Commitment
Commitment
Summary: Everything seems to be going perfect in your life. Your boyfriend Jungkook is more than you could have dreamed of and there’s been a break in the case that could define your career — one of the members of the most elusive mafia, The Devils has been captured. Heading down to the precinct you couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling: Was everything too good to be true?
A/N: This Au has been sitting inside my WIPs for far too long. I decided to publish it and see if there was anyone willing to go on another Mafia!Jungkook trip with me. So, I’m sending this out to see how the reception goes. Much love, Jenn. Headers made by @firefly-graphics
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Mafia!Jungkook, Detective Reader, enemies to lovers, mutual pining
Warnings: mentions of fingering, sexual content, and violent settings
It was close to two in the morning when you’d got the call. You knew without having to look at the caller ID that it was your Chief. Something had forced his hand enough to call you to bring your ass back to the station. What you hadn’t prepared for were the words that greeted your gruff hello: “We got one of the sons’ a bitches.”
It was hard to miss the victory in his tone, and it was enough to spur you out of bed. Your feet hurrying towards the discarded uniform of slacks and button down from the previous day. You weren’t worried about jumping into a shower or putting on a wrinkle-free outfit to try and impress. For the first time in over a year you had a solid lead.
Being the youngest detective on the force, it left the heavy burden of having to prove your worth. The better part of your career being plagued by this case. You were a junior detective, promoted to lead strictly due to the unfortunate event the previous detective was found floating in the Han river.There’d been the wasted man hours on leads that fell through or witnesses that either went missing or completely refused to talk. The ones who turned up in missing persons’ cases usually wound up being found in trash bags scattered at city dumps. Your least favorite experience was finding a couple who’d disappeared only to be found crushed inside their car in a junkyard. Eventually, with so much loss and not enough wins, the entire station began to fall into a gloom of always being one step behind.
All you’d come to know about this Kingpin, Kim Namjoon, and his Devils’ over the years were that there were seven of them. One of the seven being the Kingpin himself, while the other six served a purpose. A well oiled machine with all of them holding specific jobs and nicknames. It took months and months for you to find out the name of the Kingpin himself. And in those months of searching that dragged on into years, the bodies and carnage of robbed banks, penthouse scuffles, and plays for power continued to haunt you.
After all this time you finally had one of the bastards.
The thought rang heavy in your mind as you hopped into your boots. Your fingers frantically struggled to tie up the laces. Even though there were more important things to worry about, you couldn’t help but glance one last time at your bed.
Jungkook hadn’t come home last night.
Ever since you’d met him, Jungkook appeared to be just as busy as you were. Both of you receive calls at odd hours that sometimes force you to excuse yourself from breakfast or dinner. Or the late night phone calls that had you leaving the bed with hurried kisses and promises to be back as soon as possible.
What you knew most about his work was that a majority of it required him to do a lot of night work. Your relationship was still relatively new - with your one-year anniversary coming up in just a couple weeks. It should’ve sent off alarms how quickly everything seemed to happen between you, but from the moment you’d met him Jungkook had you completely enamored.
You were never one for one-night stands. Even when your day was pure nightmare fuel, you’d never allow yourself the temptation of losing yourself in a total stranger. No, instead you found yourself losing yourself to the bottle. The night you’d met Jungkook had been a complete accident. The earlier hours of the day had left you wanting the comfort of your bed and a personal pint of Half Baked Ben & Jerry’s. The only reason you’d agreed to go out was because your friend had pleaded; reminding you it was her birthday.
The day ended up being one of the worst you’d experienced in a while. Your shift started with the basic petty crimes until you’d received one of the many calls you were learning to hate. Namjoon’s Devils’ had left a trail of carnage so widespread inside a building it encapsulated almost five floors. It wasn’t just a knife fight that happened in those halls. It was a shitty Andy Warhol painting of bullets trapped in grungy wallpaper. The carpet a fucked up Picasso of blood-stains that were still so fresh when you’d arrived with the others it was still wet; squishing under every footstep. Forensics was not pleased when they’d arrived.
After walking through that madhouse anyone would’ve deserved a drink. You especially. You were trying to do just that when your wait at the bar began to turn from a simple ten minute wait to nearing thirty. Your fingers began to tap out an inpatient tune, like annoying elevator music while you prayed the bartender would notice you soon. Your tunnel vision caused you to stop paying attention to everything around you. You were so damn fixated on getting that drink you hadn’t noticed the body that slid up to the left you. It wasn’t until you got the feeling someone was staring that you finally looked around to see if you could find out who. Your eyes were not disappointed.
One arm rested coolly against the bar. Not for actual support but for style. The pose allowed him to lean his body towards you just enough that it wouldn’t be invasive, but let him stay close. When you turned to finally give him your attention, like he desperately seemed to want, it took what self-control you had left to keep your jaw from falling.
His hair was long; the front barely grazing the middle of his cheeks while the back went further. His hair was a literal mullet. It should’ve looked ridiculous, but Jungkook was far from that. He was breathtaking.
You weren’t ashamed to admit it then or even now. The minute you’d locked eyes with him you realized it wasn’t a coincidence he came to stand beside you. You knew you should look away. You’d been staring at him too long now for it to be considered a fleeting glance. But your eyes were enjoying the sinful way the suit hugged against his body. When your eyes finally made their way back up the fine lines of his suit, you were greeted by a knowing smirk that, for a split second, made you forget how to breathe.
You weren’t entirely sure how you could pretend you weren’t affected by him in the slightest. His face was all sharp angles that were showcased perfectly by the curve of his jaw, and barely softened by doe shaped eyes. But even that softness was eaten by an eyebrow piercing that accentuated his brow that was currently raised in question. The smirk that lifted his lips matched the heat in his eyes as he shamelessly let you watch his eyes roam over your body.
You tried to focus on anything else in the space between you and somehow found yourself noticing a brush of a mole underneath his bottom lip. Its placement felt ludicrous due to its cuteness. Here this guy was giving you, “Fuck me,” eyes that were countered by soft touches that were scattered all over his face. It left him teetering between mind blowingly gorgeous and boyishly handsome all at once.
The expensive fabric of his charcoal gray suit strained against the muscles in his arms as he raised it up to flag down the bartender. Your eyes took in the length of his fingers and your body shivered as you imagined them sliding up your dress. Your cheeks heated with a blush you hoped he didn’t notice as you imagined those same fingers making their way between your thighs. Your mindly shamelessly began to wonder if was the kind of man that liked to tease - to prolong every ounce of pleasure - or did he just take what he wanted?
You were more than aware of how the black shirt underneath, just like the jacket, showcased a sculpted chest. He radiated sex appeal and power and you wanted nothing more than to be engulfed.
With the flick of his fingers the bartender appeared like magic. His question of, “What would you like?” sounded desperate to please as he waited for Jungkook’s instruction. Jungkook himself didn’t glance once in his direction. His attention was wholly focused on you.
“Give the lady whatever she’d like.”
Now that you had the attention of the bartender you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d wanted to order. You weren’t even sure if you wanted a drink anymore. Not when he was standing there looking at your mouth like he planned to either fuck it or kiss it.
“Does that include you?”
You expected there to be a hint of shock. Or maybe he’d take offense to your boldness. What you’d ended up receiving in return was that devilish smirk he wore like a second skin. It spread like wildfire farther up his face; lighting up his eyes to look like the big bad wolf as they roamed hungrily over your body. A silent prayer formed on your lips that he would close that distance and touch you. Your house could’ve been made of fucking cement and you would’ve held your door open to allow him to sink his teeth in your skin.
“Sorry. I’m no longer on the menu.”
You did your best to hide your disappointment at his dismissal by giving the bartender your attention.
“I’ll take a rum and coke.”
You refused to turn back to him. To let yourself be flustered farther by some ridiculously good-looking man who’d basically told you he was taken. God, but he didn’t make it easy. It didn’t matter if you’d decided not to look at him. You could feel his eyes staring daggers into you, itching along your spin, while you slid a twenty in exchange for your drink across the bar. Were you imagining things or did he get closer?
When you moved to step away from the bar, you finally gave him your attention. A glass raised half way to thank him for the drink.
“Thanks for the help.”
You tipped your glass and started to make your way back to your friend's booth. In the short amount of time you’d been standing at the bar wasting time just to get one drink the place had filled up. Instead of it being a straight shot back to the booth, you found yourself asking people to excuse you with your precious drink held above your head. If you spilled it there was a strong indication there’d be some cursing and, possibly, a few tears.
Your imagination began to wander into naughty places as you made your way across the floor. You didn’t like being grabbed when you danced on the floor, but you imagined what it would be like if it was him you felt. His hand at your waist, stopping you from moving farther from him, with his body shamelessly pressed tightly against you. The hand he’d secured at your waist being used to move your hips in unison with him to the next DJ requested song.
The tension between you two wasn’t something you’d imagined. You’d plainly stated your interest and he seemed receptive, but…
You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back over your shoulder. Just like at the bar you’d felt his eyes follow you without mercy as you made your weak attempt to cross the floor.The dancing bodies around you should’ve provided you ample cover. Or that’s what you believed, but when you glanced over your shoulder you found those intense doe eyes fixated on you. His lean frame was still pressed into the exact spot you’d left him at the bar. Even from where you stood, you easily mapped out the teasing curve of his lips.
In that instant you really did feel like Little Red trapped under the insatiable gaze of a predator who threatened to swallow you whole. Even though your heart began to thunder wildly in your chest you couldn’t deny that it was all from the thrill of being hunted. For a moment, you forgot to worry about your drink and the high possibility of it spilling. You were rooted there to the floor, pulse hammering, and waiting.
“Hey Y/N!” You could barely register her words, but when Eun Hyun touched your arm it jolted you back to reality. “You good?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Did you get lost? Or has something caught the attention of that cop brain of yours?”
Her voice dripped heavy with teasing as she scanned the bouncing heads around you. She knew, somewhere in the sea of bodies, someone in there had turned you into a walking puddle. You gave her your best care-free smile and slid your arm around her waist. Your hips knocking against hers playfully to direct her back towards the table.
“I’m off duty tonight.”
You practically had to yell the words in her ear. If it wasn’t for the music being ear shatteringly loud, you would’ve worried about her eardrum. Your response sent her head back to rest against your shoulder and gazing over in your direction. Her laughter caused her eyes to crease into half moons.
The rest of the night you spent surrounded by Eun Hyun and her friends. You didn’t find yourself trying to find your mystery bar guy or wondered if he was somewhere watching you from a shadowed booth. You flung yourself into the girls night; your body gyrating and dancing to the throbbing bass of the music. Your mouth greedily knocking back every drink and every shot offered up by the next round from the bar. This was your night to unwind and you planned to take advantage of every minute.
When it was time for everyone to head home - and you being you - you hailed a cab for each of the girls. Eun Hyun decided at the last minute that instead of riding with you, she’d catch a ride with another girlfriend. The two of them believed that their girls' night didn’t have to end there at the bar, but somewhere still open that allowed them to be full of sin. They asked if you wanted to join, but you knew you couldn’t. As much as you loved living in the illusion of freedom, in the back of your mind, you knew the dark underbelly that was your home would be calling you bright and early. You didn’t need a massive hangover to join you during a homicide investigation.
Once the last of the girls’ was securely inside a cab you started waving for your own. You were usually a cautious person - came with the territory - so why you weren’t at that moment always surprised you. You’d thought about the second time you’d run into each other a lot. Why Jungkook never peaked your radar. The answer was a simple one: you never saw him coming.
You’d just stepped off the curb to open the back door of the cab when a suited arm beat you to it.
“Excuse me-“
The rest of your words died off the moment you looked up. He was just there. His arm holding the taxi idle, and keeping you captive between him and its backseat. Besides a coy glint of a challenge inside big doe eyes, you weren’t sure what game he was getting at. There was one thing you knew for certain. Years of intuition telling you the prize he was after was you.
“Get in.”
His voice was heady in its demand. The roughness of his words coated your skin in a heavy desire that left your body eager to follow orders. Too bad your legs seemed to turn to jelly by the way he stepped inside your space; his body easily overtaking your orbit. Eclipsing yours until you realized too late you were holding your breath waiting with anticipation for his next move. His dominance was on display in every inch of him. Particularly, in the way he moved. It could've been mistaken for confidence - he certainly wasn’t lacking in the department - but it was more than that. Jungkook commanded the universe to observe him and take awe of being in his presence.
A modern day Narcissus with all the power of Zeus.
Your body wanted to obey. Drunk you, however, wanted to be difficult. The stubborn side of you flared to the surface and made its own demand. “I didn’t realize we were sharing,” you replied, your words purred from your lips.
His response came in the form of actions. His hand that had held open the taxi’s door was now holding onto your arm and ushering you inside the cab. The hard length of his frame followed closely behind you to make sure you were getting in. If you turned to get out of the way you would just run smack into his chest.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!”
You moved your body across the backseat until you were on the opposite side. Your back pressed firmly against the door. You turned to face him, watching as his frame followed in behind you and closed the door all in one smooth motion. His hand came down to pat a few times on the drivers chair as he directed him to an address that was definitely not yours.
A small part of you wanted to blurt out that you were a detective. See if it was enough to make his bravado wilt and followed up with messy attempts at an apology. The other part of you, one you later blamed on being drunk, just wanted to see what the rest of the night held in store. The hold Jungkook had previously had on your arm was now gone, but the heat from his touch remained.
The taxi lurched forward. It’s pace quickly sped up while the driver became comfortable with the information given from his gps. The middle-aged man gave you both a brief glance from his rear-view mirror. His thoughts deciding already the two of you were nothing but strangers heading home for a midnight fuck. He wasn’t far off, except-
You weren’t sure what you expected when you glanced back at the man beside you. A hundred possibilities with a hundred different ways to address them flew through your mind. Every single one of them dying before they were ever born on your lips when you found deep honeyed eyes seeing - not looking - in your direction.
“It’s a bit cocky to assume I want to go home with you.”
Your voice didn’t betray that your heart leapt into your throat. Your pulse sparks pure lightning through your veins, struggling, to keep a trepid tongue from running over your lips. His eyes flashed with a wickedness that was matched only by his smile. A curl of lips that you desperately wanted to feel pressed between your folds.
“You asked if I was on the menu, remember?”
“Asking if someone is included with a drink doesn’t automatically mean, ‘fuck me.’”
The drivers’ eyes peeled back up to glance in the rear view. It was subtle, but there.
Your harsh choice of words earned you a quirked eyebrow. His piercing glinted briefly by passing streetlights making him look ethereal. Sinful. This time your tongue did dart out to wet your lips and his eyes hungrily followed.
“No, it doesn’t. Looking for me while you should be enjoying your friends does come off that way, though.”
Your body went rigid with embarrassment. He’d noticed you as your eyes eagerly searched every face in the crowd. You’d searched, hoping, you’d find him, and yet you never once saw him. You’d even said a tiny prayer to the universe that maybe you'd run into him on the way back to the bar or pressed against his body on the dance floor. All these moments…
But he took notice of your desire and planned to use it to his full advantage.
“Come here.”
The demand was back. His voice practically dripped it along your skin. A silken promise to bring you to your knees and keep you there. You were eager to see if his words matched his actions. Without making him have to ask twice, you slide over to him. Your body filling up what little space you’d made until you were a breathe away.
The darkness of his eyes lightened for a moment. His pleasure at you obeying orders sent a spark through him. His hand came up a moment later with his index tracing the edges of your jaw until it cupped right below your chin. He used your obedience to his advantage and tipped your chin up to look up.
His eyes roamed the expanse of your face. A lazy thumb moved along the edge of your lip. The action was simple, and yet your breath was caught in your lungs. Hypnotized and waiting, eagerly, for his next move.
He must have noticed the heat in your eyes. The way you swallowed heavier around words of pleading that left your body wanton and trembling to be touched. A smirk ticked the corners of his mouth as he brought his lips closer to yours. Close enough he could’ve breathed you to him if he wanted. Instead, Jungkook faltered half way. Eyes dancing with mischief as his whispered words of, “Good girl,” painted themselves against your lips.
You bit the side of your cheek. A weak attempt to fight the convulsion to respond like a brat. You wanted to nudge him, something - anything - to make him take back his words. Even though his voice caressed along your skin, making it ache to sin.
His thumb was tracing slowly against your lips. His eyes holding yours hostage; demanding you to meet him with the same intensity. This was how Jungkook chose to watch you unravel at his touch. It would stay like this with every touch of his hands or when his cock was buried deep inside you. He came to life as you unraveled underneath him. Devouring every last hitch in your breathing with a hungry mouth and coaxing hands.
This is how he chose to watch you that night, in the backseat of that cab, as your breath caught in your throat. Your body curving to press closer to him with your thighs parting just enough to give him access. A smirk tilted the corner of his mouth as his head tilted closer to you.
“You’re such a good girl for me.”
Jungkook’s breath caressed the words along your lips just before he claimed your mouth with his. The kiss only meant to silence you as his fingers moved past the thin lace covering your pussy. His fingers pushing past your folds and plunging deep inside you.
Your body responded instantly to his touch. Your body arched to be closer; chest pressed up against him as your hand found a perch at the nape of his neck. You wanted to stay quiet. You were in the backseat of a cab for fucks sake, but Jungkook wasn’t giving you an option for dignity.
His fingers set to work on guiding themselves deeper inside you. Each thrust from his wrist sent a moan panting against his lips. Your hips shamelessly working in time with each thrust from his wrists. The palm of his hand cupped your pussy as he added another finger, stretching you wider for him.
A squelching noise was beginning to fill the small cab. Jungkook’s hand now coated and slick with your juices as you rode the high he was sending you on.
You weren’t like this. You were a detective. A woman who didn’t consider being fingered in the backseat of a cab a good time. Your common sense was raging at you to pull away from his kiss. To pull on his wrist and remove his fingers from between your legs, but the feral part of you told common sense to fuck off.
A secret part of you loved the way he unraveled you in that backseat. His tongue diving between your lips to caress across yours. The kiss at first was nothing but intensity: fierce and no doubt leaving your lips swollen. But as Jungkook continued to bring you close and closer to your orgasm it began to change. His lips still refused to let yours go. Your moans and gasps were forced to be pressed against his mouth as you panted for air. The kiss grew into its own sensual being. No longer was it fast and brutal. His tongue now moved languidly over yours, as if tasting every inch of you he could find.
You no longer cared that the cabbie was probably watching. Well aware that Jungkook’s fingers changed tactics and were now curving up into your g-spot. Your hands were frantically trying to remove his clothes; desperate to get home so you could have him inside you. You didn’t have to pull away from Jungkook’s lips to know he was smiling.
He couldn’t hold you to him any longer when the pleasure spread into your belly and blossomed in a burst of stars. You came for him - moaning prayers of ‘oh fuck,” - and head bumping against the window. You came while Jungkook continued to work your orgasm until your legs quivered uncontrollably. His pupils blown out with lust while he watched you come undone at his touch.
You couldn’t remember getting out of the cab at his apartment. You could only remember once you were inside, bodies were colliding against the wall of the hallway in a frenzy to remove clothes. Something broke on your ascent to the bedroom and you almost tripped trying to take off your heels.
All you did remember was the feeling of Jungkook on top of you. The tip of his cock pressing against your opening before he fully sheathed himself inside you. Your pussy struggling to accommodate his length and the sweet pain of his cock stretching you, working your cunt to take every last inch of him. Jungkook fucked you hard enough you felt him in your crevice. Your body trembling as pain and pleasure meddled together until it was sending you over the brink. Even when you got on top, hips working him with each thrust, Jungkook still took control. His hands on your waist going at the pace he wanted, and it was always too deep - too much - and left you screaming out his name in worship.
When you woke up you weren’t surprised by the massive headache you’d obtained from drinking half the bar. Jungkook silently laying beside you, deep in sleep, had been a huge surprise.You weren’t good at the whole next morning, ‘where do we go from here?’ sort of thing.
You were steeling yourself for the awkward moments when he woke up. For when you would tell him it was a one time thing and no relationship was going to happen. Ever. Of course, it wasn’t what happened at all. The moment Jungkook woke up his, “Good morning,” came in the form of a grunt. His body rolling you over and pushing himself inside.
You weren’t sure how a relationship happened. At first, you pretended it was strictly for the sex. A way to blow off steam from long work hours and the horrors of finding the Devils’ leftovers. But somehow his staying over only until morning turned into staying for breakfast. It traveled from breakfast in the house to breakfast at diners and dinners at restaurants. Eventually, Jungkook stopped leaving all together from your apartment, because it was now one you shared.
There were times you tried to deny that you could afford to fall in love, especially with him. While you were sure over the course of months you’d told him small and big things about yourself, Jungkook remained a mystery. The moments when he told you about his day or himself were rare and raw. As if he were afraid to come apart at the seams of the man he’d built only to be seen as weak.
Glancing over at Jungkook’s empty side of the bed, you tried to keep the dread from growing. You tried to shove it down as you climbed inside the elevator, your fingers pressing for the lobby. Jungkook never told you exactly what he did for a living. You just knew it kept him up at odd hours and sometimes - rarely - he would be kept out at night.
You weren’t going to allow yourself to be consumed with worry that he wasn’t home. Your Chief called with big news and with any luck, it was one of your leads that led to this arrest. All the worry that began to brew inside you quickly dissipated and excitement took its place.
Two years. Two long - nightmarish - years and finally you had something tangible. You had one of the bastards who helped terrorize this city and every resident inside it. The thought you could finally get some reasoning for the carnage Namjoon and his men had caused made you practically giddy.
The drive down to the station was done in a daze. You were positive no red lights were run, but you couldn’t say with certainty you didn’t speed. You dashed up to the back door of the precinct and squeezed past an officer who was on his way out.
He mumbled a hello, but you couldn’t respond. Your mind was focused on reaching the third floor where the man was being held. Your legs quickly found the staircase and took each one two at a time. Your body jolted forward as you came to the third-floor landing, and you broke into a jog.
The Chief was standing near the end of the corridor. His hands crossed with a Manila folder with everything that the department was able to gather on whoever was inside. When he caught sight of you, he pushed himself off of the wall taking lumbering steps in your direction. A hand already extending out the file for you to grab from him the minute you were within arm's reach.
“Finally. I thought with something like this you would’ve gotten here faster.”
“Hello to you too, Chief,” you snapped back. You weren’t too worried about him. Your attention was on the folder now in your hands. Your thumb running along the edge to help flip it open. “Can you debrief me on what we know for now?”
His large body made it hard to walk side-by-side in the hallway, forcing you to walk a little behind him.
“It’s all there in front of you: read it,” he huffed.
“It’s difficult to walk and read at the same time. Stop being an ass and just tell me.”
“Fine. We caught him in the act so to speak. He’d just finished paying a jeweler who we suspected was helping launder diamonds for Namjoon out of the country. Not sure exactly what happened, but from what we gathered at the scene, whatever's been going on between Namjoon and the jeweler must have been one hell of a disagreement.” The two of you stopped in front of the interrogation room at the very end of the hall. Your body was tingling with the desire to go inside. “When we showed up the jeweler and his works were already dead, and he was leaving with the suitcase through the back door. Surprised the hair out of the newbie when he met him at the door.”
The big man let out a chuckle that sounded more like a cough: throaty and from the chest. Chief was really in a good mood, you noticed.
“You say he, sir. We got a name?”
“Sure, as fuck do: Jeon Jungkook. Namjoon’s enforcer and right-hand man.”
You were vaguely aware that his mouth was still moving. He was talking, making words, and yet you heard none of it. The sickening feeling you felt earlier looking at the empty side of his bed came back. This time you physically had to fight your body from being sick. The urge to release the late dinner you had before bed was creeping dangerously close to the surface.
You were struggling to focus on his frame. Barely able to register the Chief was looking at you with worry. His lips formed words you were sure asking if you were okay but you waved him off. With the file still in your hand, you placed your hands on your hips. The movement forcing your dark trench coat to flare out around you like a cap.
In. Out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
He was talking to you still; throwing questions at you on repeat and the only questions you wanted answers too lied within the room to your right. You didn’t give him warning that you were leaving. You just walked up to the interrogation room door, your hand reaching out for the handle.
Whether you were ready for what greeted you on the other side of the door - you weren’t sure. You made a silent prayer to anyone listening for it not to be him on the other side of the door. You would’ve given anything for it to be anyone else. Anything.
With a shaky hand you turned the knob of the door and stepped inside.
Your back was against the headboard of the bed. All the pillows that had been lost to the floor during sex were now back. Each one hugging to your shape as Jungkook tried to invade the pillow cocoon you’d made by resting his head in your lap.
He’d let out another frustrated sigh and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. Jungkook hated your pillow obsession.
“I swear, I come home only to find another pillow added to the bed.”
“Or, hear me out, you just think you see another one.”
“I’ve actually started counting,” he admitted. His eyes edged up to look up at you through his lashes. Your fingers that’d been playing in his sweaty hair came to a halt. Just so you could do your best to hold his stare - looking as innocent as possible. “Today when I left the house we had ten pillows and now we have eleven. How does that happen?”
“Magic.”
You smiled brightly down at him before placing a kiss down on his forehead. You went to move back up when Jungkook stopped you. His body lifting up from your lap to meet you halfway to press his lips to yours. It was a chaste kiss. Chaste compared to how you usually kissed and as brief as it was your body reacted to him instantly.
You’d learned early on in your relationship it didn’t matter if you were having a bad day. If you were angry at the world, him, or frustrated with work. Jungkook was able to combat your sadness with just his presence alone. In moments where he smiled so big it crinkled his nose and the times you’d find him dancing shirtless in the kitchen while making breakfast. Even through the soft moments you shared, Jungkook chose to remain an enigma.
Jungkook released his hold on your lips to fall back into your lap. He turned until a cheek rested on your thigh giving him a good enough view to look out your bedroom window. The dying light of the day painting the window seal in hazy oranges and reds.
“This feels like magic.”
He spoke softly into the soft skin of your thigh. Jungkook brought a lazy hand to your calf and began to lightly move his fingers up and down. Your face became hot and you weren’t sure why you were trying to hide it when he wasn’t even looking. He was too busy, lost in the darkness of his own thoughts to know you were watching him and the way the sunset lit up every inch of his features. You traced the flowers on his sleeve in an attempt to calm the frenzy of your heart.
“What flower is this?”
The minute your words left your lips, you wished you could take them back. Jungkook turned away from the window to briefly glance at his arm. Already knowing exactly what flower you meant.
“It’s my birth flower. A tiger flower.”
“It’s a beautiful flower.”
“It is, but I didn’t get it for that. I got it for its meaning.”
You waited for him to continue. The room swelled with silence as you resumed running your fingers through his hair, but Jungkook’s attention was turned back towards the window.
“What’s it mean?”
He didn’t respond right away. The only way you knew he heard you was the soft tilt of his head. His eyes glancing at you from the side. You weren’t trying to pressure him. You just wanted him to know you were willing to wait and listen.
“It means, ‘Love me.’”
Each word hit you in the chest making you think, for just a moment, your heart was breaking. Jungkook’s voice told you more than he probably meant too.
Your fingers completely stopped their movement through his hair and moved down to take hold of his chin. Gently, you tilted his head up by his chin and waited for his eyes to meet yours before you spoke.
“If it counts for anything, I love you, Jungkook.”
Stepping inside the room you were greeted with the immediate sight of him. He hadn’t turned to look at you yet. His hands held together on the cool steel table. His wrists bound with cuffs that were attached to the metal ring at the edge closest to him.
He was dressed neatly in all black. From his long jacket that sat draped along the back of his chair to the high turtleneck that decorated his torso. In the breakdown of what had been taken in for evidence, you noticed they’d listed black leather gloves that he was currently missing.
You found your bearings and finally took that final step forward. Your feet carrying you around the table to the only chair available inside the room. It was then that Jungkook’s eyes flicked through the slights in his hair and you were finally able to see the light splatter of blood that was speckled across his cheek.
That was when it hit home that this was real. This moment, inside this very room, where your axis was tipping and your world was violently shifting. He didn’t have the decency to look away; to be ashamed.
No. A part of you always knew that the darkness that you assumed haunted Jungkook wasn’t out of sadness. An inkling of something much more sinister lurked underneath his surface, but you overlooked it. Pretended it wasn’t there all because you broke your own rules. You didn’t keep your guard up and if you had, Jungkook had silently removed every wall you’d been able to build.
Jungkook acknowledged your presence with a smirk and all that anguish you felt at his betrayal was instantly replaced with rage.
“There’s my good girl.”
“Don’t call me that.”
You hated the way he used your pet name. You hated it more with the way your body betrayed you with your core aching to be touched. Jungkook usually called you that when he had your legs spread out on your kitchen counter; eating your pussy for breakfast. Or bent over the couch with him buried to the hilt inside you, pounding at a brutal pace, with a belt around your throat and his hand controlling the pressure.
Jungkook’s response at your request was a sickening chuckle. You wanted to vault over the table between you. Grab a hold of him and shake him, scream in his face, demanding why? What was the purpose of all those months? Did he know who you were that night at the bar? Was this nothing but a game to him?
The smug look on his face made you want to go feral. The betrayal and hurt were warring inside your gut fighting for dominance. Each one knocking the air from your lungs like a punch. Jungkook leaned forward placing his elbows on the table and used them to get to the middle. His eyes were wild as he searched your face. No doubt reading the split second it took for you to hide the emotions you felt.
“Why? Do you not want them to know that we’ve been fucking? How I came home to you almost every night after I committed crimes you could never catch me for.”
And there it was. The truth you were dreading.
How many times had he come home to the bed you shared after he murdered someone? After threatening someone’s life or burning down a business? Came home to help you make dinner and he’d just taken laundered money or helped run one of Namjoon’s brothels.
You dropped his folder with a thud on the table. You had to fold your arms across your middle just so you didn’t actually reach over the table and strangle him. He would love that. See you lose control just to prove his point.
“You seem to be focusing on the wrong things, Jungkook. You seem a bit bitter that you got caught.”
The eerie smile dropped off his face as he snarled, “They got lucky.”
“Or you were just cocky,” you shot back. “And that cockiness cost you.”
“I wouldn’t be talking about cock-y anything right now, sweetheart.”
“How about we cut the shit and get straight to it, hmm? You aren’t going anywhere, Jungkook. You’ve been apprehended and you will never, ever, see the light of day again.”
The smug smile returned as his head cocked to the side. Clearly, you were more amusing than anything else to him.
“You’re soooo angry that I was under your nose this whole time. You had suspicions, but you chose to ignore them.”
You tried to swallow past your heart that was now clamoring in your throat. The scream that had been building was threatening to break free. You were struggling to remain emotionless. From the look on Jungkook’s face, you were failing miserably. You knew what he was going to say and you didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want something you’d told him in the moment to be used against you like the fool you felt you were.
“We both know why you ignored them, y/n. It’s because you lo-“
“If you finish that sentence I promise you I’ll punch your teeth down your throat.”
His reply came in the form of a wide toothy grin that lit his entire face up. The idea excited him and made him look psychotically attractive with the dried blood on his cheeks.
“You won’t get the chance even if I did.”
“What are you talking about?” You snapped.
He just answered you with that wicked smile. You were getting tired of the games. Your thoughts working on how to get past all the personal to the real matter at hand. You were considering how to work around it when the alarms in the room began to go off.
The alarm was shrill and pulsing. The sound hammered over and over inside your skull until you were sure it was going to explode. You glanced back at the two-way mirror and then to the door. You expected at any minute for someone to come barreling in to ask about what Jungkook said or to tell you the alarm was a false alarm. You were willing to bet it was until you started hearing shouting further down the hall. The sounds of running feet and jingling keys crept through the door.
You wanted to call and ask what was going on, but you hadn’t grabbed a radio and when the shouting got louder you found yourself back on your feet.
“Did you really think Namjoon and the other Devils’ wouldn’t come for me?”
Jungkook spoke to you like he was scolding a child. Your mouth snapped open, ready to retaliate, when the sound of an explosion sounded all around you. The alarms in the building were blaring like crazy. The next explosion sounded in the building and your arms shot up protectively to cover your head and neck.
The sounds of screams were now pounding in your ears. Matching the scrambling boots and shouts to find cover. You dropped your arms down from your head and looked around. Outside was pure chaos, but nothing had touched inside the interrogation room yet. Which only meant one thing.
“They don’t know which room you’re in.”
Your words were soft. Spoken mostly as a verbal thought. The realization of it had you scrambling out of your chair. Your hands digging for the cuff keys Chief had dropped inside your pocket before you entered.
You had resolved to never get this close to him again. You wanted to pretend that being so near would cause your skin to crawl, but it was too soon. Everything is still fresh and open. Jungkook may have betrayed you in more ways than your brain could possibly fathom at this point. But the only thing your body felt, being this close to him, was desire.
“What are you doing?”
Jungkook was staring up at you with amusement. His gaze set on your face and no doubt finding the humor in the way your jaw clenched at having to press this close up against him.
“If they don’t know what room that means I have a chance to take you somewhere else. Somewhere safe.”
“You’re freeing me?” One eyebrow curled up towards his hairline. The amusement was still heavy in his tone, but underneath was he…hopeful?
A snort of laughter was your only reply as you continued to work on the chain that held his cuffs in place.
“No, Jungkook, I'm not freeing you. I’m making sure you end up where you belong.”
“And where is that, exactly?” He snapped.
The amusement had fallen from him and was replaced with the look of someone deadly. Someone you didn’t know. The change was swift and almost had you taking a step back from him. This was the real Jungkook. The enforcer, Chief called him. Looking at him you couldn’t agree with a more fitting title for the fierce man that looked up at you.
“In prison.”
You weren’t sure how you found the courage to reply or to meet the fury in his eyes. The second your words registered you watched a spark ignite in his eyes and a snarl bare his teeth. This time your body did give a jolt in surprise. You went to move back from him, but Jungkook’s hands were on your arms gripping you right. Refusing to let go.
“No. I belong with you and you belong with me.”
You were shaking your head struggling to free yourself from having to hear him. His words cut deep and dug into your soul. How stupid of him to not realize it didn’t matter how you felt. How he felt. You knew who he was now and nothing could change that. Nothing should be able to change that.
“No,” you gasped.
You didn’t know when you started crying. All you knew was that your eyes were stinging with unshed tears. As much as you fought to hold them in, you knew it was just a matter of time before you lost.
“Yes! You know it as much as I do. All these months we’ve been together. Deep down, in your gut, you knew all along who I was.”
“That’s impossible! I’m not fuckin psychic!”
“No. You’re a detective and a good one at that. You’re not dumb, y/n.” You were shaking your head vigorously like it would be enough to drown out every word he spoke. The grip on your arms felt constricting and yet, you didn’t pull away. “We belong together. You know it.”
The rage at his words, or yourself for allowing him to talk and for you to listen, was building up. You were going to scream. It felt like you were going to open your mouth to do so when another explosion went off.
This one was closer than the others. Close enough that it shattered the glass off the two-way mirror and sent it flying like shrapnel into the room. You were still stunned by the explosion, your body stuck in shock, but Jungkook was already moving.
A hand reached out to grab the edge of the interrogation table. He flipped it over with ease and grabbed you just as another explosion sounded. He didn’t grab you quick enough. You didn’t have to touch your head right away to know it was bleeding. You’d felt the debris of something - a chunk of concrete, plywood, or glass - hit the backside of your head. Your vision was now doubled and cloudy. The words being said around you sounded like they were speaking through cotton balls.
Vaguely, you became aware that there were other men in the room now. All of them dressed in black with decorated hockey masks that sat on top of ski masks. One of them was bending down, bolt cutters in his hands, and made quick work of Jungkook’s cuffs just as Namjoon entered the room.
He walked through the hole the explosion created, framed by billowing smoke and flames. Namjoon appeared completely untouched. Exactly like the Devil himself.
You tried to go for your side arm but someone stopped you. A boot kicking you back that was met with a savage snarl as Jungkook launched himself at your attacker. The darkness around your vision was winning. No matter what you told yourself, you weren’t going to be able to fight passing out. Your eyes fluttered over to the sight of Jungkook. His fist had wrapped his handcuffs around his knuckles and was smashing repeatedly into the mask of the man who’d kicked you.
“That’s enough, Jungkook.” Namjoon’s baritone was rich and deep. It didn’t surprise you that it went with one of the most notorious mob king’s that ever resided in this city. “We need to leave. Now. We’ll talk about your lack of tact when we get home.”
“I’m not leaving without her.”
Namjoon turned to him. His eyes followed as Jungkook threw down the bloodstained cuffs and moved towards you. You wanted to say something - tried to say something - but all that came out was mumble words and a whimper.
“You know you can’t bring her, Jungkook.”
“I’ll say this one more time, Joon. I’m not leaving here. Not without her.”
Irritation rippled across Namjoon’s features and his jaw clenched tight. You could tell he was thinking with his eyes roaming down to look you over. Finally noticing the state that you were in. His tongue rolled around in his cheek before he looked back at Jungkook. His frustration only made his forehead crease further.
“Fuck it. Hurry up and grab her.”
Jungkook didn’t even wait for Namjoon to finish his sentence. He pushed the tossed over table farther away making it easier for him to move down and scoop you up into his arms. The sudden movement caused your world to spin and it wouldn’t stop. Squinting your eyes you nestled your forehead against his shoulder trying to make your head stop spinning. It wasn’t working.
A whimper escaped you as Jungkook started moving forward. The crumbling department was only something you were able to imagine as you refused to look. No matter how hard you shut your eyes, however, it wouldn’t stop the sounds of men yelling for backup and others in pain. The pops of bullets leaving the chambers and the clamoring of feet to escape.
“I’ve got you, my love,” Jungkook hummed against your cheek. “I’ve always got you.”
If you were stronger you would’ve clamored out of his arms and moved away. You would spit curses at him and inform him that he was delusional. You would never be his any longer, but before the blackness overtook you a tiny voice reminded you that you were a liar.
You would always be his.
More Posts from Koorosie and Others
Come Home
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Angst (JK screws up and Reader needs some space, lots of emotions ofc follow) + Fluff + Established Relationship AU
Word Count: 2.0K
A/N: I just was really feeling like writing some ~angsty~ JK because I have been doing mostly fluff lately, so here we are.
—
You were silent on the drive home from the restaurant, eyes firmly planted on the view outside of the passenger window. You could feel Jungkook’s eyes on you at the next stoplight, his head turning to look at you. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it and moved his eyes back to the road when the person behind him honked. He hadn’t noticed the light turn green.
It was your six-month anniversary, and you had made reservations at Jungkook’s favorite place. You had made sure everything would be perfect – the staff knew to let him in through the back entrance and lead him to a private room where a table for two was set with candles and a bottle of champagne.
The two of you hadn’t been able to spend very much time together lately, both of you busy with work. Wrapped snuggly in his embrace a few weeks ago, he had told you that this anniversary was important to him, a priority. He promised he wanted it to be special for the two of you.
You arrived early and sat alone for 15 minutes. Then 30 minutes passed. Then an hour. You tried calling Jungkook to no avail – it went straight to voicemail over and over again. You were annoyed at first, but it quickly turned to worry, anxious that something bad happened to him. Maybe he was in a car accident or was injured while rehearsing.
It wasn’t until you called Jin in a panic that you got an answer. The boys had finished work two hours ago, Jungkook was in the studio with Namjoon working on a new song. You gritted your teeth in anger as you heard Jin knock on the studio door, presumably poking his head in to tell JK that you were on the phone and that you were worried about him.
“Babe, I’m so sorry, I got caught up in work and completely forgot. I’ll come right now. I promise I’m on my way…just stay–” Jungkook was frantically apologizing into Jin’s phone.
“I want to go home,” your tone was calm, collected, downright chilly.
“I’ll come get you,” Jungkook said after a pause.
“Fine.”
Keep reading
Fifty Shades of Jeon Jungkook 🖤
our beloved summer | jjk (7.5) (m.)
You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.
pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: exes au, fluff, Angst, smut; THE REASON™️, crying because obviously there's gonna be crying, mentions of hobi leaving :(, cursing, uhm she hits him; kissing (well, of course 😂), br*ast play, t*tty s*cking, oral s*x (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x, r*ding, cr*ampie, uhm idk i think that's it word count: 6.9k (poetic, i know) note (1): holy fucking shit i am literally shaking like a chihuahua as i'm writing this a/n. what the hell it's finally here. we've been waiting for this for almost a year and a half. TREMENDOUS thanks to Jo @daechwitatamic, Ari @wintaerbaer, and Jazz @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this for me and for reassuring me that it's not a load of crap (probably) and especially Jo for telling me if i back out she'll come kick me. frick! gaaaah. okay i'm gonna let you read or i'll go out of my mind
series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist
as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
I want you to smile, to feel like enough 'Cause you deserve yellow and lions and love I hope you come back when you're doing well Forgive me for being the worst of myself
New Recording 28 - Chelsea Cutler
The second the door is closed, his mouth is on yours again.
His hand on your waist, yours in his hair, it’s similar to how it was mere minutes ago, just the urgency has increased tenfold. You want his suit off as much as you want your dress on the floor.
Jungkook detaches from your lips to let you breathe as he cages you between his body and the door, but it’s not like you can focus very well on breathing when he starts kissing down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. His hands travel south, one palm curving around your hips to grope your ass, the other settling on the back of your thigh to lift it up, opening your legs wider so he could better slot in between them. With your leg lifted, it makes the slit in your dress ride up, exposing your core to the cool air of the room. You can feel his growing bulge pressed against you, right over your panties.
You whimper his name when he sucks on the sweet spot on your neck, his hips grinding against you slowly.
“Yeah?” You can hear the smirk in that one simple word and the honey that drips from his voice. “What is it?”
“Want you…”
“I’m right here,” Jungkook says. His slender fingers rub you over the pink lace that you’re wearing underneath your dress, teasing your opening through the fabric for a few beats before he pushes your panties aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
His breath is hot on your neck. He presses his lips against your skin absentmindedly, the tip of his index circling you but not pushing inside just yet.
“Tell me you want me too,” you pant, your arm hooking around his neck to hold him close.
“I want you.”
Truth.
You pull him in for another bruising kiss before you blindly push him further into the room, your hands roaming the broad expanse of his clothed chest. He stops when the back of his knees hit the bed.
“Hey.” Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to look at you. “Are you sure?”
If Jimin knew what you’re doing right now, he’d say that you have zero self preservation instincts.
He’d be right, though. If you had any self preservation instincts, you wouldn’t be doing this.
Your stupid, battered heart has only ever wanted him.
“I’m sure,” comes your immediate reply. It’s desperate, but you don’t have it in yourself to even care. “I’m sure. I want this. Please.”
“You were drinking.”
“I’m not drunk. I promise.”
Maybe it’d be better if you were drunk. Then you could at least blame this lapse of judgment on a pathetic state of inebriation and not on your stupid self who’s always weak for him.
He stares at you for a minute, searching for any sign of your willingness being driven by alcohol. He seems relieved when he finds none, and it isn’t until then that he shrugs off his jacket, before helping you take off his dress shirt and trousers.
You haven’t seen him like this in so long.
Every defined line on his body, accentuating every detail that you could spend hours running your fingers over.
He looks different but at the same time, not really. A tad more muscular, but still the same lean frame. Hard chest and abs on full display for you. God, your fingers are fucking twitching with the need to touch him.
Once he’s been stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you before you stop him with a hand on his chest. The lone tiger lily on his arm catches your attention.
Your fingers reach out to trace the black ink on his body, the lines delicate, your touch feather light. You’re suddenly curious. When did he get it? You can’t remember if you two ever talked about getting tattoos.
“What does it mean?” you ask. It strikes you with the realization that this is just one of the thousands of things that you missed, a reminder of your lost time.
“Please love me,” he says, bringing his hands up to cup your face. He looks at you, just for a few seconds, before clarifying, “It means ‘Please love me,’” then kissing you again.
Jungkook clumsily and blindly searches for the dress’ zipper on your back, giving it a few impatient tugs until it finally starts gliding down your body. Your lips never part from one another as the dress falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. But once you step out of it, he does pull back to look at you from head to toe. His eyes fall to your chest, clad in a lacy pink bra that matches your panties. The look he gives you is the same one that he did when he saw you in your dress earlier today. But there’s something else in his eyes - realization, pride, perhaps a question too.
His hands are back on your body instantly, throwing you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator. He discards your bra with ease, flinging it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. You shiver when the chilly air meets your bare chest, but the sensation quickly goes away when he takes your breast into his warm mouth. You let out a delighted sigh, arching your back to push yourself further into him as his tongue flicks over your stiff nipple. One of his hands comes up to squeeze your other breast to make sure that it isn’t neglected, rolling your pebbled bud between his thumb and forefinger. He switches to sucking your other tit after a while, then pawing at the one he just had in his mouth.
“Jungkook,” you whine his name when he makes out with your tits for too long, because there’s somewhere else that desperately requires his immediate attention. “Need you…”
He releases your nipple with a wet pop, and he looks pleased with himself when he sees that they’re thoroughly glistening with his spit. “Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He starts making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin that’s on display for him, before you put a hand on his shoulder when his face gets close to your thighs.
“What are you doing?”
He looks up at you as his fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Can I?”
You lick your lips, contemplating whether or not you have the patience to wait for him. But alas, you decide, “Okay.”
Jungkook makes quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and letting it join the pile on the floor. Even in the dim light, he can see just how wet you are, practically glittering with arousal, looking so utterly inviting that it makes his mouth water. All of this, just for him.
He doesn’t waste another second, diving right into you to lick a stripe up your dripping folds. Swiftly burying two fingers into your heat, he doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep. Your lips part in a silent but delighted moan. You forgot how good he used to make you feel. Your fingers could never feel as good as his, not thick enough to stretch yourself open and not long enough to reach deep inside of you.
“Fuck,” you drawl, your eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his tongue meets your throbbing clit, teasing it until you’re practically grinding against his face. You thread a hand into his hair, gripping his dark locks until he’s groaning, sending blissful vibrations all throughout your body. The figure 8’s that his tongue draws on your clit sets you alight, sends you into a whole other dimension completely as pleasure courses through your veins.
“So good,” he mumbles. To you? To himself? You can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. “Still so good.”
You hear it, just how soaked you are, as he begins thrusting his digits in and out of you. He strokes your walls delicately with each press of his fingers, scissoring you open for what you know is to come.
His tongue dips into your entrance then, teases your dripping hole as you pant heavily,
Your legs close in on his head as the orgasm nears, but he keeps your thighs apart, firmly holding them open as he makes you unravel.
This is fucking unreal - Jungkook with his whole face tucked between your legs, desperate to make you come with his talented mouth. You never would have anticipated this when you woke up this morning.
No, just a while ago you were crying by yourself down at the beach. Now you’re crying out his name as he smothers himself in you.
Once he starts curling them inside of you, it’s embarrassing how fast you come. You clench hard around his fingers as the orgasm washes over you, dripping down his fingers and he uses the added wetness to carry you through the high.
“Jungkook…” you whimper, sounding completely fucked out even though it’s only just beginning. After a while, the heightened pleasure fades into the background, and he presses soft kisses against your inner thigh.
He crawls his way up your body until he’s facing you again. You watch his fingers and the way they’re coated in your juices, wondering what he’ll do with them next. Jungkook languidly smears the wetness all over your lips like he’s carefully painting them, only to kiss you afterward. When you moan against him, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hand finds its way into his boxers then, wrapping your fingers around his hardened length, pumping him in your fist until he’s shallowly rutting against you.
The kiss gets broken when he suddenly pulls away, realization dawning on him. “Shit,” he exclaims. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Oh.” You blink at him, then you both just look at each other for a while. This isn’t a problem with no solution, even if the solution is a disastrous one in hindsight. You just want him, so badly that you can’t think of anything else.
He waits for you, doesn’t dare say anything else until you do.
Yet again, the opportunity presents itself for you to stop.
But you’ve already gone this far, and though it’s damn near impossible, you want him even more than you did before.
“Are you clean?” you ask.
It’s evident that he’s surprised by the way his eyes widen, and his silence that follows for the next half a minute. “Yeah,” he tells you.
“Okay. Then we don’t need a condom.”
He says your name once, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face sweetly. You always did like your name best when it used to fall from his lips so softly. “Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure. I promise.”
Jungkook sucks in a breath, like he’s steadying himself, before he rids himself of the remaining piece of clothing on his body, then settles between your legs again. This time, his cock rests directly on your bare pussy. The anticipation makes it harder for you to breathe, makes you squeeze your thighs around his waist to not let him leave.
“How long has it been?”
Your answer is vague. “Too long,” you say. You don’t want to tell him that there’s been no one else since him, but you have a feeling that he understands it anyway. You think that he’d be pleased with your answer, that maybe it would boost his ego in a way, but there’s only a certain sadness that settles in his eyes.
“Okay.” Regardless, he pushes past the sudden gloom that befalls his features, blinking away the disheartenment swimming in his irises, to align himself with your entrance. He rubs his cock against your pussy to coat you in his precum, even though you yourself are certainly more than wet enough for him to slide home easily. “Ready?”
“Yes,” you confirm, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he eases the tip into you, making the both of you moan at the contact. You feel him, all of him.
For a second, you wonder if he has ever forgone protection with anyone else, or if it’s only ever been just you.
Jungkook takes one of your hands off his shoulder to lay it flat on the bed next to your head, lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Breathe. You can do it.”
“Give me a minute.”
“We’ve got time,” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.
“Can you kiss me?” you ask, almost like you’re shy even though he’s balls deep inside of you.
He chuckles lightly, so endeared by you and your silly question.
His lips meet yours sweetly, like doing so would help make the stretch less painful. Maybe it does, at least a little bit.
You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and he’s probably trying so hard to hold back, but he keeps kissing you nonetheless.
“You can move,” you say after a while.
“I’ll go slow, okay?”
“Okay.”
He rears his hips back, slowly, then thrusts forward again. You whimper from the slight burn, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. His movements are gentle for the next couple of minutes or so, and it isn’t until you start opening up more that he sets a steadier pace. Even when he starts to fuck you faster, one of his hands is still on your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly.
“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts out, followed by a sigh of your name as he pumps into your cunt, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously in and out of your walls. “You feel so good.”
He gazes down at you as he moves, and there’s just something so intimate about it that it makes you want to cry again.
You know what it’s like to have him fuck you, and this isn’t it.
No, this is something else entirely.
I love you, you think. I love you so fucking much.
“Missed you.” His words come out hushed, caught in half a moan, half a whimper. “Missed you so fucking much.”
“Did you think about me?”
“Always,” he says, without even missing a beat.
“No,” you clarify. “When you were sleeping with other people, did you think about me?”
“I only thought about you.” His hips stutter as he tells you this, like he’s confessing to something that he shouldn’t. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
You never admitted this to anyone, not even Taehyung even though he probably sensed it, but you used to feel like you could be physically sick just looking at the photos on his feed every time you’d lurk on a drunken night. They were never flashy, just subtle enough for you to know that there was someone. It made you nauseous, because the place next to him was always supposed to be yours.
You just stare at him, not knowing how to process this bit of information. Sure, it’s an ego boost. There’s some pride in knowing that you were the one on his mind even if you weren’t together.
He’s so utterly gorgeous like this that you can’t form a single coherent thought, too lost in the way his eyes bore into yours and in the blossoming warmth that spreads all over your chest from hearing his words.
How did he manage to get even more beautiful? Sculpted by the gods. The standard for all men.
“What is it?” he asks when you stare at him for too long.
“I…” You blink away the daze. “I wanna be on top.”
“Okay.”
Jungkook slips out of you just long enough to get seated with his back against the headboard and pull you into his lap. You hover over him, letting his tip rub against your dripping hole for a moment before you sink onto him. You tip your head back and sigh as you envelope him fully again, the only difference is that you can feel him so much deeper like this.
He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading your skin as he helps you ride him. The sounds that you make together are downright obscene, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.
“Harder,” you tell him shakily. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“I want it to hurt,” you say, holding onto him like you’re bracing for impact, because you know he’ll give you what you want. “Make it hurt.”
Jungkook sighs once, then digs his heels into the mattress to steady himself before his hips go wild, thrusting into you with such force that it nearly has you sobbing, your head falling onto his shoulder. It makes you burn with pleasure, like a star before it becomes a supernova. When the tension starts building quickly, you can’t help but slam your hips down harder to meet his thrusts, to chase that high.
You press your lips against his skin, any spot you could find - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Tell me you love me.”
The words are ready on the tip of his tongue, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to say it. He doesn’t miss a single beat as he tells you, “I love you.”
“Mean it.”
“I do mean it. I love you.”
Truth.
For some sick and twisted reason, his words send you crashing over the edge, falling into that abyss of pleasure that you’ve been searching for. You say his name, over and over again, like you’re making up for all the years that he wasn’t around to hear it.
Your walls convulse wildly around him as you cry out, your toes curling, your thighs shaking. He holds you close, thrusting into you through your orgasm until you’re dizzy, like you could actually pass out from the overwhelming bliss.
“I’m close,” he tells you in a raspy voice.
You catch your breath long enough to say, “Come for me.”
“Where do you want it?”
“Inside,” you say without much thought. If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would know that it’s reckless and stupid. You’re not on birth control, and if anything were to happen, you would have no one to blame but yourself.
But you aren’t in a clear state of mind, and maybe this is even more dangerous than if you were fueled by alcohol. At least you can sober up from alcohol.
You just want him so badly that rationality seems like a luxury you can’t afford right now.
“Y/N,” he whispers shakily, though there’s a warning edge to his voice that you understand.
“I want you to come inside me. I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”
Jungkook groans at your answer.
He doesn’t ask you to look at him, instead choosing to hide his face against your neck where you feel something wet glide down your skin as he grips your hips. It’s followed by a sniffle, and hands that hold onto you like you’re a lifeline.
He’s crying, and that breaks your fucking heart.
You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to tilt his chin up to look at you, because it feels strange without his tender gaze on you, but you decide against it even though the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to do so.
Your walls clench with purpose, squeezing around him, trying to help you get there. It’s not that long before you hear your name falling from his lips in a choked out moan, so needy and beautiful and makes you nostalgic. He empties himself inside of you, making you shudder from the sudden warmth that he paints along your walls.
You stay in the same position for a few more minutes until your chest is no longer heaving with exhaustion and euphoria. He gently pulls you off his lap to lay you down on the bed, pressing an apologetic kiss against your bare shoulder when you wince from the oversensitivity, from any kind of movement at all.
When he moves to throw on his boxers and goes to stand up, you reach for him. “Where are you going?” You instantly feel pathetic for asking.
He pauses, then squeezes your hand as that sadness from before makes an appearance in his eyes again. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he tells you, his voice quiet.
The relief on your face must be visible. “Okay,” you say. Rationally, you know he probably wouldn’t fuck you and leave you the second the deed is done. But again, rationality is a luxury at the moment.
Jungkook returns a couple of minutes later with a warm cloth, and dabs it between your legs to clean you up. You grimace when he touches you there, evidently sore already from the activities you just engaged in.
“Sorry,” he’s quick to say, though it isn’t really his fault. Or maybe it is his fault. You’re not sure if that even matters.
When he’s done, he gets under the covers with you. “Come here,” he says, then shuffles your body closer to his until he’s holding you with his hands on your bare waist. He leans down to kiss you, and you let him. God, you feel like you’re fucking melting.
It’s different from the kiss down at the beach, and it’s different from the needy ones you shared in the past hour. It’s soft and slow and easy, like there’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.
Jungkook breaks away eventually, and rests his forehead against yours then. One of his hands on your waist slides up to your ribs, until his thumb could brush the underside of your breast. The touch is gentle, sweet, completely innocent.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He means everything he tells you. “You’re perfect.”
You even blush, like you’re a stupid lovesick teenager. “Tell me,” you say.
“Anything.”
You reckon it’s self-indulgent at this point. You’re only asking to feel better about your place in his life, or rather, the place that used to be yours.
“Tell me you can’t live without me.”
He nudges his nose against yours. No hesitation. “I can’t live without you.”
Truth. You know it’s the truth.
Nonetheless… “Liar.” Your tone is soft. There’s no bite at all. You touch his face, trying to commit to memory every detail, how his soft skin feels under your touch as if it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see him like this. Maybe it is. You never got to have a last time with him, never got to know that it was ending before it already ended. You’re not thinking about the morning because you don’t want to, but the seed of anxiety is there in your belly. Your fingers trace his jawline as you say, “You lived without me. You were doing fine without me.”
His lips ghost over your cheek. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he says. “I couldn’t bear it without you.”
The thing is, you know that he’s being honest. And it should make you feel good that you affected him as much as he affected you.
But then… it keeps leading you back to that question. The question that you thought you could go the rest of your life without knowing the answer to. But for that to be possible, you needed him to stay gone, stay out of your world forever.
He shouldn’t be here, tangled up in the sheets with you and kissing you like his life depends on it.
He shouldn’t tell you that he misses you, that he loves you. Shouldn’t tell you to please, love him too.
It’s contradictory, isn’t it? You needed to never see him again if you stood a chance of moving on with your life. You needed it and yet, all you wanted was to have him back by your side.
The tattoo catches your attention again. It feels like it’s laughing at you, mocking you.
You clench your teeth once, your eyes beginning to turn glassy. Jungkook sees it, and he’s quick to break up your train of thought. He presses his mouth to yours, shushing you with a deep kiss that makes your head spin, despite it all.
“Don’t think about it,” he mumbles against your lips, so desperate to get you to stop. As if he can sense where this could lead.
“How could I not? I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“You know me.” He holds onto your wrist, to keep your hand on his face before you can pull it away. “I’m still the same.”
“No, you’re not,” you say quietly, absentmindedly.
“Yes,” he insists. “Yes, I am.”
Maybe that’s true. Maybe you do see the person you used to know. But you only ever see him in glimpses and it always leaves you with a terrible, nauseous feeling afterward.
He doesn’t understand how much it hurts you to catch glimpses of the boy you used to love - the boy you still love - only to realize that maybe that isn’t the person he wants to be anymore. It feels like he keeps trying to kill that version of himself, like he despises the person who meant the world to you.
Are you gone forever?
Come back quietly.
“How old are you?” you ask after a moment.
The question makes him pause, his soft features twisting in confusion. He leans back a bit, so his eyes could focus on your face better.
“What?”
“How old are you?” you repeat.
It takes him another while to answer as he tries to see where you’re going with this. But when his search comes up empty, he just answers, “29.”
"I don't know who you are at 29. The last time I knew you was 24. No. You hadn't even turned 24 yet. Where was 25? 26? 27? 28? It’s unfair that you still know who I am when I don't know who you are. I feel like I never aged a day past 24. You carried on living but I'm still here."
His eyes well up once again, but this time, you can see it. The first tear spills over, lands somewhere on your collarbone. This is what you used to want, right? To see him hurting, just like how you were hurting? Well, be careful what you wish for.
No part of you feels victorious that you’re making him cry, that the score is finally being settled, because none of this undoes all of the shit you had to go through. If anything, it makes you feel even worse, like you’re still losing.
“I never moved on from us. I couldn’t move on from you,” he says, voice cracking toward the end. Your heart is doing the same thing in your chest, but you’re glad that he can’t see it. “I swear I miss you every day. I wanted you with me every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to come back to you.”
Jungkook looks so dejected, like a reflection of you these past few years. You recognize that look in his eyes. You know that sadness all too well. He was in as much pain as you were.
He loved you when he left you. He still loves you even after all this time.
You inhale shakily. For the first time, you feel infinitely selfish for only focusing on your own misery without even stopping to give him the benefit of the doubt, to consider the possibility that maybe letting you go wasn’t something he wanted. Maybe he isn’t the antagonist that you spent years making him out to be.
There’s more to it, and you need to know.
“Then why did you leave me?”
Graduation was just shy of a month ago, and two weeks before that was Hoseok’s flight when he left you all behind.
You and Jungkook, along with Taehyung and Jimin had gone to see him off at the airport. Of course you did, you were his best of friends after all. The goodbye was full of jokes accompanied by sniffles, and tears that overflowed without permission because you all agreed that you would hold yourself together for Hoseok. Jimin was probably the one who cried the most, even though inside, you were equally sad to see your friend leave.
A part of your life was ending, and that in and of itself was depressing enough already, but you thought at least the whole group would still be together and start the next chapter by each other’s side.
Nonetheless, it wasn’t the end of the world. All of you could still make it work, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. You promised to keep in touch, promised to message the group chat every day and have video calls every weekend. You were still kids, and kids tend to be optimistic like that.
What none of you could see coming was how everything would fall apart in a matter of mere weeks.
Jungkook thinks that decades from now, when he’s old and gray and helpless, he still won’t be able to forget that day.
He should’ve been more concerned when your mother contacted him out of nowhere, asking him to meet with her, asking him not to let you know where he was going.
He’d shown up half an hour early to the cafe where they were supposed to meet, just because he didn’t want to risk being late and have your mother disapprove of him even more. Not once had she expressed anything other than disdain toward your relationship, but you’d always told him it didn’t matter, that you were the only person who could decide what to do with your life, not anyone else, let alone your mother. He always believed you back then, even if deep down, he still wanted her to see that he was enough for you. Her unattainable approval still mattered to him.
Jungkook spent thirty whole minutes running on nothing but anxiety and caffeine. That was probably his first mistake, ordering a cup of coffee which only made him more nervous than he already was.
When your mother arrived, it barely took her any time at all to get right into what she came here to say. She hadn’t even bothered with a drink.
Was that how it was always going to end? Should he have seen it coming from the beginning? Was he the only one who thought it would be you and him all the way until the very end?
Maybe he was more of a hopeless romantic than he thought.
It was the way she had called him a phase that she hoped you’d grow out of. That she had let you keep this relationship for long enough, but now that you’d graduated - now that you’d be starting a life for yourself - she couldn’t sit back and watch you throw it all away for a boy who could never give you what you deserved.
It was the way she told him she didn’t want history to repeat itself. How she didn’t want to subject you to the same fate that she and your father had to suffer through. How she had left your dad because in the end, he wasn’t enough for her and you, even though you were a child and you deserved to grow up with a father and with love.
She said the same thing would happen to you and Jungkook, because you were meant for greater things and he was not meant to deserve you. She made it clear that he would always hold you back, that he would never amount to even a fraction of what you should receive in life.
“If you love her, you would let her go.”
Cliché, right? Like the kind of stuff you only ever see in movies? Well, movies have to take inspiration from somewhere.
He thought about his own mother then, and about how people could have such different ways of showing love. He believed that your mother loved you, and he still believes that. She wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of seeing him if she didn’t care about you. She wanted the best for you, and that wasn’t him.
She didn’t have to tell him to keep it a secret from you, because he wouldn’t have told you regardless. He was well aware of how strained your relationship with your mother was, and letting you know would only drive it closer to the edge. She knew he wouldn’t tell you. He loved you, and that was the one thing that she could count on.
Just sitting there in that café, Jungkook felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, even though he was surrounded by the other patrons and their lively laughter as they chatted away. The pitiful way that your mother kept looking at him forced him to learn what it was like to feel truly worthless.
The pity in her eyes only intensified when he couldn’t even say a single word in response, couldn’t think of anything to defend himself.
Silence meant agreement, and that was what he chose. Jungkook - the naive boy that he was - stopped believing in you. He’d believed her instead.
He was just a kid, what else was he supposed to do?
She was your own flesh and blood, and he knew nothing could ever replace that. He would rather let you hate him, resent him for the rest of your life, than let you lose your family.
That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.
He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.
July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.
You call his name when he takes too long to answer. “Tell me.”
“I love you,” he merely says. His hand brushes your cheek.
You frown, despite the way the three words make your chest tingle.
“I love you,” he says it again, trying to ease the furrow between your brows.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m sorry.”
His voice is soft, barely even audible, but it’s this gentleness that makes his words ricochet, ringing in your ears loudly like a gun going off in the quiet of your room.
Again with the apologies.
Fuck this.
It’s hard to take it to heart when you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.
You gave Jungkook the chance to explain himself, but if he doesn’t take it, then that’s not on you. There isn’t much else that you can do.
You swallow hard, then shove him off of you so you could get out of the bed. Your legs instantly tremble as you attempt to stand, but you soldier on as you put on your bra and underwear, then grab your dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor. You’re shaking, but it’s difficult to determine if it’s because you’re angry, or cold without his warmth nearby.
He’s quick to his feet too, rushing toward you before you could leave.
“Don’t touch me,” you hiss when he reaches for your arm. He doesn’t listen, because when has Jeon Jungkook ever fucking listened?
“Y/N, wait-”
“Wait for what?! I asked you a simple question and you can’t even answer me.”
He runs a hand over his face frustratedly, clearly torn over something. He holds your angered gaze, but the way he looks at you is much milder, gentler even if it’s equally frustrated. “I’m trying to protect you.”
You don’t know if it’s the wrong answer or not. You just know that in this moment, it irritates you to no end.
“Oh my god,” you gasp mockingly. “Someone is trying to kill me.”
“What?”
“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is waiting outside that door right now, waiting for me to come out so they can kill me. Holy fucking shit, I’m about to be assassinated.”
“Y/N, I’m serious.”
There’s that burning sensation behind your eyes again. “And you think I’m not? What do you mean you’re trying to protect me? Protect me from what? Do you think this is a fucking k-drama? Jesus Christ,” you scoff harshly. “What do you want from me? What the actual fuck do you want?”
Jungkook aims for you again, and in an attempt to ward him off, your swinging fist inadvertently collides with his chest. The dress falls to the floor again, laying next to your feet, that useless piece of fabric.
It probably doesn’t do much damage to him, but he’s a bit startled regardless. So are you, if you’re being honest. But you do it again, and surprisingly, he lets you.
“You coward.” You shove hard at his chest, making him stumble backward. “You unbelievable asshole. You fucked me, you said you loved me, and you still can’t tell me why you left me.”
He allows you to push him until his back is pressed against the wall. And even then, you don’t relent. Your fists continue beating against his chest as you start sobbing, spilling ‘I hate you’s in between so many expletives it could make his grandmother faint.
He might bruise in the morning.
You hope he bruises in the morning.
The least Jungkook could do is bruise for you.
You want him to curse him out for so many things - for loving you, for leaving you, for not even having the balls to tell you why he broke your heart. For coming back to remind you that you still love him. For proving that he still has you in the palm of his hands, and every twitch of his finger can make you feel like the walls are crumbling down on you.
But even as you tell him how much you hate him, you’re still thinking: Come back. I don’t want to keep losing you. Come back to me.
Because he’s the only person who can hurt you like this. When you think about him, it used to make you so depressed that you could hardly function. There’s no other way to put it to make it sound less pathetic. That’s just how it is.
You shouldn’t have agreed to this weekend, shouldn’t have been nice to him, shouldn’t have let him convince you not to think about it. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place, because there was always a part of you that knew he could get under your skin so easily just like that.
This wasn’t your second chance at holding onto him. It wasn’t a do-over. It was a re-enactment.
The years haven’t made you wiser, that much is clear.
You don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, you begin to wear yourself out. Your movements start to slow and the energy to violently sob leaves your body until you’re nearly collapsing. Jungkook catches you when you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. Why are you always so fucking helpless?
“You just…” Your voice gets caught at the end of a sob. This is rock bottom all over again. “You make me so sad.”
You grasp his arm weakly, feeling like your own lungs are failing you. You can’t breathe. It’s too much, too infinitely humiliating. He’s doing this to you again, and this time you have to shoulder most of the blame, because you are the one that enabled your own heartbreak for the second time.
You’re still crying, and you hate that this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry like this.
“I’m trying to protect you,” he says firmly, looking at you like he’s trying so hard not to break down alongside you. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The words come out as a whisper now. You can feel the tremble in his voice and the shake of his hands where they hold you. His big bambi eyes - the usual home of constellations - now house tears that threaten to spill onto his supple cheeks. “Please. What can I do to make you believe me?”
It’s those stupid fucking eyes. It’s your stupid fucking self.
“You need to tell me.” Your tears keep on falling no matter how much he tries to wipe them away. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“It’ll make things worse,” he tells you, his voice cracking as he does. He sounds like he means it, and maybe he does believe that whatever he’s hiding from you will only hurt you more. It almost has you caving, but you can’t do this a second time. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In the morning, you’ll think about how this is all so dramatic, the way you’re acting right now. The most k-drama-esque thing that has ever happened to you. But in the moment, you just feel like someone plunged a knife in your chest, and they keep twisting it, twisting and twisting,...
In the end, you decide that it’s a risk you’ll have to take, because nothing can be more painful than the absolute hell he’s putting you through. He’ll never understand how utterly excruciating it is to experience this kind of heartbreak.
“If you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to survive you again.”
up next...
our beloved summer (08) ⏤ aka the JK centric chapter
all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 30, 2023]
Oh my god, this is soooooooo cute 😭😭😭😭. The fluffiest fluff ❤️❤️
Utopia | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x reader - Expecting parents!AU
Genre: Fluff
Rating: G
Word Count: 623
Warnings: None
A/N: This is my first contribution for @ficswithluv Bangtan Bingo! I have the song “Euphoria” on my card and this was the first thing I thought of - I needed some fluffy Jungkook so here you go! I hope you like it 🥺
AND A HUUUUGE THANK YOU to the amazing @shadowsremedy for beta reading this 😍💜 i’m honored to call you my friend and have you as a beta reader 🥺😭
Keep reading
jungkook with a sleeping chicken ♡
My Beauty, My Blood
With Namjoon out of the picture, Jeongguk has to step up and be the sole successor to the organization laid out before him. However, guilt doesn’t escape him very easily, and neither does your persistence.
▸ PAIRING: Jeon Jeongguk x Reader
▸ RATING & GENRE: NC-17 ; Fluff, Angst, Mafia AU, Single Parent AU [ ! ] Warning: Mentions of violence and sex
▸ WORD COUNT: 20,001 words
▸ A/N: I had posted this under a different user a while back and I’m finally bringing it back yay! This was one of my favorites to write and it had been written for bangtan book club’s mafia prompt. Marked as NC-17 to be safe :)
With blood-soaked hands, Jeongguk lets his gun clatter to the ground, the sound of metal against concrete barely audible with how hard his heart is beating in his chest. It thumps and pounds, thundering its demands to be released from its shackles of misery. But this chain—death—is inevitable, unfixable. A permanent carving upon his heart that has left a hollowness in its place.
Rain pours from the sky, blurring the bright city lights behind them that shine none of their guidance into the dark alley they are hidden in. Three men, two guns, one survivor. The risk comes with his line of work and, though he grows numb over the years towards the number of lives lost, plans spoiled, he supposes death is inescapable even to those he once believed as invincible.
“Guk,” the man, his partner, his other half, winces as he struggles to sit up against the wall. His shirt is soaked to the threads with rainwater mixed in with the blood that sinks into the fabric and taints his skin with a murky crimson. “Will you promise me something?”
Promises, promises. There are no guarantees. Nothing can ever be said for sure. He’s learned that the hard way. But Jeongguk does anyway.
Keep reading
this ascended me to a higher plane of existence
to build a home | chapter two
pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc
genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. eventual smut
word count: 8.8k (y’all still need context but introduction to oc! and her super cool best friend I’m growing emotionally attached to)
warnings: angst. more angst. swearing. more crying baby </3. and more crying jungoo </3. also, jungkook’s an asshole (im sorry ok my mans is going thru it can u blame him). but! jungkook best dad. mentions of alcohol. mentions of abandonment. that’s pretty much it. last one was too heavy.
Author’s note: hi <3 first of all, i wasn’t really expecting my little (sad) story to get half of the attention it’s getting so i want to make sure i come in here and say thank u from the bottom of my heart if u took your time to read it and/or leave nice comments. you’re the best. now, getting to the juicy stuff – hi. this was a handful and im sorry but also im not??? this chapter introduces new characters that were so much fun to write and also our sexy nanny oc queen!! i almost almost blue balled u and left their first meeting / thoughts on one another for the next chapter but i honestly got so excited about it i couldn’t do that to yall. jk has no idea tho. his heart still hurts its been two minutes be patient w him. but the very last paragraph… yeah. thats all im saying. anyways ENJOY <3 xxxxx
This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x
Texts in bold + italic resemble a recollection of past events.
Chapter Two
You love Saturdays, not afraid to fall into the cliché that coincides with pretty much 99% of the population that looks forward to the weekend. But Saturdays feel different. And here, let me throw in another cliché – they only get better the warmer the weather gets. A Saturday and summer type of person? Predictable. But you’re not one to shy away from clichés. You’d be out of a passion and perhaps have grown to hate your degree, making your four years of higher education exceptionally tedious. You’re diverting, though. Point is, you’re not afraid of being a little predictable in the name of a good cliché.
You woke up this morning and the smell of freshly baked goods had you jolting out of bed. The mornings are still chilly and you keep making the mistake of heading straight to the kitchen barefoot. Excitement usually has you making it in four to six strides and that’s all it takes to be embraced by warmth again. Your kitchen is tiny and the oven does wonders at keeping it in a steady cozy degrees Celsius.
“Good morning, lover.” Lucy’s sweet voice adds to the warmth.
Roommate, best friend and future pastry school graduate – the pet name you two share fits her like a glove. A human being so sweet people stick to her like flies often do to sticky, yummy forgotten treats. Her graduation is coming up in a couple of weeks so she spends her weekends diligently perfecting recipes. You are able to bask in the benefits as her personal guinea pig. And it’s never bad so you gladly comply.
“It is indeed, lover.” You return. She laughs, placing a scone in your hand. It’s plain but nothing about it feels so when you take a bite. “What do you even put in these? Crack?”
“Ding, ding, ding!” She exclaims, pointer finger in the air for dramatic effect. “Here, coffee – freshly brewed so you better not-” but before she can continue, you’re already burdening her existence, a handful of ice cubes falling into the drink she’d poured in your favorite jar.
“Sometimes it’s better to apologize than to ask for permission?” You look at her sweetly, feigning innocence.
“You are stripping my perfect scones of flavour by numbing your tongue with all that ice, ___!” She whines, making you laugh.
“Wait ‘til you see how I lather it with cheap, synthetic strawberry jam.”
“I give up on you.”
“No, you don’t.” You say, big smile plastered on your face. She smiles back.
You sit opposite her, propped up on a stool before your little kitchen counter and watch her work as you reap the benefits.
“You know… I have a good feeling about today. Today’s the day. I just know it.” She tells you.
“You think I’m breaking into the corporate world on a Saturday?” You ask, incredulous but humour lacing your tone.
“Shut up. You don’t even want in the corporate world,” she begins, eyes still glued to her scones, “just… keep your eyes open. You never know.”
“Will do.”
~
With eyes wide open, you make sure they’re glued to the half a dozen of children spread around the kid’s section of your local library. Saturdays are good because of scones and the undivided (although at times a bit disperse) attention of your very enthusiastic book club of keen readers aging from 4 to 6. Best age to start if you do say so yourself.
Today’s pick is Julián Is a Mermaid and it seems to be sparking a fairly good discussion within your avid readers.
“I want to be a mermaid.”
“Well, you can’t. it’s a book. Miss ___ say’s its fiction.”
“Miss ___ says we can be whoever we want as long as we’re kind.”
“Yeah, but mermaids don’t exist!”
“Okay, okay! Eyes up here. Let’s discuss calmly.” You break the discourse, even though you were secretly enjoying it. “Although it is true that this is a work of fiction like Seojun says, we can be whoever we want, like Kisoo says. In this case, Julián being a mermaid is simply a fun way to let us know that. We prefer fun stories, don’t we?”
They all break into a cheer, affirming that yes, indeed, we prefer fun stories. You give yourself a mental pat in the back. Good saves are a talent you’ve learned to master with little kids who oftentimes lack a filter. You wish you could be like that at times. Bold but soft and (most often than not) kind.
The clock on the wall nears 12 o’clock and you close the book in your lap, turning once again to the kids.
“Okay, kiddos! Did we have fun?” Your question is received by yet again another burst of cheers. You giggle. “Are we looking forward to having even more fun next week with Duck Rabbit?” Another cheer, this time louder. You feel like a Rockstar. “That’s what I like to hear. Okay. You guys can play, draw or have some free reading time until pick up.”
They disperse, gathering in little groups or finding various interests around the colourful play section surrounded by high shelves heavy with more books than you can count.
You engage into brief conversations with the parents as they reunite with their overly hyper children, swarming them with detailed recounts of their participations for the day, their favorite parts of the story and loads of bold ‘I want to be a mermaid!’ statements. That’s usually your queue – you’re not one to break a heart with the harsh truths of the world.
There are only two kids left, quietly sat in one of the small tables, fully invested in their drawings.
Your eyes divert to the window and you see Dae’s mom. A pretty brunette that, if you didn’t know better, would be convinced she’s the ripe age of twenty-three, just like yourself. You’ve actually found yourself looking forward to your small talk with her during pick up – time and time again making sense of Dae’s sweet and light-hearted personality through his mom.
You walk over to the little boy, kneeling in front of him. “Hey, Dae…,” you say softly, not wanting to disrupt his focus.
“Whaff?” He replies, turning to you slowly, one eye still glued to his drawing. You melt at the slight lisp he gets sometimes when he’s a bit distracted.
“Look who’s here.” You say, and right that moment his mom makes her way through the doors.
“Mama!” He all but screams, voice so sweet it sounds gooey, making you melt.
“Ahhhhh, hi baby! Did you have fun? We missed you so, so much. Daddy’s next door getting you donuts.” Mai says, knees coming to hit the ground as she wraps the little boy in her arms, a mischievous smile at the mention of sweet treats.
“Donuts?” It’s the only thing Dae can grasp from her sentence.
She laughs. “Yes, but only after lunch, okay? We’re going to grandma’s today, remember?” he nods, excitement written all over his face. Only now do you notice just how much it resembles his mother.
Mai gets up from the ground, sending Dae off for his backpack before she turns to you, smiling.
“___, you make his Saturdays so magical. My husband is considering never taking him to Disneyland again.” She says, earning a laugh from you.
“Please, don’t let me be responsible for that.” You tell her, light chuckles still leaving your lips. “They make my Saturdays magical, too.”
Dae makes his way back, coming to stand in between the two of you. He looks up at you, soft curls coming to rest in front of his eyes before he brushes them off.
“Thank you for having me today, Miss ___. I had fun.” He sounds shy when he says it but never once breaks eye contact.
“I had fun, too, Dae. Thank you for coming. Can’t wait to see you next week!” You tell him and he beams at your welcoming words. He softly nods and turns to his mom who’s looking at him proudly, as if he’d nailed the previously rehearsed sentence.
You wave at the two of them and see them out, promptly repeating the same actions as you did with Dae, this time with the last kid and parent encounter of the day. Another sweet goodbye before you’re turning around, ready to tidy up after today’s session.
You’ve only just had enough time to put away the box of crayons littering the floor before the sound of approaching footsteps makes you turn around. You see Mai walking towards you, Dae nowhere to be seen this time.
“Hey, is everything alright? Did Dae forget something?” You ask.
“Hi again. Yes, yes. Everything’s alright. I wanted to talk to you actually.” She says, finally coming to a stop in front of you.
“Oh… sure. What’s up?”
“What are you doing after this?” She asks and immediately realizes how nosy she must sound at the way you wince slightly at the question. “Oh God, I’m sorry. Let me rephrase that… what do you do? I mean, do you work, study…?”
You notice her tense up, nerves brewing at her sudden intrusion and you reassure her with a soft smile. You don’t blame her – you’d want to know, too, if your child was spending time with someone who could very well be considered a stranger.
“I, um… I graduated three months ago. Literature. That was my major. I worked the night shift at a bar through most of university. I recently left, though. The atmosphere was getting heavy, I guess,” you say, sparing her the details, “I do work freelance for some publications at the moment, but you could say I’m just… floating for the time being. Looking.” Your admission makes you shy, gaze falling down.
“Oh… I thought you’d be pursuing a career in education.” Mai says, though she doesn’t sound surprised.
“No, no. I volunteer at the book club because it sort of gives me a sense of purpose. It’s easy to lose that when you’ve recently graduated. I didn’t want to feel like my life was in a complete pause. Plus, I like the kids. They keep me hopeful.”
Mai tries her best to keep her facial expression as stoic as ever – offering gentle nods and smiles as she takes in your words. But inside, she’s plotting. You’re too good to be true. Granted, she’s known this for a while – Saturday book club excitement begins as early as Thursday for Dae. Your entire essence feels trustworthy, sweet and patient.
So, Mai plots.
“I have a friend…,” she starts, taking you aback, eyebrows raising up in surprise. “I think he might need your help.”
~
“So? What did you say? Did you agree to it? I told you I had a good feeling about today!” Lucy’s frantic, bits of flour dust her cheeks lightly. She hasn’t left the kitchen since you left this morning and now the scones are accompanied by batches of croissants, madeleines, eclairs – you name it. Her own personal Café de Fleur.
You have to admit, her excitement is contagious.
“I mean, I agreed to have her give him a call. To put in a reference for me. But I don’t know, Lu.” This earns you a scowl from her
“What do you mean you don’t know? This could be amazing, ___. Enlightening, even!”
“Enlightening is a stretch.” You say, hand coming to rest at your hip.
“Now, don’t be ungrateful. What else do you need? She all but gloated about her more than financially willing single dad friend that’s in desperate need of a hot nanny-” now you’re the one scowling. “Sorry, a nanny. Kids come naturally to you!”
“She’s nine months old! She’s a baby, not a kid. I can’t bribe her with lollipops and picture books.” You protest.
“Even better! Babies are less demanding of attention and bribes. You just have to make sure she stays fed and out of poopy diapers and voila! Happy kid- baby. Happy baby!” she says. At what sounds like a defeated sigh coming from you, she presses, “besides… you could have time to work on your writing, in-between naps or whatever. What other job gives you the benefits nap time does?”
She has a point. It shouldn’t take too much to convince you – you do need the job. The savings you’ve been amounting to since university will not last you forever and you couldn’t solely rely on the hopes of getting your big break as a writer overnight.
“Yeah, I guess you have a point.”
“Plus… being a single parent must not be easy.” You smile at your friend’s inability to remove her feelings from the vaguest of situations. “You could actually help out a family more than you’d realize, ___.”
Her words make your heart sink a little, even though you can’t quite put your finger on why. As much as you make fun of Lucy for shining subjectivity into every context, you can’t help but admit you’re the same. You don’t know anything about this family; let alone anything that would spark the uneasiness that tugs at your heart at her words. Yet you can’t control the flutters in your chest at Lucy’s suggestion, insisting you could be of help.
In that moment, you find yourself hoping you can be.
~
It’s Monday.
Jungkook hates how much of a Monday it feels like. He was never one to fixate on the days of the week as such – usually having his secretary keeping track of his days, making sure to fit personal time and Soori’s doctor’s appointments in the middle of his crazy work schedule. He’s never attached days to feelings.
But today is a Monday and it feels like Jungkook’s own personal idea of hell. The weekend was hell, too. He decided to bring Soori along on his business trip, her recent clinginess to her father breaking Jungkook’s heart during every parting. Mai tries to soften the reality around the edges a bit, reassuring him she only cries for a little longer once he leaves her in the mornings before heading to the office.
Suelgi had tagged along for the trip and would babysit during the day as Jin and Jungkook oversaw the advancements in the project. He felt proud. This was the first of his hotels that he has overseen from the very beginning. An idea that’s now materialized into a twenty stories high beach front resort. Soori was not in the mood to necessarily celebrate, though, amounting to a two-day, one (sleepless) night hellish weekend trip.
The back and forth has really been taking a toll on her schedule as well, leaving them with odd feeding hours and a regression in her sleep training that has Jungkook fearing for his ability to function on sole motor skills.
He’s in the middle of changing her diaper as she fidgets in his grasp, mindlessly playing with a bunched-up sock. He squints. His bunched-up sock. Where did she even get that? He checks his watch – 7:20 AM. Not bad. Mental pat in the back, because he basically lives off his own reassurance nowadays. The pleasure of the accomplishment of not running late for once is short-lived as his phone starts ringing loudly. His eyes search for it and although he can hear its proximity, it’s nowhere to be seen.
“Fuck.” He mutters. Soori coos at him and he covers her ears quickly, “you didn’t hear that.”
The ringing stops and he continues his task of getting her clean and changed for the day. Another short-lived moment of bliss as the ringing fills the walls of the nursery again. Now he worries – it could be a work emergency. Or Suelgi reaching out to let him know something came up and she won’t be able to look after Soori today. He takes another glance around the room and sees the buzzing device camouflaged by a family of plushies on top of one of Soori’s toy baskets. It doesn’t stop ringing.
“Don’t move, okay?” He says to Soori, who’s laying on top of her changing table. The second the words leave his lips he realizes the calibre of stupidity the request holds. He closes his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “Intermission,” he says, taking a very butt-naked Soori in his arms and heading to retrieve his phone. How did that even get there? He recites a mental prayer in hopes his daughter doesn’t have an accident – one all over his tightly pressed white button up.
Mai’s name flashes on the screen of his phone.
“Hello?”
“Gguk. I have the best news.” She says, way too cheerful for 7 am.
“Enlighten me.” He responds, immediately regretting the sarcastic ring to his voice.
Mai doesn’t seem to mind, he can hear the smile on her face when she says, “I found you a nanny!”
“Send her CV my way. I’ll check it out as soon as I get to the office.” He returns.
“I’m her CV! And her letter of recommendation.”
“No.”
“Gguk-”
“I’m not going to leave my daughter in the care of someone that doesn’t have the right qualifications and/or enough years of experience to lack a proper CV.” Jungkook’s voice is stern and he knows Mai is rolling her eyes on the other side of the line.
“Oh, Ggukie. You’re funny. If employment worked that way you’d be out of a job.” Her voice doesn’t hold an ounce of menace but she knows she has to be stern, too.
“Hotels can fail. My daughter’s wellbeing, cannot.” He argues, voice sounding defeated.
“Okay. Hear me out. She’s Dae’s teacher. From Saturday book club – you know how he’s always telling you about it?” Mai explains.
“Oh, she’s a teacher?” He admits that grants him a glimmer of hope.
“Well, no,” and before Jungkook can object again she continues, “but! Gguk, she is sweet, and patient and I’ve seen her with the kids, she can easily reason with them. They love her. And respect her. Come on, just one interview. Get to know her. Let Soori get to know her, too. She can’t be worse than all these nannies you’ve been interviewing that look straight out of that one scene in Mary Poppins. Please?”
Jungkook is about to object again, having made up his mind at ‘well, no’ but before he can begin to form a sentence, he feels a wet patch growing at the center of his stomach, quickly spreading down in a steady stream. He looks down at Soori who looks back at him innocently, unaware of her accident, slightly relieved at having an empty bladder. She smiles at him, a soft giggle falling past her lips.
Now they’re running late.
“Okay.”
“Gguk just- what?” Mai says, astounded.
“Give me her number, I’ll have my assistant arrange the interview.” He sounds defeated, but Mai doesn’t miss the sudden determination in his voice.
“You won’t regret it, Gguk. Trust me.”
And in that moment, he finds himself hoping he doesn’t.
~
“So, it’s a coffee date?”
Lucy’s voice nears as she enters your room, pushing the clothes that you’ve aggressively scattered all over your bed to the side. She takes a seat, hands wrapped around a scolding hot cup of tea. You can see the steam dance out of the mug in little twirls.
“No. it’s not a coffee date. His assistant just asked me how I liked my coffee. Must be a rich people thing, you know?” You argue.
“Politeness?” She asks, raising a brow.
“No. Planning ahead of time.”
“And what did you tell her?” She presses, bringing the mug to her lips as she takes a sip.
“Huh?”
“About how you like your coffee.”
“Iced americano.” You tell her, a wicked smile tugging at your lips.
She rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s like you want to butcher this!”
“Not actively attempting to, no. But if I can’t find anything remotely appropriate to wear then that might just be the case.” You say, exasperated. You’d spent the good first half of your morning rummaging around your tiny closet for anything that would resemble even an ounce of professionality. Needless to say, your pastels and florals, mostly making up an absurd amount of sun dresses, were not quite cutting it.
“Please, ___, you dress like a grandma that picks up gardening as soon as the weather goes any higher than 20 degrees. Or, even better, -” she continues but you turn around, narrowing your eyes at her. “The cutest grandma, though. Sexy, too.” She winks at you and you can’t help but smile.
“It’s just not… professional enough.”
“Since when do nannies have to look cookie cutter corporate? I’d be content enough with someone that didn’t pose any immediate threat. Like say, you walk in there with a spike collar on – that might be dangerous. But then again, you can’t really judge a book by its cover.” She concludes, assertive nod to the head before she takes another sip.
You laugh, shooting finger guns at her, giving her the point.
She’s right. Your choice of fashion was never a matter of inconvenience during Saturday book club in the library. And you do sort of sport the grandma-chic. You should be fine.
Yet you can’t shake the slight intimidation you feel. You know it’s only normal to dwell on nerves or pre work interview jitters. As much cookie cutter corporate this isn’t you still want to do well. You still want his approval.
The intimidation dates back to two days ago. Mai had called you, having asked for your number to give you further details, and she gave you the good news! As she’d exclaimed.
“His assistant will call you to arrange an interview. It’ll probably be sometime this week.” Mai’s voice still held the same enthusiasm as it did a couple of minutes prior during her call with Jungkook.
“That sounds perfect,” you say, although you have to force the words out of you. You weren’t expecting everything to unfold so quickly.
“You’ll do good. Soori will love you.”
“Thank you for this opportunity, Mai. It- the timing was just right.” You don’t feel like putting any pressure on her by admitting just how desperately you need this. This is just an interview after all.
“Trust me, likewise.” She says this and it leaves you wondering for a minute. Her voice sounds serious, but you don’t press.
You’re about to say your goodbyes but her words stop you.
“Jungkook.” She says, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Huh?” You frown, a bit lost by the prior.
“Jeon Jungkook. That’s his name. Just realized I never told you.”
Jeon Jungkook. It’s in the name. That’s where your intimidation stems from. He sounds like he belongs in the list of professors you avoided in university. The ones that led the elective subjects you took to build up credit. Like accounting and introduction to physics 01. You shudder at the thought.
Another look-over your messy clothes sprawled all across your bed earns you another shudder, followed by a loud groan.
Lucy scams through it, giving it one last glance before she grabs a handful of yellow fabric. She doesn’t gravitate towards it for any reason in particular – simply with the intention to ease your torment and put an end to this discussion.
“Here. Wear the yellow dress.” She says, sure of herself, even though she has no idea what the yellow dress actually looks like. It could be one of your grandma chic but make it ass cheek length for all she knows.
But the angels are on Lucy’s side today and when you reach for the dress, holding it against your body as you stare at the mirror, it’s not half bad. It cuts in a straight line over your chest, fabric rouching slightly at the top before it falls seamlessly right above your knees. Discreet enough. Cute bows at the strings that hold it over your shoulders, too. You are keen on the gardening look, aren’t you?
“It needs a cardigan.” You say, reaffirming your previous realization.
“How Victorian of you. Please refrain from showing any ankle – the man might have a heart attack. I heard nine months old are judgy, too.” Lucy remarks.
“I was planning on wearing my converse – is that too casual?” You ask, completely ignoring her witty remarks. She rolls her eyes at you and watches you pace around your room, trying to tidy up the mess you’d make.
You’re looking through your cardigans when she breaks the silence.
“What do you think happened?”
“What do you mean?” You ask, turning around, eyes meeting her serious ones.
“I mean, single dad… desperately in need for a nanny… rich, assuming from his side of town. Do you think something happened? Where’s the baby mama?” Your eyes widen at her last question.
“Well, I don’t know. But I’m sure it isn’t any of the crazy scenarios flashing through your mind right now. Probably a messy divorce or something.” You declare.
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
~
“Soo, look here, baby. Open wide!” Jungkook’s words feign cheerfulness but they’re bordering on a plead. As he brings the spoon closer to Soori’s mouth she lets out a high-pitched shriek. By far the loudest since this whole ordeal unfolded twenty minutes ago.
Her eyes are swollen, wet with tears that fall down her face that’s now red from all the crying and screaming lunch time has provoked. The first few days she refused solid food had Jungkook giving in – cradling her in his arms as he bottle fed her until she calmed down. But it’s been three days of this and he needs to be a parent.
So that’s where his Thursday lunch break finds him – standing in front of a very angry baby, completely clueless, a colourful assortment of pureed baby food adorning his kitchen island. Soori’s cries come to a surprising stop and he knows she’s not only tired but also hungry. He tries again, lowering the spoon to her, holding in his breath as she just stares at it. She kicks, body jumping so abruptly inside the confinity of her high chair it startles Jungkook, hands coming to hold her still as he shushes her gently.
Amidst the sea of broken feelings that slowly tear him apart this is perhaps the most painful. He didn’t think Soori would be so receptive to her mother’s departure. Jungkook doesn’t know if her change of demeanour is a reaction of his sulking and suffering, or if she feels Ira’s absence more than he can give her credit for. She’s just so little. Bliss still carries her through most mornings and nights – they were Jungkook’s to begin with, as he took every chance he possibly could at home to spend with her. He likes to believe that her mother’s missing presence isn’t something she doesn’t quite grasp by notion. But he can’t deny that she feels it by instinct. His heart breaks all over again at her innocence. He wonders if she’s confused, tries to decipher her feelings as he stares at her. Her mouth opens and closes in breathy whimpers. His eyes sting with the promise of a new set of tears at the feeling.
“Mr. Jungkook?” Mrs. Chae’s dulcet voice startles him. She looks apologetic when he jumps at the sight of her. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Your assistant has just called to remind you about your interview, sir. I thought I’d let you know.”
Fuck. The interview. In the middle of lunchtime chaos, he’d managed to forget about it.
“Uh- yes. Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Chae,” he takes a glimpse at his daughter, whom he still hasn’t manage to feed. He feels like a failure.
“If you want, I can try?” she says, referring to the get the baby to actually eat ordeal he was engaged in a minute ago.
“I’d appreciate that, yes.” She’s an old lady, and although sweet, lacks the patience to deal with the babysitting duties she’d had to take on ever since Ira left. But Jungkook needs all the help he can get, so he accepts hers. “If she keeps fussing just give her a bottle. She needs to eat.” She simply nods. He feels slightly judged – he keeps breaking. Stuck between a wall and a dead-end street. A bottle or starving his nine-month-old. A really easy one, yeah.
He leans down, kissing Soori’s forehead, whispering, “be good, baby.”
He makes his way from the kitchen to the living room, his pace picking up as he walks straight to the guest bathroom before he locks it.
He doesn’t bother turning on the lights as his back leans against the door, body sliding against it until he hits the floor. He breaks. It’s not the loud sobs he let out the first couple of days – he’s pretty sure he’s ran out of those. It’s the silent tide of tears that build in the corners of his eyes as his lost gaze penetrates an empty spot. He stares so hard until his line of vision goes blurry and he blinks. And only then do the tears fall. He doesn’t know why he suppresses them anymore. He’s just so fucking tired. He doesn’t know where the pain starts nor does he know where it ends. It’s just there. Silent, cold, sharp. An all-consuming overwhelm that shares his days and nights – backstabbing him just when he thinks it’s getting better.
He starts to get angry – what he’s come to identify as step two of his emotional vortex. But before he can fully register it, the doorbell rings, saving him from himself.
~
Your fingers hover over the doorbell. The touch screen doorbell. You try not to but your mind races with, quite frankly, unproductive thoughts.
Who even needs this much technology? You direct your gaze up, taking in the sight in front of you. People that live in such humble abodes like this one, you think. The house resembles something out of those Architectural Digest magazines you skim through in the library to kill time. It reminds you of a cut out you pasted in your vision board – idea courtesy of none other than Lucy after reading one chapter from The Secret.
it’s big, that’s to put it lightly. The shape almost boxy – wide and long, walls a contrast between white and dark mahogany wood. Two palm trees adorn the entrance, one taller than the other, side by side. Palm trees? You’re gawking now, you know you are. Three cars take up the vast parking space – two that seem to be identical, only in different colours. Black and white. That’s cliché, even for you. A Range Rover comes to view at the far end, almost towering the two coupes – it’s black. You have to admit it’s a satisfying colour palette. But who needs three cars? You shake your head, catching yourself before you free-fall into the incessant prying.
You make a mental note to stop staring as you fixate your gaze back to the door. Your eyes come back to the doorbell.
Does it ever run out of battery?
You’re about to reason with your brain on why that is a stupid question when the front door swings open from the inside. You tense up slightly, running your hands down the front of your dress nervously as your eyes come up to take in the sight before you.
Now, as afore mentioned, you’re not one to shy away from a good cliché; but the one before you finds you perplexed, to say the least.
He’s tall – so much so you have to shift your gaze upwards to meet his face. And when you do, you’re met with something you can’t quite put into words. But he doesn’t need words. His beauty speaks sonnets you’ll never be able to utter with ordinary words – so ethereal you quickly come to an spoken understanding. His hair is dark and thick, falling softly on top of his forehead, parting at the middle. His eyes look red and even though they’re a bit fallen they look impossibly big – if you look long enough, they become starry. You think your own eyes are deceiving you but when he blinks slowly and opens them again, you’re met with galaxies.
He’s managed to make formal attire look effortlessly casual. You take him in – black slacks, perfectly fitted against his toned legs. His white dress shirt exposes more skin than your sanity can bear, the three top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up. Tattoos that seem to be never ending adorn his right arm that maintains a tight grip on the door as he holds it open for you.
“Mr. Jeon?” Your voice mirrors the confusion that inhabits your head. The title feels off – this man looks like he could’ve been part of your graduating class. But who makes it this big after three months post grad?
The left side of your brain, also known as rationality, hopes this is not Jeon Jungkook, the man about to interview you. For a potential job. To babysit his daughter.
But the right side of your brain hopes it is.
“Just Jungkook is fine.”
Damn it.
“Uh- come in, please.” He says, making way in the entrance for you to step in.
It’s bright – the house illuminated by the light coming from the endless windows that take up the space, floor to ceiling, east to west. The minimal décor perfectly complemented by a perfect view of the boundless shade of green that make up the backyard; the blue of the pool reflecting against the glass.
“Here, my office’s this way. Follow me.” His voice breaks you out of your trance and you nod, following right behind him.
His strides are determined yet effortless, mimicking his essence alone. But you can’t stop thinking about his eyes – bruised with what seems like lack of sleep and red veins so prominent around his irises you wonder if it’s the prior or if he’s been crying.
Stop prying.
He comes to a stop in front of a door that he holds opens for you, letting you go in first. You smile at the action. He doesn’t return it.
“Please,” he gestures to one of the chairs and you sit down, opposite to where you assume he’ll be sitting; a wide table, that matches the overall décor of the house, separating the two of you.
He looks at the tray Mrs. Chae has left for the two of you, seeing his usual coffee order has doubled. He quirks a brow, taking one look at you, but you seem to be lost as you take in your surroundings. He grabs both glasses, placing one in front of you.
“Thank you.” You say, voice soft.
He rounds the desk and comes to sit in front of you, settling into the chair before he takes a sip from his coffee. He clears his throat and this makes you straighten up in your seat. Here we go, you tell yourself.
“Do you have any questions for me before we start?” His gaze finally meets yours, undivided for the first time since you walked inside his home.
But his question takes you aback. He looks like the type to shove you abruptly into the enquiry portion of the interview.
“Um…,” you’re already stuttering and Jungkook tries not to but he looks exasperated. “The dynamic,” you attempt to answer with secureness, “what does it look like?”
His left eyebrow quirks rapidly at your question, almost instinctively. “She’s nine months old. She naps two to three times a day. Solid food three times a day,” his voice shakes at this, “formula four times a day. Quick bath throughout the day if she gets messy, a long one before bed time. Goes through diapers like she’s keeping Pampers afloat. Enjoys anything loud with buttons during her free time.” The last two remarks are more sarcastic than they are funny. Condescending even.
“And yours?” He doesn’t miss the slight irritation in your voice, although you look impassive.
“My…?”
“Dynamic. What does it look like?”
Your question aggravates him slightly. If he were to answer it with outmost sincerity, you’d probably label him as a bad father – a weak one even. He thinks about Soori right now, probably propped up against her favorite pillow in the couch as she suckles on her bottle. The word discipline swarms his thoughts. He frowns. She’s nine months old for God’s sake.
He composes himself before replying, “I work at the office, though I’ve been working from home more often lately. Mornings and nights she spends with me. Lunch time, too, when I’m home. I tend to have seasons where work requires more travel than others, but that time hasn’t come so I’m yet to figure it out. I don’t work on weekends unless strictly necessary.” The brief but packed run down comes to an end but all you can do is remain silent in your seat; eyes still glued to his. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” your murmur.
“Your work experience is… not ideal for this sort of job. Are you aware?” Now you know why he’s loaded. He’s a fucking shark.
“I am aware.” You badly want to say something, anything, to save your ass but your mind is at a complete blank at his unashamed boldness.
“What do you really want to do?”
“Pardon?”
He exhales loudly. “What career path do you want to pursue? Did you go to school? – Mai told me you volunteer at the library – is that something you want to do long term?”
Damn, he’s ruthless.
“I’m sorry I should’ve brought a CV of some sort-”
“Yes, you should’ve. But you didn’t. So, we’re just going to have to work with what we have.” He says, interrupting you.
You look up at him, your sincere eyes meet his. They look as tired as they did when he first greeted you. You try to steady your breathing, easing your mind as you pose a brave front.
“I majored in Literature – out of sole passion. I didn’t really think about where it would land me when I started, I just did it because I loved it. I graduated three months ago and no, I don’t love it any less. Even if my degree hasn’t landed me nowhere you’d consider successful.” He visibly winces at your words. “I quit my job at a bar because the atmosphere was making me feel uncomfortable. The library felt comforting enough so I stuck to that. It makes me happy. Volunteering, I mean. Not in the selfless way you’d probably think but in a it brings me more peace of mind than it does them way, I guess. They’re kids, nothing holds their amusement for long enough. I’d hope the books and my words do, but I can’t know that for sure. I’m just a tiny slice of their week. But that’s fine by me.”
Jungkook gapes at you. He takes your words in and has to admit your sincerity takes him by surprise. You’ve uttered more words in the last two minutes than you have since you arrived. His head is pounding. He doesn’t believe you’re any more qualified just because you had a burst of honesty spill out of you. But he’d be a fool not to regard you with admiration for it.
At his silence, you continue, “I don’t know what career path I want to pursue. Or maybe I do, but it somewhat scares me. I like to write, but it’s a tough industry to break into. I’m not worried or desperate to know, though. I don’t know how long it took you to amount to all your success – you look fairly young to me. But I believe even the most successful of people felt at least a little lost at twenty-three,” you catch yourself slipping into a cliché so you mask it with a, “or whatever.”
He nods, but it doesn’t necessarily convey approval. It’s more so as if he’s digesting everything you’ve unloaded onto him. You don’t care at this point; having come to terms you didn’t stand a chance in Jeon Jungkook’s nanny boot camp to begin with.
“I agree,” he says and his words find you wide eyed. “I don’t even believe most people should decide on something they’ll take on for the rest of their lives that young. I wouldn’t necessarily say you’re lost, though. Finding your way seems to be a more fitting term.”
His words are comforting and the warm feeling pooling at the pit of your stomach travels all the way up until it settles in your chest. They feel almost welcoming, even as his gaze remains stern.
“You didn’t ask and at this point you probably don’t care but… I’m a fast learner and there are a couple of things in life that come naturally to me and I’ve been told that kids are one of them.”
He nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile before he’s pushing his chair back and coming to a stand. You follow his movements, walking alongside him in silence as you exit his office.
You don’t expect the loud shriek that echoes through the walls when you walk down the corridor, back to his living room. Concern laces his features and he walks a little faster, but when you make it to the living room and past the front door you don’t know if you should keep following him.
You do anyways.
Upon entering the kitchen you’re met with one hell of a sight. Sat in a high chair is whom you presume to be Soori. A very unhappy version of her, anyways. She’s kicking and screaming so loud you fear she might break free from her constraints, the baby harness holding her back every time. You know she’s upset when her cries are also met with tears – real tears. Not crocodile ones babies often times shed when they can’t express discomfort so they just cry. In front of her, Mrs. Chae is holding a bottle and a pink plastic bowl, eyes going from one to the other and then to Soori, in complete desperation.
“What’s wrong?” Jungkook says, coming to stand next to them.
“She- she won’t take her bottle. I tried the puree again but she doesn’t want that either. I’m sorry Mr. Jungkook.” Mrs. Chae says.
“Has she been crying this whole time?” He asks. Mrs. Chae simply nods.
The both of them keep going back and forth, with Jungkook asking how many ounces she had, if the bottle was perhaps cold. Or too hot.
You look at Soori, who’s crying hasn’t come to a cease, if anything getting louder at her dad’s arrival. You can see the grabby hands she makes at him and it tugs at your heart a little. You walk over to her. She’s probably the cutest baby you’ve ever seen – even when her chubby cheeks are flushed from all the crying and her eyes are swollen. A silky, single strand of black hair is held up by a pink bow – hair coming up in a little sprout. Adorable.
She looks just like her dad – button nose and big doe eyes. Not to mention the puffy cheeks.
Your next move is bold but you know this works. Well, you don’t know for sure but you can try. Her exasperation is getting to you too at this point. You reach for one of the bowls in the kitchen counter – a mush of what smells like peas. You plop a dollop of the puree in the table of her high chair. She looks confused at first, taking in the stranger in front of her and then the green glob that adorns the once impeccably white surface. You notice just how clean she is, as well. You’ve never seen a child this clean during lunch time.
After a couple of seconds her cries come to a stop. She looks at you one last time before she redirects her gaze to her food – hands curiously coming to smack at the mushy peas. Jungkook turns around at the sudden quietness. His eyes look like they’re about to burst out of his skull when he sees his daughter stare at her messy fist, hand covered in baby food. She observes it tentatively before bringing it to her mouth, her whole hand coming past her lips as she nibbles on its content. She looks nonchalant to say the least but when her hand repeats the movement, shoving another handful into her mouth, he feels like he could cry of relief.
“How-” he starts, flabbergasted.
“Um… she’s not going to feel fully comfortable with the sight and texture of the food if she doesn’t get a chance to explore it with her hands first.” You answer.
Soori hums in sweet satisfaction as she feeds herself. Jungkook turns to her, big toothy smile at his baby’s new found sound. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face take on that expression.
“Is it good, baby?” he coos and she smiles back at him, nose scrunching up imitating her father’s, mushy peas up to her hairline.
You smile. God, they’re cute.
But you know this is your queue. You adjust your bag strap over your shoulder, clearing your throat as you prepare to say goodbye and turn around. You can see yourself out.
“Thank you for-”
His next words nearly give you whiplash and it takes you a while to process them.
“When can you start?”
~
“And then what did you say?” Lucy listens to your detailed recollection of the recent events. She nods and winces and shakes her head at the brutal recount.
“Well, I was about to say goodbye. Yes, that chubby cheeked baby was calling my name but I couldn’t get out of there faster. But then,” you pause, remembering the exact moment, a little too vividly as his voice echoes in your memory.
“What! What?” Lucy’s eyes are attentive, never once leaving your face. But her hands follow another agenda, filling a shot glass to the brim, the clear liquid spilling a bit as she waits for your bomb to kaboom! In her face. This one’s looking exceptionally ghastly. She figures tequila could ease the impact.
“He asked me when I could start.” You finish.
“Wait, what? Come again?” She all but slams the bottle as she sets it back down on the kitchen counter.
“Yeah. I think it even took him by surprise. He went on to tell me that we could take a week of testing the waters before I signed the contract.” You tell her.
“The contract? Who are you babysitting? The next heir to the British throne?”
You laugh at this, “no. She’s cuter than any of those royal babies.” She smiles, downing the shot of tequila that she’d originally destined for you. You don’t need it. Neither does she but, oh well.
“And, Lucy… his assistant emailed me the contract, just in case I had something I wanted to negotiate,” you say, voice coming to a whisper.
“And?” She asks, confused.
“Think sleazy bar pay check,” she winces, “now double that.”
“Oh.”
“Now add one of those good months that I would get my work published and we could buy the fancy marmalade,” she nods in excitement, “now double that.”
“We’re RICH!” She screams, hands coming to hold yours as you both jump up and down to the beat of her movements.
“There’s only one problem,” you say, stilling.
“What?”
“His face…”
“What about it?”
“Picture an angel,” your gaze softens, she rolls her eyes.
“Yeah…”
“Picture the perfection,”
“I am, I am.” Lucy returns, eyes dreamy.
“Now double that.”
~
Jungkook enters his bathroom, mind busy with the weight of the day. Bed time went smoothly but he knows Soori will be up in two hours or so. He mentally prepares himself for another night of rocky sleep.
He reaches for his toothbrush, lathering a generous amount of toothpaste on top before letting the water run over it. He hates mundane tasks like these – his mind having to come to a halt, to fixate on the domestic. He thinks about Ira. He can’t help it. He pictures the routine they’d adapted for the past three years – imagines what she looked like brushing her teeth next to him. They’d stand next to each other in comfortable silence, aggressive silence and on really good days, mumbles between mouthfuls of toothpaste, talking about their days, his arm around her waist as he pinned her to the marble counter.
He can’t help but wonder where she is. If she’s well. If she cries at night when she turns off the lights the way he’s grown accustomed to since she left. He wonders if she misses Soori – her baby smell, the squish of her cheeks, the round of her eyes taking her in. She thinks about the fact she missed one of her milestones today – that satisfied hum when she enjoyed her mushy peas.
He wonders if she misses him, too.
He remembers the mess Soori had made during lunch, having to wash baby food off her hair afterwards. Ira would’ve rolled her eyes at the sight. She never liked it when she made a mess.
He wonders what she would think of you, of his decision to have you look after their baby.
He stops his train of thought.
His baby.
The realization exhausts him further and he heads to bed. He wonders when it’ll get easier. When it will stop hitting him in the face every time he lets his mind wonder in meaningless back and forth. He knows the answer to all of his previous questions – none of them are what he wants to hear.
He tugs his hoodie off with one hand, throwing it to the side before he gets under his covers. He sighs, a groan leaving his mouth at the feeling of the pillow against his head. His eyes close instinctively.
And then he thinks about you.
He’s spent a good portion of his day thinking about you, to be fair. The wellbeing of his daughter at the frontline of his thoughts, whether he made the right decision. He’d made up his mind pretty early into the interview and all it took was a happy baby enjoying mushy peas for him to break. He’s regretted his decision at least a dozen times today. But then during dinner time he mimicked your actions, an assortment of foods cut into small bites spread in front of Soori for her to explore. She was eating so fast he had to stop her twice and he got to hear her sweet little mmm a handful of times. That was enough for him to break again.
But as he nuzzles into his pillows his thoughts are not laced with parenting. He thinks about you. He doesn’t exactly follow the direction of his train of thought but he’s too tired to stop it.
He thinks of the words you so openly shared with him. He thinks of the way vulnerability took over your face in a way he’d never seen it shown so visibly in anyone before. He thinks about your yellow dress that all but startled him when he opened his front door, so bright you almost looked out of place. He tries to remember what you smelled like. He can’t put his finger on it. In fact, he doesn’t think he even focused on it long enough to remember. Honey, camelias, lavender, roses, wood- he stops himself. It’s a thought with a dead-end street. He finds no point in dwelling.
You were wearing high top converses.
Something about that makes way to his brain and he can’t quite explain it. Perhaps it’s an innocence he doesn’t interact with anymore. He thinks about twenty-three-year-old him – just as lost as you. He smiles but it’s unconscious as he slowly begins to succumb to a much-needed sleep. He thinks you look like a feeling buried down deep in his memory. He’s too tired to put a name to it but as his brain begins to shut down, his vulnerability comes afloat, cradling him. The feeling doesn’t have a name but it comes in a memory he’s not so sure it entirely belonged to him. Perhaps it’s a deep longing he stored inside his heart many years ago.
Salt water. The smell of Taehyung’s parents beach house. Sixteen. Slow days. A fight between innocence and desire. Infatuation masked by love. Promises of forever. Names that danced with his. Lemonade. His first sip of beer. Mrs. Kim’s lemon pie. An old beat-up jeep. Wind. Sand. Days so long they never truly eased into night. Sunrise escapades. The stars in the sky. And yellow. So much yellow.
~
If u made it this far can we talk about cute, soft, in-between-awake-and-asleep jk being all dreamy and reminiscing!!!! that was so hot of him. i truly hope you enjoyed – this story has been so fun to write so far and my mind is already working like rents due to whip out chapter three as fast as i can!! i, too, can’t wait for the sexy stuff, don’t worry. jk needs healing but its on its way!! hold on tight. also i will make it my purpose to get my girl lucy a match made in heaven for this fic bc she deserves the world. Thank u for reading and feel free to let me know what you thought of the chapter – i love talking to u guys. sending loads of love always!! xxxxx
STREAM PERMISSION TO DANCE IF U WANT DADDY JUNGKOOK TO FEEL BETTER OK he told me to tell u xx
jungkook’s ending pose ALSKASKAS I’M SCREAMING
wicked • 1
↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?
↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader feat. Seokjin
↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut
Word Count: 4k
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Note: I’ve sat on this story for like 8 months and I still feel bad for posting but bYe I’m a hoe for e2l and I sure hope y’all are too bc gOd daYum
To be a princess, is that of obtaining and following duty whenever it calls. Whether you agree with it or not is of none concern to no one, even yourself to an extent. There were many times in your life when you could assume that, if you felt strong enough about a situation, eventually, your parents would sit you down and work something out that was, at the very least, comparable.
Those times were few and far in between as you often understood that you had to do things, even if you didn’t personally want to, from a young age that you could no longer remember. But still, to be told this. It was a laughable matter at the time, you were so shocked that you couldn’t even fully believe it, it was two years ago after all. But for the day to have finally come.
For the little bubble you had sheltered yourself in, to pop.
It was laughable only at how pathetic you were, you had two years to prepare. And yet here you were, still in denial and even more bitter than before. You had cried, begged your parents for some other alternative, but low and behold, they could only look at you with pity in their eyes. After all, what good was a daughter outside of selling off in marriage?
“Mmm, is something wrong, my love?” Your heart beat had risen and your hands were a little too shaky, was it because you were naturally shy during such activities as these? Or was it the shame cast over you? This was the day you’d meet him, and you were currently in your room doing this.
A hand tenderly stroked your face, cupping your cheek as he gently raised your chin to look at him, Seokjin’s face was soft as a finger traced your jawline, your lips had jutted a little and your expression strong in remorse, if you stared at him any longer the moment would be ruined by your tears, “I’m fine.” You mumbled, offering a weak smile that you were sure if Seokjin looked close enough he would be able to tell it was a lie for the sake of the moment.
Your hands quickly got back to work to keep him from asking any questions, you didn’t want to talk about it. Nor did you want to be in this position either but when would be the next time you got to do this? If ever.
Sexual favors were not something you were often inclined to do but Seokjin was an exception as he was your lover and originally, had things gone the way they should, you would be married off to Seokjin. But of course not, no, Penumbra had to frighten every nation in the world by threat of invasion.
They had to be so cruel in their wars and battles, their soldiers and training, it was no match for anyone. No matter how many troops were sent, they were torn down one after the other by the highly skilled soldiers there. Penumbra was everyone’s worst nightmare, a nation so bitter and angry, they’d stop at nothing to seek vengeance on everyone who once destroyed their original nation of Seoul.
They didn’t take mercy on children or women, they didn’t care about anything but their own. You wholeheartedly despised and stood against everything they were. And for your parents to look you in the eyes and say you’d have to marry their Prince.
The Wicked Prince.
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Rosa (She/Her || 24) ~~ I reblog my favourite fic and create reading list.
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