‎"Ughhh!!!" You're very close to actually ripping all the hair off your scalp. You're even closer to the balcony of your 7th-floor apartment, and you really wanna jump.

‎You stare at Eunha, your 6-month-old daughter who's currently screaming at lord knows what.

‎You've done everything you could think of, you tried feeding her milk, but she refused. You tried to entertain her with toys, and she's still crying.

‎"What do you want, Eunha??" ‎You can't help but get louder, and it only makes her cry even more.

‎This isn't the first time it's happened. Eunha would cry like this for hours and then fall asleep. The next time she wakes up, she's as cheerful as Jimmy Fallon on his show. You don't understand the psychology behind this, or what goes through her head.

‎And this horrifies you.

‎When you decided on keeping the baby, you didn't really know you'd turn out to be so bad at being a mother.

‎But can you really blame yourself?

‎You're only 22, working a great job with lots of workload, and parents who abandoned you because of the shame you brought them when you got pregnant at 21.

‎And not to mention, the father of Eunha, a 22-year-old boy who's just as dumb as a 14-year-old one. He still refuses to believe that Eunha is here, despite knowing he was the first boyfriend you've ever had. You really don't know what you did to deserve this.

‎It was 11 pm by the time Eunha finally fell asleep. You're currently trying to finish your tasks for the day before 12 am, and you curse the company while doing it. No doubt it's a good company; it supported you financially during your delivery, accepted you for the way you were, gave you the best colleagues ever, and pays you well. But why do they have to make you work while you're on maternity leave? You could really use some time to sleep right now, but no, you have to complete this bullshit work right now.

‎Around 45 mins later, you're done for the day, like done done. So you shut your laptop and make your way out of Eunha’s room, towards the bathroom to freshen up.

‎But the moment you start washing your face, oh lord, why's Eunha crying again?!

You quickly wash your hands and run to your baby girl. She already has her arms in the air as if expecting to be picked up. You keep cooing to her, singing lil songs she likes to listen to or swaying her in the living, but nothing works.

‎"What do you want, baby? Pls tell mommy."

‎At this point, you're crying too. Your eyes are filled to the brim with tears. And you want to cry just as loud as Eunha.

‎But your emotions come to a halt when you hear your doorbell go off. "Who could that be?" you think to yourself.

‎It was midnight, on a Wednesday, and you weren't expecting anyone.

‎You quickly wiped whatever tears had escaped your eyes and put down your still crying baby in her crib as you came to your living room to check the intercom.

And woah, what's your hot neighbor doing here?

‎You jump towards the main door and unlock it as quickly as you can. Once you do, Jeon Jungkook comes into view.

‎Well... to introduce Jungkook, he's a pediatrician who works at a lavish private hospital at the end of the street, turned thirty last month, and is super duper attractive.

‎You still remember the day you moved in here at the beginning of the year. He'd spent nearly an hour helping you haul those heavy ass boxes into your apartment without complaining once. As a thank you, you'd invited him over for dinner the next day.

Definitely a mistake, because ever since then, you'd been crushing on him like some lovesick teenager.

You'd run into him in the elevator, at the grocery store, at the chemist, even once at the neighborhood noodle place. And with every conversation, he somehow became a little harder to stop thinking about.

‎Oh, did we mention he invited you to his 30th birthday at a bar? Yeah, that night was crazy. He'd assured you it wasn't going to be some wild party packed with a crazy crowd and that you'd actually enjoy yourself. Well... you did. If it wasn't for your baby girl waiting for you to pick her up from your best friend's place, things might've gotten a little more interesting than just a make-out session.

‎The tension had been there ever since that night, and you may or may not have avoided him a little. But it was for both your sakes. You weren't entirely sure you'd be able to control yourself if you ended up alone with him again.

‎But there's no reason for him to be here right now; still, you greet him with a quiet hello, and he returns it with an equally soft one.

‎Another thing you've noticed? You don't know why, but you turn so fucking awkward in front of him while he looks like the calmest, most composed person you've ever met.

Though... the piercings on his left eyebrow and lip always say otherwise.

‎"Is Eunha alright? I, actually, could hear her crying for a while now, so I thought I should check on you. In case you need any help?"

‎His concerned voice takes you out of whatever observation of you had started building about his piercings.

So you reply to him with, "Oh yeah, well I don't really know what's up with her. She's been crying nonstop, and I have tried doing everything..." You move aside, making way for him to step inside.

‎As he slips off his shoes and walks into your apartment, he catches the panic and frustration you've been trying so hard to bury beneath your voice.

‎Though he's never been inside before, he barely spares your apartment a glance. Right now, his mind is occupied with figuring out why your baby won't stop crying.

‎"When did she last eat?" he asks once he reaches her room, standing beside the crib Eunha was in.

‎"8 pm, she ate properly, even burped 10 mins later and drank some milk cause she needs that to sleep."

‎Jungkook almost reaches to pick Eunha up before looking at you as if he's asking for your permission. You nod your head, giving him that.

‎And to your surprise, the moment Jungkook picks Eunha up, she stops crying.

Her small brown eyes, still filled with tears, are now staring at his handsome face, who just picked her up.

"Hunh?" The sound slips out before you can stop it.

‎Jungkook holds Eunha close against his chest, her tiny face already buried in the crook of his neck as his large, warm hand gently rubs circles over her back. Soon he's slightly rocking her body and gently swaying her left and right.

‎Your eyeballs almost leave their sockets when you see Eunha's arms reach around his neck. She doesn't even do that to you, what the heck.

‎Your daughter's a bit too comfy with this stranger.

‎And in the next 10 mins, Jungkook is already sitting on the couch in the room with your baby, sleeping peacefully in his arms.

You stand there speechless, completely dumbfounded as to how the fuck he managed to do that. Eventually, you walk over and take the seat beside him.

The moment you're about to bombard him with questions, he carefully stands up and lays Eunha back down in her crib. The two of you walk outside her room, into the living space of your apartment.

‎"How did you do that?" You couldn't control your tongue, brain buzzing with confusion.

Jungkook lets out a chuckle as he finally looks around your well-decorated apartment. He sits beside you on the larger couch, leaving only a small space between the two of you.

‎He smiles before continuing, "That's my job, Y/N. I'm a pediatrician, remember?" You nod your head at his words.

‎"No, but still, you gotta teach me that." He laughs at your words, trying to make the environment a little lighter.

‎"Hey, it's nothing much. You just have to hold them with all the warmth and love you've got. They tend to feel that comfort."

‎You raised your eyebrows at his words, wondering if he meant that you didn't love your baby.

‎As if he immediately caught the cue, Jungkook continued, "That doesn't mean you don't love her; you're the only person who will love her the most. But infants, they need to feel it.  Because they don't really understand words or actions, so they need that assurance."

‎He turns his body towards you, his knees brushing against yours.

‎His eyes don't leave your face, quietly taking in everything you've been trying so hard to hide. The way your shoulders refuse to loosen, your fingers twisting anxiously in your lap, your breathing just a little too shallow. The exhaustion in your eyes wasn't just from the lack of sleep anymore. It was the kind that had settled somewhere deep inside your chest and refused to leave.

‎Jungkook watches you for a moment, his expression softening with quiet understanding before he finally speaks. "Y/N, I can clearly see how hard you're working for her. And it must be so difficult for you to be... you know, alone in this. So, I understand what you’re going through."

‎His eyes are full of concern. Not just for Eunha anymore, but for you too.

‎You don't remember the last time someone was genuinely concerned about you. Accepting that kind of comfort from your neighbor should've felt weird. Instead, it felt oddly natural.

"Yeah, I do wish I could be better at this. I don't want Eunha to go through a bad childhood because of me.

‎Your eyes were now fixed on your hands, noticing the chipped nail polish you put on months ago.

‎"I just feel like I'm not enough for her." Your voice was going soft with every word you were speaking.

‎"You're more than enough for her, Y/N. You feed her on time, you maintain her hygiene, and you do everything you're supposed to. So don't think any of that, okay?" You could only nod your head at his words.

‎He was right; you're doing everything correctly, so why does it feel like there's still something missing? That you still can't understand your own baby.

‎"I... I don't know why... why can't I give her the comfort or the safety she needs to feel?" You ask quietly, your face slowly lifting until your eyes meet his.

‎"Maybe because you're too busy trying to be her father," Jungkook says it gently. The words are blunt, maybe even a little cruel, but not once does his voice carry judgment.

‎"You know, Y/N... when a father raises a child on his own, he naturally grows into that role. He learns how to provide, how to protect, how to stay strong for them. And mothers... It's a little different.

‎He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "There's something people call a motherly instinct. It's not something you're born with; it grows. It grows every time you hold your baby, every time you comfort them, every time you simply exist with them. And society doesn't really help either. We've been raised believing fathers are supposed to earn for the family, keep everyone disciplined, make sure everyone follows the rules. The rules they set." A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

‎"That doesn't mean fathers love their children any less. Most fathers would give up their lives for their families without thinking twice. But their love often looks different. Fathers usually try to protect their family from everything outside those walls... trusting that the mother will protect them from everything inside them."

‎His eyes settle on yours again. "But in your case... you're trying to be both."

‎Silence settles between the two of you, as he watches your face, almost waiting for the pieces to fall into place.

‎"So..." you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I'm only trying to fill that role for her. I'm trying so hard to replace what's missing... that I'm taking away the chance for her to still have a mother."

‎Jungkook slowly reaches for your hand resting in your lap; his fingers wrap around yours with surprising gentleness.

You suddenly understand why Eunha had fallen asleep so easily in his arms.

‎"Exactly. You don't have to stop being her father; you just have to let yourself be her mother too."

‎His voice is barely above a whisper, and his thumb gently strokes across your knuckles.

‎"Spend time with her without worrying about doing everything right. Let her see the love you already have for her."

Your eyes stay fixed on your joined hands and almost instinctively, your fingers weave between his as if seeking the same love.

‎God, you now feel what Eunha feels all the time. Cause you feel the same too. Your baby's exactly like you.

‎You chuckle at the thought. Jungkook notices that, "A penny for your thoughts?"

You look up to find the sweetest smile on his face. "Nothing, just little realizations."

‎Why? Why are his eyes full of so much comfort and something you can't point out? Why does he look so handsome right now? Why's he so fucking sweet?

‎You don't even notice your gaze drifting to his lips before dropping back to your intertwined hands. But Jungkook did.

‎He notices the way your shoulders have finally begun to loosen. The tension that had been wound so tightly into every muscle of your body slowly melting away beneath the silence.

‎"Y/N?" He calls your name in the softest voice.

‎"Hm?" Your eyes lift to meet his once again.

‎"You should take a break too."

‎You're too busy getting lost in his eyes to actually process what he'd said.

‎"What?"

‎A tiny smile ghosts across his face. "I said you should take a break too."

‎He lets the words settle before continuing, ‎"You're still so young. You deserve to breathe too. Try taking out time for yourself. "‎

You blink, finally hearing him this time, "How, Jungkook?"

‎Jungkook's heart tightens at the genuine question from someone who looked as though she'd forgotten what it felt like to put herself first.

‎His eyes wandered across your face, the dark circles beneath your eyes, and the exhaustion behind them.

‎But you still looked so beautiful. So tender.

‎He felt this urge to protect you from everything that's gnawing at your mind, give you the comfort you've been lacking, and all the love you deserve.

‎A loose strand of hair falls on your face, which he tucked away gently. Gosh, He's so whipped.

He can't keep his heart under control anymore, especially when you're giving him those eyes. But he needs to control, cause he remembers the last time he kissed you and how you've been subtly avoiding him since.

‎He doesn't wanna ruin this for you. He just wants to be there and provide comfort in any form you want him to.

‎"You want me to help?" he asks, his tone making it clear that he wants you to be a hundred percent sure.

‎At this point, you don't even know where this conversation is headed. All you know is that somewhere along the way, the knot in your chest had begun to unravel. You're wrapped up in this weird feeling of... solace, and you don't want to let go.

‎You couldn't form words anymore, so you settle your response with a nod.

"Can I ask you something first?

‎Jungkook nods. "Anything."

‎You hesitate, but you still voice out your question. ‎"Why... why are you so nice to me?"

‎You glance down at your hands as the question hangs between the two of you for a moment.

‎You really don't understand why he cares for you. You know that he's kind to everyone, but he still manages to make you feel special, like you are more to him than just a neighbor.

‎Though after the kiss you shared last time, you hope it's the latter.

‎A chuckle leaves him, and he shakes his head to himself. ‎"I've been trying not to be. "

‎He lets out a small sigh, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

‎"Not like it's working, though."

‎His thumb absentmindedly brushes over your knuckles before he stills it.

‎"I don't know what happened or how it happened, but now that I think about it... I just started caring."

‎Your eyes widen at his words, and your heart races at the sight of a shy Jungkook, his ears and neck flushed red in front of you.

‎Now you feel so guilty for the fact that you've been avoiding him. Maybe it wasn't only you. Maybe what you felt wasn't wrong.

‎"That night... on your birthday..." ‎Your voice comes out as little more than a whisper, but Jungkook speaks before you can continue.

‎"We don't have to talk about that night."

‎Your eyelids flutter before you continue.

‎"Still... I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I just wanted to tell you..." You pause for a moment. "That I don't regret anything that happened. It's just..."

‎Your voice trails off.

‎Jungkook lets out a quiet sigh before continuing, ‎"Me too, Y/N. But I know you've had a thousand other things on your mind."

‎His voice stays calm. ‎"The last thing I want is for you to feel like you have to carry my feelings too."

‎He shifts slightly, decreasing the space between the two of you. ‎"I'm here because I was worried about you. That's all that matters right now."

‎He offers you a reassuring smile. "So tell me, Y/N, how do you want me to help you?"

‎The apartment falls quiet again.

‎For the first time that night, the silence doesn't feel suffocating. Eunha's soft breathing drifts in from the nursery, and the weight that had been pressing against your chest for months feels just a little lighter.

‎Gazing into his starry eyes now reminds you of that night. They hypnotise you in such a way that you just want to get lost in them.

‎Jungkook's eyes stare right back into yours, and he can't help but notice your shifting gaze between his own eyes and lips.

‎But he waits for you to make the move; he wants you to do it. He wants this to be about you.

‎As if some force was pushing you closer to Jungkook, you're now only inches away from his face. His soft breath falls onto yours.

‎You look him in the eyes again, only to find him staring at you like you're the only person that exists for him.

‎That look, that was it. You couldn't think about your actions anymore as your lips touch his.

‎You move your lips over his and Jungkook immediately syncs with you.

‎Damn, why's he so soft? He smells like vanilla and tastes like coffee. You can kiss him for the rest of your life.

‎When you break away to take a breath, Jungkook rests his forehead on yours. His warm hands separate from your interlocked ones, and he holds your jaw gently. Like you're the most fragile thing, and he wants to be very careful with you.

‎Before you even process what had happened, his lips find yours again. This time, it feels more real. You kiss him back with the same effort, both of you devouring each other.

‎His tongue teased your bottom lip once, coaxing your mouth open. It slides over yours as he tastes every corner of your mouth. God, it feels like you're floating now.

‎Your hands find their way towards his hair, and you tug on a few strands to stay a bit grounded.

‎But the kiss deepened as he tongued your mouth, his teeth grazing your lips and tongue, while you let out a needy moan, which he swallowed eagerly.

‎You fiddle with his lip piercing with your tongue, and Lord knows for how long you've been dreaming about doing that.

‎You tug at the piercing, making him let out the cutest yelp, and that's probably the best sound you've ever heard.

‎Jungkook's hand from your jaw slides down towards your neck and then to your arms. You pull away from the kiss for merely a second to climb over his lap, before continuing to make out with him.

‎His palms now settle on your thighs, which land perfectly on both his sides. He grips them slightly while you couldn't help but grind over his half-hard dick.

‎He breaks away from the kiss and looks at your completely flushed face. He tucks away the strands of hair that had fallen on your face.

‎You were already out of breath, body heaving from the intense make-out session. Your hands that were caught in his hair now find their way on his chest.

‎He lifts your chin lightly to meet your eyes before he asks you, "Y/N, are you sure you're okay with what we're doing?"

‎You nod your head at his words, already leaning in to continue. But Jungkook places his hand on your chest to stop you. "Use your words and tell me if you really want this."

Your lips parted at his words as you licked your lip nervously, "I want this."

‎But he still seems unsatisfied with your answer. "You want what, darling?”

‎You feel something moving in your stomach when he calls you that. Wait, are those butterflies? How old are you? 15? Why are you getting so flustered just by his words?

You blink a few times and take a breath before continuing, " You, I want everything you can give me, Jungkook."

Your words feel final. Like you're a  hundred and ten percent sure.

‎Without wasting any more time, Jungkook kisses you again, and his hands start roaming your body. One of them traces up your spine, and the other hand finds your waist, thumb pressed against the skin.

He lets go of your now swollen lips as he presses chaste kisses down your throat. Each one is slow, tongue flicking against your pulse point. Your head falls back automatically, giving him better access.

The soft kisses didn’t last for long before his teeth scraped lightly, sucking deep purple hickies all over your neck.

“Ahh-ohh.” You let out a gasp at a particularly harsh bite, your nails digging into his shoulders. His tongue soothing the sting.

Your body arched, pressing your chest against him. Both his hands slide down to your hips slowly. Your breath hitches when his fingers slip under your hoodie, squeezing your soft skin.

He takes his sweet time bringing the fabric up; the contrast of his hands against your skin makes you shiver. His thumb brushes just below your belly button, and fuck, your eyes shut at the feeling. He pulled out the hoodie and threw it across the couch.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes running over you, drinking in the sight of your flushed skin. The way your tits heaved with each breath left him in awe.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said as he shifted you, now one of his thigh between your legs. It pressed against your core, making you squirm.

His fingers ran over your body before stopping on your bra strap, and he leaned in close, you could feel his breath hot against your ear.

"Can I?"

You manage a shaky nod, pulse thundering in your ears. With a quick flick of his fingers, the fabric comes undone.

The bra falls off, and the way he looks at you- Jesus, it makes your pussy throb. His eyes rake over your exposed tits in pure appreciation.

His hands cupped your bare tits, and you threw your head back at the feel of his warm palm. His huge hands practically engulfed you, his thumbs brushed over your nipples, and your back arched into his touch.

His finger rolled one of your nipples, and you mewled at the feeling. Your hips rocked against his thigh, and he pressed his thigh harder between your legs.

“Feels good?” he asked you while his thumb circled both your buds before tweaking them at a fast pace.

“Mhmm, ahh,” you pant, your cunt now dripping onto his thigh.

“Tell me how it feels, darling, wanna hear you.”

“So- so good, Jungkook,” you gasp. Your fingers find the hem of his crewneck, tugging impatiently. Soon the fabric joins your discarded hoodie somewhere.

He pulls you back against him, and the feeling of his bare skin against yours makes you grind against his thigh once again. His hands grip your waist passionately while yours run all over his abs and the hard planes of his chest.

When his mouth claims yours again, this time it's hungrier. His tongue sucks yours in a way that makes your heart quicken, and you can't help your fingers curling around his neck to pull him closer.

Soon you break the kiss to breathe, but you can't help but stare at the view in front of you. His lips are slick and swollen, that silver ring glinting with both of your saliva. His hair is a mess from your fingers, and his eyes shine with adoration.

He leaned down, breathing hotly against your tits, as his tongue came out, brushing against the hardened peak. You squirmed pathetically over him, pushing your tits harder into his mouth.

He finally took the right nipple into his mouth, and the wet heat of his mouth made you slightly scream.

He sucked hard, his tongue swirling rapidly, and your hips bucked seeking relief, pressing against his muscular thighs.

“Jungkook.” you moaned.

“Fuckk, darling.” He moved to your other nipple, giving it the same attention while his hand focused on the other one.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured. His voice vibrates against your nipple, and you bite your lower lip to contain yourself.

“I could suck these all day.” he looks at you endearingly.

“Would you like that?” You couldn't speak; his tongue lapped at your nipple before sucking hard, pulling a string of moans from you.

“Answer me, baby,” he urged.

“Yessss,” you blabbered. You pulled him closer, your tits aching due to his persistent attention. He twisted and pinched your nipple, making your clit throb painfully.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, he loved the way your nipples were all red and swollen because of him.

He kissed down your cleavage, his lips trailing over the soft skin of your tits, worshipping every inch of you.

“Just wanna make you feel good.” He groans as his hands slide down your sides towards your ass. He squeezes it hard through your silk shorts, and you couldn’t help but let out a whimper.

“So soft…” he hums in approval as he continues wringing your ass.

You lift your hips for him to tug your shorts down roughly, bunching them at your thighs. His palm slides up your inner thigh, his thumb slightly brushing over your clit through your panties. The pleasure makes you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moan.

"You like that, darling?" His voice is soft and low.

You press a hum into the crook of his neck, his thumb drawing slow circles on your clit, making your thighs shake.

He pulls your panties to the side, grazing his fingers over your folds but never letting his touch linger for long enough. Your eyes squeeze shut as you ramble incoherent words against his skin.

Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, you feel your body being lowered onto the soft mattress of the couch. You open your eyes, only to find Jungkook on his knees, shuffling between your partly spread legs.

“Will you spread your legs for me?” he blabs against your panty-clad pussy, hands already on the side of your thighs.

You did exactly what he asked you to, as he sucked a spot just above your underwear before he went up again, circling his tongue around your navel.

You felt euphoric at how he was marking you all over with his saliva. His hands then reached for the last piece of fabric on your body, and his eyes met yours.

“Are you okay? Shall we keep going?”

“Yes, pleaseee.” Your hands reached for his hair again, nails scratching his scalp, making him let out such pathetic noises for you.

He kissed your clit over the panty before he slowly slid the fabric down your body, revealing your pussy.

Jungkook stared at you as if he found the seventh heaven. Your folds were swollen, clit peeking just beneath it, and he couldn’t look away from it, his tongue coming out to lick at his bottom lip.

Your breath hitched at how sensual he looked, his flushed cheeks and doe eyes making him look cuter.

Your wetness clung to the bottoms, and he could see the way your entrance clenched around nothing. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses against your inner thighs.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” his eyes locked on your cunt and the way it was oozing arousal.

His lips brushed your mound, and a desperate whine escaped you. He placed a kiss against your pussy mound, “Look at you, so wet f’me…”

His finger strokes your outer lips, spreading your arousal, the sensations making you feel ecstatic. “Jungkook, pleas-unh.”

His fingers parted your folds, exposing your clit fully and blowing cool air on it. His eyes constantly checked you for any sign of discomfort but only found you sobbing out lewd noises at his action.

He spat on your pussy suddenly causing you to flinch, as he watched his saliva mix with your slickness. He parted your folds with his thumb, now exposing your clit fully.

“So fucking pretty,” he cooed.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, so he leaned in, his tongue licking you slowly from your entrance to your clit, and you cried out. He groaned against your pussy as his tongue lapped at your slit, his nose poking your clit.

“mmph-nghhhh,” you murmured curses as you bit into your hand, not being able to help yourself.

“You taste so sweet.” his tongue dived in, now entering your hole, fucking you in and out as your head whipped from side to side. He loved how you tasted, and you smelt sooo good.

He sucked on your folds, his tongue doing different motions until your arousal dripped onto his chin. His loud grunts vibrate against you, making your body quiver involuntarily. You closed your eyes tightly, lost in the feeling.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he coaxed, “Look what you do to me.”

His hands pulled you closer to him, and he pushed your knees until they touched your breasts, exposing your pussy fully in front of him.

“Jungkook- ahmm godd,” you chanted, while he dove back in, his tongue circled your clit before sucking hard and pulling a scream from you. Your hips grind against his face, chasing the pleasure.

“You’re doing so good, darling,” he urged.

He vigorously flicked your clit side to side, and you gripped tight on his hair.  “Yessss, grind on my face, ffuck-let me feel you.”

Your thighs shook violently, “jungkook i’m—” you hiccuped.

Your hips rocking faster and faster against his face, seeking relief. “I’m gonna come, Jungkook, pleasee hahh.”

He started eating you out harder, all while his fingers fucked your cunt, making your body tremble violently.

“Yeahh? Then cum for me, darling.”

His tongue replaced your fingers, thrusting back into your entrance as his teeth slightly grazed your clit.

“Ahhh-Jungkookk!” You screamed, your back arching off the couch. Your body jerked against him, as your cum hit him in the face.

Jungkook lapped you through your orgasm, not stopping till he made sure you were licked clean.

“You did so well for me, darling.” He kissed your quivering pussy softly, making you whimper.

Your hands ran through his hair again as his eyes met yours, lips glistening with your juices. He licked his lips clean, his cock still twitching in his shorts.

You lay there still trying to catch your breath, and you tried pulling him towards you. Jungkook stood up, his knees burning from staying bent for so long, as he sat beside you.

He dragged your limp body into his arms, placing your legs over his, drawing little patterns on your back. He pressed chaste kisses on your forehead, nose, and cheeks. You wrapped your arms around his ribs, face already snuggling against his chest.

Jungkook caressed your hair before you spoke, “That was probably the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

His body convulsed with laughter as he placed a finger under your chin to lift your face and spoke, “I’m honored, darling, though you deserve all the best orgasms in the world.”

And fuck- he feels a flood of butterflies in his stomach from the way you’re looking at him with such dreamy eyes and the shy smile appearing on your face.

He’d do anything if that meant he’d get to see that smile of yours.

You stretched your neck upward, capturing his lips in the softest kiss, making Jungkook get goosebumps all over his body.

You broke away from the kiss some time later while Jungkook continued caressing your back.

“You hungry?” He asked casually. “I can make you something while you freshen up.”

You couldn’t help but look at him in shock, your brows contorting with confusion. “But what about you, Jungkook? You didn’t get to…”

He chuckles lightly, pushing the strands of hair away from your face. “I told you, Y/N, tonight was all about you.”

‘’But Jungkook-”

“I didn’t do this just to get something in return, darling.” He cuts you off mid-sentence.

Your face softens at his words, but you still speak, “But still, I don’t like leaving you like this.”

Jungkook breaks into a smile, his eyes glinting with slight mischief. “Aww, don’t feel sad. You can give me my best orgasm ever the next time we do this, hm?”

“We’re doing this again?” You ask, voice laced with surprise.

“You wouldn’t want that?” He got worried if he accidentally crossed the line, but you reassured him with a shake of your head.

“I’d love that!” You giggled as he playfully kissed your forehead.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence; both of your hearts felt full and content as you simply breathed together, sharing the warmth of the moment.

A piercing noise of your daughter crying comes through her room as you jerk against Jungkook’s body at the sudden sound. You quickly get off his body, looking for your underwear.

You run to her in just your hoodie and your panties, picking her up from her crib. Just like how Jungkook told you and what you saw him do, you gently rub Eunha’s back. You coo at her with several ‘what happened, baby?’s and ‘I love you’s, while gently swaying her left to right.

She slowly stops crying and falls asleep in your arms. Jungkook joins you too, now wearing his own crewneck, and he’s left in awe at the sight in front of him.

“You’re a quick learner, aren’t you, darling?” You turn around to look at him, only to find him gazing at you and your daughter with so much fondness.

“All thanks to you, Doctor.” You say with a teasing smile on your face.

At that moment, neither of you knew that the other person had wished for a life just like this. So maybe the Universe is finally listening to you, and this was a start to your manifested lives.

Hence, moral of the story, keep manifesting bitches!! and do listen to everything dr. jeon tells you. Okay bye byee!!!!

Taglist:

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 can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone you've ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile - all of it, completely gone.

Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.

You are dead, but it's up to you to do something about it.

The choice is solely yours.

✦ the habits of a broken heart by @softykooky ☆ㅤ♡

soulmates au, unrequited love, subtle e2l | wc: 26.3k

jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.

alternatively,

"You still are, you know. Worth it." You release a shaky breath. "But I was stupid to think that I am too."

✦ cold nights & blurred lines by @awrkive ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾

fwb!au, college!au | wc: 26.6k

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it's casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can't help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

✦ idealizations concerning real life relations by @venusiangguk ☆ㅤ ⏾

fwb au, s2l | wc: 40.9k

jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

✦ chasing butterflies by @ddaenggtan ♡ ⏾

coffee shop & college au | s2l | wc: 12.8k

you never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend’s orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it.

✦ graveyard shift by @darkestcorners ☆ㅤ

horror, yandere au, vampire au | wc: 8.3k

When you take the graveyard shift at your new job, you expect things to go rather boringly but the quiet night soon turns deadly when you realize you aren’t alone

✦ stars behind waves by @taegularities ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾

vacation/beach!au, f2l | wc: 22.7k

With a decade’s distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realise once again – the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes.

➥ series!

✦ hotter than hell by @chateautae ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾

supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, road trip, e2l | wc: 136k

jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

✦ one night stand by @buryhny ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾

pregnancy au, e2l | wc:200k

as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

✦ practice by @chryblossomjjk ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾

fwb au, fuckboy au, college au | wc: 32.6k

you usually spend friday nights on your own. tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.

✦ wife trap by @wintrbears ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾

twins au, brother in law au, f2l | wc: 79.4k

Your husband and his identical twin brother are complete opposites, but when the pair are in a horrific car accident together and the nurse asks Jungkook which twin he is, he decides to spare you the heartache of losing your beloved husband by becoming him.

✦ fight for you by @ahundredtimesover ☆ㅤ ⏾

bodyguard au | wc: 80k

Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along

✦ to tame a god by @jeonstudios ☆ㅤㅤ♡ ⏾

supernatural au, wolf au, adventure | wc: 50.4 k

jeon jeongguk is the youngest alpha his pack has ever seen, and they all trust him with their lives. one day, a strange wolf enters his territory. they know it’s not a regular wolf, because just like their own, its eyes shine with the supernatural powers from within. but it won’t shift back to its human form to reveal its intentions.

✦ please love me by @ahundredtimesover ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾

arranged marriage au, childhood friends, ceo kids | wc: 64.3k

to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

✦ an abundance of luck & sprinkle of hate by @borathae ☆ㅤ♡ ⏾

ceo au, sex worker au, bdsm, s2l | wc : 172.2k

When two souls, with different reasons for why life has broken them, find together, it needs a whole lot of a luck and a little bit of fate to make them see that maybe healing together isn’t as bad as it sounds.

these fics are so, so good! absolute masterpieces. huge shoutout to every author for creating them! i love y’ll so much!!!🤍 also guys, is the format okay? lmk below what you'd prefer!

You shove the duvet off, hair sticking to your cheek, and swing your legs out of bed with the grace of a woman dragged out of sleep against her will. The floor is cold. Your eyes burn. Your throat feels dry because you’ve slept too little and lived too loudly the day before.

The blender keeps going. You stomp to your door and yank it open. The kitchen lights are on, bright and rude. He’s there, exactly where he always is at this hour.

Jeon Jungkook stands at the counter in his nurse uniform—scrubs that fit him offensively well, sleeves pushed up far enough that you catch the dark ink creeping along his forearm. A glimpse of metal at his mouth when he turns his head. He doesn’t look tired. The blender is under one of his hands. The other hand holds the bottle.

You stare at him for half a second too long. It’s annoying—genuinely irritating—how good he looks. A man who knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands. A man anyone would happily ruin their life over if he wasn’t also the kind of person who wipes down the counter after pouring a glass of water.

He glances up, clocking your presence. “You’re up,” he says, flat. “Your laundry is still in the dryer.”

“Am I up?” you reply, voice hoarse, purposely ignoring the last part. “I thought I was hallucinating the sound of a blender trying to break through the wall.”

His eyes flick to the doorway, then to your face. He gives you that look—the one people give to badly behaved children. It annoys you because you’re a grown woman who pays rent and buys her own groceries.

“It’s been there since yesterday,” he says, again.

“Aaand?” You drag the word out. “It’s also a weekday. People are asleep. Some of us have jobs that don’t involve terrorising innocent kitchen appliances.”

He looks down at the blender and he turns it off. Silence drops—unfortunately, the smell remains.

You walk into the kitchen with purpose, which is mostly to stop yourself from walking into the wall. The tiled floor is cold under your feet. Your eyes flick to the blender jug without permission—it’s pale, dense and horrifying.

“Ew,” you say, disgusted.

He lifts one shoulder. “Protein.”

You reach past him for the bread because you’re already up and you’re already suffering, so you might as well suffer with toast. You shove a slice in the toaster, wait for it to pop, and take a bite.

His gaze snaps to your mouth. “Can you not chew like that?” he says, already reaching for a cloth.

You pause mid-chew, stare at him, then chew louder, with your mouth open.

Jungkook wipes the counter in front of you like you’re shedding crumbs by breathing. He catches a few that fall and wipes again immediately, as if the crumbs have personally offended him.

“It’s disgusting,” he adds. “And you’re eating before you’ve even brushed your teeth.”

“Oh my God,” you say, still chewing.

He doesn’t stop—Jungkook never stops once he starts. “All that bacteria just goes straight into your stomach.”

You swallow. “Fuck off.”

His jaw shifts. “Brush your teeth.”

You take another bite. “You’re such a heter,” you mutter, passing him for the bathroom. You make sure your shoulder bumps his on the way through, just to be petty.

He doesn’t move, not even flinch. But his gaze drops to where your shoulder touches his chest for a fraction of a second, like you’ve burnt him. “Don’t touch me,” he says.

You stop in the doorway of the bathroom and look back at him. “Oh, sorry. I forgot you only let Dettol touch you.”

His jaw shifts. “You’re not funny.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my class. They think I’m a stand-up comedian. Mostly because they’re laughing at me, but still.”

He picks up his bottle and starts rinsing the blender jug. “You left a bowl in the sink last night,” he says again without looking at you.

It’s way too early for his nagging. You stare at the back of his head. “I left a bowl in the sink because I ate dinner like a normal person and then I fell asleep. At night. Like someone who doesn’t work the hours of a vampire.”

Jungkook turns around and looks you up and down once—a quick assessment that manages to make your skin tighten. “Make sure you leave the bathroom window open and turn the fan on.”

You pause. “Why?”

“Steam,” he says, clipped. “Mould.”

You laugh once, without humour, and shut the bathroom door hard enough that the frame rattles.

When you’re finally ready for the day and tugging your shoes on by the front door—bag slung over your shoulder, keys in hand— his bedroom door opens.

Jungkook steps out shirtless, towel looped around his neck and another in his hands. His hair falls in wet waves on his forehead. Water glistens on his chest. His tattoos are more visible like this—dark lines disappearing over his ribs, into places you don’t get to see. 

You hate your body for noticing. For scanning. For imagining.

He looks at you and his gaze lands on your shoes first, then your bag, then your face.  “Bins,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

He nods towards the door with his chin. “It’s bin day. Take them down when you get back.”

“You love bossing me around,” you say.

“You love needing it.”

You swallow your comeback because you don’t have time for a full-scale war before work. You also don’t have time to stare at his chest, so you don’t—making sure your eyes behave.

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” One beat. Then, almost as an afterthought: “Don’t forget.”

You grab your keys tighter. “I won’t.” You step out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind you.

Today has been miserable. You get home with your keys already digging into your palm, jaw tight from clenching it all day.

The flat greets you the way it always does when Jungkook’s been through it—offensively spotless. No shoes by the door unless they’re lined up. No mug in the sink. Not even crumbs. The air even smells clean—the scent of the very specific disinfectant he likes.

You toe your heels off and kick the door shut behind you.

Your eyes land on the hallway mirror. You look like you’ve been chewed up by fifteen-year-olds and spat back out again. Hair escaping your clip, mascara smudged at the edges, shoulders slumped. Your throat hurts from talking over classroom noise. Your head is full of the headmaster’s voice—targets, targets, targets—like you can single-handedly bully kids into better grades with worksheets and hope.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. Another email. Another deadline. You don’t even check it. You exhale and drop your bag to the floor.

The bins.

He told you this morning. Bin day. Don’t forget. 

You glance at the kitchen corner where the bin lives. “I won’t forget,” you mutter out loud.

You walk past it anyway, telling yourself you’ll do it in a minute—after you’ve had a shower; after your shoulders stop feeling like they’re made of stone; after you remember the feeling of being in your own skin.

You strip your clothes off in the bathroom, step under the water, and let it hit you hot. It loosens something in you—not the stress, not really, but the surface of it. The day washes down the drain in pieces: students arguing over calculators, the constant low anxiety of exams, the headmaster’s tight smile that never reaches his eyes.

You press your forehead to the tiles and breathe.

When you step out, towel around your hair, your body feels lighter and your mind feels emptier. Better. Not fixed—just quieter.

You don’t even bother with dinner. The thought of standing in the kitchen, choosing food, chewing, washing up—it all feels like too much effort for a Friday night you’ve earned through sheer survival.

So you go for the only thing that doesn’t ask questions. Wine.

You pull the red from the cupboard and pour yourself a glass that’s a little too generous. No one’s here to comment on the amount. No one’s here to tell you to use a coaster. No one’s here to wipe the counter behind you the second you turn away.

Jungkook’s meant to be on nights. He’ll come in at stupid o’clock, make his disgusting smoothie, glare at the state of the world, and go to sleep. That’s the arrangement. Your lives brushing past each other like strangers.

You take the wine to the sofa, drop down, and turn on Netflix. Something mindless with attractive people and predictable problems. You let it play while you drink and let your body unclench.

Halfway through the film, two characters start kissing. Hungry kissing—hands in hair, mouth open, bodies grinding against one another.

You swallow a mouthful of wine and stare at the screen for a second longer than you mean to. It’s been—what? Eight months since you got laid? Maybe longer. You can’t even remember the last time someone else’s hands were on you with intent. 

You shift on the sofa. Your damp hair sticks to the back of your neck. Your skin feels too awake all of a sudden. That restless, irritated ache that sits low in your belly and refuses to be ignored.

“Tired, stressed, horny,” you mutter. “Amazing.”

You take another sip, bigger this time, as if you can drown the feeling. It doesn’t work.

Your gaze flicks to the hallway. To your bedroom. To the drawer you keep things in—the drawer you pretend isn’t important until nights like this, when your body starts demanding attention.

You stand up.

The film keeps playing behind you, the actors going at each other. You walk to your room, open the drawer, and pull out your vibrator. You pause with it in your hand, considering your bed. The problem is the wine. The glass you left on the coffee table—also the fact that you don’t want to get up again once you start and you’re already too keyed up to be patient with yourself.

You go back to the living room.

You stand there for a moment, looking at the sofa, then at the glass, then at the corridor again. As if Jungkook might suddenly appear and scold you for existing.

He won’t. He’s at work.

You sit.

Leather under your thighs. Cool at first, then warming. You set the vibrator on the cushion beside you and take a gulp of wine that burns a little on the way down. 

“Who cares,” you whisper, more to yourself than anyone. “It’s my sofa too.”

Your fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. You slide them down, step out, and kick them away without thinking. They land near the coffee table, a soft pile of fabric that would make Jungkook visibly twitch if he saw it.

You sink back into the sofa, the leather sticking slightly to your bare thighs, and grab the vibrator. The wine's buzzing in your veins, making everything feel a little sharper and dirtier. 

You flick the toy on—the low hum is too loud in the flat’s quiet—and spread your legs to press it against your clit. The first vibration jolts through you, and you bite your lip to stifle the gasp that wants to escape.

Fuck, it's been too long. 

You don’t have patience for slow. Your hips shift instinctively as you circle the tip over your folds. You close your eyes, letting your head fall back. That's when your mind betrays you.

Jeon Jungkook. That asshole with that metal at his mouth and his infuriating control. 

You imagine him in the kitchen, not blending his stupid chicken breast shake, but pinning you against the counter instead. His hands—those dry-knuckled, impatient hands that scrub everything spotless—digging hard enough to bruise. Him yanking your panties down your hips. 

"You can’t do anything clean, can you?" he'd growl, voice annoyed as usual. 

But he'd be hard against you, pressing between your arse cheeks as he bends you forward. Your face pushed against the cold countertop.

You slide the vibrator lower, pushing it inside yourself with an easy glide. Your breath hitches. Fuck, it feels good, but it's not enough—not like how it would feel to have him shoving your thighs apart with his knee. 

One of his hands fisting your hair to keep you arched, the other undoing his pants. You can almost feel the length of his cock before he thrusts in with no warning—stretching you open until you're gasping, gripping around him like you'd never let go.

"Fuck, Jungkook," you whisper, the name slipping out desperate as you pump the vibrator faster. 

The buzz is sending shocks up your spine. Your free hand claws at the throw blanket, bunching it up, while your hips buck against the toy. 

Jungkook’s relentless. His balls are slapping against your clit with every snap of his hips. His tattooed arm wraps around your waist, fingers finding your clit and rubbing circles that make your legs shake. 

"Take it," he’d mutter, breath hot against your neck, his ring scraping your shoulder as he bites. "You want this, don't you? Acting like a brat all day just to get fucked like one."

The image burns behind your eyelids—his sweat-slick chest pressed to your back. The wet sounds of skin on skin. The way your pussy would grip him until he's groaning your name—losing that perfect composure. 

Your toes curl into the carpet, thighs trembling as the pressure builds in your core. The sofa is pooling with your juices. You're so close, chasing the edge where everything explodes.

“Jungkook—” you moan, louder. 

One more thrust in your mind—him slamming home, grinding deep—and you're there, body arching as the orgasm rushes up—

A throat clears.

Your eyes snap open. The vibrator is still buried inside you, still buzzing as your hand freezes. Your heart slams against your ribs; your breath caught in a choke.

He's there. In the doorway. Jungkook, in his scrubs, staring like he's walked into a nightmare. His jaw is clenched. His grip tightens on the strap of his bag. 

You yank the toy out with a gasp, thighs snapping shut. You scramble for the blanket, face burning. "Oh my God," you stammer, voice wrecked. "It's not what it looks—fuck. Okay. It is exactly what it looks like."

He doesn't say a word. Just swallows hard, gaze dropping for a split second to your discarded panties on the floor, then away. He turns on his heel, and you can then hear his door slamming.

You want to die. 

You’ve pulled on a fresh pair of panties. The cotton is soft against your still-sensitive skin. Your shirt is tugged down over your hips—trying to erase the last fifteen minutes. 

You have cleaned up the living room's crime scene. The vibrator is safely stashed back in your drawer. You’ve wiped down the sofa and the throw blanket has been haphazardly folded. Your abandoned wine glass is rinsed and set in the drainer. 

But none of it helps settle the pulse under your collarbone. 

You stare at his closed door from the hallway, chewing the inside of your cheek until it stings.

This is stupid. You should let it blow over, pretend it never happened. You’re adults who share a flat and nothing else. 

But the silence from his room feels heavier than usual—and you know that if you don't deal with it now, it'll turn worse. Awkward glances in the kitchen, him wiping surfaces longer than necessary, you slamming cabinets louder than needed.

Your bare feet pad across the cool floorboards. You knock twice and immediately regret it. There are shuffling sounds from inside, muffled footsteps, and then the door cracks open. 

He's changed out of his scrubs into loose sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that clings to his chest. His hair's pushed off his forehead, and his eyes are narrowed at you with that familiar edge.

"What?" he says, voice clipped.

You shift your weight, arms crossing over your chest—as if that might shield you from the humiliation crawling up your back. "Can I come in?"

He doesn't move at first, just stares. Then he steps aside with a sigh, letting the door swing wider. 

You slip past him, careful not to brush against his arm, and the room envelops you. It’s clean, almost sterile, with the faint scent of his body wash hanging in the air. It’s crisp and minty and it makes your stomach twist. 

It's the first time you've been in here, and it's exactly what you'd expect—bed made with military precision, sheets tucked tight, no stray clothes on the floor. His desk is against the far wall, a sleek gaming setup taking up most of it—dual monitors, a keyboard with RGB lights turned off, headset draped over the back of the chair. There is a framed anatomical diagram on the wall that screams nurse vibes. 

No clutter, no personality spilling out—just freakishly controlled, like him.

You head straight for the swivel chair at the desk. You spin it around to face him and drop into it, knees pressed together because the bed feels too intimate. He closes the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it—arms folded, waiting. 

The room feels smaller with both of you in it, the air thicker.

"Look," you start, forcing your voice steady even though your throat's dry, "about what you walked in on—it's not what you think. I mean, it is, but—I didn't know you'd be home early. You’re always on nights and never early—and—and yeah."

“They moved my shift,” he says. “Roster change. I got sent home.”

“And you didn’t think to text?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.” He pushes off the door and takes a step closer. His expression remains unchanged—brows furrowed, mouth a flat line. "I also didn't ask for an explanation."

"Yeah, well, I'm giving one anyway," you snap back, heat rising in your cheeks. "Because now it's awkward as hell—and I don't want you thinking I'm some kind of exhibitionist or whatever. It was private—you— you weren't even supposed to see that."

"Private in the living room?" He scoffs, voice low. He moves to stand by the bed, hands shoved in his pockets, posture rigid.

You roll your eyes, swiveling the chair a little to face him fully. "Oh, come on. Like you've never done anything in a common area. The flat was empty—or I thought it was—annd don't act like you're scandalised—we're adults, okay?"

"I'm not scandalised," he mutters, gaze flicking to the floor, then back to you. "Just—didn't expect it."

That’s when your eyes drop, unintentionally, to his sweatpants. 

The fabric's loose, but not loose enough to hide the outline straining against it. The unmistakable bulge that's impossible to ignore now that you've seen it. Your breath catches, a fresh wave of heat, mixing with the embarrassment.

"Are you horny?" you ask, voice quieter than you mean it to be—your gaze lifting to his face.

He goes still and doesn't answer. But you see it—the flush creeping up his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. His hands flex in his pockets, and he shifts his stance, trying to adjust without admitting it.

You lean forward in the chair, heart hammering. "Is it because of me?"

Silence stretches, until you can't take it. 

"If it's my fault—I can take care of it. For you."

His eyes snap to yours, but he doesn't move nor speak. 

You push the chair forward with your feet, wheels rolling silently across the floor until you're right in front of him. You slide off the seat, knees hitting the rug with a soft thud, and look up at him.

You wait for the rejection, the bickering—the get out or you're annoying or any of the usual barbs that fly between you.

He doesn't say a word. Just stares down—breath coming a little faster, chest rising and falling under his shirt.

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for him, palms pressing against the bulge. He’s hard under your touch. Jungkook hisses—a sharp intake of breath that sounds more like pain than anything, but his hips twitch forward, betraying him.

Still no words. 

You hook your fingers into the waistband, tugging it down slowly. His sweatpants part, and you slide your hand inside. You palm him through the thin layer of his boxers. The fabric's damp at the tip, and he groans low in his throat. 

His head tips back against the wall with a thunk, eyes squeezing shut. His cock is throbbing, veins pulsing as you stroke him firmly. 

"Jungkook," you murmur, your own arousal building again.

You’re slick between your thighs despite the fresh panties. You tug his boxers down, and he springs out—thick, flushed, the head glistening with precum beading at the slit. 

You lean in, wrapping your lips around the tip, tongue swirling to taste the salt of him.

He gasps. One of his hands comes to grip the edge of the desk beside him, knuckles whitening. 

You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You bob slowly at first, then faster. His free hand tangles in your hair—fingers flexing as you suck him harder, your hand stroking what doesn't fit. His thighs tense under your other palm, and you feel his cock swell on your tongue—twitching with every flick against the underside.

His breathing turns ragged, hips starting to buck into your mouth. Sweat beads on his neck, trickling under his shirt. His face is flushed, lips parted as soft curses slip out—too low to catch fully.

You pull back when you feel him throb harder, close to the edge. Your lips are shiny and swollen as you look up at him, meeting his gaze. 

"Jungkook, do you have any condoms?"

For a beat, he just stares—pupils are blown wide, chest heaving.: “I really can’t stand you,” he says eventually.

“Then don’t,” you whisper.

“You’re a mess,” he spits. “You make everything worse.”

“And you still want me,” you say, breathing hard. 

That’s all it takes for his hand to shoot out, fingers wrapping around your throat as he hauls you up, crashing his mouth against yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue. His piercing is cool against your lip as he devours you, tasting himself on your tongue. 

His other arm bands around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His cock is still hard and pressing into your stomach, smearing saliva and precum on your shirt. The grip on your throat sends sparks down your spine. Your nipples harden against his chest through the fabric. 

You taste the faint mint from his toothpaste mixed with the salt of his skin. Your fingers dig into his shirt, bunching the fabric as you kiss him back.

He breaks the kiss first, pulling back to look at you. His breath comes out in hot puffs against your lips. "You sure about this?" he asks, like he's forcing the words out past whatever restraint he's clinging to. 

His grip on your throat loosens, fingers trailing down to your collarbone instead.

You nod, swallowing hard, your own voice shaky but certain. "Yeah. I want this. Do you?"

"Fuck yes," he mutters.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” you murmur back.

“Good,” he says, mouth on your neck, “I don’t need you to.”

His hands slide under your shirt, draggin up your sides and tugging the fabric. You lift your arms without thinking and let him peel your shirt over your head. The cool air hits your bare skin and makes your nipples pebble instantly. He tosses the shirt aside, gaze dropping to your chest.

“Try not to sanitise me,” you say, with a giggle.

“Try not to ruin my sheets,” he grins back.

You grab the hem of his t-shirt and he helps, shrugging it off in one fluid motion. His chest is right there, inked skin glistening faintly from earlier sweat. You run your palms over his pecs, down to his abs. He's built solid, every ridge and dip warm and firm. 

"What are you even made out of?" you breathe—half-laughing, half-awed, as your fingers trace the lines of his tattoos.

He smirks, but it's strained, like he's barely holding back. "Condoms," he says, nodding towards the nightstand. "In the drawer."

“You plan for everything, huh?” you say, glancing over. 

But he beats you to it and leans across the bed to pull one out. “I didn’t plan you,” he says, foil packet crinkling in his hand. 

While he's distracted, you slip out of your panties again, kicking them off. You then tug at his sweatpants and boxers, shoving them down to his thighs.

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, tears the packet open with his teeth, and rolls the condom on with quick movements. 

You watch, thighs pressing together, your clit throbbing. "Come here," he says, grabbing your hips and guiding you onto the bed.

“You’re always telling me what to do,” you say, already crawling back.

“And you always do the apposite,” he answers, not letting you get far. He flips you onto your stomach with surprising ease, his hands strong on your waist.  "Like this.”.

You’re positioned on all fours, knees sinking into the mattress. You arch your back instinctively, ass up, and feel the bed dip as he kneels behind you. 

"Ready?" he asks. His hand slides between your thighs to check, fingers slipping through your folds. He finds you soaked. He groans at the feel, circling your clit once. It makes you jolt. "Shit, you're so wet."

"Yeah, well, you interrupted me earlier," you shoot back, voice muffled against the sheets. 

He chuckles, then lines the blunt head of his cock to your entrance. "I won’t let it happen again." 

He pushes in—inch by inch, stretching you open with a burn that's equal parts pain and pleasure. You gasp and he stills for a second, letting you adjust. 

His breath is ragged behind you. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good—so tight," he grits out, like he's fighting not to move yet. 

You feel him throbbing inside you, every twitch sending sparks up your spine. "Move," you beg, pushing against him. "Please."

He does—pulls out almost all the way, then thrusts back in hard; the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. 

You moan as he sets a rhythm, his cock dragging against that spot inside you with every stroke. You’re flooded by the stretch, the friction, the way your walls clench around him. 

His hands roam. One slides up your back to press between your shoulder blades, keeping you arched. The other gripps your ass. Then his palm comes down—spanking you once. 

Heat blooms across your skin, and you yelp. But it's good, the pain twists into pleasure. 

"Is this okay?" he asks. 

You don’t get the chance to answer before he does it again, harder this time.

"Yes—fuck, yes," you gasp, rocking back to meet his thrusts. 

He's pounding into you and you feel him filling you up. His sweat drips onto your back as he leans over you slightly, breath hot on your neck.

"I’m so close—to cumming," your voice breaks. 

The edge is right there, building with each drag of his cock.

"Not yet," he growls, and suddenly stops.

He pulls out completely, leaving you empty and whining at the loss. “I hate you,” you say. 

“No, you don’t,” he says.

Before you can respond, his hands are on you, flipping you onto your back. The mattress bounces as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half, and slides back in—deeper this time, the angle hitting new places that make stars burst behind your eyelids.

"Oh fuck," you cry out, hands scrabbling at his arms, nails digging into his biceps. 

He's looming over you, face inches from yours. His eyes are locked on your face as he starts thrusting again, each one punching the air from your lungs. His cock is buried to the hilt, grinding against your cervix.

"I want to see you while I fuck you," he says, one hand bracing beside your head, the other holding your thighs in place. "I want to watch you when you cum on my cock."

Tears prick your eyes—from the pleasure crashing over you in waves. 

He notices, thumb brushing under your eye. He flicks a tear away gently, his expression softening for a split second amid the heat. "Is this too much?" he checks, slowing his pace for a fraction.

"No—don't stop," you plead, shaking your head, hips lifting to urge him on. "I feel so good, Jungkook."

He nods and picks up speed again. His face twists with effort—brows furrowed, lips parted as soft grunts escape him. Sweat slicks his forehead, dripping down his temple. You feel the tension in his thighs, the way his abs clench with every movement. 

"I’m close," he warns. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so hard."

You cum first—vision blurring as it rips through you. Your whole body shakes, walls fluttering around him in pulses that make you sob his name. "Jungkook—yes, fuck—"

He follows right after, burying himself with a groan. He spills into the condom, cock twitching inside you. His arms tremble, holding himself up—but then he collapses forward, weight pressing you into the mattress. 

The both of you are panting, slick with sweat.

He pulls out carefully, tying off the condom and tossing it towards the trash. He then flops back on top of you, face buried in your neck. His heart hammers against your chest in time with yours. 

For a moment, it's just that—exhausted quiet, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, feeling the muscles relax under your touch.

Then sis hand slides down your body, fingers finding your clit—still sensitive and swollen—and he starts circling it slowly. 

You jolt, a whimper escaping as fresh sparks ignite. "Jungkook—what—"

"I’m not done yet," he mumbles against your skin.

He lifts his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, tongue flicking over the peak. His other hand squeezes your breast, thumb rolling the nipple until it's hard and aching. He takes turns switching sides, mouth latching onto each bud.

Pleasure builds again, faster this time, your body oversensitive from the first orgasm. 

His fingers on your clit speed up, pressing firmer. He leaves marks—sucking hickeys across your breasts, red blooms that sting under his lips. His hand knead the soft flesh like he can't get enough.

"Jungkook, I—oh fuck," you gasp, hips bucking into his hand, tears threatening again from the overload. 

It's too much, too good, every nerve ending lit up.

"Come on," he urges, voice muffled against your skin, lifting his head to watch your face again. "Come one more time for me."

You shatter—body convulsing, a cry tearing from your throat as the second orgasm hits. It’s harder than the first, leaving you trembling. 

It's the best you've ever had, waves crashing endlessly, your mind blanking out.

He slows his hand, easing you down. Jungkook then pulls you close as you both catch your breath. 

"Holy shit," you whisper finally.

He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Yeah."

“Don’t get smug,” you mumble, leaning into to him. 

“Don’t get sentimental,” he answers immediately, wrapping around you.

You lie there for what feels like hours, bodies slick and spent. The room smells of sex and sweat and that faint body wash scent from his skin. Your limbs feel heavy, every muscle humming from the aftershocks of what has to be the best fucking of your life.

His arm is draped over your waist, chest rising and falling against your side—and for the first time since you met him, the silence between you isn't loaded with tension. It's comfortable, almost.

"Did you take the bins down?" he asks suddenly, still panting a little. His voice muffled against your shoulder.

You blink, brain sluggish, then it hits you—the morning reminder, the one you'd blown off in your post-work haze. "Oh, shit, I forgot."

Jungkook scoffs. The familiar edge creeps back in, but there's a playful glint in his eyes as he shifts. He rolls on top of you again, pinning you with his weight. His elbows bracket your head.

"Now, what shall I do to get rid of those bad habits of yours?"

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