to your lips. 

You sighed dazedly into his mouth, allowing him to suck your bottom lip into his mouth and entangle his tongue with your own. That particular action incited a low, chesty noise from the back of his throat and in turn, caused your clitoris to throb. He tasted addictive. Soft serve ice cream and cinnamon sugar (a dangerously tantalizing combination). No wonder he inadvertently groaned the second he got a sample of your tongue. 

“So sweet,” he husked against your mouth, “so goddamn perfect.” 

“Jungkook.” Your panties were now pooling with your arousal. He’d veritably mastered the art of getting you wet without even overtly trying. A 99.9% success rate in one attempt. 

Jungkook was well aware of what that tone indicated. He didn’t need a sky writer or a billboard to spell it out for him. You were needy—no achy—for him. The way your hips were involuntarily jutting forward was a definite tell-tale. He couldn’t deny that he was feeling the exact same way. 

“I’m right here baby,” he consoled, massaging his hands along the curves of your waist, “mm… wanna get you home.” 

Your thighs clamped together. “Don’t you wanna stay ‘til the sunset is gone? It’s really pretty.” 

“So? You’re prettier and so is your pussy.” 

“Ah-huh! Ulterior motives!” Even though you were taking the mickey out of him, your panties certainly dampened in effect of his vulgarity. It was rather unfair how your boyfriend could have you leaking like a broken faucet at any given time. 

Jungkook smirked mischievously. “You’re the one practically dry humping me in public,” he snickered, bringing both his hands to his cheeks and making a face that briefly resembled Van Gogh’s The Scream, “golly gosh! Think of the children!” 

“I’ll take away your ability to have children if you don’t shut your face.” You threatened, albeit playfully and without a single trace of malice or authenticity. 

His smirk only doubled in size. “Shut my face up with your pretty little cunt then.” 

And so you did. 

Forty minutes later, you were both unclothed in the comfort of his master bedroom, preoccupied with granting his wish. You recalled the first time he brought up riding his face with ease. It has been via text message the day you received that stupendous bouquet of tiger lilies. Time really does fly when you’re having fun, because that occurred almost two weeks ago now. 

Below you, Jungkook was having the time of his life. His eyes were closed shut, eyebrows knitted together furiously as he obscenely lapped at your folds, slurping up your arousal and expertly nudging your sensitive clit with his buttoned nose. 

“Mm J-Jungk-kook,” you stammered, tripping over your words as he ate you out with fervour, “fuck!” Your thighs were slotted against the sides of his head, hands grasping at the headboard so that you wouldn’t completely suffocate him (although you had a sneaking suspicion that he would love that). 

“Don’t be shy baby, fuck my face.” His words were muffled but you could still decipher them loud and clear. His tongue danced along your slit, teasing your tight little hole. Each flick of his tongue had you a whimpering mess. 

Timidly, you rocked your pelvis forward. The sensation that followed suit was mind blowing. For some reason unbeknownst to you, moving your hips against your boyfriend’s chin resulted in his tongue hitting all the right places. Your clit was pulsing in need due to the stimulation. 

Jungkook groaned unabashedly then, the noise rumbling from deep within his chest. You had no doubt that his hardened erection was straining against his boxer briefs, begging to be released from its confines. 

While you continued to slowly grind your hips down onto his skilful tongue, Jungkook took the liberty of grasping the twin globes of your ass and dragged your cunt over his mouth. He kneaded at the soft flesh simultaneously, eliciting a string of breathy moans from your swollen lips. 

“Please!” You beseech him. Your thighs were beginning to tremble now and you recognized that tightening in the pit of your stomach all too well. 

Besides the sound of your desperate whines, yearns and pleas, all that could be heard throughout his bedroom was indecorous slurping, skin slapping skin salaciously and gravelly noises (that could arguably be labeled as growls) from your boyfriend. 

Jungkook was steadfast in his actions—insistent and persistent in getting you off. He wanted you to cream all over his tongue. He needed it more than his next breath. 

“Close?” His voice was so deep it sent pleasurable shivers down your spine. 

You jerked a nod pathetically, mewling in lieu of a verbal response. You were so far gone and in dire need of that orgasm. 

He noticed the way his chest heated with triumph, feeling utterly accomplished by how affected you were. It boosted his ego knowing that he was the only man that could ever leave an intelligent, well-spoken woman like you totally dumbstruck.  

“Wanna.” You almost wailed, your voice practically unrecognizable as it was now breathy, erratic and high-pitched. You were overcome with pleasure, despite not having come yet, “K-Kook!” 

“I know. Come for me, babygirl.” Jungkook demanded softly, flicking his tongue over your clit a few times to drive you over the edge and he had been successful. 

Your orgasm rippled through your body in a series of shudders. Your toes curled, your head fell forward and a few lone tears slipped from the corners of your eyes. One could describe it as an earth shattering climax. You would’ve collapsed on top of Jungkook if he hadn’t held you in place, his hands still groping your behind as he aided you in riding out your high. 

“That’s it Tiny, good girl.” Jungkook praised you ardently, pressing a delicate kiss to your inner thigh and then upheaving you off his face and onto his muscular chest. “Did so good for me. My perfect baby.” 

Panting heavily, you felt your cheeks warm at his affirmations, resorting in covering your face to hide your blush. 

“God you’re so cute,” Jungkook cooed, reaching up to remove your hands from your cheeks as he gazed up at you with enamored eyes. “That was fucking hot as balls, baby. Don’t hide from me, okay?” 

You bubbled out a laugh. “You just ate me out and now you’re talking about balls?” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes lightheartedly and smacked his hand against your right ass cheek, prompting you to gasp in astonishment. “Smartass.” 

“Aww babe, you think my ass is smart?” 

Jungkook tongued his cheek and gently pushed you sideways then, causing your back to fall onto the mattress. 

You tee-heed at his reaction. He was way too easy to poke fun of. Teasing Jungkook was something you could see yourself doing for the rest of your life. 

“Oh you think you’re so funny, don’t you Tiny?” He smirked, nibbling on that goddamn piercing of his as he crawled over to you, hovering his body above yours. 

“Yessum.” 

Jungkook shook his head in amusement. He didn’t say anything else, instead he shrugged his boxer briefs down his taut thighs. His cock slapped hard against his toned abdominals, reddened and leaking from the tip. 

His naked body was a sight to behold. 

If a picture was worth a thousand words, then you required an entire photo album to accurately describe Jungkook’s body. You let your eyes drink him in as he discarded his underwear somewhere on the carpet, joining the rest of your clothes no doubt. 

You made grabby hands at him, eager to feel his rigid length on your palms but he shook his head resolutely. 

“Hands and knees.” 

Your mouth dropped open. You were undeniably wet again. 

“Catching flies Tiny?” Jungkook taunted playfully, his doe brown eyes dancing with mischief. “You heard me. On your hands and knees.” 

Moistening your bottom lip (since your mouth had dried out at his request), you clambered up onto your knees and placed your hands at the edge of the bed. 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, clearly enjoying the view. “So sexy. How are you mine?” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

He grasped at the swell of your backside once more, kneading and massaging the flesh. “Yeah? You think I’m sexy?” God, you could detect the minor cockiness hidden in his tone. You really loved him and his big head so much. 

“You know you’re sexy.” You whined, wiggling your ass in hopes to get him to do something. Anything. 

Jungkook chuckled before placing a kiss to the center of your spine. “Only for you.” His words were filled with promise and that sparked your heart to begin sledgehammering against your rib cage. 

He never failed to leave you feeling like your heart was going to start beating out of your chest. Over two years had passed and he still managed to romance you effortlessly. It didn’t fucking matter what other people thought or what the tabloids tried to spin—nobody knew what you and Jungkook shared besides yourselves. Nobody understood what you had and that’s what made your love all the more extraordinary. It was just you and him against the world. 

You could feel him behind you but it wasn’t enough. His movements were slow; teasing and tormenting. His fingers were toying with your slit and as much as you wanted them inside you, you ached for something much bigger. Much longer. Much thicker. 

“How’re you liking my smart ass?” 

 “Loving it,” he mused and delivered a short slap to your left ass cheek, “we should fuck in this position more often.” 

“Hm. We gotta actually fuck to do that though.” You couldn’t hide your smirk. You knew that quip was going to set him off and that’s exactly what you wanted. 

“What happened to my good girl?” He questioned through gritted teeth, nudging his cock between your pussy lips and coaxing breathy moans from the both of you. “Tryna piss me off, huh? If you wanted to be fucked dumb then you should’ve just asked.” He grunted, positioning the head at your entrance and then pushed in the tip from behind.

“Kook!” You gasped at the intrusion, your head falling forward as your walls gripped his girth like a vice. This position never left you disappointed. 

Jungkook groaned gravelly. “Shit… you know I’d do anything for you. W-Would give you the moon if I fucking could.” 

You weren’t sure what caused you to blurt out a tearless sob; his words or the way his cock felt inside of you. 

A husky moan erupted from deep within his chest as he bottomed out, his pelvic bone flush against the curvature of your derrière. You could feel him everywhere. Your eyes had rolled back into your skull due to how full you felt. He allowed you a couple of minutes to adjust to his size before he started to buck his hips. 

“Tightest little cunt,” he rasped, “been pounding this pussy for two and a half years and it’s still so tight. Loves stretching around my fucking cock.” 

“Jungkook.” You cried out his name, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. The angle he was thrusting his cock into you was heavenly. The bulbous tip nudged that spongy spot inside of you each time, leaving you shaking like a leaf. 

His raven haired head fell into the crook of your neck, labored breaths fanning across your balmy skin. “Always so good, baby. Wanna fuck you for the rest of my life.” 

You lamented at his confession. You tried to tell him that you felt the same way but all that tumbled from your lips was a bunch of garbled moans and gasps. Sex with your boyfriend infallibly resulted in you being cock-drunk. 

Jungkook pounded into you from behind with vehemency, his hands at your sides in effort to keep you upright. He could sense that you weren’t going to last much longer, given your incoherent burbles and the way your thighs were quivering against his own. 

“Holy shit, keep squeezing me like that. Fuck, I love how you feel.” 

“I love you,” was all you could muster up as tears escaped the corners of your eyes. The stimulation was becoming way too much. You needed to come so badly—you could tell by the way your stomach clenched and your calves stiffened against the sheets. 

Jungkook’s heart did a somersault at your tiny profession. He wished he could see you so he could kiss the shit out of you. “I love you too baby. So fucking much. Let’s come together, yeah?” 

You opened your mouth to reply, but you couldn’t conjure up words. All that escaped your kiss-bitten lips were imploring mewls. 

Suddenly, Jungkook pulled out and you whimpered at the loss of contact. Before you could wrap your head around what had happened, you were swiftly rolled onto your back and your boyfriend hastily thrusted his cock deep inside of you again. You both cried out in bliss at the feeling, now chest to chest, face to face, eye to eye.

“Needa see your face when you come,” Jungkook admitted whilst chewing on his piercing furiously, utterly determined to have you falling apart on his dick. 

“B-Babe… ungh… please…” you managed to get out through each powerful thrust, your hooded eyes fixated on his chiseled face. You reached out to plant both hands on his biceps, wanting to have an unobstructed view when he climaxes with you. 

His hip movements were irregular now which resulted in sloppy and sporadic thrusts. He was close, you could tell by the way his brows furrowed together. 

No words were exchanged for the next few minutes. Instead, you both reached for one another and crushed your mouths together in a messy collision of teeth and tongues. You kissed fervently until the band in the pit of your stomach snapped for the second time that night. You’re high eventually spurred on Jungkook’s own orgasm. His dick twitched before painting your walls with his hot cum; the two of you crying out each other’s names in a mixture of crass language and debauched moans. 

With half a dozen prods of his cock, Jungkook rode out your orgasm as well as his own until he felt his erection softening. He attached his pierced lips to your bare breasts, gently kissing along your areola while allowing you time to come down from your high. 

“Jungkook?” You ran your fingertips through his jet black hair, pushing the matted strands off his forehead. 

“Mm?” 

“I’m really so proud of you.” 

Jungkook released your breast with a pop and peered up at you with a loving gaze. “For reals?” He flushed and nuzzled into your chest, becoming a little shy himself this time around.

“For reals. You’re owning this season. I know you’re gonna make it to the playoffs again and I’m gonna travel to wherever you are to celebrate with you.” You hoped with all your might that he could hear the sincerity behind your proclamation. 

He lifted his head then, not caring if you saw the dusting of crimson across his cheeks. “That means so much, baby. But don’t worry, one day soon we’ll be in the same place. No more traveling.” 

You cupped his cheek and pressed an adoring kiss to his lips. He returned the favor without hesitation. 

“Hopefully that’ll be the same day you finally eat my ass.” 

You pulled away and flicked his forehead. “Shut your face, Jeon.” 

Jungkook flashed you a wolfish grin. “Family naming me in bed again after two and a half years, Tiny? And yet you think eating my ass is too freak—”

You silenced his tomfoolery with your mouth, sucking on his pierced bottom lip. He certainly got the message loud and clear because he was rolling your naked body on top of him within seconds.

You were awoken the next morning not to the scent of greasy bacon or freshly brewed coffee, nor the sound of Jungkook’s steady breathing or ticking from super dorky Spider-Man analogue alarm clock; but rather suppressed noises from the hallway. 

Squinting your eyes, you rolled onto your back to find the other side of the mattress unoccupied. It was cold and barren, meaning Jungkook had gotten up some time ago. 

While you rubbed sleep from your eyes, you heard the resonance of your boyfriend’s voice coming from behind his bedroom door. It sounded muffled and one-sided, giving you the indication that he was on the phone to somebody. 

“I can’t find the right time to do it, J.” He bemoaned. “I’ve been trying since the day Y/N got here but I keep tanking it.” 

You immediately sat up in bed, gripping the sheets to your chest and staring at the door with blown out eyes. 

“I know I need to do it sooner rather than later… I know you want me to do it too.” Jungkook sighed heavily, no doubt running his hand through his hair like he always did when he was worked up about something. 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Who was he talking to? Why was he talking about you to somebody else? Hell, he used your first name and not his preferred nicknames so it must be pretty damn serious. 

“I promise I’ll do it… I should head back before she wakes up. She can’t know about this.” 

Tears welled in your eyes at that sentence and you covered your mouth, trying not to burst into tears. Surely you weren’t overthinking things now? What else could he possibly mean besides ending things with you? Nothing else made sense. 

When his footsteps approached the bedroom, you quickly shuffled back into bed and pretended to be asleep. 

As much as you wanted to confront him about what you just overheard; you couldn’t. Not when he had a game tonight. You would feel so responsible if an argument between the two of you cost the Maple Leafs a win. They were on a winning streak so far and there was absolutely no way you were going to jeopardize that. Yes, you were rightfully upset with Jungkook but you loved him so fiercely that you couldn’t bring yourself to affect his ability to play in any way. You would simply have to wait until after tonight’s game to corner him about that phone call. 

The VIP box sure as hell didn’t make you feel like a very important person. 

The suite stunk of cigarettes, mixed with the scent of J-Lo’s new perfume, on tap beer and fried finger foods. It felt like something straight out of college, except you were surrounded by grown adults with children and mortgages. 

While the seats of the arena were buzzing with fans dressed in their home team’s get up as they waited for the second intermission to finish, you, on the other hand, purposely turned a blind eye to the white powder and the popping of pills that was going on behind you. Just like you had during your college years. 

You weren’t going to be the one to tell others not to indulge in illicit drugs, as it wasn’t your place. However, you did have a serious conversation with Jungkook about a year ago after one of his teammates got rushed to hospital for having digested fatal methamphetamines. He promised that he wouldn’t ever dabble in that shit, especially not after what happened with Ryan. 

He’d admitted to you on countless occasions that other players would try to lure him into trying illegal substances and performance enhancing steroids—but he would always politely decline. Sometimes he would be branded a pansy or stuntin’ hoser, but he never took those labels to heart. 

You knew the real reason Jungkook never did drugs and it wasn’t because he deemed himself better than everyone else. No, it was because his older brother lost his life in a car accident when Jungkook was only fourteen. Jaehwa had been on his way back from his senior year prom (with a full ride to Harvard Law in his back pocket) when he was hit by a doped up driver. He died immediately at the scene. The Jeons lost a son and a brother while the sicko driver got off with a five year prison sentence.

Jungkook swore to himself when he laid his brother to rest that he would never touch the shit. He also promised Jaehwa that he would make him proud, no matter what it takes. 

Yes, college tested his limits but you were so proud of how he overcame that temptation. You could still recall that one frat party where you admitted that you were worried about him getting mixed up in it. The sincerity in his big brown eyes that night gave you all the information you needed to know. 

“Hey Y/N,” a feminine voice snapped you back to reality, “so I want to know, has JK done it yet?”

You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion. “Pardon?” 

Irene, one of the older player’s wives, sipped at her flute of Prosecco and repeated, “has JK done it yet?” 

“I don’t know what you mean—” 

“She means if he’s taken you to St Lawrence Market yet! It’s the tourist attraction in downtown Toronto, you feel me?” Samantha quickly chimed in, flashing you a smile where the light didn’t touch her eyes. 

“Oh definitely. It’s a part of history, a real staple if you ask me.” Irene nodded, bringing her glass back to her lips and practically chugging down the sparkling wine. 

You felt a sharp lump form in your throat. It was painstakingly obvious that they were lying. Through their teeth. It was then that you came to the excruciating realization that Jungkook did want to break up with you. In fact, he was probably banging both Tiffany and this J girl from this morning. And these WAGs knew it, meaning it wasn’t kept secret from the rest of his team. 

You refused to be played for a fool. 

“He hasn’t, but I’ll keep it in mind,” you told them both with a small (and very plastic) smile, “excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” This time you were the one lying through your teeth. 

You stood up and grabbed your purse. The game was about to resume which should allow for cleared exits so you could beeline straight to the taxi pick up spot. 

As you exited through the inner doors of the arena, you furiously blinked back tears as you made your way towards the outer doors. 

You couldn’t believe how stupid you were! All this time you had convinced yourself into believing you were overreacting and overthinking, when in reality everybody knew about Jungkook’s infidelity but you! 

How could he do this to me? Especially after last night? You thought glumly to yourself as you hurried out of Air Canada Center. You no longer wanted to be in Toronto. You wished to go home to Boston and cry into Lisa’s arms. Your roommate would know what to do in a situation like this. 

You hailed a cab and gave the driver the address to Jungkook’s condominium. When he pulled away from the curb, you sunk in the backseat and buried your face into your hands. The last time you’d cried this much was back in your final year of college when your fake relationship with Jungkook had ended. It was bitterly poetic how he was the reason for your tears once again. 

The taxi eventually arrived outside Jungkook’s building around fifteen minutes later. You thanked the driver and placed two twenty dollar Canadian bills in his hand, apprising him to keep the change. 

You wobbled out of the cab (feeling unsteady on your feet because you were unbelievably distraught) and hiccuped when you heard your phone beep. It couldn’t be Jungkook because he was on the ice currently, so you decided to check whom it was from. 

2 messages received from lisa

OMG! jk wuz hella clean! he owned da ice!  it wuz like he had a new found determination or sum! u must b so proud 

You bursted into tears and rushed inside his apartment complex, wanting to get the hell out of Toronto more than ever. 

It was a mission and a half to get his front door unlocked. Your vision was blurred and your hands were shaky, but after a couple of attempts you finally stumbled into his condo and bulldozed towards his bedroom. 

Hiccuping, you yanked open your suitcase and started haphazardly tossing your clothes into it. The reasonable side of your brain knew that you should wait for his game to finish and talk things out, but the emotional side of your brain just wanted to get on the next plane home. After all it was fight or flight. 

You were in the process of propelling your kicks from across the room into your suitcase when you heard the front door open and slam shut. 

“Y/N?! Tiny?!” The sound of a gym bag hitting the floorboards could be heard throughout the condo. 

You weeped at the sound of his voice. 

Jungkook barreled into the master bedroom and immediately gasped when he saw your suitcase open and a Converse high-top shoe in your hand. “Baby? What are you doing?” 

He’d obviously come straight from the game. His hair was a disarray after being secluded to a helmet for an hour and he was wearing his home jersey with a pair of black Nike sweatpants (meaning he didn’t shower after getting off the rink). 

“I’m going home.” You sniffled, unceremoniously dropping the shoe into your bag. 

“What? Why?” He looked dumbfounded. “What did Irene and Samantha say to you?” 

You avoided eye contact and proceeded to pick up your discarded clothes from last night’s activities. “Nothing I don’t already know.” 

Jungkook frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t underst—”

You cut him off abruptly, throwing your hands up in the air while salty tears continued to stream down your cheeks. “I know you’re leaving me for somebody else!” 

Jungkook’s jaw fell open, completely bug-eyed and gobsmacked. “What?! I swear that I’m not—” 

“Just be honest with me!” You cried. 

“I am being honest, baby! I swear that’s the tru—” 

“I heard you this morning! Talking to some girl over the phone!” You sobbed out, fiercely wiping the back of your hand against your teary cheeks. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, was stunned into silence. 

“Who’s J, huh? Is that a nickname for Joy? Jessica? Janice?” 

He didn’t respond to your question, instead he stepped forward and reached for your hands, “I can explain.” Really? The lame ass line from the movies? 

You tried to pull your hands back but he encased them before you could do so, holding them tenderly and beseeching you with those doe brown eyes of his. “Please hear me out. Baby, I promise, I wasn’t on call to anyone.” 

“I heard you talking—”

“You heard me talking to Jaehwa.” 

The silence that fell over the room was so intense, you could’ve sworn you’d be able to hear a pin drop. Your mouth was agape. You blinked a couple of times as his words began to sink in. 

Jungkook gave you a sad smile and rubbed his thumbs over your hands, feeling thankful that you weren’t trying to slither away from him anymore. He sucked in a harsh breath, “I talk to him most mornings when I feel nervous or scared. I’ve been doing it since the morning after his funeral.” 

“I’m so sorry.” You didn’t know what to say. What else could you say in response to that? So instead, you gave his hand a squeeze and that was more than enough for Jungkook. 

“I didn’t want you to hear me this morning because I was worried you’d think I’m some busted freak… a major screw up.” He sighed, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply through his nose before reopening them to gaze at you despondently. “I should’ve told you before… I just…” 

You sniffled and shook your head once. “I never would’ve thought that. Everybody grieves differently. Everybody honors the life of their loved ones differently.” 

“I know baby,” he said softly, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips and placing delicate kisses along your knuckles, “if I hadn’t been so chicken shit I wouldn’t have fucked this all up.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

“You didn’t! It’s all my fault, I—”

Your boyfriend smiled and then tongued his cheek. “If those ladies didn’t open their big mouths and you’d stuck around ‘til after the game, I was going to pick you up from the VIP box—fresh off another win I dedicated wholeheartedly to you—and bring you down to the ice once all the players had gone. Then, I was going to get down on one knee like this,” he paused, sinking to the floor and propping himself on one knee just as he’d stated. 

A loud gasp ripped from the back of your throat. 

Jungkook chewed on his lip ring nervously but continued on. “Because if I know anything, it’s that I have two constants in this life: hockey and you. I wanted nothing more than to be in the place that I love after winning the game I love with the girl I love, when I ask her to marry me.” 

Now you were the one stunned to silence. 

He laughed endearingly at your inability to speak, knowing full well that you were personifying the expression ‘cat got your tongue’. “But when have we ever done anything by the book? You wouldn’t be the Y/N I fell madly in love with if you didn’t make me work for it.” 

You giggled through tears, not realizing that you’d begun crying again. 

He reached into the pocket of his black sweats and retrieved a light turquoise box and suddenly everything clicked. Tiffany & Co. All the pieces of the puzzle had finally aligned. “So Tiny, what do you say?” He asked, his voice wavering on the last syllable as he opened the ring box to reveal what will be your engagement ring. 

You couldn’t let him win that easily. “You haven’t asked me anything yet, doofus.” 

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head at your playful response and then took the ring out of the box. He held it between his inked fingers and gazed up at you as if you’d hung all the stars in the night sky. “Y/N, will you marry me?” 

You weren’t going to tease him this time. 

“Yes! Of course I will.” You nodded vigorously, eyes blinking back tears of joy this time as Jungkook beamed. A smile that was so bright it could stop traffic. 

He stood up to his full height and carefully slid the white gold diamond ring onto your finger, his own eyes misty at the sentiment. You wasted no time in kissing him passionately, wrapping your arms around his neck. He consumed your mouth with his own, pouring all his emotions into that perfervid kiss. 

You’d both gone through a rollercoaster of emotions that day but it was all worthwhile in the end. Why? Because you had each other. 

After you both exchanged mumbled I love you’s, Jungkook reluctantly broke away from your lips and perched his hands on your waist. He was now smirking and had that signature glint in his eye. 

“So… does this mean I get to family name you in bed? Ow!” 

You pinched his nipple for old time’s sake. 

“You’re lucky I have a pain kink, Mrs Jeon.” He grinned cheekily before leaning down and capturing your lips with his once again. 

Yeah, you could get used to the sound of that. 

© tattookoo. all rights reserved 2023.

The day is bright and the weather is clear, but Jeongguk complaining to his brother over the phone is making it seem like it’s gloomy.

“Hyung, I don’t fucking get this shit,” his brows furrowed as he studies the packaging intently. “How am I supposed to know what to get?”

“The size is on the left…I think?” Seokjin nervously gulps, hoping his memory serves him correctly.

“There’s nothing here,” Jeongguk sighs as he returns the diaper back on the shelf.

It was now Seokjin’s brows turn to knit, “Wait, what were you holding?”

He squints his eyes at the item he just returned, “Uhh it’s Pampers?”

“Ah, we usually buy Huggies for Iseul,” Seokjin shrinks in his seat as soon as he hears his younger brother inhale sharply. “Sorry I forgot…again.”

“You could’ve told me that earlier!” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jeongguk threw his head back in frustration. “Okay, Huggies. What size?” 

“Size 4!” His elder brother’s enthusiasm made him pull his phone away from his ear. “While you’re at it, can you get me Frosted Flakes, too?”

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit. Goodbye,” he quickly ended the call, randomly throwing three packs of diapers in his cart, not even looking at it anymore.

Jeongguk turns his cart with little to no effort while whistling to ease his boredom as he makes his way to the next aisle. If his assumptions are correct, mostly based on his grocery shopping observations, this particular store doesn’t carry frosted flakes. But then again, it doesn’t hurt to try. 

“Frosted flakes…Frosted flakes…” Jeongguk mumbles as he scans every row for the cereal. When there was no sight of the blue box, he frowned. 

Jeongguk: There are no frosted fucking flakes [2:00 PM]

Seokjin Hyung: am sad ;-( [2:00 PM]

Jeongguk: You type like an idiot [2:00 PM]

Just as he was about to push his cart out of the breakfast aisle, a soft voice stopped him from doing so, “Excuse me? Can you help me reach the Lucky Charms?”

Looking over at his shoulder, he lifts a brow, “And why would I do that? Do I look like I work here?”

Your lips parted as you scanned him from head to toe. Somehow, you felt embarrassed that he assumed he was an employee when he’s wearing literally every black clothing there is to exist. A nice fit on his body, though, if you may add. 

“No, but I–uhm–you’re…taller than me,” feeling extra small and intimidated by his cold aura, you didn’t meet his gaze anymore. Instead, your eyes stayed glued to your feet, “Actually, it’s fine. I’ll just call the–”

He didn’t even give you enough time to finish your sentence. 

The next thing you know, his big body was blocking your vision as he reached for the cereal on the top shelf with ease. Jeongguk didn’t even need to tip his toes like you normally would and that was weirdly amusing for you.

“Here,” he hands you your box of cereal.

“Oh,” it took you a while to process what just happened so you blinked. Multiple times.

When your eyes slowly grew wide and your smile reached up to your eyes, Jeongguk could’ve sworn that love at first sight wasn’t an urban legend anymore. Like, who even bows at a full ninety degrees just for a mere cereal box? Definitely not him.

“Thank you so so much!” You waved the box to a dumbfounded Jeongguk who only nodded his head as you pushed your cart away. 

He just watched you walk away happily, maybe even trying to remember whatever tune you were humming as you walked away. 

Without breaking his gaze from where you once were, Jeongguk pulls his phone out and presses on his brother’s number like it was muscle memory, “Hyung, do you need anything this week?” 

“It’s all good, today was just a mishap,” Seokjin reassures. 

“Okay, how about next week? I can–uhh–run to the groceries or some shit,” he nervously asks, hoping his brother would never catch anything suspicious.

“I think we’re all good for now,” his brother says with conviction, but only because he doesn’t want to bother his younger brother for errands next time.

“You sure?” Jeongguk pushes.

“Yes, Jeongguk. I’m very sure,” Seokjin sighed. “...Are you flirting with the cashier again?”

“Fuck off, just wanted to help you while I buy cat food for Sage,” the tip of Jeongguk’s ears has now turned to red as he blatantly lied.

His elder brother snorted on the other line, knowing how much of a terrible liar his brother is, “Yeah right, you and your cat.”

“You’re full of shit,” Jeongguk once again ended the call before Seokjin could retort anything again. 

Maybe grocery shopping might be one of his new hobbies. 

“Cooper?” You sniffed as you walked outside your building, softly calling out for your lost cat. 

It’s been 3 hours and you’re literally freezing outside, not giving up until you find your beloved pet. This isn’t the first time Cooper, your escape artist of a house pet, went out of your unit. The first time he got out, you found him at a nearby construction site because apparently, he thinks it’s a giant litter box for him to enjoy. The second was when he, for some weird reason, found himself stuck on the roof of your complex. How he got there, you wouldn’t ever know.

“Hey, Y/N! Oh– you’re crying,” your ever so cheerful neighbor, Jimin, stops in his tracks when he sees the tears pooling in your eyes. “Did Cooper get out again?”

You slowly nodded, lips quivering from trying to stop yourself from breaking down. Every time your cat goes for his so-called walk, you end up in tears. And every time he does, it’s always Jimin who always finds him and brings him back to your unit. 

“Say, if I do find him again – which I’m positive I will – I’ll be right by your door, alright?” He assures you with a smile. For some reason, everyone calls him the pet whisperer for always babysitting the neighbors’ pets, so all you can do is trust his words on that.

“T-thank you,” you mumbled under your breath with sadness. 

Jimin felt so bad looking at your state. Not when he’s so used to seeing you all full of spirit, “Why don’t you go up and make yourself something warm while waiting for him, hmm?”

And that you did. Only because the only choice you had was to patiently wait for your cat’s return.

Dragging your feet as you climbed the stairs, you were sure the rest of your neighbors could hear the lazy thud of your feet against the floor. 

With a head hung low and a slump on your shoulders, you tiredly sighed, wanting to reach your door so you could finally cry your worries out. A pair of feet waiting outside your unit is what made you raise your head. 

Leaning by your door is none other than your cereal hero from the other day, Jeongguk, who looks even scarier now than you last saw him. 

“God, fucking finally, you’re here,” the crease in his forehead quickly goes away when you can no longer hold back your tears. You covered your face from embarrassment and sobbed silently against your palms.

‘Should’ve bit my tongue there,' he thought. 

“I’m sorry,” he says with full remorse. “I can come back later when you’re feeling better.”

You slowly removed your hands from your face, wiping your tears with the back of your hands, “It’s…okay. I’m just having a bad day right now.” Hiccuping in between words and sobs, you still tried to form coherent sentences, “I–I couldn’t find my cat.”

“Cooper with the 9A tag?” Your brows rose at the mention of your pet AND your unit number. The look on your face says it all, “Yeah, I figured.”

“You–you found him!” Not gonna lie, there was a sense of relief that finally washed over you. At least Jimin doesn’t have to scour the chilly weather today.

Jeongguk scratched the back of his ear, clearing his throat nervously, “He–uhm–I–Why don’t you go inside for a while?”

Seeing his behavior as suspicious, you narrowed your eyes at him, “No. I wanna see Cooper now.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but you can’t,” he says sternly.

‘Your devil’s spawn Cooper is fucking my Sage in the fire exit.’

“Why not? He’s my cat,” you retort.

Jeongguk’s brows knit together once again, slowly losing his temper over a mere house pet, “Are you rude or what? You just can’t see him right now. It’s not that hard to understand.”

You were so appalled with how he wasn’t making any sense right now. All you wanted was to have your cat home and snuggle with him after crying about him the whole day, “How is taking my own cat home rude? Do you have any common sense?”

“Do you have any common sense?” He mimicked the words with a mocking tone and a sarcastic chuckle. “I actually do. But do you have one? Because I’m sure as hell you wouldn’t like it if someone walks in on you mid fuck!”

Just as you were about to retort, he cuts you off, “Tell me your cat is spayed or I’ll go ape shit right now.” When you finally understood what he has been trying to tell you, your eyes widened. And when he finally got the hint your expression was giving, he rolled his eyes, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” 

At this, you immediately shut up. There is nothing you want more in this world right now but to sink into the floor. Horrified would be such an understatement to describe the look on your face.

‘Oh, fuck. Did I offend her?’ Jeongguk mentally slaps his head.

He sighs, “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” 

You slowly nodded your head, “Uhm, it’s okay…I guess.”

And then awkward silence filled the space between the two of you.

You were shuffling side to side while looking down at your feet. On the other hand, Jeongguk looked around, arms crossed and still leaning against the wall, still thinking of ways he can strike another proper conversation with you without sounding forced.

Not bearing the unnecessary tension anymore, he chose to break the silence, “So, we need to talk about our setup.”

“I’m sorry but what setup?” You didn’t know what you were getting into and you’re more than confused at this point. 

“For child support.” Jeongguk massaged the bridge of his nose with eyes closed, obviously regretting that it had to be him to bear you this news, “Clearly your cat is a fuckboy.”

You blinked, “...Oh, You mean kittens!”

“Whatever floats your boat, but I demand child support,” he shrugged.

“Uhm, okay.” Squinting your eyes in confusion with your head slightly tilted to the side, you asked, “And we need to settle that once and for all, right?” 

He nodded, “Right.”

Not sure where to start with your part of the deal, you suggested your idea meekly, “I–uhh–can send cat food every month for the kittens?”

Jeongguk looked up, thought about the idea at first, then nodded with approval, “Fair enough. Sounds good to me.”

You sighed with relief when he took it into consideration. 

Feeling as though the help you’re extending wasn’t enough ‘child support’ yet, you timidly peeked at him through your lashes and honestly admitted what you’ve been thinking about, “Sorry, that’s all I could think of right now. I don’t know how else I could compensate for my cat’s–err–behavior.”

He didn’t say anything. Yet. He just looked at you which made you jolt in the discomfort of being under someone’s watch.

“We could go out and eat or some shit?” Jeongguk’s ears slowly turned red. 

‘Jeongguk, you airhead. You can’t ask her out like this!’ When your lips, yet again, parted, he wanted to take back what he said until you beat him to it.

“There’s a nice cafe down the street,” when you gave him a soft smile, that’s when he finally returned one, too.

Jeongguk in disbelief was such a rare sight to see, ‘Fucking sorcery.’

“I’m Y/N, by the way. Cooper from 9A’s mom,” you extend your hand politely while pointing at your unit number that’s on your door.

“Jeongguk from 9B, Sage’s peasant,” As he takes your hand, he notes how his are bigger compared to yours.

A lot can happen in a year and the next thing you know, the so-called “child support'' turned to cat co-parenting, then turned to moving into the same unit. 

Who would’ve thought that the intimidating, seemingly offish Jeongguk is actually a sweetheart? Definitely not you.

If you asked Jeongguk to list down ten things he likes about you, he’ll give you fifty. If you asked him anything under the sun, he surely knows all the answers to it because he’s that smart. If you make your eyes round enough like that of a doe, he would literally do anything you ask of him – which says a lot because Jeon Jeongguk hates a lot of things but never you.

One of the many things he liked doing is watching you reach over cupboards with a sly smirk grazing on his face. A cocky smirk that he could proudly wear because stools aren't shit when you’re naturally born tall. He watches you struggle, and when he’s had enough worry to rile him to step in, wraps an arm protectively around your waist and reaches over with ease. Oh, how he adored stepping in whenever you struggled. It makes him feel needed.

On the contrary, his self-control and patience are put to the test whenever he stops himself from shoving his cock balls deep inside your cunt whenever you would grind on him just to get off. At least you graduated him from thigh riding, right? The sexy lingerie you’d occasionally wear isn't of much help either. 

God, his temper is awful whenever he’s edged but he always tries.

The farthest Jeongguk has gone with you is to eat you out and finger you with, much to his surprise, three digits. The farthest you’ve done with him is a basic handjob and a hesitant blowjob because you didn’t know if you were doing it correctly or not.

You appreciate how he would never force you to do something you’re not yet ready to do. Knowing how losing your virginity (even at a big age) is overwhelming, he’d rather take all his time warming you up than making you feel bad just to satisfy himself. 

One of the few stimulating positions you enjoyed doing with your boyfriend is assaulting your wet pussy while laying on his buff chest, preferably in front of a mirror because Jeongguk loves watching your facial expressions as you reach your high – just like now with your discarded lingerie sprawled across the floor.

“Wanna see you insert another finger in there, princess,” he whispers against your ear in a husky voice, not breaking his eye contact off of you through the mirror in front of your shared bed.

You squirm against his sweaty skin when the added digit hits a new sense of pleasure, “A-ah! Can you please do it for me?” Jeongguk could’ve sworn his cock twitched when you begged with puppy eyes but he shakes his head, making you whimper like a brat. “Your…your fingers feel better…than mine,” you utter breathlessly with a pout.

He chuckles, still not budging to take over or say anything. 

Knowing how much your boyfriend loves to hear your pleas just so you can cum, your other hand reaches over to his cock, stroking it at the perfect tempo just the way you know he likes it. Under your touch, he hissed at the sudden sensation.

“Koo?” You say almost in a whisper, still stroking his shaft, “I…I want you inside me.”

“Baby,” he warns under his breath.

“I want…I want it to be with you,” you admit shyly. “I-I can take all of you, y-you know?”

Feeling as though he’ll lose this time, he sighs and reaches for the drawers to grab a condom, “If it hurts tell me to stop, alright?” You don’t say anything back but he could feel your heart race, “Need your words, princess. Or else we’re cutting the fun short.”

Out of panic, you think you jumbled the words out of your mouth, “Ah–yes! I will, K-koobear.”

“Koobear,” he scoffed, then poked his tongue in his cheek, eyeing you intently at the use of the nickname while ripping the foil open. “It’s either you call me by my government name or baby, but preferably when I fuck you,” he explains further while rolling the condom down to his shaft.

“Why? I like calling you Koo and you’re as big as a–Oh!” Your words are immediately cut short when the tip of his cock slowly enters your core. 

“Do you want to stop?” He asks with worry.

Shaking your head, you threw your head back and rested against his chest, “N-no, just a switch in our positions, I think.”

“You think?” He scoffs. 

In one swift movement, well more like a blink of an eye, it was as if you were manhandled by him when he flips the position in a snap – it was now him hovering over your body that’s small compared to his. He towers over you, pinning both of your hands with one hand, and he smirks at this. If anything, he’s enjoying the very obvious size difference between you and him. You felt small, heck curling up would make you even tinier, but the feeling of enjoying it is bubbling in your stomach.

Jeongguk’s brows lifted as he parted your legs, seeing how wet you’d already been. It’s so fascinating to him how such a tiny cunt could be so slick, “Jesus Christ, you’re wet as hell.”

“Don’t say that,” you shyly mumbled while watching your boyfriend through your lashes.

“What? Getting shy already?” He teases as he leans down to your dripping cunt.

Jeongguk spreads your legs apart, tracing his nose along your slit that’s enough to send shivers down your spine. He sure knows what he’s doing, alright. He then spits in your pussy and watches his spit dripping along your slit, humming in approval when your hole sucked in his spit. 

“Mmm, now that’s a needy cunt,” an amused smirk graces his lips when he notices your goosebumps. “I promise you won’t regret this.”

Chuckling, you replied, “I don’t think there was ever a time that I regretted anything with you.”

Your boyfriend leans in closer as he aligns his hardened member in your entrance, “That’s so good to hear from you, princess.” Slowly, he enters inside you making you wince slightly, “God, you’re tight as fuck.”

You let out a soundless gasp, lips parted, and eyes pooling with tears from the mixed feeling of slight pain and pleasure. Jeongguk notices this and briefly stops when his whole length is finally inside you, “You good?”

“Y-yes, it just feels…so different,” you assured. 

“I’ll move now, alright?” His thumb runs across your cheeks soothingly as he slowly fucks you until you adjust to his size. Underneath him, you look so fragile, so helpless, yet so submissive to him. 

Your hands trailed down to where he was bulging under your skin, rubbing his embossed form while your eyes fluttered, “Y-you’re so big, Koo. So deep inside me.”

“I’ll let you adjust to my length, babe,” there was a tinge of amusement inside of him as he studies every reaction your body makes.

“It’s okay, I can take it,” you say with conviction this time, and that made him somewhat proud – you take all of his fat and big cock with no fuss.

“This pussy is made for me, huh?” Jeongguk picks up the pace this time only because he enjoys watching your tits bounce as he rocks your body. “Makes me wanna do crazy shit like have your name tattooed on my rib,” you gasped, scratching lines against his back.

“Please look at me,” he gently moves away the stray hairs that stuck on your sweaty face. “Wanna see how pretty my baby is.”

You slowly open your eyes with a lust-filled gaze and this is where he lost his shit. He rams inside of you faster and harder this time, making you arch your back at the newfound pleasure he was hitting. 

“What if I break this condom off and fill you with my cum?” Your pussy tightens at the idea of his cum overflowing out of your cunts because it couldn’t take how much he had spurted inside of you. “Fuck, you tightened. You like that don’t you?”

Obviously not thinking straight because your boyfriend was fucking your wits out, you nodded, “I– yes, want you to fuck me harder ‘til it breaks.” And so he did fuck you hard.

It was like a magic word that made him cum so fast and you the same.

He could feel your body trembling, your breathing still fast. He waited for a moment or two for himself to soften up so he could pull out gently. Your still slightly clenching hole almost pushing his dick out of yourself. Meanwhile, he discards the condom with no mess.

You whined at the empty feeling, and he hushed you gently, moving around so he was sitting up against his headboard, your body on his lap, head on his shoulder. His hand moved back and forth over your spine, the other keeping your body steadily against him. 

“You did so, so good baby.” He gently whispered between your breaths, still coming out a little faster than they should. “I was actually kind of worried you wouldn’t be able to take it. You impress me too much, you know that?” He said, making you giggle. 

You weren’t quite back yet, still bathing in your own afterglow, and he simply waited for you to calm down, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings again. Legs still shaking from losing your virginity, you noticed a pool of wetness in your sheets.

“The sheets are soiled,” you frowned.

Jeongguk clicked his tongue teasingly, “That’s not very nice of you, princess.”

“I’m sorry,” you peeked at him with a tired pout.

“It’s fine. It’s time to change it anyway,” he runs his finger against your back, making soothing circles that made you fall asleep instantly.

Wearing short dresses while out in the park is one of the small joys you enjoy doing with your boyfriend. Not to mention that sitting on his lap is a plus…except he gets overprotective whenever your skirt riles up like now – one hand over your lap, serving as weights to the fluttering fabric.

Guess guard dog privilege is real when Jeongguk is your boyfriend.

Peeking at him, your brows rose at his creased forehead, "Why do you look like you're ready to fight?"

"Because I am," he says without blinking, though his eyes are following those who would spare you a glance.

You blinked in confusion, "...What?"

"Yes," he nodded with assertiveness. 

Ah, of course. Being overprotective. Such a Jeongguk thing to do.

There are days when you don’t understand what your boyfriend is doing, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s fun to be around. Like always, you shrug it all off, sit on his lap, and wrap your arms around his neck as you nuzzle against his skin – a sure way to make him smile from ear to ear.

“Baby, can you take one of those polaroid pictures in that lingerie?” He asks with lips against your hair. Jeongguk has a habit of kissing the side of your head just because he can.

At this, your lips part at the sudden request; he’s never asked this before, “Why?”