“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.

Your laptop. Your phone. Your tablet.

Your eyes were glossy with hope and adrenaline, your feet thumping uncontrollably beneath your chair, a thin layer of sweat forming despite the air-conditioned room wrapping around you in cold comfort.

This was your first time buying concert tickets. Despite being a long-time fan, this was your only chance—because you had finally gathered enough money to secure one.

You had prepared three Weverse accounts under your name and your parents’ names, carefully reserving each slot so you could slip into the presale the moment it opened. You had already studied how fast tickets sold out in other countries...the quickest being around ten minutes. Ten minutes of chaos, of people like you refreshing, praying, losing.

You bit your lip hard enough to feel it sting. You were still in the queue when the screen suddenly shifted, dragging you into a loading page that refused to move. Thirty minutes had already passed, and all three accounts were still stuck.

“Fuck!”

Your eyes widened when two of your accounts abruptly showed session timeout.

With shaky hands, you tried to navigate through it, but everything lagged—hesitating, freezing, slipping away from your control. You cursed under your breath, glancing at your laptop—the only one still holding on, still alive.

Your vision started to blur at the edges. The chances of getting a ticket were thinning by the second, dissolving right in front of you.

“Please, just this one…” you whispered to yourself, eyes locked on the screen with fragile, breaking hope.

Your eyes widened when the screen finally moved.

No Tickets Available.

Just like that, your hopes were crushed.

You slowly looked up at the posters on your walls, the albums stacked neatly on your shelves, the plushies scattered across your bed, and the ARMY Bomb you had recently bought, displayed beside your BTS McDonald’s figurines.

Tears began falling uncontrollably from your eyes, like a flood breaking through something you could no longer hold together. The realization settled in—heavy, final....that you wouldn’t get to see them.

Your lips quivered as you quickly sank onto your bed, pulling your favorite pink cooky plushie close to your chest. You cried into it, letting everything spill out with an aching, exhausted heart.

Your parents tried to comfort you. They knew how much this meant. They had witnessed your journey growing up—how you stayed up all night waiting for comebacks, how you saved every bit of money just to buy new albums, how you would drop everything the moment a Weverse Live started, how you bought multiple happy meals just to complete all the toys, how you binge-watched their content and replayed Run BTS episodes whenever you had free time.

They had seen it all.

How deeply you adored and loved your bias…

Jungkook.

You appreciated how your parents tried to look for tickets online for you, but the number of scams you’d heard about from resellers made you hesitate. Prices were tripled—far beyond your budget. You didn’t want to burden them, even when they insisted they were willing to cover the extra cost.

You were still a student, after all. You told them it was okay—that they should just save the money for your college instead.

“What if you just check in to the hotel they’re staying at? Girl, imagine!” your best friend Mina suggested.

The hot coffee you ordered had already gone cold. The concert was next month, and Mina was now throwing ridiculous ideas at you on how you could possibly see BTS. The supposed study session in the coffee shop had long been forgotten the moment you mentioned the upcoming concert.

“I doubt it. There’s usually no news about it because of their privacy… sometimes I only find out once they’ve already checked in or when they do a Weverse live.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “I’m sure there’s at least some news if you really dig into it. How many days is the concert?”

“Two days. And even if I wanted to stalk their hotel, I’m sure a lot of fans would do that too—and the next thing you know, the hotel is fully booked.” you pouted.

You were being realistic. The chances of seeing them at their hotel—or even getting a room there—were slim. With the number of fans camping out and others researching nonstop, you had almost zero chance.

“Do you want to see them or not? Come on, I’ll book a room with you!” she nudged your shoulders, wiggling her brows as she sipped her caramel macchiato.

You chuckled softly. “Of course I do, but I swear, Mina, it’s harder than you think…”

Mina groaned, stomping her feet. “Ugh, fine! But watching the concert online is really fucking boring when you know they’re literally in the same country as you.”

You sighed. Mina wasn’t really a fan, but she knew how much you loved BTS. When she found out you hadn’t secured a ticket, she had been the first to suggest the most ridiculous ideas—stalking their hotel, camping outside the arena, chasing anything that even remotely felt possible.

After a few months since the presale, it had been a hard pill to swallow—but you had finally accepted it. You wouldn’t get to see them. Even if Mina’s ideas lingered at the back of your mind, you knew better. The chances were too low. You’d rather stay at home, wear your cooky pajamas, and stream the concert online in peace.

Still… there were the sleepless nights.

The what-ifs that refused to leave you alone.

What if you had attended the concert? What if you had somehow booked the same hotel? What if you caught a glimpse of their van outside the arena?

Being a fan for almost a decade, you knew those kinds of scenarios only happened in fictional stories. Seeing Jungkook on a random day was like finding a bag of cash in a public restroom stall—completely impossible.

Though… still, a small part of you never fully stopped hoping.

“Also, isn’t our country their last stop?” Mina said, already searching for dates and details on her phone.

“Yeah… that’s why I actually had enough money and time… but I guess luck just wasn’t on my side,” you murmured bitterly, glancing around the busy coffee shop as if the noise could somehow quiet the ache settling in your chest.

Mina suddenly froze, her eyes widening. “Wait—since it’s the last stop… don’t you think they’ll stay longer? Maybe for a few more days, like… I don’t know, rest?”

You had already thought about it—but how on earth would you ever know their whereabouts? You’d only find out once they were already there, or when they went live. And since it would be after the concert, you were certain they’d want to rest, to disappear into privacy for a while.

“Mina… it’s okay. I swear, I’ll be fine.” you assured her, her ideas now more amusing than anything else.

Until your lunch break ended, Mina kept babbling—throwing out unrealistic scenarios straight out of books and fanfics. You laughed at her what-ifs, at the corny places her imagination kept taking you.

You knew she wasn’t doing it to be silly.

She was doing it because she knew you. Knew how badly you wanted to see them. Knew how quiet you’d become once the concert actually started.

So, as your best friend, Mina had decided something else entirely.

A short out-of-town trip. While BTS was in the country. A way for you both to disappear for a while, to breathe, to rest from studies, from expectations, from everything—including the concert you couldn’t attend.

“Mina! Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes widened in shock when you saw the cottage number and the dates.

Mina had booked a five-day beach trip, complete with daily activities that made your head spin just reading them.

“Don’t worry, you can bring your laptop so you can still stream the concert.” she snickered, handing you the itinerary.

“Mina! That’s not what I meant—this is too much,” you groaned.

She giggled, already sitting comfortably on your bed while you scanned through the list she had prepared. “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve had a girls’ trip.”

You pouted at her, still in disbelief—but the resistance didn’t last. A smile slipped through as you pulled her into a hug anyway. “You and your ideas,” you chuckled.

“Bring cute clothes! Let’s take lots of pics—I want to update my IG!” she said excitedly.

You grinned. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow. My treat.”

Mina shrieked. “God, yes! Let’s go!”

The upcoming concert was still on your mind, but you were also busy preparing for the trip with Mina. You were excited—the small distraction keeping you from spiraling into a full breakdown over not being able to see BTS.

Wearing a cute sundress and brown sandals, you and Mina finally checked in. It was Day 1 of the concert. You had already set an alarm for the online stream later, a quiet kind of excitement settling in at the thought that, at the very least, you had the privilege of watching it while sipping fresh coconut by the sea breeze.

“Why the fuck are you reapplying your lip gloss?” Mina asked when she caught you touching up your makeup right before the concert started.

“To look cute while watching Jungkook,” you giggled, turning your ARMY Bomb on.

After dinner, you and Mina sat on a bench by the sand, your pocket Wi-Fi, laptop, and earphones already set up beside you.

Mina rolled her eyes. “That’s crazier than my ideas.”

You chuckled softly, eyes already fixed on the screen as the countdown began. Your heart raced like you were inside the stadium with them—like the distance didn’t exist at all.

When the concert finally started, Mina had to walk away because you were screaming too loudly, jumping from your seat and almost knocking over the coconut shake on the table.

“Girl, let me walk around and find a cute guy. Your shrieks are lowkey scaring me.” Mina laughed when she came back and saw you on the verge of tears, fanning yourself like you might actually pass out.

“Okay, oka—oh my gosh! They’re performing Dimple! Oh my gosh!” you shouted, already lost in it again.

For two days, you were completely gone in it—fangirling nonstop, fully absorbed in every moment. It was only on Day 3, when Mina had planned actual activities, that you finally stepped away from the screen. Until then, you had spent your time watching, rewatching, and reposting edits like the world outside didn’t exist.

“He’s so hot—I can’t believe he wore that gray shirt. It looked so good on him,” you babbled, telling Mina everything about the concert details and the surprise songs they performed.

The two-night concert had ended like a whirlwind, yet you were still floating on cloud nine. While Mina had been busy taking pictures and scouting for cute guys, you had been replaying everything in your head—taking screenshots, saving edits, and reliving every moment in real time like you couldn’t let it go.

Mina was just happy you enjoyed it. She even swore she almost thought you were going to have a heart attack when you shrieked so loudly after Jungkook lifted his shirt and revealed his abs. Your gallery probably had ten copies of that exact moment.

“And! Guess what!” you said, munching on your breakfast as you wiggled your eyebrows at her.

“Hmm… Jungkook showed his dick?”

“Mina!” Your cheeks burned as you nearly choked on the waffles you were eating.

Mina laughed, casually pointing her fork at you. “That would be good though.”

You shook your head quickly, your face still hot. “I mean—would want that—but guess what! He sang the chorus of Still With You in acapella!” you babbled again, as if Mina would fully grasp the weight of it.

For your third day, you and Mina were supposed to ride a yacht. You were already getting dressed when Mina suddenly squealed behind you, hurriedly tying the strap of her sandal.

“He replied! Oh my gosh, he’s treating me to dinner!” Mina said excitedly, quickly glancing at the mirror you were using to fix your hair.

“Huh? Who?”

“This guy I met while you were watching the concert! He wants to see me again!” She showed you her phone.

Your brows furrowed. “He’s inviting you to his cottage later?” you said, reading the message.

Mina’s eyes widened as she looked back at her phone. “Fuck! What should I do?”

“Wait… so you’re not going on the yacht with me?” you concluded.

Mina smiled cheekily, biting her lip. “Well… he’s cute and… hot…”

You raised a brow. “Make sure he’s really hot,” you chuckled, fixing your hair again in front of the mirror—when Mina suddenly squealed and hugged you from behind.

“Promise I’ll make it up to you! You’re the best!” she grinned, already moving back to the bed to grab her bag.

Mina had booked this trip for you, and you wanted her to enjoy it too. Even though she originally planned it as a girls’ trip, you had spent most of it absorbed in the concert. She had always supported your whims without hesitation...and now it was your turn to support hers.

“Why are you bringing that duffel bag?” you asked, amused at the amount of clothes she was packing.

Mina wiggled her brows. “Gotta be prepared, y’know.”

She walked towards the door, fixing her neckline one last time.

You grinned. “Text me when you’re heading back!”

“Yes, ma’am!” she giggled, throwing you a flying kiss before hurrying out.

The sheer amount of clothes Mina brought made it obvious—she probably wouldn’t be back tonight. You sighed softly, glancing down at your short pink floral dress, your hair tied in a half ponytail.

You still had two days left of the trip, but today was the first time it truly settled in. For the past two days, you had been completely immersed in the concert—no time to walk along the shore, no quiet moments to watch the sunset.

Now, it was finally your time to unwind.

Although you were tempted to doom-scroll edits again, you forced yourself up instead, deciding to follow the planned activity for the day and step outside.

-

“Number 9! Calling for all passengers on Yacht 9!”

You hurried over to the line, double-checking the receipt number Mina had reserved for you.

There were only a few people waiting—some couples and a small group of friends. You didn’t really mind being alone. If anything, you needed this time to unwind, to breathe, to exist without noise pressing in on you.

“Ticket, please!” the man in a white uniform said.

You handed it over, offering a polite smile before stepping onto the yacht.

A few groups had already settled in—holding bottles of champagne, chatting softly, taking pictures against the open sea. You made your way towards the main deck, where a small group of friends sat around a table filled with snacks and laughter.

Based on the crowd, you felt relieved it wasn’t too packed—maybe around twenty-thirty people scattered across the space, enough to feel lively but not overwhelming.

Soft music drifted through the air as the yacht moved gently along the waves. The salt of the sea lingered in every breath you took, calming something in you without you even realizing it needed calming.

You wandered towards a long table filled with food, your short dress and hair swaying slightly with the breeze.

There were different kinds of pastries, a large charcuterie board, bottles of wine and champagne catching the light, stacks of beer lined neatly at one end, and a few bags of chips scattered casually beside them.

Mina had definitely booked a nice yacht. You smiled to yourself, genuinely happy that you could finally relax and enjoy this moment—with good food, fresh air, and a quiet kind of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.

You grabbed a bag of potato chips and a bottle of wine, scanning the area for a place to sit until you spotted a vacant lounger on the sun deck.

“Perfect!” you mumbled excitedly when you noticed no one else had claimed that area.

Carefully placing your bag, chips, and wine down, you quickly took a photo to update Mina.

“Let’s sit here!”

You were still busy snapping pictures when a small group—maybe four or five people—settled in beside you.

You weren’t really paying attention at first, but in your peripheral vision, you noticed they had brought an impressive amount of snacks with them.

You opened your chips and leaned back on the sun lounger. When you heard the sharp crack of a beer can opening, curiosity tugged at you, and you glanced over briefly.

It was a group of Korean men, older than you—probably in their mid-30s to 40s. Some wore black shades, already laughing as they settled into their drinks, their voices easy and relaxed.

They must be on vacation. This beach was a tourist spot, after all.

You turned your attention back to your chips, letting the sun warm your skin as you sank into the view. The group beside you wasn’t loud—they mostly talked about the scenery and the food, occasionally breaking into laughter over the activities they had tried earlier.

The world felt slow again, almost suspended in that gentle rhythm of waves and wind.

You were busy sipping your wine when you suddenly felt it—an unmistakable stare.

The group beside you was still laughing, their voices blending into the soft noise of the sea, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at you.

These men were older, and for a brief moment, unease crept in.

You sneaked a glance over your shoulder and noticed the broad-built man in sunglasses staring straight ahead—past you.

Does he want potato chips or—

With a slight frown, you followed his line of sight properly this time.

He wasn’t looking at you.

He was looking at your bag on the table.

My bag?

When he realized you were looking back at him, he quickly turned away, though the shift in his posture told you he was still thinking.

Confused, you glanced down at your bag again.

It was just a simple beige tote bag...nothing special and nothing worth staring at.

You shrugged it off. It must’ve been a mistake. Besides, he was wearing sunglasses—maybe he was just spacing out, looking into nothing.

Munching on your chips again, you noticed him typing on his phone, suddenly more focused, as if he had detached himself from the conversation entirely.

You almost laughed to yourself, thinking he might actually be searching something about your bag online.

A strange thought—but harmless.

With a deep, content sigh, you leaned back again, the warmth of the sun and the rhythm of the waves slowly pulling you under.

And somewhere between the breeze and the quiet, you didn’t notice when your eyes finally closed.

By the time you woke up, it was already sunset.

The bottle of wine beside you was empty, and the small group that had been next to you earlier was gone. The sea breeze had turned cooler now—soft and comforting...while the sound of waves blended with the distant chatter of guests still enjoying the evening.

You stretched lightly and sat up.

Some people were still dancing, some chatting, others taking pictures against the fading orange sky. You still had a few hours left before the yacht returned to shore.

Grabbing your leftover chips and the empty bottle of wine, you frowned when something small caught your attention beside your bag.

A paper.

Leaning in slightly, you picked it up—and realized it was a calling card.

Song Hobeom +82 873 489 **** [email protected]

“Who the fuck is this?”

Looking around, you didn’t see the group of Koreans anymore. You assumed the calling card must’ve come from them, especially given the Korean name and number printed on it.

Still… you were confused. Why would he leave his calling card?

Walking slowly along the yacht, you felt a slight dizziness from the wine lingering in your system. You tossed the empty chip bag and bottle aside, your eyes still scanning the space for any sign of the group you had seen earlier. The air had turned colder now, your short dress offering little protection against the breeze brushing against your skin.

Curiosity got the better of you—and maybe the alcohol gave you just enough courage.

You decided to dial the number.

“Yoboseyo?” a deep voice answered.

You swallowed. “Hello? I-Is this Song Hobeom?”

A brief sigh came through the line. “Yes?”

Confusion crept in when he didn’t immediately recognize you as the person from the sun lounger. You hesitated for a moment. Did he really hand out his calling card just like that?

“Uh, I was the one sitting on the sun lounger by the main deck. I think you left your calling card at my table?” you said, biting your lip as nerves slowly settled in.

You had no idea what he wanted—and yet here you were, calling him back.

“Oh, right. Thank you for calling back, ma’am. May I know when you are free? I would like to discuss something with you.” he said in a formal tone.

Huh?

Confusion was written all over your face.

You walked towards the bow of the yacht, trying to escape the soft music and distant chatter, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“Uhm… may I know what for? This is a bit confusing.” You looked around again, but there was still no trace of the group from earlier. They must’ve already left.

“It is a bit confidential, ma’am. But don’t worry, I will give you a short background once we meet.”

You groaned under your breath. “I’m sorry, but can’t you just tell me this over the phone?”

You didn’t want to sound rude, but you didn’t know this man. It was already strange enough that he wanted to meet in person to “discuss something.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we may need to discuss this face-to-face to ensure the call is not being recorded. If you prefer, you may set the time and place.” he said formally.

What the actual fuck.

You rolled your eyes. This was bullshit—it sounded like a scam. Some foreign guy trying to trick people before disappearing back to his country.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested. Thank you.”

You ended the call immediately.

You weren’t stupid enough to meet a stranger like that. You had only been curious, nothing more—but the moment he refused to explain anything over the phone, something in you clicked.

Suspicion.

And you weren’t taking that chance.

You were about to walk back to the main deck when your phone beeped with a new message. You thought it was Mina, but the moment you recognized the country code, you immediately rolled your eyes.

What does he want?

You instantly regret calling his number. Opening the message, you saw that he had sent a file.

“I swear if this has a virus,” you mumbled.

You were about to tap it when another message came in.

Song Hobeom: The file can only be viewed once. Any form of screenshot or screen recording will be detected and notified. Please contact me again if you wish to proceed after reading the contract.

Song Hobeom: Please do not share this file or inform anyone about this matter. This is strictly confidential. Thank you.

Fucking hell?

You snorted softly, finding his messages almost ridiculous. It sounded like a joke—like he genuinely believed you’d get “in trouble” for forwarding whatever this was.

With a small smirk, you already decided you’d tell Mina about it later. You were definitely not falling for some scam. You’d open it, see whatever nonsense it was, and then block him right after.

With a sheepish grin, you tapped the file anyway… your heart giving a small, restless thump as the screen began to load.

What if it’s a jump scare?

Your brows slowly furrowed when the title finally appeared in bold capital letters:

NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT

What?

You quickly scanned the document, reading faster and faster—until your eyes landed on a name that made your heart jolt.

“W-What the actual fuck?!” you gasped in shock. A few people turned to look at you, but you didn’t care. Your attention was completely locked on your phone.

You were starting to hyperventilate. You wanted to close it, to breathe, to think—but it was a view-once file. Your hands trembled as the alcohol from earlier wore off almost instantly, replaced by something sharper.

“This is not real… no freaking way,” you whispered weakly, quickly texting him back with shaking fingers.

No second thoughts—you typed immediately, afraid he might block you or change his mind.

You: I am free tomorrow at around 1 PM. Let’s meet by the coast area near the bar.

Song Hobeom: Noted, ma’am. Thank you for cooperating.

-

You never thought you would find yourself in a situation like this.

You chose a spot with very few people around. It was a nice sunny day, but your face already felt warm—nervous, alert, almost buzzing with anticipation.

Wearing a white floral dress, brown strappy sandals, and sunglasses, you called Mina beforehand and told her you’d be skipping the snorkeling activity for the day. You wanted to tell her the truth, but she didn’t question it when you said you just wanted to swim and relax by the ocean instead.

She told you she wouldn’t be back for tonight, giggling about the cute guy she had met. She kept talking, but your mind was elsewhere the entire time.

Honestly, you were relieved she wouldn’t be back soon. Given the terms written in the file, you needed time alone.

Or this opportunity—whatever it really was—might slip right through your fingers.

“Are you listening to me? You’re like… spacing out, girl!” Mina chuckled.

Your face immediately heated up. “Oh! A-Am I? I was just thinking about buying this merch, and it’s a bit expensive, so I was wondering if I should buy the whole set or just Jungkook’s edition.” you rambled quickly.

Mina laughed, shaking her head. “Just buy it all! Gosh! Anyways, so I went to this island…”

You bit your lip, she believed it.

She continued ranting, and you did your best to follow along, nodding at the right moments, forcing yourself to stay present. You had to hide this—or you’d be screwed.

“Do you want to order, ma’am?”

You looked up at the waiter and nearly froze when, for a split second, you thought it was Song Hobeom standing in front of you.

You were thirty minutes early.

Last night, you hadn’t slept at all...spending hours searching for the man behind the calling card. And what you found had hit you like a truck.

He wasn’t just some random foreign stranger.

He was BTS’s manager.

The weight of the NDA had settled in slowly at first… then all at once.

The same Song Hobeom you had seen on the yacht… was the same man now appearing across articles and videos all over the internet.

“No, thank you. I’ll order later,” you politely declined. You didn’t think you could eat or drink anything at this point.

The waiter nodded and left you alone.

You let out a quiet sigh, glancing at your phone to check the time. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to steady your breathing—you couldn’t afford to panic right now.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

The familiar deep voice made your eyes snap open.

He was finally here.

He approached in a composed, almost professional manner, as if this were a business meeting rather than something that had your entire morning spiraling. Black shirt, gray board shorts and black shades.

Your gaze narrowed slightly when you noticed the large iPad and brown envelope in his hands.

You immediately stood up, quickly straightening your dress before offering your hand.

“G-Good day, uh… h-have a seat, please.” you gestured, waiting until he sat down before you did.

“Have you eaten, Ms…?” he asked, pausing as if waiting for your full name.

“Oh, it’s Y/N L/N. I a-already had lunch,” you stammered, your heart racing as you finally introduced yourself.

He smiled and nodded. “That’s good to hear. I’m Song Hobeom, the manager of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

He opened the brown envelope and showed you its contents. Like a startled kitten, you carefully took the papers.

“Have you read the file I sent you?” he asked casually, while opening his iPad.

You immediately nodded. “Y-Yes, uh… but I only scanned it quickly.”

It was true—you had replied almost instantly because you were scared he might unsend it or take it back.

He nodded. “Alright. Let me explain this to you thoroughly. Before proceeding, we require a Non-Disclosure Agreement to protect the privacy and safety of our artist. This agreement simply means that any information you may see, hear, or experience during your time with us—such as the artist’s location, conversations, or personal details—must remain confidential and cannot be shared with others, posted online, or discussed publicly,” he said in a formal, business-like tone.

You nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, I didn’t tell anyone!” you replied immediately.

He gave another nod, turning the iPad towards you to display the contract details. Then he began walking you through each section, one by one, in calm, structured explanations.

“Ms. Y/N, the NDA does not take away your rights or force you to do anything. It only ensures mutual privacy,” he stated, and you found yourself listening closely, agreeing more than questioning. The moment you had texted back was already a sign—you had chosen to proceed.

“Once signed, the confidentiality rules will remain in effect for the period stated in the document, and breaking the agreement could result in legal consequences.”

“I understand! I-I have researched how NDAs work as well.”

You bit your lip the moment you said it, suddenly realizing how desperate you sounded. You wanted to ask so many questions—why you, of all people, why this situation had landed in your lap—but you were too focused, too eager to get to the part that mattered most now.

Signing that damn contract. That was your priority.

“Good. If you have any questions or concerns, I want you to feel comfortable asking before signing—”

“No questions! I’ll s-sign,” you blurted out, cheeks warming as excitement slipped through your tone.

Mr. Song chuckled lightly and nodded before handing you an expensive-looking pen.

“Alright, please double-check the terms and conditions. Take your time, Ms. Y/N.”

But you didn’t.

Before you even properly reread the contract, you signed it...like your life depended on it. A shy, almost embarrassed smile formed on your lips as you finished.

He looked amused, like this wasn’t his first time seeing this reaction. As if he was already familiar with how quickly people surrendered to these documents.

Then he handed you the iPad for another copy.

Scrolling quickly, you signed again without hesitation.

Your eyes flickered over your own name—and then, for a brief second, your heart stuttered when you saw the name of the artist involved.

Jeon Jungkook.

Mr. Song explained the terms and conditions again. You listened eagerly, a little calmer now that you had finally secured the contract.

“Thank you for signing, Ms. Y/N. Please remember to keep everything discussed and experienced confidential as agreed,” he said with a polite smile, handing you another calling card. “Mr. Jeon will be the one to contact you directly after this for any further coordination.”

You stared at the calling card—Jungkook’s name and number printed on it—your eyes widening in shock.

This cannot be real.

-

“Ugh! I want to cry!”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, now back in your cottage, pacing in front of it like a maniac.

You had one night. One fucking night with him.

The date stated in the contract was after your vacation ended. You were already stressing about what to tell Mina for extending your stay, what to say to your professors, your parents—because you had clearly told them your trip only lasted until next week.

Jungkook hadn’t contacted you yet. It was still too early. You had no idea if he was even on the island already. The only thing you knew was that you were supposed to meet him in Executive Cottage 3 at 8 PM next week.

You still couldn’t believe it.

You had always thought NDAs were just myths—fantasies spun by fans who imagined idols risking everything for a single private encounter.

Sure, you had heard rumors that things like this might actually happen… but you never thought you would experience it yourself—with your own bias, Jeon Jungkook.

It felt unreal. Worse—or better—than a concert. One-on-one and up close.

Your cheeks warmed at the memory of the agreement, your heart picking up speed at the thought. It almost scared you how much you didn’t want to wake up in case this was all just a dream.

Sometimes you found yourself lightly slapping your cheek, as if reality still refused to fully sink in.

For months, you had been depressed over missing the ticket, and now—out of nowhere...you had the opportunity, the privilege, to meet your bias in private.

Now it made sense.

It was their last concert. Their managers were staying here to rest… and for what? To arrange potential NDAs?

Last night, after Mina’s call, you had spent hours deep in research—so deep it felt less like curiosity and more like you were preparing a thesis you somehow needed to defend. You searched everything: how NDAs worked, how participants were chosen, what would happen if you told someone, and a dozen other questions that only made your head spin the longer you read.

There was no hesitation anymore.

The moment you confirmed that Song Hobeom was actually their legitimate manager, something in you fully locked in. Any lingering doubt that the contract might be fake...or some elaborate prank—disappeared instantly.

It was real, and you had already signed it.

Your excitement had gone through the roof.

Even though you wanted to tell Mina so badly, your eagerness to meet Jungkook was far stronger. You couldn’t risk it.

“Huh? Why?” Mina questioned when she returned the next day and you immediately told her about extending your stay.

“I just want to relax more, you know… I didn’t realize the sea was this calming,” you smiled, trying to sound convincing.

You and Mina were now getting ready for the snorkeling activity. After dinner, you had decided you would break the news properly.

“Are you lying to me?” Mina raised a brow.

You went pale. “N-No, I j-just really wanted to sta—”

“You met a cute guy, didn’t you?” Mina accused, squinting at you.

You blinked, caught completely off guard by her conclusion. She knew you weren’t the type to extend a trip like this—especially with school starting next week—unless, of course, it was for BTS.

Or a cute guy.

“W-Well…”

Mina giggled. “Ha! That’s why we’re besties!”

Maybe a little white lie wasn’t so bad.

Mina told you she couldn’t extend her stay anyway since she had a presentation due next week. Even though she wanted to stay longer, you reassured her you’d be fine—and that you just wanted some alone time with your “cute guy.”

Yeah...cute guy.

-

The following days felt like a whirlwind. You enjoyed your last activities with Mina, all while quietly trying to keep it together every time the agreement flashed back into your mind and sent your thoughts spiraling.

When the last day came, you practically rushed Mina into the van just to get a proper goodbye out before she left.

Tomorrow was finally the day.

And yet, Jungkook still hadn’t contacted you.

The day before, you had already gone through a medical examination—another requirement of the NDA. You were honestly surprised at how professional it all was, how organized everything felt despite how unreal the situation still seemed in your head.

It was almost ridiculous how seriously you had started taking everything.

You shaved your entire body. Scrubbed yourself religiously every night. Applied lotion more than usual. Even started doing small morning workouts after meals, as if preparation alone could somehow calm your nerves.

“Hi, Jungkookie!” you practiced in front of the mirror, batting your eyelashes.

“Fuck! Why did I do that?” you immediately cringed, shaking your head.

You tried again, this time forcing a different tone.

“So… how was the concert?”

“I’m honored to be chosen.”

“Do I just lay here?”

“I love you. You’re my everything.”

You groaned and covered your face completely.

You had no idea what to expect. The thought of meeting Jungkook was overwhelming in every possible way—like your brain couldn’t decide whether to freeze, panic, or completely shut down.

And honestly, you were starting to worry you might faint… or embarrass yourself beyond recovery the moment it actually happened.

The contract stated “private meeting,” and you weren’t exactly Sherlock, so it wasn’t hard to conclude that it involves fucking. Especially considering they required a medical examination—surely not for a simple chat.

You almost screamed when your phone beeped with a message.

Jungkook: Hi Y/N, see you tomorrow at 8!

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” you jumped onto your bed, staring at the text like it wasn’t real.

His message was so casual, completely different from the formal, business-like tone Song Hobeom used. It almost made it feel even more surreal.

“What should I reply… oh my gosh.”

You bit your lip, carefully choosing your words so you wouldn’t mess anything up.

You: See you, Kookie!

-

The cottage was larger than yours...an executive unit reserved for upper-class guests—with soft ambient lighting, a private veranda, a small plunge pool, a carefully kept garden, a few hammocks swaying gently in the breeze, and direct access to the beach.

This area felt different, tucked away from the other cottages scattered across the busy island.

You had expected to be guided by bodyguards, but there was no one. No visible security, no presence at all. It felt intentional—like the meeting was meant to be so private that even protection would disrupt it.

Wearing a lilac wrap dress, white glittery doll shoes, and your hair curled neatly at the ends, you slowly made your way towards the cottage.

Your fingers hesitated before pressing the keycard Mr. Song had given you last week. The soft beep that followed made your nerves spike instantly—a quiet confirmation that you had arrived, and that you were allowed inside.

Once the door opened, you stepped in.

You were immediately met with a spacious bedroom featuring a king-sized bed, a lounge area, a large wooden door that likely led to the bathroom, and wide tinted windows with sliding doors that opened directly to a full view of the sea.

You stood there for a moment, taking it all in with wide eyes.

Carefully, you placed your bag beside the bed and began walking around the space, your curiosity slowly building. On the table, you noticed a selection of pastries and a neatly arranged meal set waiting, untouched.

“Hey.”

You gasped, your eyes snapping towards the bathroom door as the man you only saw on screens stepped out.

Jungkook wore nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp, droplets of water trailing down his neck and collarbones as he ran a smaller towel through his hair.

Your lips parted slightly. Fuck.

He walked toward the coffee table first, casually lifting the silver cloche to check the prepared dinner as if nothing about this moment carried any weight at all.

But for you, everything had just short-circuited.

Jungkook—right there in front of you...breathing the same fucking air.

You had seen him countless times on screens, in edited clips and fan videos—but none of that had prepared you for this. In person, his presence felt heavier, more grounded. His frame looked broader, more defined. The tattoos you had only ever glimpsed before were now fully visible under the soft lighting, detailed and striking in a way that made your thoughts scatter instantly.

Even his voice—when he spoke...carried a calm, effortless depth that made your mind go blank before it could catch up.

All the lines you had practiced disappeared completely.

You were speechless.

You couldn’t believe he was real.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, turning towards you while still holding the cloche.

Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You stood near the couch like you’d been rooted in place, completely caught off guard.

A quiet chuckle left him as he noticed your reaction. He set the lid back down and began walking towards you.

Your breath hitched when he closed the distance. His fresh scent—clean, minty, just out of the shower—wrapped around you, sharpening your senses in an instant.

“Relax,” Jungkook said softly, his tone calm and steady as he gently placed a hand on your arm.

Warmth spread through your skin immediately, like your body had finally registered his presence all at once.

You nodded too quickly, blinking as if that could reset your brain. Your heart was pounding so hard you were convinced it had to be audible.

Jungkook smiled slightly, looking down at you. “Hmm, look at me.” he said when you kept avoiding eye contact.

You tried—but the moment your eyes lifted, you almost froze again.

Dark doe eyes met yours, steady and unreadable, holding you in place. His right hand lifted your chin just as you instinctively tried to look away again.

“Sit down on the couch for me, mhm?” he said gently, guiding you down with an easy, controlled calm.

You were so nervous, looking up at him like a shy deer. All the conversations you had prepared were completely forgotten—you were mentally blocked.

Jungkook tilted his head at you, still standing as he looked down at your form. “You okay, pretty girl?”

Your cheeks turned crimson at the compliment, and you nodded again like you had lost your voice.

Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to get to your eye level. “Talk to me, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“H-Hi,” you said in a small voice, almost choking on the words.

“Hmm, louder.” Jungkook whispered, raising a brow at you.

You gulped harshly, squeezing your own hands in nervousness. “H-Hi, Jungkook. Nice to meet you.” you said, a little clearer this time.

Jungkook smiled, sitting beside you. “There you go. Good job, baby.” he praised. “So polite.”

You smiled back shyly, your breath hitching when he took your hands—hands you hadn’t even realized you were squeezing so tightly.

“Baby, you’ll hurt yourself doing that…” he said gently, holding your hands and lightly tracing over the faint marks you had left on your skin.

“O-Oh, uhm…”

“Do you want to eat first? What do you want to do?” he asked softly, studying your nervous expression.

He was so calm, so composed, so sweet—it made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You bit your lip under his attention, suddenly hyper-aware of every small movement you made.

His gaze briefly dropped to your lips. He swallowed subtly, something shifting in his expression for just a moment before he looked back up at you again.

“W-Whatever y-you want to do…”

Jungkook raised a brow at you, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes…”

Jungkook straightened up, his gaze briefly dropping over your short dress, lingering for a moment before he looked back at the table.

“There’s a bunch of pastries you might want to try. Do you like sweets?” he said softly, opening the glass lids of the desserts in front of you.

You smiled shyly, eyes shifting towards the neatly arranged food. “Yes, I like c-cookies.”

Jungkook smiled, reaching for the tray of cookies with different flavors—chocolate chip, walnut, matcha, red velvet, and more you couldn’t even name at a glance.

You kept your eyes fixed on the cookies, forcing yourself not to look at him, especially with how near he was.

“I’ve tried walnut and matcha,” he said, pointing at a few of them.

You pouted and picked the flavor he suggested. He smiled when you chose the matcha, carefully placing the tray back down on the table.

“Do you want milk?” he asked, pointing at the bottle beside the pastries.

You nodded, taking a small bite while he poured a glass for you.

“Thank you…” you said with a shy smile.

He smiled back and stood up to get dressed while you focused on eating the cookies. When he came back, he was wearing a white shirt and black comfy shorts. He sat beside you and took a cookie for himself as well.

Jungkook was patient, sweet, and gentle with you. He occasionally asked about your hobbies, your likes, your favorite food, and small details that only your parents and Mina usually knew.

With a soft, hesitant voice, you slowly opened up—talking about how you became a BTS fan, how long you had followed them, and how much you liked him.

He listened closely, never interrupting, only asking follow-up questions like he was genuinely interested.

His eyes followed your lips whenever you spoke, then shifted to your eyes whenever you looked away. And every time your voice got smaller, he leaned in slightly, as if trying not to miss a single word—especially when you talked about him.

Neither of you mentioned the NDA.

It felt, strangely, like you were simply there to spend time with him.

You honestly thought he wouldn’t talk much, given how shy you were—but Jungkook was unexpectedly patient, giving you space to settle in and feel comfortable around him.

But then

You were giggling about his travel story with Jimin when you noticed his tattooed hands slowly settling around your waist.

“A-And what did he do?” you asked, a little startled.

Jungkook had been talking about some of their personal trips with the members. You were surprised by how open he was with you—the way he spoke during his Weverse lives was exactly the same in person: charming, funny, and easy to talk to.

You hadn’t expected him to answer your small, silly questions, but he was attentive, responding to everything like you had known each other for years. You felt, strangely, at ease.

He pouted slightly, suddenly distracted by the lace ruffles at the hem of your dress, his fingers lightly brushing and playing with them.

“Used all his perfume to spray it on the huge bug.” he chuckled lowly, his eyes still lowered towards your dress.

You giggled, imagining the chaos. “Did the bug get killed?”

Jungkook slowly looked at you, his eyes a little heavy-lidded, his hands still idly playing with the hem of your dress.

“Hmm, no.” he rasped.

Your eyes widened when he pulled you closer, his left arm circling your waist to steady you. His right tattooed hand lifted both your legs across his lap.

“You smell good.” he murmured closely, fingers now toying with the ribbons of your wrap dress.

You gulped harshly, your hands resting awkwardly on his arm for balance. Up close, he could see the details of your makeup—light glitter dusted across your cheeks and eyelids, pink gloss on your lips, a soft blush deepening from warmth, and lashes curled with a hint of mascara.

He lifted a loose strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear, then let his fingers trail lightly along your cheek.

“You dolled up for me?” he said lightly, tilting his head.

His tone had shifted—less careful now, more playful… almost teasing.

“Y-Yes… do you like it?” you asked shyly. It had taken you hours to finish your makeup, hours to pick a dress and style your hair. You were almost embarrassed when you saw that he looked so fresh and handsome after the shower, while you had taken an eternity to get ready.

Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek. He held your face with one hand, almost squishing both of your cheeks. His touch was gentle, but the way he tilted your head to examine your face made you feel weird.

Made you feel wet.

“I do,” he said lowly. “I like the glitters.”

You smiled, a bit more confident now. “Really?” you said happily, leaning a little closer to him. “Matches my doll shoes right?” You moved your toes up and down.

Jungkook nodded, his lazy eyes staring at you, then down at your dress. His hands traced slow circles on your bare thighs, making you tingly.

“I noticed something though…”

“Hmm, what?” you tilted your head curiously.

He pouted. “Your dress has no glitters, babygirl.” He slightly held the end of your dress, as if examining the texture.

You pouted. “Yeah…” You looked down. “B-But—”

Your thoughts were interrupted when he softly kissed your cheek.

“Hmm…” He slowly held the ribbons of your dress, and with one hand, he untied the knot.

“W-Wait—” you gasped, eyes widening when you saw what he was doing.

“It has no glitters, baby… doesn't match your pretty little shoes and makeup." he said in a mocking tone, removing your dress from your shoulders.

“Jungkook…” you said softly, cheeks growing hot under his gaze.

Licking his lower lip, his gaze dropped to your body.

The soft swell of your breasts was hugged perfectly by the white bra you were wearing, matching the delicate fabric of your panties. The small white ribbon resting between your breasts and the top of your underwear caught his attention—something so simple, yet enough to make his cock tighten.

You looked… soft, so pretty, too cute. Ready to be ruined by him.

His hands slowly moved to the straps of your bra “Oh baby…” he said in a cooing tone. “This doesn’t have glitters as well.” He said it like it was a problem. His fingers hooked onto the straps before pulling them away from your skin—only to let them snap back in place, the sting blooming lightly against you.

You were speechless. The way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, the way he played with you—it made your body heat up, a quiet rush of warmth settling low in your stomach.

Your instinct was to cover yourself, but the way he raised a brow at you made you hesitate, a shiver running through you instead. You blinked slowly, caught between nerves and awareness you couldn’t quite name.

“Jungkook, t-this is embarrassing.” you said in a small voice.

You thought you could be confident—years of reading fanfictions had convinced you of that. You were certain you could fuck him better, that you could show him what you were capable of. Make him feel good. Please him. Make him happy.

You had been so sure of yourself...so full of it, even—thinking you could give him the best night of his life.

But the moment he touched you, your mind went completely blank. All rational thoughts slipped away, leaving you flustered and unsure of yourself, shrinking back into a shy, overwhelmed version of you.

Jungkook chuckled sarcastically. You gasped when he suddenly pulled your hair, his lips reaching under your ear to whisper.

“You signed up for this, didn’t you?” he rasped, his lips grazing your earlobe.

You squealed, his dominance eating you alive. His sweet, teasing tone was gone; the way he pulled your hair closer made you shiver.

“Y-Yes,” you bit your lip. You felt his lips move down your neck, his hot breath tickling you.

“Hmm… do you want me to elaborate on what we’re doing here?” he said in a tone like he was talking to a child. You gasped when he slightly bit your neck.

“Sorry, I was j-just—”

He removed your bra quickly, tossing it somewhere before his fingers grazed near the swell of your breast, teasing you.

“Use your pretty little brain, baby, come on…” he said harshly, suddenly pinching your nipples, making you whimper.

Jungkook raised his head to look at you, his pupils dilated. The way he swallowed harshly when he saw your round breast and pink nipples made him leak.

“Do you know…” he whispered under your ear. “How bad…” He slightly slapped your nipple, soothing it afterward by rolling it gently between his fingers. “I wanted to fuck you?”

“J-Jungkook-”

“Look at you… you’ll let me do whatever I want, right?”

You shut your eyes tightly…followed by a slow nod, stunned by his words and actions.

He raised a brow, eyes dropping to your nipples. Your vision almost slipped when he suddenly spat on them, using his fingers to spread it over your breast.

“Yeah? You’ll let me use you?” he said in a low voice, his hands now trailing down the garters of your underwear. “Like a pretty little, sparkly slut that your are.’’

You knew what he wanted...it had been clear from the very beginning. It had already been hours, and you were still shy and hesitant. You wanted this too, but you were scared to make the first move, scared to say or do something that might turn him off.

He, on the other hand, had been patient from the start—letting you settle in, letting you eat, letting you relax, asking you what you wanted, giving you time without rushing you.

You didn’t realize the way his eyes darkened the moment you entered his room—the way they wandered down the valley of your breasts, the way they roamed over your dress that hugged your curves— showing the swell of your hips, the way his gaze followed the pout of your lips. The way your cute little glitters and doll shoes made you look like a proper little slut for him to use.

It’s been more than a year.

Jungkook had been busy with tour, with the group’s latest comeback. He had been working endlessly—promoting their new songs, filming content for a variety of brands, updating his Instagram and TikTok daily for ARMYs, practicing nonstop to show his best on tour. His schedule had been packed for over a year since their comeback.

Now that the tour had finally come to an end, it was his time to relax and unwind.

Jungkook’s stamina was unreal. Despite his busy schedule, there were times he would ask his manager to arrange private, strictly confidential meetings through NDAs.

Unfortunately, their latest tour had been much bigger, making it harder for his manager to coordinate anything outside of his packed schedule. Because of that, for the past months, Jungkook had been letting all of his sexual frustrations by himself.

It started in 2017. At first, he was the one personally choosing and approving everything himself, but after a few years—once his fame and schedule became even more intense—his manager took over the process. It became less personal and more structured, handled carefully behind the scenes.

With his level of fame, everything had to be treated with strict confidentiality and formal documentation.

For years, all the NDAs Jungkook had been involved with stayed quiet—carefully kept private, out of fear of the consequences, but also lingering with the hope of another night with him.

He was a man, after all. With his busy schedule and global fame, there was no room for commitment or long-term relationships. Everything in his life moved too fast, too publicly, too tightly controlled.

Because of that, he relied on brief, private arrangements...carefully managed and kept out of the public eye—to relieve stress and maintain some sense of personal balance amid his packed schedule.

It was almost like something carefully curated over time. He didn’t have a specific type, but his manager knew him well enough to anticipate what he was comfortable with. Over the years, everything had become more structured—quiet introductions, formal agreements, and strict confidentiality before anything could proceed.

After the tour, Jungkook had been particularly insistent on arranging an NDA soon. The long schedule and constant pressure had built up, and he needed a way to release the pent up sexual frustration.

When the team decided to extend their stay in the country after the final stop, his manager quietly began looking into possible private, strictly confidential arrangements handled under NDAs.

It wasn’t urgent—more of a routine precaution when they had extended time in one location. In most cases, it was beneficial if the person involved was already an ARMY, since familiarity with boundaries and expectations made things easier. Over time, most of the people who signed were fans in one way or another, while others were simply individuals who happened to be in the right place at the right time and agreed to the confidentiality terms.

Jungkook himself rarely interfered with the process. He trusted his manager to handle the details, especially during tours and rare breaks when privacy mattered more than anything else. The goal was simple: rest, recovery, and avoiding unnecessary exposure.

That was why his manager moved discreetly when he saw you—subtly noting your presence, your behavior, and your isolation from the crowd before eventually placing a small calling card on your table.

When Jungkook saw you standing in front of him, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, all his rational thoughts slipped away for a moment. You looked so sweet, ready to be used.

Jungkook was unbearably horny.

He wasn’t the type to extend another night, even with a potential NDA—but he was the type who wouldn’t stop fucking you once you stepped into his space. The kind who fucked hard. The kind who took control and dominated you without hesitation. The kind who would leave marks—bruises that lingered long after the night ended. Whether you were the shy type or the bold type, you would fold once he touches you, once he pulls your hair and manoeuvres your body to his own liking.

He’s mean when he fucks, praising you in a degrading way… though he would always start off sweet, to ease the tension, with his usual kind self and bunny smiles.

But, afterwards?

He would fuck you like a dirty whore, play with you like a little toy, use you like a cum dump.

When he noticed how hesitant and vulnerable you were, he took the lead by making sure you were comfortable at first. But his patience was running thin. Your sweet scent engulfed his senses—your soft voice and small giggles, your shy smile and twinkling eyes—it all made his cock twitch.

It had been months—too long without a proper release. At first, he wanted to take his sweet time with you, but your hesitance and shy demeanor were driving him crazy. Jungkook wanted to bend you over and fuck your unused holes, wanted to wrap his hands around your neck, wanted to fuck your pretty mouth until you were gagging and crying for him, wanted to feel your warm pussy wrapped around him until he could no longer think straight.

He forcefully ripped your underwear, leaving red marks on your thighs. Your body was now fully exposed to him.

“Pretty girl,” he mused, when his gaze dropped at your pussy, you instinctively closed your legs.

He gripped your thighs, forcing them open so he could look at your cunt. “Pretty little pussy.” he whispered, staring at your cunt with a faint shine visible from your wetness. “Acting so shy yet your pussy is soaking.”

“Jungkook, p-please…” you pleaded, slightly moving your legs.

“Aww, a few moments ago you wouldn’t let me see you. Now you’re pleading, hmm?” he cooed.

Your breath hitched when his index finger traced the slit of your cunt, gathering your juices.

“Oh, t-that’s—” you whimpered. 

You were long gone.

He was making you so wet and turned on. Not that you weren’t already—your shyness was already getting the best of you—but the moment he took the lead, whatever composure you had left began to slip away. Your thoughts scattered, your attention narrowing to him alone, your body reacting in a way that made you feel both overwhelmed and helplessly aware of him.

Your eyes widened when he licked the finger that had gathered your wetness, staring at you while his tongue rolled over it.

“Hmm, you taste so good.” his finger, now wet with saliva, went back down your cunt to gather your juices again, bringing it to his mouth to taste it once more.

“Do you taste yourself?” 

“N-No, I haven’t,” you admitted shyly.

He placed his wet finger on your lip. “Open,” he said sharply, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You slowly opened your mouth, his finger immediately sliding in so you could taste yourself. 

“That’s it… twirl your tongue, baby.” You obediently twirled your tongue around his finger, your saliva dripping down his hand messily. His cock twitched at the sight, he pulled his finger from your mouth with a soft pop.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs.” slapping your thigh lightly to urge you up.

You were almost dizzy, his words barely registering in your mind… you stood up, almost stumbling, but Jungkook caught your waist firmly.

“Careful, baby.” he chuckled lowly, your cheeks heating up in response.

Your legs felt weak as you made your way to the bed, Jungkook following behind. When you bent down to remove your doll shoes, he held your arm to stop you.

“Leave them.”

“O-Okay,” your brows furrowed, slowly sitting on the bed with your doll shoes still on.

Jungkook raised a brow at you. “Raise your legs on the bed.”

“But my shoes…” you pouted.

Jungkook chuckled, crouching down to level with your face. “It has glitters, baby. No need to remove it.”

You blinked slowly, the realization settling in as you recalled his earlier comment about your dress and undergarments not having any glitter details.

Raising your feet, you let your doll shoes rest on the mattress. Your legs were folded as you adjusted yourself, your wet cunt fully exposed under his gaze.

Jungkook’s hand moved absently over his shorts as he looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his attention fixed on your wet pussy. “Spread wider, baby. Hold your ankles for me.”

You spread your legs wider, holding your ankles, making yourself open for him. Your juices leaked down onto the mattress, giving him a clear view. Your cheeks and neck turned red from what you were doing for him.

“That’s it, wider.” he groaned, removing his shirt and shorts in one go. Your arms almost gave out when you saw him naked in front of you.

He was so huge—his cock red and veiny, precum leaking from the tip, his hand gripping himself, rolling the foreskin, pumping more wetness onto his mushroom head.

Jungkook moved closer, looking down at your cunt while palming himself shamelessly. “Do you like how I touch my cock?’’

You whimpered when his other hand went down to you, his middle finger sliding into your hole easily. The wet squelching sound filled the room.

“Slut,” he whispered. 

Using your wetness, he spread it around his cock like lubricant, mixing it with his precum. “You’re so wet baby, my good little whore.”

You whined, your arms growing tired from the position. When you tried to let go of your ankles, Jungkook slapped your pussy.

“Keep them open,” he said harshly, squeezing his cock tighter, releasing more precum at the tip. 

“Let me see your pretty holes, yeah?” His cheeks hollowed as he gathered saliva and spat onto your exposed cunt, letting it drip inside your wanting hole.

“Jungkook, p-please… I can’t anymore,” you whined, your body clenching around nothing. You wanted him to touch you.

“Shh, be a good doll and stay still, yeah?” he groaned, spitting down on his cock, spreading it along his shaft as he pumped faster while looking at you.

It was so overwhelming—the way he looked at you while touching himself made you so wet.

“P-Please, t-touch me.” you pleaded, your eyes glossy with need, whining when you felt more of your juices spill onto the bed.

Jungkook groaned, “Be a good fucking slut and watch me touch my cock.”

It was obscenely dirty—watching him touch his cock so fast, his gaze locked on your pussy. Every now and then, he’d gather your slick with his fingers, spreading it along his length, making himself even wetter, even more desperate.

And just when it looked like he was about to cum—he stopped.

His hand tightened around the tip, squeezing just enough to hold himself back, dragging the moment out, edging himself with a restraint that only made it worse.

“Fuck!” he quickly kneeled down in front of you, his face now very close to your pussy. When you looked down, your eyes fluttered when you saw him staring closely at your twitching hole.

“You look so tight,” he groaned, his finger tracing your cunt lightly.

“Koo…” you moaned, already shaking from the contact.

He kissed your inner thigh, occasionally biting the soft skin to leave marks. When you were already getting too whiny, he leaned in closer, his tongue pushing inside you.

“Oh, Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, the feeling of his hot tongue inside your hole making you quiver. He was pushing his tongue so deep, like he wanted to collect all your juices.

“Mhm,” he moaned, the vibration giving soft pulses down your clit. He collected all your juices, sucking them as much as possible, going deeper and deeper just to spit it right back up on your swollen clit.

“Oh my gosh—” you whimpered. He was making you as messy as possible. When he wrapped his lips around your clit to suck, you almost saw stars from the pleasure, the sensation pulsating through your whole body making you roll your eyes back.

“You like that?” he murmured while sucking your clit, his tatted finger going inside your hole, releasing more juices from you.

You nodded almost instantly, holding your ankle tighter. When he nipped harshly on your clit, you almost dropped your legs, shaking from how good his lips and tongue felt. He looked up at you, still sucking your clit while inserting another finger inside you, instantly brushing your sensitive spot.

The way his middle and ring finger brushed your g-spot made your clit pulse. With the pressure of his lips around your clit, you were close to cumming.

“Jungkook, I-I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead baby, wanna eat your cum,” he whispered against your cunt, sucking harder, his fingers moving aggressively inside you.

You were shaking. When you felt your high building, you almost pushed him away, letting go of your ankles to grip his hair.

“Jungkook! S-Stop,” you pleaded weakly. The pleasure was too much, too intense. His pace did not falter, his hand pressing your lower stomach down.

When he removed his fingers, you thought he was done, but he immediately rubbed your clit in circles, spitting down on your hood while holding your wriggling body in place.

You moaned loudly… his fingers, his mouth, his spit—all of it pushed you over the edge. You came so hard you almost fainted. 

He still didn’t stop- you were overstimulated, trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t let you, drawing more release out of you. The pressure of his fingers dragged you into another climax, making you squirt messily around him, splashing his face, his neck, his body.

“S-stop, please Koo…” you cried, shaking uncontrollably as you squirted again. His fingers still didn’t stop. His dark eyes stayed fixed on your swollen pussy, amusement etched across his face.

“Messy girl, good job baby.” he cooed, giving your pussy a light slap to coax out the remaining slick.

Your cheeks were wet with tears, your body weak from orgasm. He leaned down, holding your cheeks gently to make you look at him.

“Poor baby, let me wipe your tears, hmm?”

He leaned down, licking your tears slowly, his hot tongue dragging wetly across your cheeks.

You whimpered, your body barely holding itself together. His lips moved down to your nipple, sucking the hard bud softly, while his other hand caressed your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipples.

His throbbing cock grinds against your spent pussy, his swollen tip smearing messily against your slit, spreading his precum all over your cunt.

“Koo…” you said softly, still tired and hazy from your release.

His mouth moved to your other nipple, his teeth tugging slightly, making you gasp. You were certain you would have bruises—the way he sucked your nipple mirrored how he had sucked your clit, lingering just enough to draw a reaction, coating it in spit before taking it fully into his mouth.

“Baby, can you feel how hard I am for you?” he whispered, his cock grinding slowly against your wet pussy, his tip brushing your clit… making you wetter again. “Do you know how long I wanted to fuck a nice warm pussy?” He grabbed your neck, your lips parting instinctively. He took the chance to spit into your mouth, leaning down to slip his tongue in messily, swallowing your moans and protests. His grip tightened each time you whimpered.

“Been touching my hard cock for months baby,” His movements were slow, deliberate—drawing arousal back into your body. “Need your tight pussy so bad.” The way he rolled his hips against you, the way he silenced you with his tongue so no protests could leave your mouth.

“You wanted this?” he groaned against your lips, releasing your neck only to squeeze your breast harshly.

“Ouch, Koo—”

“Answer me,” he said sharply, tapping your right cheek.

“I w-want this,” you said with glossy eyes, small hands gripping his arm tightly.

He tilted his head at you. “Yeah? You wanted to be fucked like a slut don’t you?” he taunted, sitting up to squeeze his cock, teasing himself by twirling his index finger over his tip. “Are you a slut? hmm?”

You nodded weakly. “Would do anything for y-you.’’ you said shyly.

Jungkook raised a brow, standing up at the edge of the bed. “Come here then, crawl to me.”

It was degrading, the way he treats you like a slut for him to use… yet it makes you wetter, makes you hornier. You crawl towards him like a good whore, looking up at him with pleading, sparkly eyes. Your makeup is ruined, your hair disheveled, your doll shoes still intact, making you look like a ruined sex doll.

“Good girl, now wrap your hands around my cock.” he rasped, holding the base out for you. When your small, shaky hands felt his veiny shaft, you almost came again. It twitched in your grip, hard and flushed red at the tip.

He groaned. “Spit on it, baby. Make it nice and wet for me.”

You spat on his cock, spreading it around the base before moving your hands up and down, rolling the foreskin as you worked him. He moaned loudly, head tipping back, jaw clenched, sweat forming across the expanse of his chest.

“That’s it, what a good little whore.” he praised, caressing your hair.

You tried your best to make him feel good. You raised your other hand, spitting into your palm and spreading it together with his precum.

Jungkook groaned at the sight. Using both of your hands, you made a twisting motion along his length, looking up at him like a good girl.

“I w-want you,” you said with a bit of confidence.

Jungkook cursed under his breath. “Suck my cock.” He slapped your hands away, then pulled your hair, forcing you to take his cock into your mouth. His breath hitched when he felt you gag around him, your nose pressed against his pelvis, your eyes turning watery.

“Take it,” he groaned harshly, guiding your head up and down like you were his personal fleshlight. You tried your best to take him, even though he was so big in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

It was sloppy and nasty. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, tracing the mushroom tip while you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard. Spit and precum was leaking down your chin, your eyes glossy and red, the way you twirled your tongue to trace the veins of his cock made him groan.

“Hands behind your back,” he panted.

You immediately did what he said, your body fully under his control. When he pushed deeper, your face pressed against his pubic hair. You choked, saliva and precum bubbling at the corners of your mouth, you want to tap his leg, the air in your lungs limited.

“You look so pretty with my cock- fuck! I’m gonna cum.” he grunted, keeping you close until you felt the liquid heat spreading inside your throat. He forced you to swallow, keeping your face snug against his pelvis so not a single drop would spill.

When he released your head, you almost collapsed onto the bed. Your eyes were red, your mouth slightly bruised, and your neck ached from the way he had angled your face. Due to exhaustion, you let him maneuver your body, pushing you down and flipping you over.

“Bend over, baby. I’m not done using you.”

He was still hard, giving his cock a few more pumps before guiding it towards your pussy.

“Open your pussy, baby. Be a useful slut and spread yourself for me.”

With weak hands, you reached back to spread yourself for him, opening your folds. Your wetness leaked down your inner thighs.

“Look at you. You just came, yet your pussy already wants more… dripping all over my sheets like a whore.” he said mockingly.

You whimpered. “P-please, f-fuck me.” You were almost crying, your arms tired and your body aching from the position, but you wanted to please him so badly, wanted him to use you till you could no longer take it anymore.

Jungkook chuckled behind you. You thought he would tease you again, but you gasped when he suddenly pushed his cock inside you. Despite your earlier orgasm, the stretch was still painful, making you scream into the sheets.

“You’re so tight, fuck.” he groaned, looking down at his cock getting swallowed by your tight pussy.

He leaned down, pressing your head down further, his cock pushing deeper and deeper, making you squirm in both pleasure and pain.

“Fucking slut, so tight around daddy.” he whispered, your face buried in the sheets.

You clenched around him, whining against the mattress.

“Oh, you like that?” he taunted, pushing deeper until he reached your g-spot.

You could feel every drag of his cock inside you—his veins, his mushroom tip. The stretch was so good you were close to cumming, clenching around him as he fucked you deeper.

“Stop that, baby, I’m gonna cum.” he almost laughed, pulling your hair up so he could see your face. “Want to fuck you for hours, baby. I’m gonna use your tiny hole till daddy can’t release cum anymore. Do you want that?”

You whimpered, “Yes, d-daddy.”

He groaned harshly; the way you called him made him even hornier. He pulled out and shifted down on his side, pulling your body snug against his chest, your back pressed against him. “Keep your legs up,” he whispered, holding his cock and directing it against your leaking hole.

You didn’t expect to be fucked by Jungkook sideways. He held your waist while driving his hard cock into you, your legs spread wide in the air as his lips nipped harshly at your neck.

“Feels so g-good, daddy.” you moaned, your body bouncing slightly from the force of the way he was fucking you.

Jungkook bit your neck, his hands moving down to rub your clit. “Uhuh, daddy’s gonna fill you with so much cum and you’re gonna hold it like a good girl.’’

You moaned, trying to bite your moans back, but Jungkook slapped your clit harshly. “Moan louder,” he groaned, his balls hitting your ass as he pushes his cock all the way out just to push it harder all the way in.

“J-Jungkook.” you moaned, eyes rolling back.

“Louder.”

“Jungkook!” you moaned louder.

“Good girl,” he chuckled behind you, his fingers coming back down to rub your clit again.

You could feel your cum dripping down your thighs, the loud squelching sound of his cock fucking into your pussy and his deep groans pushing you to the edge. When he gave your clit a good rub, you came all over his cock, your pussy clenching around his girth, releasing so much cum. You held his wrist to stop him, your thighs shaking—you were certain you almost drooled from the deep pulses your cunt was producing.

Jungkook groaned behind you. You gasped weakly when he removed himself inside your twitching pussy, your cum leaking onto the mattress, but he immediately lowered his head to catch your cum, wasting no drop.

“I c-cant, too much!” you cried.

Jungkook held your thighs firmly, slurping all your juices like a starved man. When he raised his head, his chin and nose were wet from your arousal. Using both his index fingers, he opened your hood, exposing your puffy clit. He leaned down to suck it, and you gasped when you felt your cum and his warm saliva spreading.

“Oh daddy,” you moaned, another wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

He looked up at you, his tongue giving kitten licks on your clit. “Are you daddy’s good girl?” he murmured against it, his thumb circling the bud, the dual sensation making you lose your mind. “Do you like how daddy eats your pussy?”

“Yes daddy, it f-feels nice.”

“Nice?” Jungkook chuckled, sucking his thumb before rubbing his spit all over your clit. “Is this nice?” he mocked, looking at your bud as it looked so swollen and pink.

“Describe nice for me,” he growled before standing up, carrying you with him. Your thighs wrapped around his waist as he walked beside the large mirror. Using both of his hands, he held your ass and pushed his cock inside your used hole, using almost no strength to lift your body just to push you up and down around his hard cock.

You could see your reflection in the mirror—the way he used your body to pleasure himself, the way his biceps flexed every time he pushed and pulled you against him. He carried you like a feather, your body like a used, fucked-up sex doll.

“Is this… nice?” he mocked you, his lips parted as he looked at your pleasured face. He could feel your juices dripping down his muscular thighs. He chuckled at you. “Too dumb to answer, baby? Is my cock making you feel so good?”

You squealed, gripping his arms tightly as your body bounced up and down. He was going so fast, his hips snapping against you, pushing up while forcing you down, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

“Gonna cum, baby. Would you hold my cum inside like what I taught you?” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his eyes hazy.

“Y-Yes daddy.” 

Jungkook groaned, his hands gripping your ass hard, enough that it hurt. His cock drilled in so deep that you whimpered when he pulled your body close, forcing you down as he spilled all of his warm cum inside you. He groaned beside your ear, biting your neck through his intense orgasm, balls deep and snug against your ass. Your legs were shaking...you felt so full. You tried to move, but his grip was too strong. You could feel all of his cum filling your pussy, and it was so much that you could feel some of it dripping down your legs.

You thought he was done when he removed his cock inside you. Your legs wobbled as he quickly set you down on the bed, his hands palming your pussy as if to keep his cum inside you. Your eyes almost went out of their sockets when you saw that he was still hard.

“Raise your legs,” he rasped, gripping his cock from the base as he spread the cum that was left on his girth.

When you weakly raised your legs, he could see how much cum was inside your pussy, threatening to spill out.

“Touch yourself, push my cum deeper,” he said with serious eyes while staring at your hole.

Your eyes widened. “J-Jungkook, t-thats-”

‘’Come on baby, daddy’s waiting.” 

You gulped harshly. He was slowly rubbing his swollen cock, teasing the tip while waiting for you to move. Your small hand slowly reached down to your hole, pushing his cum deeper, but some of it spilled onto the bed. You tried your best to push it in further, but your past orgasm was still overstimulating you.

“Like this, d-daddy?’’ you said shyly.

Jungkook groaned, staring at his cum in your tight hole. “Good job baby, can you add another finger for me?” 

You added another finger. It was a lot easier to push his cum deeper, but your pussy was getting sensitive. You were whimpering—the fact that he was just staring at you while rubbing his mushroom tip made you chase another high you didn’t even realize was coming. The pad of your fingers brushing against your g-spot with his cum felt so good, forcing you into another mind-blowing orgasm. The fact that you came just from pushing his cum deeper felt so dirty.

“Oh my gosh, I-fuck..” you were convulsing. You removed your fingers, trying to close your thighs shut, but Jungkook held your legs. He quickly inserted his hard cock, you were still pulsating and the feeling of his cock replacing your fingers extended your orgasm, your wet pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock.

“Fuck you feel so good, Daddy didn’t stretch you enough huh? You’re still fucking tight.” he growled, his hips making a rolling motion as his fingers pinched your nipples harshly.

Your tongue was almost out, your pussy still quivering, your clit so sensitive that even the feeling of his pubic hair brushing against it felt incredibly intense.

“Gonna fuck that tight little pussy till your loose, so that everytime you touch yourself your fingers would be too small for your gaping hole.” he grunted, his hands holding both of your wrists above your head, his other hand gripping your throat. He was fucking you so hard that your body was bouncing up. He crouched down to lick your sweaty neck, then moved down to your underarm, licking your sweat messily. You tried to move your arms, but his hold was firm, licking your other underarm and creating a huge wet mess.

“I-I’m close,” you choked, chasing another orgasm, overwhelmed by how many times you had come—you were certain your pussy would be numb after this.

“Hold it, you slut.” he bit the swell of your breast causing you to scream.

He held your body up, then laid down on the bed while holding your waist, placing you on top of him.

“Ride my cock.”

Desperate for release, you positioned your body in front of him, but Jungkook stopped you.

“On your back, babygirl.” he tapped your thighs.

Your cheeks reddened as you positioned your body with your back facing him. When you sank down, you immediately moaned, your ass against his lower stomach. The stretch felt so good, the veins on his cock filling your spongey walls perfectly.

“That’s it, make daddy proud.” he groaned, holding your waist while you moved up and down on him. Your legs were aching, but you didn’t care. When you felt his right tattooed hand slapping your ass, you almost came.

“You look so pretty.” you heard him whisper, his hand caressing your ass, your brows furrowed when his hand went deeper.  “Lower your body for me.”

Confused and a bit dazed, you lowered your body while still riding him. You shrieked loudly when his fingers played with your exposed rim, circling around the hole. You held his thighs, squeezing them hard when he tried to push his thumb in, the stretch making you shiver.

“Would you let me fuck you here, baby?’’ he whispered, pushing this thumb deeper, your tight walls swallowing him.

You haven’t done that before—you can’t even imagine it. He was the first man who touched you there. You were in so deep that you desperately nodded, clenching around his cock as the thought excited you.

He chuckled, “You’re so dirty baby, gonna let me fill all your holes hmm?”

You nodded again. “Yes, only for you J-Jungkook.”

“Yeah? you love me that much huh? I bet you hump your little cooky plushies thinking it’s my hard cock instead.”

He removed his thumb from your ass just to insert his middle and index finger, causing you to scream at the stretch. "Tell me baby, how many times have you masturbated huh?" Your movements slowed down from the sensation.

“Do you fantasize about me? Fantasize about your bias fucking your slutty holes?’’ he taunted, pushing his fingers deeper, his hips pushing up to meet your thrusts.

It was embarrassing; you didn’t answer, afraid to admit the dirty things you did every time you thought of Jungkook—afraid to admit how dirty you were behind your shy demeanor and innocent looks. You liked him so much, idolized him for years, dreamed about meeting him, dreamed about attending his concert, and in your most hidden fantasies… you dreamed about being his girlfriend, what it feels like to be loved by him, to be fucked by him.

“Hmm, baby? I bet you do,” he chuckled.

He removed his fingers, slapping your ass cheeks, then flipping you down onto the bed. “My dirty little girl, touching her little holes while thinking about her bias.”

You couldn’t maintain eye contact, your fingers fiddling with the sheets when he went down to grind his cock against your pussy, both of his arms beside your head.

“Aww baby, are you shy?” he cooed, pushing his cock inside you, trying to find the angle that hits your spot.

You pouted, your eyes a bit hesitant. He held your cheeks so you would look at him. “Don’t worry… daddy’s here, I’m gonna fuck you so good and make your dreams come true.” 

He spit into your parted mouth, urging you to swallow before fucking mercilessly into your tight hole. He held your thighs, almost folding you in half. Your pussy was so stretched and swollen. He leaned down to whisper moans in your ear, his movements so fast you were impressed by his stamina at this point.

“Cum with me baby,” he panted, his thrusts getting sloppy, his mushroom tip hitting the right spot.

Jungkook forced you into another orgasm. You thought you wouldn’t cum, but your pussy was pulsating so badly, his cock still drilling inside you.

He let out a strained growl, his breathing turning heavier with each passing second. When you felt him cumming, he removed his cock from your pussy… quickly inserting it into your other unused hole.

You screamed loudly, the stretch sudden and painful… you could feel his cock pushing his cum deep inside your ass, the sensation making you shake and cry. When you tried to move, he held your waist tightly, balls snug so he could keep his warm cum inside.

He kissed your cheek, “So good for me, so pretty, so tight.” he whispered.

You thought he was done, but when he kissed you hard, his tongue dominating yours, you realized he wasn’t fully sated yet. He pulled you onto the nearest table, bending you over, your hands gripping it for support.

“Lift your leg here, baby,” he instructed, lifting your other leg so you were exposed to him.

The memories were hazy—you remembered him fucking you on the table while your cheeks burned red from the way he pushed you down. You could see the reflection in the mirror, your doll shoes still intact, the table wet from your drool. After that, he fucked your breasts, urging you to suck the tip like a good little whore.

Every time you thought he was done, he would pull you back again, whispering dirty praises about how you were such a good slut for him. His stamina was so impressive, and you were also impressed that you managed to stay awake the whole time.

Even when he was washing you up, he was very sweet, washing your hair and body, yet his fingers were still trailing down your swollen pussy. You protested, but he told you not to worry, saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna rub the pain away,” while rubbing your pussy in slow circles, causing you to release another orgasm in the shower.

Before you drifted off to sleep, you felt him spreading your legs, whispering. “Last one pretty girl, let me leave you a present when you wake up, yeah? All nice and wet in the morning.” 

It felt almost unreal—like something pulled from a dream you weren’t fully ready to believe had happened.

When you woke up, Jungkook was no longer there.

Your body felt heavy, drained in a way that made even small movements difficult. You shifted under the covers, blinking slowly as reality started to settle in piece by piece.

The room was quiet. When you sat up, your gaze fell to your doll shoes placed neatly nearby. 

You stared at them for a long moment, your chest tightening in a way you couldn’t quite explain. A quiet reminder that last night had not been a dream.

You weakly stood up, wearing a comfy oversized shirt you were certain was his. Walking over to the table, you noticed a set of breakfast meals laid out—eggs, waffles, bacon, fruits, and a pitcher of orange juice.

Still a bit dazed, you sat down on the couch and stared at the food in front of you, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Last night still felt distant, almost unreal...like something your brain hadn’t fully accepted yet. But every time you shifted slightly and felt the marks on your skin, the memory returned sharply.

It was real.

You knew the rules. You would never see him again, you would never contact him again, and anything that happened that night would stay with you—carried quietly, taken to your grave.

Your eyes grew teary, not because you regretted it, but because some part of you wished it didn’t end so quickly.

Wished it lasted longer.

You knew better...that you and him were not in a fairytale. You wouldn’t be the special girl who eventually ends up with him. You weren’t inside some ridiculous fanfiction where he would text you afterward, telling you he missed you, that he wanted to see you again, that he might even love you.

Pure fiction.

Looking at the food in front of you, your eyes caught a small folded paper tucked beside the plate.

When you opened it, you had expected something sweet—maybe a cute note, maybe his number. You already knew the number he used wasn’t personal anyway, just an exclusive one-night line tied to the NDA.

“Dollshoes.”

It was written quickly, but you recognized his handwriting immediately.

You looked around and spotted a paper bag beside the bed. You stood up at once, walking towards it, your hands already shaking before you even reached it.

Carefully, you opened it.

Inside was a pair of glittery doll shoes.

You searched for a note, but there was none.

You pouted slightly, your heart still skipping at the small gesture. It wasn’t much—but it was something. At least he had left something for you.

It had been months since that night, but you would never forget it.

You told no one—not Mina, not anyone, not even in passing. You were almost afraid that speaking it out loud would make it less real… or worse, make you forget it entirely, reducing it to something that only felt like a dream.

Over the months, something else slowly clicked into place.

While reviewing your notes one day, your eyes drifted absentmindedly to your tote bag. Only then did you notice the small cooky keychain attached to it.

It had to have been what his manager saw.

A quiet sense of relief settled in you then—knowing that despite changing bags since that day, you had never taken it off.

You also tried to think harder—why did he give you a pair of doll shoes? Does he do that with all his hookups? Does he give them a farewell gift too after sleeping with them?

The thought left a strange mix in your chest. A little sadness and a little jealousy you couldn’t quite justify.

And yet, the doll shoes still felt like a strong reminder that you were once his...like he gave you something so you wouldn’t forget him.

Sometimes you would even wonder if everything that happened was only your imagination. His manager’s contact number, Jungkook’s number—gone from your phone. The NDA had included a strict no-contact clause, and everything tied to that night had disappeared with it.

Afterward, you didn’t see them anymore, and you had no idea whether they had even stayed in the country or left immediately.

The moment the marks on your body began to fade, you almost cried—like something of him was slowly slipping away from you too.

Wearing the doll shoes he gave you, you sat in a nice outdoor coffee shop with your laptop and a hot latte.

It had been almost a year.

Despite the beautiful view around you, your attention was fixed on your screen. You were writing a paper—your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment longer than necessary, like they understood something you didn’t want to admit.

You had been careful. Writing the details with precaution.

You changed the places, the countries, the names. You rewrote reality until it no longer belonged to anyone but you. Until it couldn’t be traced back—not to him, not to that night, not to the NDA that should have never felt real in the first place.

You even made sure to hide it in plain sight.

Just another fanfiction.

Just another story.

Just enough to protect yourself.

Just enough to protect him.

Your foot tapped lightly beneath the table, uneven, restless. A habit you picked up a year ago. A habit you never lost.

And then you wrote it—the memory still too fresh to feel like a memory at all.

“Please, please, please!” you whispered to yourself, fingers crossed tightly as you stared at the three screens in front of you.

And for a brief second—you wondered if anyone would believe it was just fiction.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂˚₊┈┈୨୧┈┈‧₊˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

© 2026 ggukiebar, all rights reserved

From your side, it really wasn’t your fault.

Your husband looked disgustingly hot tonight. The white shirt, the grey vest, the diamond brooch you'd gotten him and those fucking gold rings on his fingers. Your husband looked straight out of a scandalous magazine no less.

It had been too long since he’d properly touched you.

And by too long you mean this morning which only consisted of a desperate makeout session against the dressing table until his dad had called to remind not to be late for the family gathering.

so here he was- looking like pure sin in front of everyone while you were starving for your husband's touch. it's only fair enough to make him suffer too, right. But as you continued with your evil plan of torturing him with your little touches, you began enjoying it too much.

Jungkook was barely holding it together now. He's trying to look relaxed but you knew him too well. Oh, how he wishes if he could just bend you over this instant and fuck that brattyness out of you.

“Aigoo, I left my reading glasses in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get them for you, halmeoni.” You give her a sweet smile before making your to the kitchen.

The moment you reach for the glasses on the counter, a very familiar tattooed arm slams against the cabinet beside your head.

You turn around to find the man you've been successfully avoiding to meet alone. Jungkook’s other hand lands on your hip trapping you between his arms as he presses himself into you. You could absolutely feel the unmistakable bulge pressing against your body.

“What are you doing?” You try to keep your voice innocent.

Jungkook scoffs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head. “You find this funny, huh?”

You try to bite back your smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about..”

“Keep up with the act and I’ll bend you over this counter right fucking now."

You gulp because your husband may or may not be kidding about this.

“Halmeoni!” you gasp looking at the doorway behind him.

Jungkook jerks back so fast he nearly loses his balance.

By the time he figures there's no one behind, you're snatching the glasses off the counter and dart past him with a bright giggle as you escape the kitchen.

“You little—”

He shakes his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair with a mix of amusement, adjusting his pants to hide his very obvious problem created by his wife.

--

By evening, it’s worse.

Much worse.

The garden's lit up with warm string lights filled with fun chattering and laughters.

But not for Jungkook, because he’s been on edge for hours now and it’s starting to show.

You see it in the way his fingers keeps drumming impatiently, in how his attention drifts back to you no matter who he’s talking to.

Which only makes it harder not to smile.

You sit on the grass with his niece, completely occupied as she shows you her new hair clip collection, nodding along, sharing a laugh at whatever she’s explaining.

“Really?” you speak clipping one on her. “That’s your favorite?”

She nods enthusiastically putting a few on your hair too.

“Are you staying?” she suddenly asks, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Uhh.."

“Stay.” She fists lightly at your dress with her little hand. “Please?"

You soften instantly and glance up to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

The second he sees that look on your face he knows exactly what you’re about to do.

“No, we can't—”

“We can stay,” you say at the same time, smiling down at her.

You don’t look at your husband right away.

because you already know what you’ll see.

and when you finally do glance up—

Yeah.

There it is.

You actually have to press your lips together to stop a laugh.

Of course you didn't intend to stay the night but you also didn't have the heart to say no to his cute little niece. As the night stretches on everyone's scattered. Some have already gone to bed while others lounge in watching an old movie.

You’re curled up on a big sofa, laughing along with Jungkook’s cousins. Jungkook sits across from you joining in here and there.

It’s almost midnight and you’re still showing zero urgency to leave. Your usually patient husband is hanging on by a thread. Jungkook stands up after a moment before letting you know he's heading to bed and you sure catch the sharp edge in his voice when he looks at you.

You give it another twenty minutes before making your way down the room in the hallway where you always stay in whenever you visit.

Your eyes try to adjust to the darkness of the room.

Did Jungkook really fall asleep?

You did tease him a lot today. He’s been worked up since morning and you spent the entire day pushing his buttons.

You pout closing the door behind you. What if he actually got annoyed and decided to just sleep?

The thought barely forms before strong hands grab your waist from behind and you're pinned against the door.

Jungkook’s hand slides up gripping your jaw to tilt your head back. You catch the intensity radiating off him as the moonlight spills through the thin curtains.

He breaths out dangerously calm.

“Had too much fun today, didn't you?” His body burns hot against yours. He only has his trousers on. You can feel how painfully hard he is as his thick length of his cock presses insistently against your ass.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip almost too possessive.

“My turn now.”

A soft whimper escapes your lips the moment he speaks into your ear. One of his large palm squeezes your waist while the other slides down along your thigh.

You whimper again pressing back against him seeking more friction. The movement makes him growl in warning.

He reaches for the zipper at the back of your dress and yanks it down almost roughly making it pool at your feet. For a second you think he’s finally going to fuck you senseless against the door. but you know your husband too well. After all the teasing you put him through today- he’s going to make you pay for every single second of it first.

You almost whine the moment you feel the loss of his heat. You hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt. Turning around fully, you find Jungkook has dropped his trousers. Sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his black boxers.

The obscene bulge straining against it only adds more to your wetness.

“Come here.”

Your legs feel weak as you walk towards him.

His gaze drops to your panties. “Off.”

You do as he says, sliding off your drenched fabric down your legs.

Jungkook taps his thick thigh once, manspreading wider. You already know exactly what he wants.

The moment your dripping core makes contact with his veiny muscle, a sharp gasp leaves your lips. His thigh is warm and firm and slightly rough with a light dusting of hair that drags deliciously against your sensitive folds.

Your arms hook around his neck for balance as you begin to rock your hips forward.

His eyes stay locked on where your pussy is pressed, watching the way your slick glistens on his skin.

His muscle flexes beneath you, pressing harder against your clit. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder with a broken moan.

“Jungkoo-” You can feel how wet you are by how easily you’re gliding over his thigh. Jungkook leans back on his palms flat on the bed behind him.

He doesn’t touch you even once. Even as his cock is straining hard against his boxers leaving a wet patch from watching you use him.

Normally, Jungkook’s hands and mouth are always on you. So you know he's deliberately making you suffer.

You moan louder as desperation starts to build. Your slick is dripping down his thigh now.

“Kook.. please”

You become needy. You’re aching for his hands, for his mouth, for anything he's willing to give.

Your hands slide down his chest, pressing against the hard planes of muscle. You need more. You need him to touch you.

You dip your head and bite down on his shoulder making him hiss through his teeth.

“Kook.. touch me..”

Your voice comes out in a pathetic whimper.

Jungkook exhales through his nose in a mock.

You whine loudly, hips stuttering against his thigh as you try to chase the pleasure but it's not enough. It’s almost painful not having your husband’s hands on you when you need him the most.

Your hand moves down to palm him over his boxers. Jungkook lets out a groan jerking up into your touch.

One moment you're riding his thigh and the next you find yourself thrown onto the bed.

“You’re not getting to touch me soon.”

His words vibrate against your skin as he licks a stripe from the column of your throat.

“My wife's been such a brat."

You whimper trying to reach for him again but he catches both of your wrists in one large hand and pins them above your head. Jungkook reaches for something beside you and you know from the feel of it that it's the grey tie he wore. He ties the silk around your wrists tight enough that you feel the gentle bite of restraint.

Jungkook sits back admiring his work. His eyes rake slowly over your body while his fingers barely touch over your belly. Jungkook’s eyes darken even more as he watches you squirm beneath him.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin to make you gasp followed by the wet heat of his mouth as he sucks hard.

He pulls back up to hover his lips barely an inch away from your own, so close you can feel the warmth of his whiskey breath. You chase his mouth, lips parting in plea to pull him down into a proper kiss. Jungkook exhales a low laugh against your lips. Your back archs as he unclasps your bra.

“You know the safe word?” he speaks against your skin as he starts kissing his way down between the valley of your breasts.

You whine nodding frantically, too worked up to form proper words.

He pauses above your left nipple, his warm breath fanning over the hardened peak.

“words, sweetheart.”

“yes.. jungkook, please—”

The plea barely leaves your mouth before he finally sucks hard around your nipple. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud while his hand continues its torturous path, fingers barely moving along your slick folds.

He alternates between sucking and gentle bites on your breast, then moves to the other one giving it the same attention. All the while, his fingers tease your entrance dipping in just the tip of one finger before pulling back.

You’re panting now, wrists straining against his tie, body arching up into his mouth and hand. Jungkook lifts his head, eyes locked on your flushed face as he continues his slow descent down your body, lips and tongue tracing a wet path over your stomach until he settles between your spread thighs.

When his eyes land on your pussy, a rough sound rumbles from his chest. A thin string of arousal clings to your inner thigh and every time your walls clench around nothing, more of it leaks out.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out as a broke whimper. “Sorry, Jungkook.. please”

It’s embarrassing how quickly the apology spills from your lips even though he hasn’t said a single word yet.

Jungkook hums against your thigh. He lifts your left leg angling it up to rest your ankle on his broad shoulder. The new position spreads you open even more for him, exposing your dripping pussy completely to his hungry gaze.

“Can’t hear you.” He places an open-mouthed kiss right on the inside of your ankle.

You whine pathetically.

“Kook, please...” Your voice cracks with desperation. “need you.. so bad. please—”

Jungkook's own desperation wins as he dips his head down dragging his tongue through your folds. The loud moan escapes you as your back arches for him. His hot tongue laps at you with deliberate strokes.

The cool silver of his lip rings only add more to your pleasure as he eats you out like a mad man. One of his hands grips your thigh tightly holding your leg in place on his shoulder while the other slides under your ass, tilting your hips up so he can bury his face deeper between your legs. You moan his name like prayers.

You bring your tied hands to thread your fingers into his hair. Jungkook groans loudly at the tug. His scalp stings from how hard you’re pulling but it only seems to spur him on.

You cry out from the pleasure of his relentless licking, sucking and kissing every inch of your dripping pussy.

You’re shaking. Whimpering. Already close to tears from how badly you need to come but Jungkook pulls back every time only to start the torturous cycle all over again.

“Hands above your head.” Jungkook spreads your folds open with two fingers before you feel the flat of his ring-clad fingers directly onto your swollen clit. You let out a sharp moan as the thick gold rings make contact with your overheated skin. "Fuck—”

He knows how much you love these. How fucking turned on you get every time you see them on his hands. He starts rubbing circles over your clit, letting them drag again and again adding a new kind of delicious friction that makes your toes curl.

Your arousal is leaking steadily down your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you more so coating his shiny gold.

“Look at you,” He murmurs opening you up more. “Dripping all over my rings like a desperate little wife. You love feeling them on your pretty pussy, don’t you?”

You desperately pull down on your tied wrists against the sheets. Your hips twitch uncontrollably trying to grind against the cool metal.

Jungkook chuckles darkly.

He dips his fingers lower curling them deep.

Tears of pleasure stings your eyes as your husband mercilessly continues with fucking you with his fingers.

Every time your moans get louder, every time your pussy starts clenching too hard around his fingers he slows down or pulls back completely leaving you empty and throbbing.

You sob from the frustration and overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t.. koo.. please let me come..”

Jungkook leans down pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your inner thigh. “No,” he sounds almost gentle despite the cruel way he’s denying you.

“You’re gonna come only on my cock tonight.”

He flips you over onto your stomach as his possessive hands manhandle your body yanking your ass up high.

Your tied hands remain stretched above your head. Your back arches deeply, ass presented perfectly for him pussy dripping and exposed.

“Fuck, look at you,” He holds you in place with a bruising grip as he admires the view of his wife.

You finally finally feel the drag of Jungkook’s leaking cock through your soaked folds. The hot tip teases your clit all the way down to your entrance. You can’t help it as you push back against him trying to take him inside.

“My greedy little wife,” he lets out a chuckle.

Before you can form a single word he pushes in with a deep thrust. A loud cry rips from your throat. Jungkook’s cock finds home as he buries himself to the hilt. The sudden fullness makes your walls flutter wildly around him.

“Fuck- baby,” he groans, fingers digging harder into your waist.

He doesn’t give you any time to breathe. He pulls back almost all the way only to slam back in harder setting a brutal pace right away. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass fills the room, mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts.

Your hands fist the sheets above your head as he fucks you roughly from behind manhandling your body however he pleases.

“Take it,” his voice drips possession. “Take every fucking inch like you’ve been begging for all day.”

You’re so glad the rooms in this farmhouse are built soundproof because the noises spilling from your mouth are beyond obscene. Every brutal thrust forces another filthy sound out of you. wet slaps of skin against skin mixing with the squelch of your soaked pussy taking his cock.

Jungkook fucks you rough and deep. His relentless pace makes you see stars. pounding into you from behind as if he’s trying to fuck the brat right out of your body.

His hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast to grope the soft flesh roughly. His fingers find your hardened nipple and pinch it hard.

You cry out.

You’re so close already.

He tugs your hair back roughly with one hand making your back arch until it presses against his strong chest. A strangled moan rips from your throat. The new position has his cock hitting even deeper inside you.

His hand snakes up your body and wraps firmly around your throat making your moan turn choked.

“You don’t get to come until I say so."

He bites down on whatever part of your skin his mouth can reach. His teeth sink in to leave dark bruises, marking you up as he continues thrusting into you with punishing strokes.

“All fucking mine,” he growls right against your ear. His hand tightens slightly around your throat as he speaks. "Taking my cock so well.”

His other hand slides down your body pressing rubbing against your swollen clit.

The sudden added stimulation makes your entire body jerks violently as the orgasm crashes through you.

Tears spill freely from your eyes, sliding down into your hair as your walls clamp down around his cock like a vice. Your pussy gushes around him while he keeps thrusting through it until your legs shake uncontrollably.

"such a brat, aren't you."

You barely recover from the first orgasm of the night before your husband has you on your back.

You try focusing your blurry eyes on him.

Jungkook has his hand stroking his cock glistening with your sweet arousal. The sight of you wrecked and crying beneath him makes him more feral.

He moves on top of you taking your tied wrists and pins them above your head. His mouth crashes down on you hard.

Jungkook barely gives you a moment to breathe between his devouring kisses. You moan against his lips as his cock slides all the way in you again. His hand tightens around your wrists as he starts fucking you harder.

Though the Jeon house has highest grade furnitures but the way Jungkook fucks into you. you pray the bed doesn't break.

“Wanted your husband's cock so bad, didn’t you?” he punctuates each word with a hard thrust. “Now take it. All of it. It’s all yours, baby.”

You can only sob in pleasure as he fucks you into oblivion as he keeps pounding and pouring filthy praises just for you.

You feel like you’re floating in a dream.

You have no idea how many hours have passed. All you know is the endless pleasure of being pulled apart and put back together by your husband’s insatiable hunger.

His stamina is almost animalistic, reminding you of your honeymoon phase when he'd made love seven days a week. In your husband's words, he could never get enough of his beautiful wife.

Jungkook has always been quite experimental with your sex life. loves trying new things, toys, positions on you. but his absolute favourite is still classic missionary. because he gets to see your face when you come.

Jungkook has both of your legs pushed up over his shoulders now folding you in half as he drives into you insane. The angle is brutal, making your eyes roll back.

when he pulls your legs down making them wrap weakly around his waist. your thighs are barely able to hold onto him so Jungkook hooks one arm under your thigh holding it up for you. You’ve completely lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had tonight.

Your mind is too blissed out to keep track of anything and your husband just can’t seem to stop. Jungkook chases every broken moan that leaves your lips.

By the time he finally spills inside you for the last time, you’re more than completely spent.

Your body is covered in his marks. Your pussy is leaking his cum and your legs are shaking so badly you know with absolute certainty you won’t be able to walk properly tomorrow morning.

Jungkook collapses beside you holding you in his arms. You're too dizzy to figure what's happening anymore. But you sure feel your wrists getting lighter followed by so many soft kisses on them and your forehead and your cheeks before you finally pass out.

--

The first thing you register as you awaken are feather-light touches gliding over your skin along with lips trailing down your bare back. You stir letting out a hum.

Jungkook’s hand continues its slow caress down the curve of your waist, over the dip of your hip, then back up again. He becomes so soft after every intense night you spend together. It never not makes you fall for him harder each time.

Jungkook nuzzles his head into your neck while his hand slips between your legs with aching gentleness. His fingers almost caresses over your swollen folds.

A soft whine escapes you as turn around in his embrace, but the moment you do, a sharp hiss leaves your lips.

“Shit, baby” he speaks while his eyes look down to check. “hurts a lot?”

you nuzzle your face into his neck seeking his warmth.

“I can manage..” you mumble against his skin.

Jungkook places a kiss to your hair.

“I’ll cook your favourite pasta when we get home."

You immediately look up at him.

“Work?”

He brushes a hair aside from your face.

“Taking the day off.”

Your face lights up and you lean to peck his cheek.

“I’ll make cheesecake too.” Jungkook shows you his other cheek.

You smile childishly wrapping your arms around his neck smacking another one of your sweet pecks.

“And?”

He slides you closer by your waist, tangling your legs together with his.

“And I’m gonna give you a Jeon Jungkook special massage,” he finishes with a peck on your nose.

“And?” you tilt your head still grinning.

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh.

“And I’m gonna spoil my wife so so much.” his thumb brushes over your cheek.

“You already do,” you lean in to kiss him properly on the lips. He chases your mouth when you try to pull away.

The first time he drives to your parents' house, he almost turns the car around.

Three times… scratch that…actually, four.

The fourth time is especially embarrassing because he has already parked. The engine is off. The keys are in his hand. He's committed, and yet his hand keeps drifting toward the ignition like it has its own agenda, like it wants to go home.

He sits behind the steering wheel, staring at your childhood home. The house itself isn't scary. It's just a house with white walls that need repainting. A small garden where your mother has beautiful flowers. A blue mailbox that has your last name on it with faded stickers that are peeling at the edges. Normal things.

Unfortunately, your father lives inside, and your father is terrifying. Not in a dramatic movie way, he doesn't threaten people or is part of the mafia, and he definitely doesn't own weapons or has a scar across his face.

It’s the fact that he looks at people the way professors look at exam papers, as if he's found three mistakes in the first paragraph and is debating whether he should continue reading or just fail you now and save him some time.

Jungkook swallows. His palms are sweating against the steering wheel. This is ridiculous… What if your father hates him? What if he laughs? What if he says no?

Then you'll ask again.

He grabs the box of pastries from the passenger seat and gets out before his courage disappears completely.

The door opens, and your father appears. For a moment, nobody says anything. The silence stretches and Jungkook becomes suddenly, painfully aware of every part of his body. He bows politely. The low and respectful kind of bow that says I come in peace, I mean no harm, please don't destroy me.

The silence grows longer, and our dear Jungkook begins wondering if people can die from awkwardness. If that's a medical condition, and if he should have written a will. Your father stares, Jungkook bows a little deeper. His back protesting.

Finally, your father speaks. "Did my daughter send you?"

"No, sir." Jungkook's voice comes out steady.

A pause. Your father's eyes narrow slightly, scanning him like he's reading a label. "Did something happen to her?"

"No, sir."

"Then why are you here?"

Jungkook suddenly forgets every sentence he prepared during the drive. All those carefully constructed arguments inside his overthinker mind, all those practiced phrases…gone, evaporated.

Wonderful

He manages a nervous smile. It feels crooked on his face, too big, too desperate. "I wanted to talk to you."

Your father doesn't move. "About?"

For a fleeting second, Jungkook considers pretending he came to discuss the weather. The weather is safe, but unfortunately for him, that would make even less sense than his actual reason, and also, he's pretty sure your father can smell lies the way other people smell smoke.

"Sir, I love your daughter."

Your father blinks a few times. "Oh."

Jungkook nods. Encouraged. Maybe this is going well. Maybe the hard part is over. Maybe…it is not going well.

"That's unfortunate," your father says, and steps aside to let him in.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

Five minutes later, they're sitting at the kitchen table.

Jungkook has never seen such an intimidating kitchen before. Everything is clean and organized. He is afraid to touch anything. Your father places a cup of tea in front of him. The gesture is kind, but the expression on your father's face is not kind. Not in a malicious way, it’s the expression of someone who has watched young men come and go from this exact house, who has learned that most of them are not worth the time it takes to memorize their names. Jungkook suddenly understands where you inherited your stubbornness from.

"So," your father says.

"So," Jungkook echoes, and he immediately hates himself for echoing. He's not a parrot. He's a grown man. He has tattoos. He pays taxes, and he should be able to handle a conversation without turning into a robot.

"You love my daughter."

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

Why? Because you're funny, because you laugh with your entire body, throwing your head back, because you cry during movies and then deny it, because you pretend not to like affection and attention and then complain when he stops giving it, which is confusing and annoying and completely endearing, because loving you happened so naturally he didn't notice it until he was already too deep in love with you.

He clears his throat. All of this is too much to say to your father. "She's amazing," Jungkook says.

Your father's face remains unreadable. "That's your argument?"

Jungkook panics. His brain, which had just started working again, shuts down completely. "No, sir."

"Good."

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

An hour later, Jungkook has somehow been interviewed more thoroughly than a job applicant for a position that requires government clearance.

Career plans. Finances. Future goals. Emergency savings. Apartment size. Life insurance. Retirement planning. Your father asks about his parents, his siblings, his thoughts on home ownership versus renting, his opinion on private schools versus public schools for hypothetical future children that Jungkook is definitely not ready to discuss but finds himself discussing anyway because when your father asks a question, answering feels mandatory.

At one point, your father asks what kind of husband he intends to be. Jungkook answers honestly. It's the only answer he has, the only one he's sure of. "The best one I can."

Something shifts in your father's expression, only for a second. Maybe it was approval…or pity…or maybe even indigestion. Who knows…Then comes the final question and the most important one.

The reason Jungkook is here, sweating through his nice shirt

His heartbeat speeds up. He sits straighter, tries to look like the kind of man who deserves what he's about to ask for.

"Sir."

Your father waits. He knows what's coming. Jungkook can see it in the set of his shoulders and the slight tilt of his head.

"I want to marry her."

Your father folds his hands and looks directly at him.

And says:

"No."

Like he was declining extra napkins. Like Jungkook had offered him a flyer for a kebab place he wasn't interested in. Like this whole hour meant absolutely nothing.

Jungkook stares. Surely there's more, surely there's a ‘but’ or an ‘unless’ or a ‘however’ waiting in the air, ready to step on stage and save this moment from being exactly what it sounds like.

There isn't.

Your father takes another sip of tea.

Jungkook blinks. His mouth feels dry. His ears are ringing. "Sir?"

"No."

"I understand, but—"

"No."

"Can I ask why?"

Your father nods. "You can."

Jungkook waits. Your father waits too.

Nothing happens.

"...Why?"

"Because I said no."

Jungkook nearly laughs. Not because it's funny, but because otherwise he might cry, and he's pretty sure crying in your father's kitchen would be the final nail in a coffin that's already been nailed shut, buried, and had a parking lot built over it.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

The drive home feels longer. His pride aches took, his heart too…everything aches, actually, in a way that makes him wonder if this is what adulthood feels like. He should probably be upset, and angry, and embarrassed that he poured his heart out to a man who responded with a single syllable.

But Jungkook finds himself smiling, a small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth while he waits at a red light because beneath the frustration is something unexpected.

Your father didn't laugh or mock him or send him out, and he didn’t tell Jungkook to find someone else’s daughter to love and cherish. He didn't say Jungkook wasn't good enough, wasn't successful enough, wasn't worthy. He just said 'no', and then he said it again, and then he kept saying it until Jungkook ran out of questions.  He smiles because for two whole hours, he listened.

And Jungkook overthinks about it… a man doesn't spend two hours questioning someone he doesn't care about. A father doesn't interrogate a future son-in-law candidate unless the answer matters… unless the person sitting across from him is a real possibility.

‘No’ wasn't the end.

Jungkook glances at the road ahead, next Friday isn't far away. Five days, six hours, maybe less if he leaves work early. He can survive five days. He can survive anything if there's a chance at the end of it.

That evening, you're both sprawled across his couch, casually stealing fries from his plate. Your own plate sits untouched, still full, but you keep reaching for his anyway. Not because they're any different, just because they're his. This is the thing that you always do, and Jungkook loves it; it’s predictable and is exactly what he wants to come home to, exactly what he's fighting for.

Jungkook watches you. You glance up, caught, a fry halfway to your mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Suspicious. Very suspicious. You narrow your eyes, and he sees your father in you for just a moment.

"What are you smiling about?"

He shakes his head. He can't tell you. Not yet. Not until he has something real to offer, something earned, something that proves he's serious. "Nothing."

You throw a fry at him. It bounces off his forehead and lands in his lap. You look proud, as if you've accomplished something significant, and your boyfriend laughs. Suddenly, the rejection doesn't feel so heavy anymore, because at the end of the day, every difficult conversation leads back to this. To you, to the future he's trying to build, one Friday at a time.

Jungkook picks up another fry. You steal that one too, quick as a cat, and he lets you. He doesn't even try to stop you. He watches you eat it, watches you chew, and for now, he lets you.

After all, he has bigger battles waiting for him next Friday. And the Friday after that. And however many it takes until your father finally says yes.

Now, 6 Months later

You are folding laundry when your phone buzzes against the coffee table, skittering like an insect that can't decide where to die. It's a text from him.

jk: Still at work, might be late for dinner, don't wait up

 You smile because, of course, he is. He's always at work, or the gym, or somewhere building his body while you eat instant noodles in sweatpants that have a hole in the left thigh. (no shame)

What you don't know is that your boyfriend is not at work. Your boyfriend is currently sitting in his car in front of your parents' house. He's been here before. Many times. 6 months of Fridays, to be exact, which is 24 Fridays, which is 24 times he's climbed out of this same car with his heart hammering against his ribs.

Jungkook checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looks good. He looks great, actually, black sweater, hair styled in that particular way that took him 45 and 3 YouTube tutorials. He looks like a man who deserves a ‘yes.’ He looks like a man who is about to get another 'no', but hope, as they say, is a stupid and beautiful thing that dies slowly.

"Okay," he whispers to himself. "Okay. This time."

He reaches into the backseat for the flowers, peonies this week, because last week your mother mentioned she liked them and Jungkook remembered. He bought pastries again from that French place across town that requires a reservation three days in advance. Your father sees him coming up the walk through the living room window, and he doesn't move.

"Who is it, dear?" your mother calls from the kitchen.

"Nobody," your father says, which is technically true because, as far as he's concerned, Jungkook hasn't earned the right to be somebody yet.

"Nobody" rings the doorbell. Your father counts to ten before he stands. He opens the door.

"Sir," Jungkook says.

"Jungkook," your father says, like he's surprised, like he hasn't been watching the car sit in the driveway for fifteen minutes. "Again?"

"Yes, sir. If you have a moment."

"I suppose I have a moment."

This is their ritual. Your father steps aside to let him in, and Jungkook enters your childhood home. He can smell your mother's cooking from the kitchen. Something with garlic. His stomach growls, which is embarrassing, but your father pretends not to notice because even he has limits to his cruelty.

"Flowers," Jungkook says, holding them out. "For Mrs. … he clears his throat…for your wife."

"She'll appreciate them."

"And these are from Maison Blanc. The almond croissants you mentioned."

"You remembered."

"I remember everything, sir."

This is the part where your father should feel bad. This is the part where a normal person would see the earnestness in this young man's face. Your father is not having any of it. "Sit," he says. "I'll make tea once again."

They sit in the living room. The couch is old, and Jungkook sinks into it the way he always does, while your father sits in his armchair. The tea is green and bitter. Jungkook hates green tea, but he drinks it anyway.

"So," your father says.

"Sir," Jungkook begins, and he sets down his cup because his hands are shaking again and he doesn't want to spill on the carpet. "I know I've asked before. Many times. But I'm here to ask again."

"Mhm."

"I love your daughter. I have loved her for…" He pauses, does the math "…two years, four months, and sixteen days. Not that I'm counting. I mean, I am counting. I have a calendar. That sounds creepy. It's not creepy. It's —"

"Jungkook."

"Yes, sir?"

"Deep breath, son."

Jungkook takes a deep breath. Your father watches him.

"Sir, may I have your blessing to marry your daughter?" The question hangs in the air between them.

Your father takes a sip of tea. He thinks about you,  his daughter, his only child, the person who once cried for three hours because her goldfish died and then forgot about it by dinner time. He thinks about the way you looked at Jungkook the first time you brought him home, like he was made of magic and promises. He thinks about the way Jungkook looks at you, like you are the only thing in the world that matters, like he would burn down every building between here and the sea if you asked him to.

He thinks, good.

Then he says: "No."

Jungkook nods. He expected this, but something in his chest still sinks, still curls up small and wounded. 25 rejections. 25 times he's asked.

"Can I ask again why, sir?"

"Because," your father says, and he leans forward, and Jungkook recognizes this posture. This is the posture of a man about to deliver a lesson. "You still flinch when I say no."

"I … what?"

"You flinch. Your shoulders go up, your eyes go down. You look like a dog that's been kicked." Your father's voice is not unkind, but it is firm. It is the voice of a man who has spent thirty years teaching high school English and knows exactly how to make a point land. "If you want to marry my daughter, you need to be able to hear 'no' without breaking. You need to be able to hear 'no' and keep standing anyway."

Jungkook stares at him. "You want me to… you're testing me??"

"I'm teaching you," your father corrects. "There's a difference."

"How long?"

"Until you stop flinching."

"And if I never stop flinching?"

Your father smiles. "Then you're not the man I thought you were, and my daughter deserves better."

They sit in silence. From the kitchen, your mother's voice rises in a question about dinner, and your father calls back that they'll be a while.

"You can go," your father says. "Unless you want to stay. Daeun made enough for three."

Jungkook should go. He knows he should go. He's supposed to meet you in two hours, and he needs to shower, and he needs to practice his smile so you won't know that he's been here again, that he's been rejected again, but the smell of garlic is making him dizzy with hunger, and your father's face has softened in a way it never has before, and something in Jungkook makes him stay.

"I'd like to stay," he says. "If that's okay."

Your father nods. "Set the table, then. You know where the plates are."

He does. He knows where everything is. He's been here enough times to have memorized the layout of your childhood home. He knows your father takes his coffee black and your mother hums when she cooks.  He knows these things because he loves you, and loving you means loving where you came from, even when where you came from keeps telling him no.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

You just got out of the shower when he texts again.

 jk: “omw saved you some dumplings. It was a coworker's bday today.”

Y/n doesn’t question anything. You don't know about the tea, or the conversation, or the way your father's eyes went soft when Jungkook finally laughed at one of his jokes. You have no idea that somewhere in your childhood home, there's a drawer where your father keeps the cards Jungkook has brought. And you definitely have no idea that your father talks about Jungkook to his friends, calls him "that persistent kid" with something like pride in his voice. You don't know that your boyfriend is learning how to be the kind of man who doesn't flinch. You don't know that his heart that's been broken so many times and still beats hopeful.

He thinks about you. He thinks about the way you look when you first wake up, he thinks about the way you laugh, he thinks about getting down on one knee and offering you everything he has, which is not much, which is everything. Because many months ago, he made a promise to himself that he would do this right, that he would have your father's blessing.

You text him

You: hurry up, I'm hungry, and the TV show just started!! <3

Three socks and a suspicion

You are standing in front of your open sock drawer when you realize something is wrong with your boyfriend. Not wrong-wrong, not cheating-wrong or lying-wrong or has-a-secret-family-in-a-whole-different-country-wrong.

Jungkook has been... off.

Not distant, if anything, he's been more present than usual, texting more, calling for no reason, showing up at your apartment with food he claims is "leftover from the guys" but is clearly freshly bought because since when does Namjoon eat salmon with lemon dill sauce? Since when does anyone in that dorm eat vegetables that aren't covered in cheese? (again, no shame)

You hold up three socks. None of them match.

"You're thinking loudly," Jungkook says from your bed, where he's sprawled on his stomach, scrolling through his phone. He always knows when you're thinking. It's one of his most annoying qualities as a boyfriend.

"I'm not thinking," you lie.

"Your forehead does this thing." He finally looks up, and his eyes… those big, dark eyes that you fell into like a well you never wanted to climb out of… crinkle at the corners. "It wrinkles. Right here."

"Maybe I'm just getting old."

"You're 23."

"24 in three months."

"Ancient," he agrees, solemn as a funeral. "Should I buy you a cane? Or maybe one of those chairs that lifts you up?"

"Jeon Jungkook."

"Yes, my elderly girlfriend?"

You giggle and throw a sock at him. "You've been weird lately," you say.

"Weird how?" he asks, and his voice is casual, perfectly casual, too casual.

"I don't know. Distracted. Happy distracted. Like you're not telling me something."

Something flickers across his face. Something that looks almost like panic, or maybe hope, or maybe a little bit of both.

"Maybe I am," he says, and then he smiles and pats the space on the bed next to him. "Come here. I'll tell you, angel."

You go because you've always been weak when it comes to him. After all, he could ask you to follow him into a burning building, and you'd follow. The bed dips under your weight.

"Tell me," you say.

"I can't."

"Jungkook."

"I literally can't. It's not my secret to tell…But I promise it's a good secret. The best secret, and when you find out." He stops and swallows… "when you find out, I hope you'll say yes."

Your heart does something complicated in your chest, a backflip, a small, confused seizure. "Say yes to what?"

"Everything," he whispers.

You should push. You know you should push, but he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world, and you forget how to form words. You forget your own name. You lean in to kiss him because that's the only thing your brain will allow, you kiss him and he kisses you back.

Your mother knows.

She's known since week three, when she came home early from her book club and found Jungkook washing dishes in their kitchen while your father dried. They were arguing about baseball, and your father was laughing. She stood in the doorway and watched them.

"Mrs. Y/L/N" Jungkook had stuttered when he saw her, dropping a plate back into the sink with a splash that soaked his shirt. "I can explain."

"Can you?" she'd asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Not really. No. I'm sorry."

She'd looked at your father, who was doing a terrible job of looking innocent. Your father, who had told Jungkook ‘no’ 13 times at that time, showed no signs of stopping.

"How long?" she'd asked your father.

"13 weeks," he'd said, like he was proud of it. Like this was an accomplishment.

"And how many more?"

"We'll see."

Your mother had sighed then, it's the sigh of a woman who has been married to this man for 22 years and has learned that some battles are not worth fighting. She'd picked up a towel, started drying the plate that Jungkook had abandoned, and said: "He likes the almond croissants from Maison Blanc. But the chocolate ones are better."

Jungkook had stared at her. "You're not... mad?"

"Oh, I'm furious," she'd said, and smiled. "But I'm also hungry, and you two have clearly been eating without me, so you're taking me to dinner. Somewhere expensive."

That was week 13.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

Now it's week 27, and your mother has become Jungkook's accomplice. She texts him recipes your father likes. She has, on two occasions, lied to you about where Jungkook is on Friday afternoons, which makes her feel slightly guilty, but she's never seen your father have this much fun. Not at your graduation, not at your sister's wedding, not when he finally beat his brother at golf after 15 years of losing. This ridiculous ritual of weekly interrogation is the most fun he's had in decades.

"He's coming today," your father says now, not looking up from his newspaper. It's Friday. It's 3:30. He checked the clock four times in the last hour.

"I know," your mother says.

"He's bringing those almond things."

"You love almond things."

"I tolerate them," he corrects.

She sits down across from him. "You know you're going to ahve to say ‘yes’ eventually."

"Do I?"

"Yes. Because, despite your best efforts, you like him. You like him more than you liked Minji's husband, and you liked Minji's husband enough to cry at their wedding."

Your father sniffs. "I had allergies."

"You had feelings." She reaches across the table and touches his hand. "When are you going to tell her?"

"Who?"

"Your daughter. The person this actually concerns."

Your father is quiet for a long moment. Outside, Jungkook's car pulls up, and your father straightens his shoulders and puts on his mask of indifference to become the man who says ‘no.’

"When he stops flinching," your father says. "Or when she figures it out. Whichever comes first."

"And if she never figures it out?"

Your father smiles. It's a small, complicated smile, the smile of a man who has spent his life teaching other people lessons they didn't know they needed to learn. "Then she's not as smart as I raised her to be," he says, "and Jungkook will have to keep coming forever."

The doorbell rings. Your mother gets up to answer it, leaving your father to his newspaper and his anticipation and his strange, stubborn hope.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

Jungkook is not flinching today.

He's thought about it all week, actually, ever since your father said those words like a challenge.

He's practiced in the mirror. He's practiced in the shower. He's practiced saying ‘no’ to himself, which felt ridiculous but also necessary.

He stands on your parents' porch with lilies-of-the-valley in one hand and chocolate croissants in the other. He switched because he suspects your father is tired of pretending to like almonds.

I will not flinch, he thinks.

Your mother opens the door. "Chocolate," she says, looking at the box. "Smart boy."

"I have it on good authority that almonds are overrated."

"Your authority is correct. Come in. He's in his usual spot."

The living room is the same as always. The couch is waiting to swallow him. The armchair is waiting to judge him. Your father is waiting to break his heart, gently.

"Sir," Jungkook says. He doesn't sit. Not yet.

"Jungkook." Your father folds his newspaper. "You're early."

"I couldn't wait."

"Eager to be rejected?"

"Eager to try."

They sit. The tea is prepared, black today, not green, which Jungkook takes as a good sign, or maybe just as your mother intervening on his behalf. The chocolate croissants are placed on a plate.

"So," your father says.

"Sir," Jungkook says, and he sets down his cup, and he looks your father directly in the eyes, and he does not look away. "May I have your blessing to marry your daughter?"

Your father opens his mouth to say ‘no.’

Jungkook does not flinch or move, and your father notices. Your father notices, and something shifts in his expression like seeing a student finally understand the lesson.

"No," your father says.

Jungkook does not flinch.

"Okay," Jungkook says. "I'll ask again next week."

Your father leans forward. "Why?"

"Because I love her. Because I want to do this right. Because… because you saying ‘no’ doesn't change what I want. It just changes how long I have to wait."

Your father is very still. From the kitchen, your mother is listening, holding her breath, ready to intervene if necessary.

"And if I never say yes?" your father asks. "If I keep saying ‘no’ until you're old and gray and she's moved on to someone else?"

"Then I'll keep coming," Jungkook says, and he means it. "I'll keep coming because this isn't about you. It's about her. And she deserves someone who doesn't give up just because it's hard."

Your father looks at him for a long time. "You're not flinching," your father says quietly.

"No, sir. I'm not."

Your father sits back. He picks up his tea. He drinks it, slowly, thoughtfully, like he's tasting something new. "The chocolate croissants are better," he says finally. “Do you think I’m being cruel to you?”

"No, I understand you’re being careful."

"Do you?"

"I have a sister," Jungkook says. "She's younger, if someone wanted to marry her, I'd want them to work for it. I'd want to know if they were serious." He pauses, chooses his words carefully. "I don't think you're cruel, sir. I think you're scared. And I think that's okay. Because I'm scared too."

Your father laughs. It's a short, surprised sound, like a cough that turned into something better. "You're scared? Of what?"

"Of not being enough. Of messing up. Of all of it…marriage, forever, being someone's whole world. What if I'm bad at it? What if I hurt her? What if I try my best and my best isn't good enough?"

Jungkook realizes he's said too much, but your father doesn't attack. He just nods, slowly, like he's hearing an answer to a question he didn't know he was asking.

"So that's why you flinched," your father says. "Not because of me. Because of the fear."

"Yes, sir."

"And now?"

Jungkook thinks about the fear, which is still there; it will always be there, he knows that now. He thinks about the future, which is uncertain, which is terrifying, which is beautiful because it contains you.

"Now I'm scared," he says, "but I'm here anyway."

"Next week," your father says. "Bring the almond croissants. I changed my mind. I like them better."

"Yes, sir."

"And Jungkook?"

"Yes?"

Your father turns around and smiles, "Stop calling me sir. My name is Seojun."

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

You are eating a salad when Jungkook finally shows up, two hours late.

"Sorry," he says, dropping onto your couch with the boneless grace of a man who has been through something and survived. "A meeting ran long."

"Liar," you say, but you're smiling because he's here. He's always here, because even when he's keeping secrets, he's keeping them with such obvious love that you can't really be mad.

"Am I?"

"You're wearing a hoodie. You don't wear a hoodie to meetings."

He looks down at himself, surprised, like he hadn't noticed. "Huh. Guess I'm caught."

"Guess you are. Where were you, really?"

"I was," he says slowly, "learning how to be brave."

"Jungkook…”

"And I think," he continues, "that I'm almost there, almost ready., my love." He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers are warm. "Soon," he promises. "Soon you'll know everything.”

"Okay," you say. "But if this secret is bad, if you're secretly a criminal or you have a twin, I'm going to be mad."

He pulls you close, rests his chin on your head, and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. "I love you," he says, like it's a promise, like it's a prayer, like it's the only true thing in the world.

"I love you too," you say..

The Blessing

You are standing in the middle of your apartment holding a spoon when the world changes. Your mother calls, and her voice, when you answer, sounds strange.

"You need to come home," she says. "This Friday. Four o'clock."

"Mom, I have work-"

"Four o'clock," she repeats, "And honey? Don't tell Jungkook."

"Mom...?," you say slowly, "what's going on...?"

But she already hung up.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

Jungkook knows something is different. He's known since Tuesday, when your mother texted him with instructions for this Friday that were more specific than usual.

Daeun: Wear the blue shirt, and bring the small box, not the big one. She's suspicious enough already.

He's been carrying the small box for four months. It lives in his gym bag, wrapped in an old T-shirt, tucked between his protein powder and his backup headphones. He's taken it to work, to the convenience store at 2 am, when you wanted ice cream. He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. The blue shirt, your favorite.

Today feels different. Today feels like the last time, one way or another. He drives across town with the box in his pocket and his heart in his throat. He doesn't know you're already there. He doesn't know that your mother finally broke, finally told you everything, finally couldn't stand keeping the secret for one more day. He doesn't know that you're sitting in your childhood bedroom right now, listening to your mother's rushed explanation to you, “Every Friday, for 6 months, he…” with your hands shaking and your eyes filling with tears that you can't quite name.

Are you angry? You should be angry. He kept a secret. A big one. A secret that involved your father and pastries and some kind of ongoing test that you apparently needed to pass without knowing you were taking it. But underneath the anger is something else that feels like being chosen, over and over again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask your mother, and your voice sounds small, like a child's.

"Because he asked us not to. Because he wanted to do it right. And because your father was having too much fun to stop."

"He's been rejecting him? For 6 months?"

"29 times," your mother says. "This will be 30."

"That's…" you stop, because you don't know what that is. Cruel? Romantic?  "Where are they?"

"Living room…waiting."

You stand up. Your legs feel unsteady, and you walk to the door, opening it and hear:

"You're late," your father says.

"Traffic," Jungkook replies, and his voice is steady.

You walk slowly and silently down the hall. You can see them through the doorway. Your father in his armchair, the throne, Jungkook on the couch.

"So," your father says. "This is 30."

"Yes, sir."

"You know what I'm going to say."

"I think so," Jungkook says. "But I'd like to hear it anyway."

"You stopped flinching," your father says. "Week 26. Do you remember?"

"I remember."

"I thought that would be it. I thought I'd say ‘yes’ then, and we'd be done with this." Your father leans forward. "But then I realized… flinching was just the first test. The easy one. The real test is what you do after."

Jungkook is very still. "And?"

"And you've shown up," your father says. "29 times. Through my bad moods and my stupid questions and that week where I made you help me clean the garage because I wanted to see if you'd complain."

"I didn't complain, sir."

"Yes, that's right."

You are holding your breath. You realize this only when your lungs start to hurt, when the edges of your vision go blurry. You let it out, slow and silent, and you watch your father's face.

"Jungkook," your father says.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you love my daughter?"

"More than anything."

"Will you keep loving her? When is she difficult? When she's tired? When she's been your wife for 20, and the newness has worn off, and you're left with just, with her ordinary flaws?"

Jungkook doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Will you keep showing up?"

"Every day," Jungkook says, and his voice breaks slightly, but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't look away. "Every Friday. Every Tuesday. Every day that ends in Y, I'll keep showing up until you believe me, and then I'll keep showing up so you don't forget."

"Jungkook," your father says.

"Yes, sir?"

"My name is Seojun."

"I know, sir. I mean — I know, Seojun."

Your father stands up. He walks to Jungkook, who stands too, automatic, respectful, ready for whatever comes next. He puts his hand on Jungkook's shoulder.

"Yes," your father says.

Jungkook's face crumples for a blink…the relief, the exhaustion, the pure happiness of finally being enough.

"Thank you," Jungkook whispers. "Thank you, sir. Thank you-"

"Seojun," your father corrects, but he's smiling. "And you're welcome. Now…" he steps back, clears his throat "…you have a question to ask, don't you? Might want to get to it. She's standing right behind you."

Jungkook turns.

You are crying. You didn't realize you were crying, but your face is wet, and your hands are shaking, and you can't seem to make your mouth form words. You look at him. at your boyfriend, at this stubborn, persistent man who loved you enough to endure 29 rejections just for the chance to propose properly.

"You…" you start, and your voice breaks. "You idiot. You absolute…why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to- " he starts, and then stops, because you're walking toward him, and then you're in his arms.

"I would have said yes," you mumble into his shoulder. "Week one. I would have said yes."

"I know," he says.

"Ask me," you say.

"What?"

"Ask me. You came here thirty times to ask him, now ask me."

Jungkook's hands are shaking. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the small box. It's worn from being carried, from being hidden.

He gets down on one knee. Your mother appears in the doorway, raising the phone to record this, to capture it, to prove that it really happened.

"Okay," Jungkook says, and he's crying now too; you realize the tears tracking down his face in the most undignified, most beautiful way. "Okay. I've been practicing this. In the car. In the shower. In my head, about a thousand times." He opens the box. The ring is simple, exactly right, exactly you. "I love you. I've loved you for two years and four months and thirty days. Your father told me I wasn't ready. But I think- I hope- I'm ready now. Will you…" He stops, swallows, starts again, " …will you marry me? Will you let me keep showing up? Will you be my family, officially?"

You look at him. You look at your father, who is wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and pretending he's not. You look at your mother, who is crying, who has been waiting for this for weeks when she first saw Jungkook washing dishes in her kitchen.

You look at Jungkook.

"Yes," you say. "Yes, you idiot. Yes, I'll marry you. Yes to all of it. Yes, forever."

He puts the ring on your finger.  He stands up, and he kisses you.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ♡ྀི ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

Later, after the crying and the laughing and your father insisting on opening the good wine that he's been saving for something important, you sit on the porch with Jungkook, your hand in his, the ring catching the light.

"30 Fridays," you say. "You came here 30 times."

"29 rejections," he confirms. "One yes."

"Was it worth it?"

He looks at you. He looks at you like he looked at you the first time, like he'll look at you when you're old and gray and arguing about whose turn it is to take out the trash.

"Every single one," he says. "I'd do 30 more. 300. However many it will take."

You lean your head on his shoulder.

Inside, your father is telling your mother that he knew Jungkook would make it, that he never doubted, that he was just testing him to be sure. Your mother is rolling her eyes and pouring more wine and smiling in a way that says she knows exactly what really happened. That her husband has already accepted your boyfriend somewhere around week twelve, and has been pretending otherwise ever since.

But that's their story.

This is yours.

The future is waiting.

It's going to be exhausting and beautiful and completely worth it.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▱▰▱▰▱

a/n: i might have cried a little

hope you enojyed !! >.<

your parents rarely acknowledged you outside of this, if ever. your mere existence was a disappointment to them, for you were supposed to be a boy - your birth had been traumatic for your mother, meaning she couldn’t have any more children and your father couldn’t remarry due to the optics of it all. you were the wrong child, in the wrong body, and not a day of your life had gone by without you being told it.

and so, here you were. too quiet for your own good. secretly anxious, always going above and beyond in hopes someone would notice, not that they ever did. you’d retreat to your room, lock your door quietly and simply lay on your bed, cherishing all of your sweet plushies, and pinks and creams of your room as though it was your only friend. your only solace.

you were a prisoner in your own house, and yet your room had become your home, your jail cell that you felt a warped sense of comfort in. this was your space. no one was allowed in.

but, outside of it, you were of course victim to whatever whims those around you had wanted.

as a result, you were betrothed.

to a monster, some had muttered in your presence, making your chest tighten. to a man whose name was spoken carefully, even when people were alone - a name that demanded attention, respect and most importantly, acknowledgement.

jeon jungkook.

he was hardly just anyone. no, jungkook was head of the biggest mob in the country, with ties to multiple international groups that also saw him as their leader. power fucking oozed off of him in a way that had most shivering at the thought of fucking over a man like that, which is why your parents jumped at the opportunity of offering you up to him.

you were shocked when you heard he had accepted the offer. that was a few months ago, and a wedding was being planned without you ever have even meeting the man. you knew he was young in age, not yet touching his thirties, and some even had let you know he was handsome, though you weren’t sure if those were words uttered in fear or honesty.

it didn’t matter what you wanted. didn’t matter if you were scared, or unwilling; and certainly didn’t matter if you didn’t want this whatsoever. he was to be your husband, and more importantly - you were going to be his bride.

—

the dining room was already full when he arrived.

your parents had invited him, alongside a myriad of his men, over to your home, a dinner and celebration a few days before the wedding. that’s what they called it anyway, but you knew what it really was.

it was so he could see you. approve of you.

it made your stomach churn to think he could dismiss you. you truly weren’t sure what would be worse - his approval, or his rejection.

men had been arriving for hours now, many early in hopes to scope the room before he arrived, so they could understand the overall atmosphere of the place. tensions were high as you played with the hem of your sweet little dress. pink, with frills on the sleeves, a neckline that dipped just slightly, enough to entice but modest enough to be deemed appropriate given your status.

you could hear cars outside, feeling your chest tighten slightly before getting in position, just as you had been taught.

men rose from their seats instinctively, their chairs scraping backwards loudly whilst their voices halted mid sentences, unified by their attention landing on the figure walking through the door. jeon jungkook didn’t need to announce himself - his presence alone did that for him. black suit tailored to his body like it had been cut with intent, as opposed to fabric, shoulders so broad and posture unyielding. he carried power the way the other men in the room carried breath.

you stood beside your parents, your hands folded neatly in front of you, spine straight, chin slightly dipped.

pink. that was the first thing he registered.

a soft, babydoll dress in the palest shade, fabric floating around your thighs, sleeves brushing your arms like petals. your hair fell down your back in gentle waves, glossy, deliberate; too pretty for a house like this. you looked like something misplaced - a sweetness that didn’t belong among smoke, liquor and men who spoke in threats disguised as deals.

his gaze locked onto you and didn’t move.

you felt it immediately.

the way his eyes were grazing up and down your body, resting on your face whilst his jaw tightened visibly. you couldn’t tell if he liked the sight of you, and you could feel the familiar churn of your stomach return. your lashes lowered, a shake beginning to overcome your hands as you all walked into the dining room to be seated properly.

jungkook’s seat was supposed to be at the head, with your father at the other side, a symbolic seating plan. instead, he picked the chair beside you.

not in front.

not the head.

but a measly, centre seat.

the chair scraped as it dragged against the floor, the room suddenly quiet, and your shoulders sat high in anticipation. his thigh brushed yours underneath the table as he took his seat, subtle. deliberate. his knee then pressed into the soft inside of your leg, claiming space you hadn’t offered. you stiffened slightly, fingers tightening in your lap and breath suddenly coming out shallow.

he didn’t look away, his gaze firmly on the people around him, and you.

his hand rested on his own thigh at first, before shifting. just slightly.

fingers brushed your knee once. twice, before they began sliding upwards, curling around the delicate hem of your dress. the contact was light enough to be deniable, yet slow enough to feel intentional. you trembled, thighs pressing together instinctively whilst your heart continued to pound loud enough for him to hear.

he watched as your lips parted, clinging to every micro expression you gave him.

you didn’t move his hand away. you weren’t aware you were allowed to.

conversation carried on around you, men chatting, laughing, glasses clinking and food being eaten. jungkook remained quiet, rarely conversing, eating to be polite but refraining from a drink. he was controlled in every single thing he would do, and yet his fingers continued to flex against your skin, as though it was his every right - he had yet to even converse with you.

the world felt reduced to the heat of his touch and the weight of his attention. you could hardly eat, forcing yourself to nibble as much as you could but you were shackled to the growing feeling in your stomach, it was both foreign and terrifying. you stared at your plate without seeing it, caught between something far more dangerous than you’d anticipated.

want.

eventually, the shift happened. the women stood.

it was automatic, rehearsed - chairs sliding backwards and napkins folded, heads bowed lightly as they retreated from the table. the men were beginning to get rowdier, as they breached the topic of illegal crime, weapons sat on the table leisurely as though it was normal.

you followed once your mother rose, legs unsteady as you stepped away, his hand lingering until the very last second before slipping from your skin. both of your eyes connected, for a second and nothing more, but it was enough to have your throat visibly constrict.

you all but bolted up to your room once you were out of sight, your heart pounding and eyes closing shut tightly.

upstairs felt unreal.

your room welcomed you like a held breath, familiar and soft, pinks and creams wrapping around you as you shut your door quietly and leaned against it. your chest rose and fell too fast, fingers trembling as you crossed the length of your room and climbed onto your bed.

you curled in on yourself, knees drawn up, dress riding high on your thighs without you even realising. the fabric bunched at your waist, exposing the simple but sweet cotton underneath - innocent, unguarded.

downstairs, jungkook endured.

he couldn’t stand the men around him, your father making him feel sick to his very stomach. a pathetic man, one he had only humoured when he had actually looked into his marriage proposal. he wanted to reject, scoffing at the idea of marrying into a family like this, only to look into you and finding the sweetest thing he had ever laid his eyes upon.

big eyes and soft hair, your lips were the first thing he noticed. always so bitten, plump - he wanted to ruin them with his own immediately. he dreamt of you for weeks before proceeding with your father’s proposition, and hallucinated you for the months leading up to today. he wanted to introduce himself sooner, he needed to - but he lived across the country, and he was an insanely busy man.

being here. touching you. smelling you. god, it was ruining him.

and so, he pushed his chair back, catching the attention of everyone immediately.

“excuse me.” his tone firm. polite. “i’d like to speak to my bride. alone.”

the response was immediate - hurried explanations, men too eager to please him in hopes he would remember their loyalty. “upstairs, first room!”

jungkook didn’t hesitate. he turned around, and ascended the staircase with ease, a controlled speed that made each step creak. he reached your door, pale and large, and pushed it open without bothering to knock, dark eyes noticing the warm lighting that illuminated your space.

the click of it behind him startled you, as it caused a sense of finality, causing you to look up with a soft gasp that had his shoulders rolling.

he filled the room.

his gaze dropped down to you - curled on your bed, cheeks pink, lashes fluttering, dress hiked up just enough to reveal the sweet bow on your panties. there was something dark across his face, his jaw tightened whilst his eyes traced you slowly. possessively.

he stepped closer to you.

you shrank back instinctively, fingers curling into the sheets, heart racing as he looked over you. too close, too solid, too real. he smelled like smoke and leather, something sharp to his expression that secretly did everything other than scaring you. it was intoxicating.

his hand reached out. not gentle.

firm as it closed around your thigh, thumb pressing into soft skin as he pulled you toward him without effort. your breath stuttered, body yielding automatically as he sat and drew you onto his lap, positioning you like you belonged there.

he looked towards the other side of your bed, hand reaching out to grab one of the cute plushies that were lined delicately in a row. his too large hand took your sweet, pink bunny and placed it in your arms, your back pressed against his chest as his arms engulfed you entirely.

your legs were spread, indecently, your dress hiked up to your upper thigh giving him full view of the small wet patch sat in the centre of your panties. the cute bow on top felt like a gift to him, one he knew he’d roll over thinking about for years to come. his own legs and thighs accommodated your weight as though you were no more than a feather, as though this was natural, primal even.

you couldn’t breathe. your brain was whirling at a thousand miles per hour as you felt his fingers trace directly over the gentle cotton, soaked exactly where you wanted to be touched, but knew you shouldn’t. he wasn’t your husband yet. this wasn’t allowed. this went against every teaching, every harsh threat your parents had taught you in the name of purity. he wasn’t supposed to touch you until you had a ring on your finger and yet here he was, fingers beginning to rub gently against your clit without so much as introducing himself to you.

slow. idle. possessive. he rubbed like a man who had all of the time in the world, as though the conversation downstairs hadn’t quietened down in hopes of hearing whatever you were both talking about upstairs. jungkook wasn’t much for words. he had a mere purpose.

your hips lifted without even realising, and you froze for a moment once you noticed what you were doing. you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it again, smaller this time, tentative. as though you were testing the waters to see if you were allowed.

his chest rose behind you. a quiet, pleased sound left him, one that had your eyelashes fluttering for a moment, unaware how deeply he was staring at you.

you buried your face into your sweet bunny, fingers curling into its ears as the pressure on your clit grew deeper and deeper, the pads of his fingers rough, friction from both his touch and the cotton of your panties only adding to the feeling growing in your stomach. no one had ever touched you like this, never even looked at you.

his other hand slid slower, fingers continuing to tease your upper thighs until he found himself pushing the soaked material to a side, grunting lightly at the sight of you. his wife’s pussy. made to be ruined by him.

your chest was heaving now, quiet puffs of air leaving your body as you clung to one of his arms, cheeks redder than they’d ever felt. he leaned down; nuzzling his nose into your cheek as he rubbed your entrance, teasing the tip of his fingers as though this was more pleasurable for him than for you.

“that’s it.” your eyes shut at the sound of his voice, finally. so deep. his finger pushed inside of you just as the thrill of his tone hit your spine, causing you to whimper quietly, already feeling fuller than anything you’d ever attempted. “feel that?”

you peered up, finally meeting his gaze, a glazed over shift in your eyes as your lips parted. puffs of air were leaving you, whilst you nuzzled into your teddy, his finger thrusting in and out and thumb circling your clit. he nudged your nose against his, sickeningly sweet, as though he wasn’t fucking you with the same hands that had killed others.

it was then, he added another finger, causing you to let out a louder whine, to which he grunted, feeling his own cock poke at you from underneath, hardening from the way you clenched so tightly around his digits. he watched your eyes close, head lolling against his shoulder whilst you buried your face into your bunny, a sight cuter than words. his innocent slut.

his fingers were mean, and the way he nudged your nose was even meaner, causing you to reopen your eyes, forcing you to stare at him.

“do you touch yourself?” he whispered down at you, voice so heavy you could feel it in your stomach.

the words sank into you like a bruise, his fingers halting; though they remained deep inside of you. you whined a little, hips lifting, the feeling of fullness aching you from the inside in. you tried to look away, but he followed your gaze, almost meanly. you were forced to look at him as he stared at you, waiting for your answer.

you couldn’t run away. couldn’t hide. and so you nodded, so faintly, only once, blinking in slight fear at his reaction. you weren’t supposed to, you knew that, had it drilled in your head that you were supposed to stay pure, even from your own thoughts and yet the only thing that was bearable in your life was the fingers that would find their way over your clit every night. you weren’t even allowed to have him touch you right now, and yet here you were, moaning up at a man you had feared up until now.

“yes?” he repeated, an almost hiss that had you cowering slightly, thighs beginning to close.

your face burned. your lashes fluttering away whilst you nodded, nibbling at your bottom lip. “i-i know..i’m not supposed to..i’m sorr-”

you were cut off immediately by a drop of his face, his nose tilting yours before he pressed his lips against yours.

his lips were moving against yours hungrily, and you struggled to keep up. this was your first kiss, and he could feel it, could taste it in the way you were gasping, your tongue lapping against his in a bid to reciprocate his skill. he could feel his brain twisting painfully at the thought of you, surrounded by the sweetness of your room, hand over your mouth, toying with yourself and bringing yourself to heights with closed eyes. fuck. it killed him.

you pulled away, struggling to breathe, eyebrows furrowed whilst looking at him, completely taken aback by his response. he was panting too, and he looked like he was in pain, only for him to drop down and kiss you once more, whilst resuming his merciless attack on you.

his two fingers were touching that spot inside of you, something you’d never been able to reach with your much smaller fingers and it was driving you insane, moaning into his mouth, hands still clutching your bunny as though your life depended on it.

“fuck.” he whispered once he pulled away, forehead pressing against yours. “want you to keep touching this pussy for me, hm? every day, every night. want you to remember how deep my fingers feel inside of you, how i’m stretching you out, how good it feels. and when i have you, and you’re all dressed in white, i’ll make you feel even better on my cock, you hear me?”

your eyes were wide as you stared up at him, his pace too rough for your poor virgin pussy, but a warped part of you yearned for more as your toes curled, panting, crumbling, whimpering. with a final whine, your body arched into his as your orgasm ripped through you at the mere thought of being split open on his cock, feeling something impossibly bigger deep inside your stomach, knowing in only a few days that very concept would become a reality.

jungkook fucked you through it, fingers not letting up until you began to shake, and only then did he slowly pull out, once you were whimpering into your bunny.

the sudden loss had you letting out a small noise of despair, one that had him hissing slowly as he watched your much smaller hands cup his own. he tilted his head towards you, his free hand grabbing your chin, so you could watch as he inserted his fingers into his own mouth.

jungkook let out a small moan himself, eyes shutting tightly at the taste of what was soon to be his, and for once, the man held himself back from what he wanted most. you.

you were panting as he straightened his back, your big eyes peering up at him, too shy given the fact he had just kissed you, and made you cum on his fingers before ever even conversing with you properly. your legs were like jello as he stood up, picking you up with him, suddenly up in the air which had your arms tightening around his neck, your bunny falling to the ground.

he pressed another sweet kiss to your lips, to which you responded, trying to keep up once more, despite the fact this one was much slower, much quieter, without the charged energy despite the fat, hard bulge visible in his trousers. he laid you on your bed properly, your hair sprawled around you and your now crinkled dress still pushed up.

“i’ll see you soon, baby. just a few more days, then you’ll be my bride.”

with a single kiss to your head, you watched your soon to be husband walk out of your room, your bunny in hand, and your panties in the other.

—

the morning of your wedding does not begin with congratulations.

it began with silence.

the servants moved carefully around you as you slept in a home that did not belong to you. you had travelled to jungkook’s city, the journey taking hours and now you were in a hotel room where the bed, although lavish, felt empty. cold. you weren’t surrounded by the familiarity of your typical warmth, and it did nothing to lessen your nerves.

no one around you met your eye. no one wished you well. they dressed you due to duty, not because they wanted to.

your mother was the last to enter.

her eyes swept over you critically, lips tugged into her typical usual frown as she sharply assessed you, as though you weren’t her daughter, but a mere investment finally ready to be unveiled. her fingers reached out without warning, pinching the material at your waist harshly.

“this is too loose.” she said coolly. “tighten it.”

the seamstress looked up from her crouched position, hesitating with furrowed brows. any tighter and it would hurt you.

your mother noticed her uncertainty, gaze snapping to her. “did i ask you to think?”

the woman murmured a rushed apology before obeying, pulling until the corset began to bite at your ribs. your breath caught, shallow and painful, but you refused to complain. you were taught long ago that discomfort was hardly something worth acknowledging.

she stepped back once you were fully adorned in white, unable to properly breathe, arms folded.

“you look acceptable.” she says at last. no mentions of your beauty or radiance, merely acceptable. “remember your place today.”

you nodded. you always nodded.

your father arrived then, already dressed, already impatient with how long it was taking to doll you up to perfection. he didn’t bother greeting you, his attention fixated on his expensive cufflinks as he adjusted them in the mirror.

“do not embarrass us.” he said flatly. “no crying. do not hesitate. don’t forget that this union is the only reason you were kept.”

the words landed with practised precision, hitting you right where it hurt most.

you lowered your gaze with another nod, fingers curling into the material of your dress.

he finally looked at you then. not in pride, or awe, but with warning.

“you’re fortunate.” he continued. “men like him do not take damaged things lightly. if you fail, there will be no coming back.”

as if you ever could.

your mother stepped forward to adjust your veil over your face, sheer lace barely hiding your features as it draped over your body sweetly. you looked like a vision, more beautiful than anyone could ever anticipate and how intrigued they were to see jungkook’s bride, the sole woman that had him ready to marry.

“smile,” she murmured under her breath. “you’re about to become very expensive property.”

property.

the word echoed around in your head, even as you stood in front of the double doors you were about to walk through, your father gripping your arm much too harshly to be deemed normal, whilst your bouquet sat comfortably in your free hand.

you could hear him before you could see him. not his voice, but the mere reaction to him.

the murmur inside the venue dulled, like sound being swallowed whole. chairs shifted, men straightening instinctively, shoulders squaring, heads turning towards the alter not in curiosity, but recognition. fear. respect.

your fathers grip tightened on your arm. too tight.

a warning disguised as support.

the doors ahead of you loomed, tall and carved, polished to a shine that reflected a distorted version of yourself - white and trembling, veiled and small. your heart beat so loudly you were sure it could be heard over the music in the room, each thud crawling up your throat and settling behind your eyes in a gentle sting.

the doors opened.

light flooded in, blinding you for a moment, but all you could see, all you could focus and notice was him.

jeon jungkook stood at the altar like owned the very ground beneath it.

black suit, cut sharp and severe, tailored to perfection. fabric clung to his body in a way that looked like it had been built for violence. his shoulders sat so broad, so wide, so tall - he was everything, with his hands loosely folded in front of him. he commended the very audience, and they watched as you began ascending in obvious awe.

the moment he saw you, something changed. something that sat far enough from subtlety that it caught your attention immediately.

his gaze locked onto yours with frightening immediacy, dark and unblinking, stripping the room of everyone else. you remembered the last time you saw him as a pang of pure want hit you deep in your stomach, rendering you breathless for a moment as you walked towards him in practised perfection, all whilst he did the same, his jaw tightening visibly.

his eyes were dragging up and down slowly. he was the epitome of hunger.

your steps almost faltered for a moment, only to have your father dig his fingers deep into your arm, an action that was caught by your betrothed almost immediately.

each step felt unreal, like moving through water. your dress flowed around you, white silk and lace trailing behind whilst the fabric whispered against the floor like it was telling secrets. the veil softened the world but it did nothing, nothing at all, to dull him.

it made him sharper.

he watched you like a predator watched something special precious. your bouquet trembled faintly in your grasp.

your parents had done their job well - your chin was lifted enough, shoulders relaxed but not loose, expression calm, serene, perfect.

a bride carved by cruelty - seen by her groom.

you reached the alter, your father releasing you almost too abruptly and it caught the eyes of those around you as your cheeks flamed in shame. jungkook stepped forward almost immediately, gaze severe as he pointed it towards your family whilst taking a hold of your hand, too soft to be anything deemed to be from him.

his thumb was over your pulse as you guided you to the middle of the alter, positioning you beside him, too large back covering you slightly from the piercing eyes of the people around you. it was his first act of protection, and immediately, you melted in his touch, seeing it. recognising it for what it was.

you were no longer a product on display. jungkook was openly claiming you.

it was the only thing churning in your brain as the officiant spoke, going through ancient vows that were imperative to your mob culture, carved through loyalty and expectation. your eyes were flickering to his broad chest, his jaw, his face, your interlocked hands. you were nervous, it was clear, but you weren’t afraid - something you could have never expected.

you spoke after he did, doing everything exactly as you were supposed to, and you knew the important people in the room were pleased with the sight of you. you truly were worthy of the man beside you.

and soon enough, you were turned to fully face him as your hands interlocked properly. for a moment, you let out a soft breath. he reached for your veil, lifting it, his eyes searching your face fully for the first time that day.

you looked up at him. wide eyed, flushed, obedient. his own breath caught, a rarity for him.

his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up as if it were the most natural thing in the world, before pressing his lips to your own. the kiss was hardly gentle, and not soft at all - it was an open claim for everyone there to see clearly. the control, the deliberate harshness was a message that delivered clearly.

you were his. under his protection. his wife.

the room erupted.

applause and cheers - approval was chanted loudly as it echoed around the hall, everyone stood on their feet to display their loyalty to jungkook, and show respect to you as you were now an extension of him. you were no longer y/n y/ln. you were now a jeon.

you barely registered it, too busy revelling in the way his hand pulled up your own to his lips once he had pulled away, turning to face the crowd alongside you. he dipped his head, whispering something in your ear only for you to hear it.

“my wife now.”

later, your reception boomed with noise, ranging from glasses clinking to loud cheers. a true mafia wedding; with some of the richest, powerful men in the entire world celebrating the wedding of the century. you sat beside jungkook, having taken your seat only a few seconds before whilst he leaned back, his gun openly on the table, eyes dark, lips parted as he looked around.

your hands were shuffled in your lap, as you watched with a glass filled with champagne that you left untouched. you were told it wasn’t womanly to drink on your wedding, despite knowing it would ease the heaviness in your stomach, and so you stayed away. it was what you did best.

jungkook’s hand sat heavy on your thigh, claiming, whilst he openly watched everyone celebrate you both, though he remained quiet. not laughing, stoic even, and your heart banged. did he have regrets? he was the most powerfully man in the room and yet even he was bound by honour; you knew he couldn’t divorce you so soon, but you really didn’t have anywhere to go if he decided he didn’t want you. maybe your dress wasn’t to his liking, or the incident in your room a few days ago had painted a different picture in his head of you?

“deep in thought on your wedding day.” he murmured quietly, suddenly leaning into your space, causing your doe eyes to widen further as you peered up at him. “s-sorry.”

he simply observed you, holding your gaze. “what are you thinking about?”

you nibbled on your lip immediately. you couldn’t lie to him, but there was no way you could tell him all of your insecurities, on your wedding day no doubt. it would send a man like him running. “my dress is tight.” you quietly lied, though it tasted poor on your tongue.

he leaned back slightly, jaw tightening as his eyes wandered over you. “didn’t take you for someone who lied, y/n.”

your gaze snapped back to him as you opened your mouth, and shut it immediately, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. he was displeased with you..you had already messed it up, and you were only an hour into your marriage.

little to your knowledge, jungkook could read you like an open book. you were pristine, polished to perfection, but he could see cracks. could see the way your fingers clutched your dress, mere millimetres away from his own hand, itching to be comforted, desperate for the gnawing anxiety to go away. he had an odd sort of attachment for you, something he had never seen coming and yet one sight of you in your bed had changed him for life.

he’d never ever let you fucking feel small again.

he noticed the gulp in your throat, and slowly lifted his hand from your thigh until they took a hold of one of your hands, squeezing it softly. “i’m playing with you, y/n.” he quietly murmured. “no one is watching us. you can relax.”

you met his eyes, and for a moment, you let him see. let him see the turmoil of emotion behind your eyes, the way you nibbled on your lip and the way your fingers shyly curled around his own as though it was both foreign and uncertain. were you allowed to? he was your husband after all.

“is this okay?” you whispered up at him so sweetly, voice so quiet he had to strain to hear you.

big, mafia boss jungkook sat there staring at you, heart beating so wildly in his chest it took everything in him not to pounce on you then and there.

“more than okay.” he assured for a moment, causing you to give him a shy smile, still unsure, but almost hopeful. your fingers curled even further into his, interlocking and cupping his hand whilst your flushed cheeks only turned more red.

your smile had undone him, but he felt unsettled at the prospect of you having to ask, especially considering his fingers had been inside you so deeply a mere 72 hours ago. a fucked up part of him liked it, liked the fear and curiosity mixture you exuded, it made him harder than anything he could conjure up. you were the sweet lamb locked up in a cage with the big bad wolf.

around you, men were laughing too loudly, glasses clinking as some voices carried throughout the reception. you couldn’t help but flinch, making eye contact with a few but hastily looking away, feeling uncomfortable as you immediately squeezed jungkook’s hands out of your mere subconscious.

he reacted immediately, eyes landing on the same man that dared to look at his wife, watching the way they recoiled, looking away immediately. he grabbed your chair suddenly, and dragged, making you yelp quietly as you grabbed onto him whilst you were manhandled closer to him. one arm slid over the back of your seat, and the other sat back in your hands, firmer this time.

“let them look.” his voice was rough. as though the thought boiled his blood. “they’ll do it anyway. but they won’t get a fucking taste of you.”

your eyes hooded at the implication of what he was saying, remembering the orgasm he had given you. how could you forget? you had spent the last 3 days trying to replicate it to no avail, spending hours with your own fingers inside you only to be left a sloppy mess.

your heart pounded. “..and you do?”

something flickered in his eyes with a slight twist at the end of his mouth. he met your gaze.

“i’ve been watching you for a long time now, y/n.” his voice was too calm for the admission he had given you. “had my eye on you, i’m a patient man when i need to be. need you to understand this very clearly when i tell you i chose you because you’re mine. you were supposed to be mine, and you are fucking mine.” his tone grew rougher with each word, his thumb drawing deceptive circles into your hand. “understand?”

your chest was heaving, eyes beaming up at him as your brain began to melt. to know someone wanted you this much, to the point of watching you, observing, stalking. it was so fucked up, even you could admit that, but it didn’t lessen how badly you could feel the warmth in your body grow at the mere admission. you nodded along to his words, panting lightly as your body turned to him.

“you want me?” your eyebrows were furrowed, words foreign in your mouth, as though it was something you had never dared to ask anyone in your life for you already knew the answer. in this case, you couldn’t believe it.

he grabbed your hand firmer, grunting lightly. “you belong to me.” he reiterated, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips, pressing sinful kisses to your knuckles.

hours passed as you sat there, and you both conversed lightly, though it was minimal as men came up to him, often talking business whilst you ate silently, watching people, avoiding the gaze of your parents who were quietly seething at the way you were taking sips of your drink and nibbling on food, everything they told you not to do. but you weren’t theirs anymore, were you?

jungkook stayed seated the way he always did - spine straight, shoulders squared, presence immovable. his hand remained wrapped around yours, steady, grounding, as though he’d decided this was where it belonged and saw no reason to move it.

you were deep in thought, and the intrigue in his chest was beginning to muddle his brain. he was a man that prided himself on how composed he was and yet you were ruining him completely, in front of multiple men that would take the chance to take him down if they could. they couldn’t, of course.

“what’s on your mind?”

your head tilted, blinking. “hm?”

his eyes flickered to yours, your faces much too close. his gaze was dark and unreadable. “it’s just us.”

just us, your brain chanted.

you hesitated, visibly. his gaze was direct, almost intrusive, and it had you opening your mouth before you could even think.

“you’re a..bad man.” you whispered.

the words landed between you.

you had been watching him converse and interact for the past few hours and it was settling deep inside your stomach, scaring you, intriguing you, making you curious. it was everything you’d been forced to look away from, hearing it from the confinements of your room as your father bellowed downstairs. women weren’t allowed to be privy to it in your life, and yet jungkook was here, newly married, sharing it with his bride.

jungkook didn’t react the way you expected - didn’t stiffen, bristle. he merely leaned back into his seat, still touching you.

he exhaled as he tilted his head at you. “yes. i am.”

your lashes fluttered. you hadn’t expected him to agree so easily.

he turned further into you, your knees touching. “does that scare you?”

you shook your head before you could overthink it. a tiny, almost imperceptible movement but he caught it. always did.

“no..” you admitted softly

his gaze sharpened. not unkind, curious. amused even. “why not?”

your fingers tightened in his, betraying your feelings. “i don’t know..” you whispered, looking down at your hands “i just..feel like-“ your words were trailing, embarrassed suddenly by your own boldness.

“say it.” he commanded.

you took a breath, still look in downwards. “feel like..you wouldn’t..be bad to me.”

something dark and satisfied flickered behind his eyes, his chest inflating slightly. he leaned in, voice dropping even lower. “do you like that i’m fucked up?”

your breath caught, heat fluttering up to your cheeks so fast it made you dizzy. you didn’t answer - couldn’t bring yourself to. the way your fingers tightened into his grip said enough.

jungkook watched you for a long time before speaking.

“i’m not a good man. i kill, i’ve got blood on my hands and i’m not going to stop. this is how this works, and you won’t get a say in that.” he watched the way you nodded, though he couldn’t help but notice the way your fingers were tracing his palm, as though his words had a completely different effect than he anticipated. “but i’ll come to you every night. that’s my promise to you, alright? i come home clean.”

“promise?” you surprised yourself with your boldness, despite your shyness.

he nodded in response, grunting lightly at the way you seemed so flushed.

“promise.”

—

your wedding had come to a close, and you were finally sat in the backseat of your private valeted car, alongside your now husband, hands touching. your heart was beating out of your chest, a new norm it seemed, as jungkook’s eyes ran up and down you like a man in heat.

a twisted part of your brain couldn’t wait. you felt excited, anticipated what he would do to you, how he’d do it, as though you weren’t about to be locked into a room with a big, bad, wolf - an apex predator known for little mercy. you were his wife, though, and one thing he had made clear in the little time you had spent in his presence was how much he enjoyed the concept.

and so, his hand sat on your thigh, cupping it through your heavy dress, veil still attached to your head as you shyly played with his fingers, the perfect vision of a coy bride. he had been hard all night, and frankly, for the past few days. seeing you today, a physical and external claim to the world that you belonged to him and him alone, god. it ruined him.

the car pulled up to a large home, larger than anything you’d ever seen and you too had come from wealth. you knew jungkook was in a different ballpark entirely, but the small gasp that left you as you looked out of the window pleased him greatly. he felt smug knowing he could lavish you.

“this is where you live?” you asked him in a quiet, awed tone, facing him with large eyes.

he watched you instead of the view he had grown too accustomed to, taking in the way you were in shock at your surroundings. he liked the contained excitement emitting from you, he couldn’t wait to see it further.

“for now.” he merely replied.

your brows knitted. “for now?” you repeated.

his thumb pressed into your thigh momentarily, slow and deliberate. “you’ll decide whether it feels like home.”

your heart kicked harder at his choice of words, a shy smile slowly forming on your face as you both shared eye contact for a second or two. for the first time in the short period you’d met him, the side of his mouth lifted slightly, matching you in your amusement.

soon, he was leading you inside, hand folded into your own as he lead you through room to room, pleasure gripping his chest at the sight of you so giddy, in awe of each and every thing that belonged to him.

jungkook was hardly someone who had experienced much outside of his work, and though he had an extravagant house, he had no time to spend in it. he’d come home to empty rooms, and eat dinner quietly after his housemaids had left, with only his security outside heard. it was lonely. silent. a curse well fitted to a man of his immoral standing.

but seeing you, still in your wedding dress, squealing over the size of the bath, or gasping loudly at the range of kitchen appliances he had truly never used a day in his life - it brought him a sense of intrigue, comfort. like you were the one thing that had been missing all along.

“i’ve never been to a place like this before.” you admitted, still shy at the prospect of being so honest to him despite knowing you weren’t supposed to be so open to him. your mother would be screaming if she knew.

“i know.” his gaze softened a little, feeling the way you were struggling to word it to him. “and..we really get to live here?” you asked once more, eyes too doe-like to be anything but innocent, causing him to internally hiss.

he was leading you upstairs as you spoke, dark eyes capturing you over his shoulder. “everything here belongs to you. this is yours now.”

you wish you weren’t so giddy, but the prospect of it all was just so exciting. despite your naivety, and the real fear that you truly didn’t know your husband whatsoever - he could be a cruel husband to you and you’d have to endure it in the name of your community but..deep down, you knew that wouldn’t be the case. he held you differently, touched you, looked at you.

“this is our room.” he turned to you as he opened the double set of doors to reveal your new living space.

you followed a step behind him, the sound of your high heels almost too loud on the delicate floor, and you could feel his eyes watching over ever inch of you. it exhilarated you. made you feel things you knew you weren’t supposed to.

your new bedroom was anything but warm. black sheets, dark walls - everything was cleaned to perfection. the bedding had been steamed, prepared delicately for the both of you, whilst the room itself had been stripped of anything to give it any sense of personality. it was a wild juxtaposition to your room, where you had creams, pinks, trinkets and books.

the only thing that had you letting out a soft gasp, was the sight of your sweet bunny, sat perfectly against one of the pillows.

you immediately began walking over to it, almost excited to see a taste of the only home you’d ever known well within reach, just as he closed the doors behind him. a sense of finality. for the first time, it was just you and jungkook and that was a scary thought - being in a room with a bad man who had no qualms for human life was a terrifying thought, but to be wanted so primarily by him? that was electrifying.

he loosened his tie as he watched you sit cutely on the side of the bed, holding the plush you. he tugged it free and pulled it off, before moving to his cuff links. every movement was deliberate, intentional, and by the time you were looking up at him, he too looked down at you with a hooded expression.

“come here.” he commanded.

you did exactly that, without even thinking, only to be turned around. your back was gently brushing against his chest as he breathed in your scent, watching the way your chest rose and fell, as though he was about to break you in half. it was his very intention.

rough hands grabbed your veil, lifting it out of your hair, before grabbing the ribbon of your corset in the back. he was a patient man for most things, but for you? he grabbed the pocket knife he kept in the console table beside him, cutting through each strand with a harshness that had you bristling, your dress becoming loose almost immediately.

he watched as it began to slide off of your body, leaving you in no more than the pretty white set you adorned solely for him. you were nibbling on your lip, still extremely nervous though the wet patch growing in between your legs, soiling your panties, was a big enough indicator of what you really wanted.

he turned you around once more, openly checking you out. from the way your tits had been pushed up by your bra, or the tiny panties he knew he’d keep for himself the second you took them off. he already had plans of taking them with him to work so he could fuck his fist to the memory of tonight, and it was doing nothing to calm the raging boner that was poking against his slacks.

“i don’t plan on being gentle with you.” he said.

your eyes flick to his, watching the way he took your own hands and lifted them so they were touching his chest, giving you agency to touch him, wanting you to feel comfortable in doing so.

his own hands slid over to your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer, so you were looking up at him with a bent head whilst he bent down to look at you, both equally as intrigued. a dangerous mix.

“i can’t give you softness. if that’s what you want, you need to tell me now.” his voice was quiet.

your throat tightened, fingers digging into his chest just to feel his skin. “that’s okay.”

he stilled.

silence. then - a breath, as though he was recalibrating, figuring you out.

“yeah?” his murmurs were soft. “you sure about that?”

you nodded, shy, small. certain. “I don’t think i’d like you gentle.”

to that, jungkook’s lips lifted slightly, in a tense snarl as suddenly, he pushed you back until you were dropping onto your bed, a small noise of surprise leaving you. your body bounced, whilst he climbed on top of you, pinning your hands above his head and grunting.

before you could even respond, his lips met yours, drowning out any noises or surprise whilst he pressed his body against yours so you could feel the hardness of his body. your fingers curled against his one hand, his strength barely on display and yet it had you whimpering at the feel of him so easily dominating you without even trying. the sight had your thighs visibly pressing together.

the kiss was harsh. mean, even, and it resembled that of the one in your bedroom only a few nights ago. he had made you cum without even introducing himself to you, letting your first impression of him being cruel fingers inside of you, curling and making sure your poor pussy would remember every inch as though it was the mere beginning for what was to come. now feeling his hard boner against his slacks, you knew that sentiment to be true.

his tongue was exploring your mouth, and despite being inexperienced, you were trying your hardest to keep up. you felt good, so much better than what you anticipated and he had barely started. everyone around you had been telling you how cruel the wedding night was - always the man fucking his new bride with no care to her pleasure, and yet here jungkook was, equally as cruel and yet basking in the pretty moans you were letting out.

once he pulled away, a string of saliva separated the two of you, the sight making you shudder as you looked up at him. he was on top of you, removing his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt whilst you watched, shivering from anticipation.

scars littered all over his chest, arms and shoulders. some deep, others faint, as though time had healed them into obscurity whilst thick tattoos also covered the majority of his right arm. you’d seen glimpses of them on his hand but you had no idea how high they went, spanning across half of his chest and shoulder. he watched you gulp, fingers faintly going over a particular scar on his stomach with furrowed eyebrows.

despite being deeply immoral, mobs had a clear code of conduct. that meant the women and children of these crime families weren’t used as pawns, nor were they made privy to the heinous things their husbands, brothers and sons would do in the name of work. you had been oblivious to the true nature of it all of your life, despite getting abused openly by your parents. the sight of jungkook in front of you scared you more than anything else you’d been subject to - the scars you were openly looking at were no doubt a result of punishments, or being caught.

you knew he was powerful, the only name that mattered, and yet seeing it had your eyes widening.

he was now all yours.

one hand shot down to grab your bra, removing it off of you in expert skill as though he had practised this very motion in his mind over and over, leaving you half exposed.

soon, your positions had changed, with him sat, back to the frame of the bed with you laid in his arms, panties slid to the side, and his fingers pumping deep inside of you. this was a mirror to what you had experienced when he had forced himself into your presence in the safety of your room, forever tainting the last bit of innocence you had left.

“did you do what i asked you to do?” he hissed down at you, as he fucked you with his two fingers, watching the way your pussy sucked them in hungrily, despite them feeling too much for you in that moment.

his other hand was around your neck, tightening just slightly, whilst two of his fingers pushed into your mouth, forcing you to suck, rendering you utterly helpless.

you nodded, through a small whine and sniffle, thighs shaking as he grunted in approval. “yeah..” you sucked harder, the feel of him heavy on your tongue whilst taking your breath away almost too much for you to handle.

the thought of you in your bed, fingering yourself with your too small hands, moaning quietly in hopes of not being caught simply because your soon to be husband had asked you to was fuel for him to pump harder. knowing you were constantly wet and thinking of him, pushing your fingers in even when it felt like too much - fuck. you would be the death of him.

“such a good girl, aren’t you? did it feel good?” he was grunting against you, now only in his boxers that were straining harshly against his cock, but he paid it no mind. he wanted to ruin you first.

you nodded, shy, ashamed. it went against everything you’d ever been taught.

“b-but..didn’t..couldn’t cum..” you managed to choke out, big teary eyes staring up at him, whilst he abused your poor virgin pussy, desperate to be stretched even further. “fuck, needed me didn’t you?” your admission had his eyes closing, a rare sight of jungkook being made undone. “you liked being fingered by me, y/n?”

you nodded, lip beginning to quiver at his choice of words. so dirty. so fucked.

“filthy fucking girl.” he hissed once more, though he was pleased beyond words. “you were made to be ruined, weren’t you? cumming like that on my fingers. i’m a stranger to you, never even met me and you’re here leaking on me, begging me to break you.”

your chest heaved, as you felt your orgasm impending. you could feel it growing, and it felt like an ache you had tried to get rid of for days, finally ready to disappear. you sucked on his fingers whilst his others tightened around your neck further, practically cutting off your breathing bar a few puffs, watching the way your back arched deeper into him. you looked so sweet, so gentle. he fucking loved it.

it was when he dipped his head down, nose brushing against yours as though you weren’t a slobbery mess, both inbetween your legs and around his fingers, eyes dark. “you wanna be my good girl? want me to be pleased with you, baby?”

you nodded quickly, yearning for his approval, desperate for it. you’d do anything to have it, and he knew it - had his cock ready to burst.

his fingers quickened, before he released his fingers from your mouth, instead properly tightening around your neck. “then cum for me.”

and so you did.

your vision went white as you struggled to breathe, your orgasm exploding inside of your body, back arching off of the bed. his fingers didn’t slow down, keeping up the brutal pace whilst your body shook, unable to take a breath, forcing your lungs to work overtime to compute the rippling orgasm taking away your air.

he pulled away from your neck, watching you collapse back into his chest with broken breaths, desperate whines filling the room once his fingers left your pussy, only for him to suck on them immediately, groaning quietly over how good you tasted.

your eyes were closed, as he manhandled you, pushing you further up the bed. he stood, taking off his boxers, and the slap of his hard cock hitting your stomach was what echoed alongside your pants, causing you to look up immediately.

the first thing you did was whine at the mere sight. thick, long and fat. his tip looked angry, a deep shade of pink, with dribbling precum smearing all over his shaft as jungkook pumped it over you, causing your eyes to flutter. you struggled taking your own fingers, but knowing you were about to be practically impaled by him had you almost scrambling away.

“come here.” his voice was rough as you shakily turned to him, legs already jelly as you sat on them.

he dropped his cock onto your face, slapping your cheeks, your lips, nose. the juxtaposition of your sweet, innocent face whilst he smeared his precum all over your lips was delicious, and he wanted to forever remember you like this - his pretty whore. his wife.

the weight of his cock had your brain fizzling out, unable to compute anything in that moment other than the feel of him.

“want you like this every day.” he whispered suddenly, pulling your hair closer to his cock, making you open your mouth in surprise. he took that as his chance to insert the tip, letting it sit heavy in your mouth. “on your knees, mouth open. letting me use you. you’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

“mhm.” you hummed immediately, the thought causing another wave of wetness to appear between your legs. “wan’that.”

he hummed back, pleased with your answer. he wanted to fuck your throat, make you memorise the exact length of him down until you couldn’t breathe, until you were tapping his legs in desperation, crying all sloppy and wet. he’d save it for another time, almost hopeful that you’d misbehave soon so he’d get a chance to ruin you further. for now? he had every intention of fucking you.

“ass in the air.” he grunted down at you, before pressing a kiss to your lips, grounding you. “let me see your pussy.”

and so you did exactly what your husband asked of you. you sniffled a little, almost in anticipation as you leaned down, arching your back so your face was gently pressed against his pillow, revealing your already puffy core. it was begging for him, desperate to be touched, ruined, broken - whatever he had planned for you, anything he’d give you.

jungkook let out an uncharacteristic groan at the sight, huffing a little at the sight of you so ruined, before he positioned himself nicely. he rubbed his tip over your slick folds, watching the way you shuddered at the size of him, nervously nibbling on your lip.

he leaned over you then, causing you to still in confusion, only for him to shove something in your hands.

your pink bunny.

“hold it.” he wasn’t asking you, but rather making you.

he wanted you holding on to your last bit of innocence as he fucked it out of you. a cruel, cruel man indeed.

you grabbed it, just like he asked, nuzzling your face into it for comfort as he lined himself up to your hole, and began pushing in.

your eyes closed, loud gasps leaving you at the feel of being stretched. one inch, two inch, three, four. it felt like it was going on forever until he had his entire cock inside of you, causing you to shake, whimper, and scratch at the sheets. he was too big, way too big for you to handle and yet here you were, stretched impossibly around a cock that had bullied its way in regardless.

he grunted loudly as he dropped down, his chest now against your back, cupping your body. your face was pressed against your sweet bunny, tears beginning to leak from your eyes whilst he remained still, forcing you to adjust whilst also catching your gaze from above.

“feel that?” he whispered, shaking himself. “gonna make sure you feel like this everyday. such a tight, perfect pussy.”

it felt like a threat, one that had your legs shaking, making them completely give out as you dropped down onto the bed, causing him to thrust inside you.

you let out a loud whimper, his eyes rolling back at the sound before thrusting again. and again. and again. you were being fucked so meanly, whilst he whispered utter filth into your ear, kissing your cheeks, your head, your back - he bit against your shoulder whilst his deep thrusts hit the most intimate parts of you.

the pain remained, but the pleasure was growing immensely with each and every thrust. it was cruel how good it felt, how fucked up your brain was beginning to feel at the thought of such an evil man being the one to take your virginity, and before you could even comprehend what your body was doing, you were matching his thrusts. you knew he was holding back, you just didn’t want him to.

“faster.” you begged him with watery eyes and a soft sniffle, cheek curling into your bunny so sweetly he wanted to marry you all over again.

he let out a moan at your words, giving you exactly what you wanted.

his thrusts felt like a punishment in itself, one that had you moaning out his name, over and over and over. the sound of skin hitting skin was loud, his arms caging you in tight, making you take each thrust much to your secret delight.

“s’good.” you slurred into your teddy, eyes shutting tight. “want it..”

“yeah?” he was biting hard on your neck, leaving purple marks anywhere he could reach. “such a perfect girl. taking my cock like you were born for it, huh? you like your pussy being broken in?”

“like it so much.” you tearily moaned back, salty beads beginning to leak down your face quicker than you’d anticipated, pleasure beginning to overcome any pain you had initially felt. “want it all the time.”

to that, he closed his eyes, breathing in the strawberry scent emitting from your hair, grunting loudly. “i’ll give you the fucking world, baby. anything you want, you hear me? swear, i’ll make you feel so good, never let you wake up without a pussy full of cum.”

your legs were shaking, orgasm already impending and he could feel it, could feel the way your pussy was tightening and clenching. he halted his thrusts, resulting in a loud, bratty whine from you as he pulled out, making him spank your ass hard.

he twisted you around, your teddy still in your arms before he pushed back in, so you were facing him in missionary. his head dropped to yours whilst your ass still stung, your arms wrapping around his neck almost immediately, craving him closer and closer and closer. you wanted him deport, wanted to feel him inside your very blood stream, overcome with a feeling of want.

“dreamt about you. used to go to bed at night hard thinking about all the ways i could make you cum.” he was growling in your ear. “knew i had to have you. didn’t fucking care if you didn’t want me back, you’re mine anyway, you understand me? you’re mine, y/n, and i’ll put a bullet in anyone’s head who thinks otherwise.”

your teary eyes looked up at him as you let out a small sob, his thrusts growing harder, faster, deeper. “promise?” you cried up at him, the feeling of being wanted running so deeply through your veins, healing the single part of you that made you cry each night.

it was all you’d ever wanted. you just wanted someone to look at you, choose you and be happy. you were deprived of it for so long, not knowing what it felt like to be the cause of someone’s need or want, only to have your husband hovering over you, cock deep inside your fucking stomach as he professed his primitive need for you.

“promise, sweet girl.” he assured, capturing your wobbly lips in another brief kiss before pressing his head to yours, looking down at your teddy. “good girl. keep holding your bunny, baby.”

his girl was such a good listener, as you nodded through your sobs, nuzzling your face so sweetly into it as though you weren’t being pounded into, your virginity stolen away by a man that had no intention of being gentle with you during your first time.

you could feel the familiar feeling in your stomach, causing your legs to wrap around jungkook’s waist, feet digging into his back, almost begging him to be harsher with you. you were just as fucked up as he was, begging for the pain since it made the pleasure so much better.

“you wanna cum, baby?” he condescendingly asked, voice mocking you as you nodded up at him anyway, letting out a loud sob. “yeah? want me to fill up your pussy too? make it nice and milky?”

“please please please..” you chanted, tits bouncing with each thrust much to his enjoyment.

before either of you could think, your second orgasm rushed through you harsher than your first, rendering you utterly speechless. whilst your vision had gone white with the first, this time, it had gone black - causing you to drop into an overwhelming sense of unconsciousness for a few seconds as it ripped through you entirely.

jungkook watched, the sight hotter than anything he’d ever seen before, causing his own balls to tighten, his orgasm impacting him immediately too.

“fuck, fuck, fuck..take it.” he was growling at you, pumping through his orgasm as he released his cum inside of you, fucking you both through your highs.

you felt even fuller than before, cum leaking out from either side of his cock as he plugged it all inside of you, causing you to shake desperately in his arms, whilst you cried still, much to his enjoyment.

by the time you were both coming down from your highs, your face was a blotchy mess, makeup completely ruined whilst his back, chest and shoulders were littered with new red marks that stung with each movement. he loved it. he slowly pulled out of you, watching the way his cum leaked out of you almost immediately, the sight intoxicating.

his fingers pushed it back in with haste, lifting your legs slightly to make sure it wouldn’t leak again, and the action had you whimpering. he wanted the cum to stick. wanted to get you round and plump, pregnant with his baby so he could keep you forever.

he knew he was a relatively cruel guy, but he sincerely had plans to be good to you. he pulled you into his arms immediately, holding you sweetly whilst kissing over your wet cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips, nuzzling your nose, stroking your hair. he whispered sweet nothings, telling you how proud he was, how good you were for him, each phrase causing you to whimper louder than the next.

his sweet wife. god, you were everything and more and you had no idea. he’d make sure you were to never see your family again, even if that meant wiping them out for what they had done to you - he had to work on removing the conditioning they had done to your brain, make sure you were happy. that you were safe, as free as you could be with a guy like him.

one look up at him, with your teary eyes and sniffling nose, as though he had the answers to each and every single thing in the world had him completely undone.

he’d give you everything and more.

—

the house felt too quiet. too still.

two months of marriage and the rhythm of life with him had settled into something closest to perfection. you were experiencing joy, happiness, love - to be loved and to provide it in ways you simply didn’t think you could ever see for yourself.

he came home each night at exactly 9pm, his strict punctuality something you had grown accustomed to. he’d leave a bouquet of flowers for you on the table, fresh and fragrant whilst he’d pick you up and kiss you senseless, feeling you melt in his arms. you’d eat together whilst you sat on his lap, chattering away about your sweet day that mainly consisted of tending to your garden and shopping with your security guards, always so excited to tell him about the new things you had bought him with his card.

you didn’t cook, didn’t clean - things you’d been trained in by your parents, a misogynistic reminder that you were worth nothing more than what you could offer your future husband and yet jungkook absolutely forbade it. he refused to have you spend your days doing something your house help could do instead.

instead, he had you spending your days in silk and satins, wandering large rooms that belonged to you now, sprawled on couches that were too big and decorating the luxurious house so it would feel like a home. every indulgence was a gift from him, a testament of his care for you, and though he was one who often kept his emotions to himself, even when they pertained to you, you could feel it deeper than any word he could express.

jungkook loved you.

it was in the way he moved, the way he’d catch you by the waist every time you walked past him, or the way he’d thrust into you to make you cum each morning. he had claimed you in body, soul and mind and you were happier than you’d ever been.

tonight was different.

the house felt silent. the clock had hit 3am no longer than 5 minutes ago, the glow from the tv being the only thing to illuminate your living room, whilst you anxiously bit down on your lip, chest beating and head swirling. you weren’t much of a drinker, but you had finished a glass of wine to calm your nerves only for them to heighten further once the clock ticked further.

he was late.

your stomach twisted again.

you knew that his line of work made him a target, all of the men in the profession were, but he was different. he was jeon jungkook, the most dangerous, the head apex - it terrified you to think he could potentially be somewhere bleeding out, shot, alone. you couldn’t bear the thought, a new wave of tears washing over you as you hid your mouth with your shaking hand.

you couldn’t get it out of your brain.

flashes of him in a pool of his own blood, gunshot wounds to the chest - your father had once detailed to some of his friends about a kill he had achieved in gruesome detail, unaware that you were just outside the room listening in. it had haunted you for months, and even now, years later, it sprang to life knowing what kind of cruelty existed in this world.

your padding feet had gone out to your personal security team, sweet men called seokjin and taehyung, desperate to know whether they’d heard anything, but they were just as clueless as you. they weren’t allowed to leave their posts until he arrived, and they had grown to care for you - you were so sweet, they liked protecting you.

it was taehyung who told you that they were on lockdown, that all of their phones had been asked to be turned off, that something was wrong and in case of trackers, they needed to be alert and safe. that made you cry into your hands as you retreated to your living room, holding a pillow to your chest.

that had been an hour and a half ago, your eyes shutting tightly at every wave of fear that rushed through you.

and then, suddenly..the sound of the lock.

your heart jumped into your throat.

the door burst open, hitting the wall with a loud thud that violently cracked the silence in the air, a heavy tension following through as jungkook walked into the room.

he didn’t enter like a husband coming home to comfort. he came in like a predator ripping back into his territory, wild eyes scanning, shoulders tense and body coiled like he was seconds away from snapping. his suit jacket was crooked and his once, pristine shirt that you had only bought him a mere week ago, showed large spots of darkness making your stomach drop.

blood. not a smear, not a little. enough. enough to know the night was violent.

the sight of him, his scent, the blood, iron, sweat - the danger. it all hit you at once.

your legs moved before your brain could compute what you were seeing, a loud and harsh sob raking through your body as you all but launched yourself into his arms, fingers digging deep around him, clutching him to your own smaller body.

the second he felt you, everything stopped.

his head jerked up, eyes dark and black, scanning, searching, computing what was happening in front of him as though you were a mere figment of his imagination and not a real person. the warmth on his body so sudden and confusing before he looked down and realised what was occurring.

he froze for a moment.

“why are you up?” his voice was low, dangerous, shaking through the room.

you couldn’t answer, your cries stealing your breath away as you clutched him tightly, your hands on his chest smearing with the blood that had soaked through his shirt, one that did not belong to him.

his eyes swept over you. you were trembling from evident fear, causing him to search your body, his hands rough as they grabbed you by your shoulders, pulling you away just so he could examine you, despite the shake in his own body.

“did someone touch you?” he demanded, eyes crazed. “did something happen?”

you managed to control your sobs, though the hiccups and desperate gasps for air were still charging through you. “n-no..” he let out a sigh of relief. “i-i didn’t..didn’t know where you..you were and..i thought..”

he cut you off immediately.

“shit went sideways.” he grunted, visibly still reeling from his anger. “shipment fuck up. some guy tried to double cross me, wrong city, wrong people. i handled it myself.”

her stomach dropped as she finally took in his appearance. the blood smeared all over him, and as a result, now her too.

“yourself?”

“this is our world. what did you expect?” his eyes narrowed, unable to think, comprehend. he could see you crying, but he couldn’t compute it, not after the night he’d had. “don’t look at me like that.”

your lip trembled still. “i thought you were dead..”

that snapped him out of it.

he grabbed you then, properly, both bloody hands cupping your face, harshly making sure you could meet his eyes with your own. “don’t ever say that.” he was growling, chest heaving. “don’t put that fucking shit in your head, y/n.”

you nodded through your sobs, clutching him tightly still. “i couldn’t stop it, you didn’t come home on time and it got so late, and no one knew what was happening. i thought someone got you..” your chest was heaving.

his thumbs were swiping your tears like he was mad at them personally, shushing you quietly.

“it’s not that easy. can’t get rid of me like that, baby, i’d never fucking leave you. you hear me?”

you nodded again, before he held you tight to his body, rocking you gently, breathing in your scent, his previous anger he couldn’t control now turning inwards, plaguing him from the inside. he couldn’t believe it.

he’d had one of the worst nights of his life, so many men had died over a single betrayal, and he rarely got his own hands dirty anymore - but seeing you? crying, chest heaving, shaking, desperate and afraid? that was the worst of all. his anger had blinded him so deeply that he hadn’t even recognised it at first, brain still whizzing from the adrenaline of before until he realised what was in front of him.

his precious little wife, crying for him.

“listen to me.” he pressed his forehead against yours once he lifted you up into the air, your legs wrapping around his waist. “i lost track of time. i fucked up, y/n. that’s on me, okay? but i’m here, and you need to remember that i come home. i always come home.”

your fingers were pulling at the back of his head, tangling in the strands of hair you loved to play with so much as you absorbed his words, your sobs slowly but surely calming down.

“i-i don’t..care what you do.” you confessed, sniffling through your hiccups. “but you promise you’ll come back?”

“i promise, baby. cross my heart, swear to you.” he assured immediately. “my pretty wife, look at you. fuck, no more crying, c’mon. i’m here.”

in the quiet aftermath of your sobs, he still stayed there. holding you up in his arms as you calmed down, holding him as though he was the most precious thing in the world - to you, he was. the blood had began to dry on him, fury still deep in his veins whilst he cherished the feel of your body like a mad man returning from war, you were so fragile. his one and only possession.

he didn’t put you down straight away.

his grip shifts, fingers digging deep into the hold of your ass as he made sure to ground himself. not gentle, but firm. careful. like he needed to feel you were safe, and real, and in his arms.

“fuck, y/n. you scared me.” he admitted, a tinge of vulnerability he had never shown you before tweaked in his voice.

“i scared you?” you pulled back, nose pink, eyelashes wet, heart wrecked.

his jaw tightened just looking at you, his heart clenching. fuck. you were such a liability, his one weakness and your place in his heart was growing day by day. he needed to amp up your security.

“you’re shaking.” a flat observation, but you knew his objective. he wasn’t talking to you, but to himself, and so, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting him hold you for as long as he needed in that moment, whilst you held him just as tightly.

he began walking down the hallway, to your bedroom’s bathroom, still clinging to you like a little baby as he turned on the shower. navigating the hallways of the home you now shared felt so much bigger, heavier even, given the situation - it was only a home when he was here with you.

he placed you on the counter as he began to undress you first, stripping you from your flimsy pyjama top and bottoms, revealing the bitten skin he had ravished just that morning. your breasts dropped from your tank, sweet pussy on display as he observed you. he began to undress too, desperate to rid himself of today.

“look at me.” he says.

you listened.

he studied your face as he unbuttoned his shirt, checking for any hidden cracks, for damage. for something that couldn’t be undone.

“did anyone come near you tonight?” he asked again, slower this time. controlled.

“no.”

“did anyone call you?”

“no.”

“touch you?”

“no..”

“you stayed inside?” his eyes were dark.

“yes.”

“good.”

he was shirtless now, ridding himself of his slacks, leaving him just as naked as you, cock half hard as it sprung to attention, charged immediately at your mere presence. the blood from earlier had stained into his skin, his chest and abs painted a deep red, hands still splattered.

the sight struck your heart, and you fought back a whimper as he once more grabbed you, taking you into the shower with him.

his hands began to move, once you were placed on your feet. over your waist, your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your back, your pussy, your ass. the water stained red as it washed everything away, whilst he explored you like he tended to do, though this was an amalgam of the events that had just transpired.

he was possessive in every single thing he did, forcing himself into your chest, making sure you could feel his presence deep inside your body even without him being there. he wanted you just as fucked up as he was, just as desperate, just as secretly ruined. he had no idea you already were.

his now clean hand dipped inbetween your legs, spreading them immediately as his fingers found home against your clit. you let out a soft sigh, easing against his arm in comfort as you felt the tension leave you in waves of pleasure.

“you don’t wait up like that,” he said, almost harshly, as he rubbed slow, soft circles into you. “you don’t sit here thinking yourself sick.”

“i couldn’t sleep.” your rebuttal came immediately, causing him to slap your ass in a mean spank, making you mewl, leaning into his other arm, feeling the way he kept you up with his rubbing fingers.

“i don’t care.” he leaned in, pushing you till your back was against the wall. “you sleep. you trust that i’ll walk through that door.”

your fingers curled over his bicep.

“i needed to know you were okay.” your admission came through closed eyes, as pleasure waves through you.

even in moments like this, jungkook couldn’t keep his hands to himself, the prospect of making you cum simply too high. considering he could still taste his earlier anger, he needed this. needed to have you break and mewl for him.

“i will be.” he nudged your nose, prompting you to look at him through hooded eyes. “i’ll always come back to you.”

the rest of the shower was spent with him teasing you, fingering your poor core until you came, despite still feeling stretched from your early morning session. the feeling of him so intimately against you was everything you needed in that moment, and both of you knew it - it was his way of telling you exactly how he felt.

and later, when you were on his chest, deep in the early morning, neither of you able to sleep as his cock sat hard inside of you, you both embraced. you kissed like you had both been promised to one another - you, the one constant in his life, untouched by the nightmare that was his reality, the brutality of his workforce and him, the protector you had longed for for years.

he pressed his hand against your stomach, feeling him inside of you before bringing you impossibly closer, nose brushing against your own.

“i love you, sweet girl.”

it was then you could finally breathe again.

—

my mafia jk is here, and isn’t he so filthy 😢 i love a dirty, cruel man and he truly is in all of the best ways. okay brb as i go change my panties

You barely register the soft creak of the bedroom door first, that familiar low groan of hinges as Jungkook nudges it open just enough to peek inside. The dimmed lights must have tipped him off that you’d already tapped out for the night. He slips fully into the room, the cool draft from the hallway brushing your bare legs for a split second before he closes the door behind him with a deliberate, quiet click that seals the space.

Moonlight strains through the massive floor-to-ceiling glass window dominating one wall, painting silvery streaks across the floor and bed, tangled up with the low, golden haze from the nightstand lamp. It bathes everything in this hazy, intimate glow that makes the air feel thicker, warmer. Jungkook takes those slow, small steps toward the bed, shoulders loosening as he peels off his suit coat, the fabric whispering when he drapes it over the back of the chair in front of your dressing table. His fingers linger on the wood a moment, like he’s grounding himself after whatever bullshit the outside world threw at him.

His eyes lock onto you immediately, dark and full of that raw adoration that always seems to hit him harder in these stolen quiet moments. You’re fast asleep on your back, oversized shirt (which belongs to him) twisted from the day’s chaos, with seven-month-old Jae nestled right on your stomach—his little cheek smushed against your skin, tiny fists curled, breathing in that deep, trusting rhythm that syncs with yours. The weight of him anchors you even in sleep, warm and solid, his soft exhales tickling your belly through the thin fabric.

The exhaustion clings to your bones in the best-worst way; days blur from early feeds to those midnight wails that rip you awake, but you handle it with this fierce, stubborn grip. Barely twenty-three and already owning the mom role like it’s second nature, your body tuned to every shift of Jae’s, every tiny sound, while still carving out space to look after Jungkook when he drags himself home wrecked. You’ve been running on barely five or six hours, eyes heavy, muscles sore from rocking and carrying, but the thought of handing any of it off to a nanny never crosses your mind. This is yours—messy, relentless, and so fucking real it hurts in the sweetest spots.

That middle-school spark you two carried through high school and into this love marriage still simmers under everything—no big fights, just this lived-in understanding where he offers help at every turn and you push back because wearing yourself down for them feels like the only right move. Well, Jungkook was just as stubborn. He did as much work as possible before going to work, like the dishes, laundry, and so on.

His breath catches a little as he watches Jae’s tiny hand flex against you, the way your arm stays curled protectively even in deep sleep. It’s all present, all consuming—the faint baby-powder scent mixing with your usual warmth, the quiet hum of the room, his own pulse kicking up at how perfectly wrecked and beautiful you look tangled in this life you built together.

He’s won in life, no contest, the thought hitting him square in the chest as he stands there a second longer.

You look so damn peaceful, features relaxed in that deep sleep only new parents steal when the baby finally crashes too. Jae’s the same—tiny chest rising and falling right on your stomach, those soft tiny snores filling the room like the world’s most effective lullaby, warm and trusting against your skin.

Jungkook’s eyes trace your face slow, carving out every detail he already knows by heart: the faint crease between your brows that’s finally smoothed out, the way your lashes fan against your cheeks, lips parted just enough for those quiet breaths that pull at something low in his gut.

He lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, movements deliberate and slow, the mattress dipping under his weight as he braces his hands beside him, careful not to disturb the perfect pile of you and Jae.

Then his gaze slips. It trails lower without permission—from the soft lines of your face down the column of your neck and collarbone, catching on the way the top two buttons of your shirt was undone probably from breastfeeding Jae, that teasing peek of cleavage rising with each inhale under the mixed moonlight and lamp glow. It follows the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips hugged by the sheets, illuminated like they’re begging for attention, all the way to the smooth stretch of your thick thighs where your shorts have ridden up. God, he would love to bury his face betwee—

He jerks his eyes away hard, suddenly hyper-focused on the curtains like they’re the most fascinating shit he’s ever seen, jaw flexing as he tells himself he wasn’t just checking out his wife while she’s dead asleep with their kid on her.

Wasn't he feeling warm-hearted a moment ago? His heart isn't the only warm thing now.

You’ve had this body that’s ruined him since forever, perfect in that effortless way that makes his brain short-circuit. Carrying Jae only smoothed everything out and emphasized those curves harder, leaving him stealing extra fifteen minutes in the shower way too often just to shake the constant pull.

Intimacy has turned into this rare, almost mythical thing since Jae showed up. The little guy is the ultimate cockblocker without even trying—tiny demands at all hours turning what used to be easy, constant touch into stolen glances and quick brushes that leave you both aching in the quiet.

Jungkook isn’t some hormonal kid who doesn’t get self-control. He’s been solid about it, the respectful type who reads the room and never pushes, even when the want sits heavy under his skin.

You let out a slow yawn, body shifting under the sheets as sleep starts to loosen its grip. He snaps his attention back to your face instantly, clearing his throat like he’s been caught mid-thought, shoulders tensing for a beat.

Your lashes flutter, eyes cracking open heavy and unfocused, the room’s soft glow filtering in as awareness creeps back in slow waves. The weight of Jae on your stomach grounds you first, his tiny snores still humming steady, then Jungkook’s solid presence right there on the edge of the bed, close enough that his warmth cuts through the sleepy haze.

“Little guy’s got better taste in pillows than I do,” he teases, voice low and rough from the long day, dragging his gaze down to Jae with a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips. There’s that playful glint in his eyes, the one that always sneaks in like he’s trying to lighten the exhaustion weighing on both of you.

You blink harder, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. Your frown deepens quick. “You’re home?” The words come out thick with sleep, eyes widening when the numbers hit—four whole hours had slipped by since you crashed.

He looks back up at you, that steady gaze softening around the edges as he nods. “Yeah. And don’t worry about it, I’ll hit the rest of the house chores later. You can sleep more.” His voice drops a notch, reassuring and warm.

“I don’t wanna sleep more,” you murmur, voice still scratchy from the nap. “And you sure you can handle the rest? I mean, you must be wiped from work—”

“I can and I will,” he cuts in, firm but gentle, that no-argument tone he pulls out when he’s decided.

You feel a small smile tug at your lips despite the fog in your head. “Thanks.”

“You’re always welcome, love.” The words roll off him easy, low and warm, wrapping around you like the blanket you’re half tangled in.

You move slow and careful, easing Jae off your stomach with practiced hands. His little body stays limp and trusting as you lift him, settling him down beside you on the bed. You tuck the blanket up to his chin, fingers brushing his soft cheek for a second before you push yourself up to sit, back against the headboard. The motion makes your shirt slip lower on its own, the undone buttons giving way and exposing more of your cleavage in the warm lamp light.

Respectful or not, he’s still a man at the end of the day. His eyes drop immediately, tracking the movement before he can stop himself, that familiar heat flashing quick across his face.

He drags his gaze back up with visible effort, jaw tight like it’s taking every ounce of willpower he’s got. You rub at your eyes, another yawn slipping out as you stretch your arms overhead, body still heavy with leftover sleep.

“You must be tired from doing the same grind every day,” he says, clearing his throat. “Wanna go out tonight? Like a drive or something?” The suggestion comes out casual.

You frown, head tilting. “To where?”

“Not every drive needs a fixed destination. Count on the night to take us wherever it wants to.”

“You can’t be for real,” Jungkook mutters, cutting a sideways glance at you while the car idles at the red light, city glow reflecting off his eyes. The engine hums low beneath you, mixing with the distant buzz of traffic.

You’re staring straight ahead at the empty crosswalk, mind half elsewhere. “Really, I’m not hungry. Now stop arguing about it,” you tell him, turning your head to meet his gaze while your fingers scratch lightly at the back of your head, trying to shake off the leftover sleep fog.

He sighs, long and defeated but fond, shaking his head with the smallest curve at the corner of his mouth. “Nevermind. I’d rather make you something when we get home anyway. My way tastes better than whatever greasy spot we’d hit.”

“It’s been months since we got alone time like this,” you murmur, rolling your shoulder in a slow, deep stretch that pulls a contented sigh from your chest, the tension unraveling bit by bit in the quiet car. Then worry crashes in fast, tightening your expression. “But I hope Jae’s doing okay. What if he wakes up or—”

“Shh, baby,” he cuts in, voice soft and steady. “He’ll be just fine. Kid passed out hard before we left, belly full, and we handed off every single thing he could possibly need to your friend. She’s got him covered, promise.”

“How about you focus on me instead?” he mutters, voice dropping low as his hand slides over, palm warm and deliberate, settling high on your thigh. His thumb starts tracing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of your shorts, the pressure just firm enough to pull your attention fully into the car.

“I am,” you mutter back, eyes flicking down to watch the path of his hand for a beat before lifting to meet his gaze again, the city lights flickering across his face.

“I don’t think so,” he murmurs, his tone dipping into that deeper octave that always seems to vibrate through you. His fingers inch higher up your thigh in no rush at all, drawing light, teasing patterns along the way, taking his sweet time like he’s memorizing the feel of you under his touch after too many rushed nights. The weight of his hand feels grounding and electric all at once, cutting through the quiet hum of the engine.

“You got a cigarette on you?” The question makes him jerk his head your way for a split second, eyebrows lifting in that surprised, amused way he does when you catch him off guard.

“Bad habits die hard, huh?” he asks, the low chuckle rumbling through his chest as he shakes his head.

He eases the car into a long, deserted lane, tires crunching softly over gravel before he kills the engine. Silence settles heavy around you both, broken only by the faint tick of cooling metal. Jungkook leans over and pops open the hidden compartment, pulling out the familiar pack of your favorite—Marlboro Red—and holds it out without a word.

You pluck one from the pack, the paper smooth between your fingers, and wait as he fishes out the lighter. You slip the cigarette between your lips, the filter resting familiar and comforting. You flick the flame to life, the small orange glow lighting up the space between you for a moment as you lean in, inhaling slow until the tip catches and burns steady. The first drag fills your lungs with that sharp, smoky hit, tension easing from your shoulders

You glance sideways at Jungkook and catch him staring, that dark, unreadable intensity locked on you like he’s memorizing every little shift in your expression. Grinning, you lean in closer on purpose, lips parting as you blow a slow, deliberate stream of smoke right across his face. It curls around his sharp jaw and lingers in the space between you, hazy and intimate under the dashboard lights.

To him, the whole thing is pure heat.

You pull the cigarette from between your lips and hold the filter out toward him, pinching it lightly between your ring and middle finger, the paper still warm from your mouth.

He watches you for a long second, eyes heavy, before his fingers wrap around your wrist—grip solid and warm, thumb pressing just enough against your pulse point. He leans in, takes the cigarette between his lips, and pulls a long, unhurried drag. The ember glows brighter for a moment. Then he rolls every window down, letting the cool night breeze rush through the car, carrying the smoke out into the empty lane. He drops his head all the way back against the seat, as he exhales a thick cloud.

You freeze right there in your seat, the rest of the world fading for a second. The sight hits different—his relaxed shoulders, the sharp cut of his jaw in the low light, throat exposed, neck veins popping, the effortless way he owns the moment. Your breath catches without meaning to, pulse thrumming louder in your ears. It might honestly be one of the hottest things you’ve witnessed in your life, simple as it is, leaving the car feeling smaller, the air thicker, and your thoughts a little scrambled.

You take another slow drag, deliberately turning your face away toward the open window, desperate for anything to distract from the unfairly hot man sitting right beside you. The cool air does little to settle the sudden warmth crawling under your skin.

You pass the cigarette back and forth a few times, letting each of you steal a couple drags in comfortable silence, the smoke mingling with the night breeze. Then he snatches it smoothly from your fingers, bringing it to his lips for a long, deep pull without asking.

You don’t complain. Not even a little.

Your eyes drift over him instead—his hair still a little messy and damp from the quick shower he took before you left, half-lidded eyes heavy with that post-work exhaustion mixed with something sharper. That prominent big nose you’ve always had a weakness for (whatever Doja Cat said about big noses), the full cupid’s bow lips you’ve almost forgotten the exact taste of after so many tired nights, the sharp jawline that cuts straight through your better judgment and sanity, the strong column of his neck, those muscular arms flexing casually, the broad chest and defined lines under his plain t-shirt, and the very obvious, massive outline straining against the gray sweatpan—

You freeze hard, head snapping up so fast it’s almost embarrassing. You did not just look there.

Heart hammering, you gather the nerve to sneak one more millisecond glance downward, confirming the prominent bulge the soft fabric does nothing to hide, especially in the dim lighting. Then you jerk your eyes back up to his face, only to find him already watching you, that dark, knowing look pinned right on your expression.

The gray sweatpants make everything stand out even more in the low light, impossible to ignore now that you’ve seen it. The air in the car suddenly feels ten degrees warmer.

He keeps his lips parted, slowly exhaling the smoke in a lazy, controlled stream that curls toward the open window. He taps the ashes out with a flick of his finger, then turns that heavy stare back on you—like a predator eyeing prey he’s forcing himself not to pounce on, the tension thick enough to taste.

“What?” you ask, voice coming out quieter than you mean it to. You snatch the cigarette right from his fingers and twist toward your window, staring hard at the empty lane outside. Your face feels way too warm, probably bright red, and you keep it turned away on purpose so he can’t see the flush creeping up your neck.

“Don’t look at it like that if you can’t do something about it, yeah?” he murmurs, the deep rasp of his voice cutting straight through the quiet car and sending a rush of heat straight down your body. “Gives me all kinds of wrong ideas.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this—the easy, skin-prickling intimacy that used to happen without thinking, back before Jae turned your nights into a constant rotation of feeds and exhaustion. The hunger is mutual. He’s desperate for you in that quiet, restrained way, and you’re every bit as desperate for him. He’s just holding back, staying respectful and patient like the man you married.

He holds the eye contact when you finally glance back, the moment stretching thick between you as you pull a long, deliberate drag from the cigarette. The smoke burns down your throat, grounding you for a second, before you toss what’s left of it out the window into the dark.

You let your eyes wander over him freely now, no more pretending. Why should you? He’s your husband—your person.

Your man.

You let your eyes drift deliberately now—down the strong column of his neck, over the flex of his arms where the muscles shift under your stare, across the broad stretch of his chest and the defined ridges of his abs visible through the thin t-shirt. His body reacts under the attention, arm tensing visibly as you keep looking. Your gaze drops lower again, settling on the prominent bulge in his gray sweatpants, and he spreads his legs a little wider on purpose, manspreading across the seat in that casual, devastating way.

Fuck, it’s stupidly hot.

It’s been so long since you’ve had this kind of uninterrupted moment, and you’d almost forgotten how perfectly you two used to fit together, like you were molded for each other in every sense.

Again— every sense.

Your hand moves almost on its own, sliding across the center console before coming to rest on his thigh, fingers settling warm and tentative right below where the fabric strains so obviously.

You hear him exhale sharply through his nose, the sound rough in the quiet car.

“Y/N,” he says, your name coming out half warning, half like he’s talking himself down from whatever pull is threatening to drag him under. His hand covers yours on his thigh, not pushing it away, just holding it there—warm and steady.

You glance up for a second, catching the raw hunger burning in his eyes—dark, barely leashed, the kind that makes your stomach flip. You look back down almost immediately, breath shallow.

Your fingers start inching higher up his thigh on their own, slow and exploratory.

“Y/N,” he murmurs again, voice strained. “You gave birth to our son just seven months ago. I don’t know if you’re healed enough. And honestly, I think it’s probably those ovulation hormones messing with you right now. I don’t think you’re ready. I’m trying to be nice here, so don’t do this.” The words come out in a low whisper, but he holds eye contact the whole time, steady and intense. You’ve known him long enough to read what he’s not saying—the need is written all over his face, screaming in the tension of his jaw and the heat in his stare.

“Jungkook…” you murmur back, barely above a breath.

“Yes, love?”

“Didn’t you just tell me to stop looking unless I wanna do something about it?” you say, a small, teasing,challenging smile tugging at your lips. “I’m working on that.” With that, you gently push his hand off yours, freeing your fingers to keep moving at their own slow pace.

Your fingers trace the hard outline of his bulge through the soft fabric, deliberate and slow, as you lean across the center console for better reach. The position puts you half out of your seat, shoulder brushing his, the console digging lightly into your ribs. He doesn’t stop you this time.

He knows you both need this—the months of careful distance cracking open in the quiet dark of the car.

You slide your hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers finding the warm, thick base of his cock. His head drops back against the headrest with a heavy, relieved sigh, throat working as he lets you explore.

He helps without a word, lifting his hips just enough to tug the sweatpants lower. His cock springs free, hard and heavy, the cool night air hitting heated skin as it rests against his stomach. The sight of him like this—laid out in the driver’s seat, chest rising faster, jaw clenched—sends a fresh wave of want through you, sharp and undeniable after so long.

You pause with your hand wrapped around him for a second, heart hammering too loud to ignore. Then you grab the collar of his shirt with both hands and yank him toward you, crashing your mouths together in a hungry, fierce kiss that’s been building for months.

He meets you just as hard, one big hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he kisses you back with raw need. He tastes like cigarette smoke and mint, the combination dizzying, making your head spin. You can feel yourself getting wetter, panties clinging uncomfortably as heat pools low in your belly.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grab his phone, connect it to the car’s speaker, and blast some random R&B track on full volume. The deep bass fills the space as he yanks all the heavily tinted windows up, sealing you both inside, as well as turning the air conditioner in the car on. Then he looks back at you, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen.

You crash your mouths together again because once isn’t enough—you’re addicted, and so is he, tongues sliding, teeth nipping, desperate and messy. That manly scent rolling off him hits you harder with every inhale, warm skin and faint cologne and pure Jungkook, working on you like some kind of aphrodisiac drug that makes your thighs press together on instinct.

You break the kiss when oxygen becomes non-negotiable, pulling back with a sharp inhale, both of you breathing hard and fast. Your face feels flushed, lips tingling and swollen, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue.

Your hand drifts back down without hesitation, fingers wrapping snug around the thick base of his cock. You stroke him slowly at first, a few firm pumps that draw a deep, contented hum from his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and straight into you.

With your other hand you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, then bend down over the center console, leaning in close. You drag your tongue in one long, slow stripe from the base all the way to the flushed tip, feeling every ridge and vein under the wet heat of your mouth.

He lets out a low, guttural groan the moment you sink your mouth down onto him, lips stretching wide around his impressive girth. The fullness of him on your tongue is overwhelming in the best way, warm and solid after so much time apart.

His hands are careful but possessive, gathering your hair and twisting it into a loose ponytail at the back of your head. He holds it there like his own personal grip, fingers flexing against your scalp as you start to move, the bass from the speaker pulsing around you both in the sealed, slightly space of the car.

His hips jerk up instinctively when you take him deeper, pushing more of his thick length into your mouth. You can barely handle halfway before his tip nudges the back of your throat, making your eyes water slightly at the stretch and fullness.

His head falls back hard against the headrest, a strained “Fuck…” slipping from his lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.

The raw reaction only fuels you more, heat curling tight in your belly as you work him with renewed hunger.

Your hand and mouth move together in a steady rhythm—fingers wrapped tight around the thick base your lips can’t reach, stroking in time with the way you bob your head. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive tip on every upstroke, tasting the salty bead of precum that leaks for you, sucking lightly as your cheeks hollow out. The car fills with the wet sounds of your mouth and his low, broken breaths, the music still thumping low in the background.

“You’re doing so fucking good,” he breathes, the words rough and strained. You lift your gaze through wet lashes and meet his eyes—half-lidded, burning down at you with that raw, unguarded hunger that makes your stomach tighten. “Good girl.”

The praise sinks straight into your bones. The second you feel him twitch against your tongue, you pour everything into it, sucking harder, taking him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as your hand works the base in tight, slick strokes.

He groans deep in his chest and tightens his grip in your hair, using it to bob your head up and down at the pace he needs. You let him take control, relaxing your throat as much as you can, eyes watering from the stretch and the way his thick cock fills your mouth completely. Saliva drips down your chin but you don’t care, humming around him, the vibrations pulling more broken sounds from his lips.

His breaths turn ragged, groans getting louder, hips jerking up every few seconds as he twitches more frequently on your tongue. The tension coils tighter in his body until it finally snaps. His orgasm hits hard with a loud, guttural groan, head slamming back against the headrest, eyes rolling back as thick, hot ropes of cum flood your throat. His body jerks with every pulse, thighs trembling under your touch as you swallow around him, taking everything he gives you.

He keeps you there for a long moment, fingers still tangled tight in your hair, holding you close as the last tremors run through his body. His groans gradually fade into heavy, satisfied breaths that brush warm against the top of your head.

Then he tugs you up gently by the makeshift ponytail, guiding you until your mouth meets his in a fierce, claiming kiss. He doesn’t hesitate for a second, tasting himself on your tongue and groaning softly into it, the kiss turning deep and messy, filled with raw gratitude and the kind of hunger that hasn’t been fed in months.

You grab onto his shoulders for balance, but he’s already pulling you closer, strong hands gripping your waist as he maneuvers you over the center console. You end up straddling his thighs in the driver’s seat, knees pressing into the leather on either side of him, the position intimate and close in the cramped space.

“I missed this…” he murmur against your lips, voice breathy and rough.

He proved his point by trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the line of your jaw and along the curve of your shoulder. You tilt your head to the side without thinking, giving him better access, a shiver running through you as his lips and tongue work over your skin, hands sliding possessively up your back under your shirt.

“Mmh… Jungkook…” The gasp slips out sharp when he bites down on that sensitive spot along your shoulder, teeth grazing just hard enough to make your eyes flutter shut and your nails dig into the front of his shirt.

“Mhm,” he hums against your skin, soothing the sting with a slow drag of his tongue, the vibration sending sparks straight down your spine.

His hands are everywhere at once—one gripping your hip possessively, fingers digging into the soft flesh like he needs to anchor himself, while the other trails down your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your sweatpants. The light touch makes your breath hitch, anticipation curling tight in your core.

Your eyes fly open the second his hand slips inside your pants, palm cupping your soaked mound with confident possession. A thick finger slides through your wet folds, parting them easily, and a full-body shiver runs through you at the contact, thighs clenching around his lap as the car suddenly feels impossibly smaller.

“Fuck, you’re dripping down my hand,” he growls against your skin, pulling back just enough to look up at your flushed face. A wicked grin spreads across his lips, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. He waits until you manage to lock your gaze with his, pupils blown wide, before he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you in one smooth thrust.

Your hips jerk hard against his hand, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat at the sudden stretch and fullness. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, capturing your mouth in another hungry kiss, swallowing every moan that tries to escape as his fingers start moving—deep, steady, curling just right inside you.

The pads of his fingers brush against that perfect spot with every stroke, making your thighs tremble around his lap, pleasure sparking sharp and hot through your body as he works you open with practiced precision.

As he pulls back from the kiss, you’re both panting hard, lips swollen and breaths mingling in the steamy confines of the car. His free hand slides up your body with purpose, long fingers wrapping around your throat in a firm, possessive grip. Not hard enough to restrict your air, but just tight enough to send your head spinning—blood pounding in your ears, a delicious dizziness washing over you that only heightens the arousal flooding your system.

His thumb presses tight, perfect circles against your swollen clit, the pressure steady and maddening, pulling whimpers and sharp little gasps from your throat with every rotation. You’re close already, core clenching around his fingers, as your eyes shut closed, thighs trembling around his lap as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter—until he suddenly stops moving entirely, fingers buried deep but still.

You groan in pure frustration, brows pulling together as you open your eyes and stare at him with heavy-lidded eyes, face burning flushed and chest heaving with every desperate pant.

“I said eyes on me,” he murmurs, voice dark and commanding, one brow arched in that teasing challenge. “Don’t you dare look away or close your eyes, or else I stop, hm?”

You nod frantically, too far gone to argue back or do anything else, cheeks blazing even hotter.

He’s reduced you to this needy, dripping mess—embarrassingly aroused, hanging on every word and touch like he owns you. And right now, he absolutely does.

“Such a good girl for me,” he hums against your lips, voice thick with satisfaction and something darker, the praise sinking into your skin like a brand.

You don’t wait for more permission. You start moving your hips again, grinding down onto his fingers, fucking yourself on them with desperate little rolls that make obscene wet sounds fill the car. He matches your pace instantly, thrusting deeper, curling those long fingers against that perfect spot with devastating accuracy.

A few more relentless strokes and the coil inside you snaps violently. You clench hard around his fingers, orgasm ripping through you with a loud, broken cry that bounces off the tinted windows. Your whole body shakes, thighs clamping tight around his lap as wave after wave crashes over you, soaking his hand and the front of your sweatpants while your vision whites out for a second.

He doesn’t stop right away. He slows his movements instead, drawing out every last tremor and pulse of your orgasm with long, lazy strokes, milking you through it until you’re a trembling, whimpering mess in his lap, aftershocks still sparking through your oversensitive nerves.

You lean your forehead against his shoulder, still breathing hard, eyes closed, the aftershocks of your orgasm leaving your limbs shaky and your mind hazy. The solid warmth of him grounds you even as your pulse continues to hammer.

“Breathless already, baby? We just started,” he teases, the grin clear in his voice as he turns his head and drags his tongue slowly over your earlobe, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you shiver.

Somehow, in the tight space of the driver’s seat, he manages to work your sweatpants the rest of the way off, the fabric sliding down your thighs with a soft rustle. His hands grip your hips firmly, angling them back so you’re positioned perfectly above him, the head of his still-hard cock brushing against your soaked entrance.

You open your eyes, swallowing hard, the lump in your throat thick, your breathing still uneven and your pulse racing under your skin. The cool air of the car hits your bare skin, contrasting with the heat rolling off his body.

He leans back, reaching down to recline the seat a little further so there’s more room, settling deeper into the leather. His dark eyes lock onto yours, voice low and rough with command as he murmurs,

“Now… ride me.”

Your eyes snap open wide the second the command hits your ear, a jolt of nervous heat racing through you. He raises a brow at your reaction, that cocky, knowing look already in place.

You gulp hard, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as your fingers tighten against his shoulders for support.

“C’mon, baby. Don’t act all shy now,” he grins, clearly enjoying the deep flush that floods your cheeks. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you down slowly, letting you feel every thick inch as he sinks into you.

The moment you bottom out, a low, guttural groan rips from his chest at the same time a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He fills you so completely it borders on overwhelming—stretching, hot, and so deep it feels surreal after months of nothing. Your thighs tremble around him, the full, heavy pressure of him inside you stealing the last of your breath.

You stay still for a second, adjusting to the overwhelming stretch, forehead pressed to his shoulder again as you try to catch your breath. He’s thick and deep, filling every inch of you until it almost hurts in the best way.

His hands stay locked on your hips, thumbs stroking slow circles over your skin. “Fuck… look at you,” he rasps, voice rough. “Taking me so well.”

You start to move—small, tentative rolls of your hips at first, testing the angle. The friction is immediate and intense, every shift dragging him against that sensitive spot inside you. A soft moan slips out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“That’s it,” he encourages, guiding you into a steadier rhythm. “Just like that.”

You plant your hands on his chest and push yourself upright, finding a better angle. The new position lets you sink even deeper, and you both curse at the same time. Your thighs burn already from the effort, but the pleasure is sharper now, building fast as you start to ride him properly—rising up until only the head remains inside, then dropping back down in one smooth motion.

The wet sound of your bodies meeting fills the car, mixing with the low bass still thumping from the speakers. Jungkook’s head falls back against the seat, eyes half-lidded as he watches you, jaw tight, every muscle in his abdomen flexing under you.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, hips lifting to meet your downward thrusts. “Missed this pussy so fucking much.”

You lean forward again, bracing yourself on his shoulders as you pick up the pace, chasing the heat coiling low in your belly. His hands slide up your back under your shirt, then down to grip your ass, helping you bounce harder on his cock. Every time you take him to the hilt, a broken little sound escapes you—half moan, half whimper—and he drinks every one of them in like he’s starving.

The pace turns messier, more desperate. You bounce harder on him, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing in the sealed car. Sweat starts to dampen the back of your shirt; his palms slide over it as he grips your ass tighter, helping lift you up only to drag you back down harder each time.

“Fuck—just like that,” he groans, the words punched out of him every time you sink all the way down. His hips snap up to meet yours, driving deeper, making your breath hitch on every thrust. The fullness is almost too much, stretching you open in a way that makes your thighs shake and your nails dig into his shoulders.

You drop your forehead to his again, panting against his mouth. He captures your lips in a messy kiss—open, wet, all tongue and teeth.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, voice wrecked. “Let me feel you come around me.”The underside of your thighs burns from the strain, muscles trembling as your pace starts to slow. Jungkook notices immediately. His hands clamp down on your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he thrusts his hips up hard whenever you lag, forcing himself deeper.

“Keep going,” he orders, voice rough and breathless.

Every time you sink back down, a loud, broken moan spills from your lips, the sound echoing in the small space of the car. He’s so deep it steals the air from your lungs, stretching you open with every downward roll of your hips.

You try to obey, bouncing on him again even as your legs shake. The friction is relentless—wet, hot, and perfect. His grip on your thighs stays firm, guiding your rhythm when your body starts to give out, using his strength to keep you moving.

“That’s it… fuck, look at you,” he groans, eyes locked on where your bodies meet. “Taking every inch like you were made for it.”

You drop forward, bracing your hands on his chest, forehead pressed to his as you keep riding him through the burn. The new angle makes him hit even deeper, and another loud moan rips out of you, louder this time. His hands slide up to your waist, holding you steady while he starts thrusting up to meet every downward motion, the wet slap of skin filling the car along with your shared, ragged breathing.

One of his hands slides down between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with unerring accuracy. He rubs tight, firm circles over the swollen bud while continuing to thrust up into you, the dual stimulation so intense it makes your vision blur.

You’re seeing stars almost immediately.

Your hips stutter, a high, broken moan tearing from your throat as the pressure builds at a dizzying speed. Every deep thrust combined with the relentless circles of his thumb pushes you higher, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming. Your thighs shake violently around him, walls fluttering and clenching around his cock as you race toward the edge.

“That’s it—come for me,” he growls against your ear, voice rough and strained.

The command snaps the last thread of your control. Your orgasm crashes through you hard, ripping a loud, choked cry from your lips as you clamp down around him. Your whole body seizes, trembling violently in his arms while wave after wave of pleasure tears through you. Your hips jerking weakly as he keeps thrusting up into you, dragging out every pulse until you’re oversensitive and gasping against his shoulder.

He groans deeply when you clench around him, the tight, rhythmic squeeze of your walls pulling a raw, broken sound from his chest. His hips stutter for a second as he feels every pulse of your orgasm, forehead dropping against yours while he rides it out with you.

“Fuck—just like that,” he rasps, voice strained and breathless. His hands grip your hips harder, holding you down as he thrusts up through the aftershocks, chasing his own release now that you’re fluttering and dripping around him.

You cling to his shoulders, still trembling, oversensitive but not pulling away. Every deep stroke sends little sparks of leftover pleasure through your body. His breathing turns ragged, muscles tensing under your palms, the wet sound of him moving inside you growing louder and more desperate.

“Gonna fill you up,” he warns through gritted teeth, the words punched out between thrusts. His pace turns short and hard, burying himself as deep as he can go with every snap of his hips.

A few more powerful strokes and he comes with a low, guttural groan, head snuggled against your neck. His body jerks with each pulse, holding you tightly against him while he spills everything he’s got, cock twitching deep as he rides out the last of his orgasm.

You both stay locked together for a long moment afterward, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat. His arms stay wrapped tightly around you, keeping you pressed against him while he softens slowly inside you. The car is quiet except for the fading bass of the music and your shared, uneven breathing.

Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your temple, then another to the side of your neck, the earlier intensity melting into something gentler. His hands stroke up and down your back in slow, soothing motions, grounding both of you.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your skin, voice still rough but softer now.

You nod weakly against his shoulder, too spent to form words yet. Your thighs are still trembling, the dull ache from riding him mixed with the pleasant, heavy fullness of him still inside you. He doesn’t rush to pull out. Instead he holds you there, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other rests warm on your hip.

Outside the heavily tinted windows, the empty lane remains dark and still. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of sex, smoke, and the faint cologne clinging to his skin. He shifts just enough to press another lingering kiss to your lips—slow this time, unhurried, tasting of gratitude and leftover hunger.

“Missed this,” he whispers against your mouth. “Missed you.”

“Thank you so much for taking care of Jae,” you say with a bright smile, glancing between Yuna and the baby now settled in your arms. He’s wide awake, tiny fingers already tugging curiously at the neckline of your shirt.

“Of course,” Yuna replies, looking proud of herself. “I was gonna stay up all night anyway, so it wasn’t a problem if you left him here a bit longer. Feel free to drop Jae off whenever you want—I honestly believe a couple deserves some time alone too.”

She worked as a babysitter for about six months back in high school, but you hadn’t expected her to be this good with kids.

“Oh, surely… only if Jae doesn’t cause you too much trouble,” you offer with a soft laugh.

“Nah, he’s chill. One of the nicest kids I’ve seen. Barely troubled me at all.” Yuna tilts her head, smiling. “But I hope you and Jungkook had a great time. Where did y’all go, though?”

Your smile drops instantly. You look down at Jae, suddenly very interested in adjusting his little onesie, trying to fight the flush you can already feel creeping up your neck and cheeks.

Of course you can’t exactly tell her that Jungkook fucked your brains out in the car.

“Somewhere,” Jungkook answers for you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on you.

You know better than to look at him right now. One glance and the heat already crawling up your neck will turn into a full-blown flush that Yuna will definitely notice.

She frowns slightly at Jungkook, then shifts her attention back to you, waiting for a better answer.

“We—… we went to a cinema,” you say quickly, forcing a casual tone as you bounce Jae lightly in your arms.

Yuna’s frown disappears, replaced by an easy smile. “Oooh. That’s great.”

At least she buys the lie. You risk a tiny glance toward Jungkook and catch the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smirk. You immediately look back down at Jae, pretending the baby’s tiny fist has suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room.

“Alright, I’ll take a leave then. Good luck for your exam, yeah?” you say to Yuna with a smile.

She nods and walks you both out to the car, standing on the curb and waving until the vehicle pulls away and her apartment building disappears from view. Jae remains nestled in your arms the whole time, tiny and warm against your chest.

The car is quiet for a few minutes as Jungkook drives, the city lights sliding across the windshield. You glance over at him, catching the soft, satisfied look on his face, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift.

Jae makes a small cooing sound, pulling your attention back down. You adjust him carefully, brushing a thumb over his soft cheek.

“You think she bought it?” you ask quietly, keeping your voice low even though the baby can’t understand.

Jungkook’s mouth curves into a small smirk. “Cinema, huh? Cute.” He glances sideways at you, eyes dark and amused under the streetlights. “You’re a terrible liar, by the way. Your ears were bright red.”

You huff, looking out the window to hide the fresh heat crawling up your neck. “Shut up.”

He chuckles low, the sound warm and familiar, then reaches over to rest his hand lightly on your thigh—nothing heated this time, just steady and present. “You good?”

You nod, leaning your head back against the seat, still cradling Jae. The ache between your legs is a quiet reminder of everything that just happened, but the contentment sitting in your chest is stronger. For the first time in months, the exhaustion feels lighter.

You see, perverted or not, life just feels better when you’ve got a capable—actually insane—sex partner. Like, hell yeah. Fuck anyone who claims sexual frustration isn’t a real need.

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𝒮.𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 : : closed and finished. (Oneshot)