“Jungkook, I swear, if you ask me about the goddamn cake one more time, I’m gonna hit you right in the jaw.”

Jeon Jungkook was not a patient man.

He tried to be, but couldn't do it very well. In a life where one was used to getting what they wanted whenever they wanted, feeling out of control was not a skill he had mastered. And fuck, did he feel out of his element.

He didn’t realize when he offered to host your birthday party in his home that it would be such a massive undertaking. The truth was, it was only so because of his own doing. He was making it much harder on himself than needed, but how could he not? It was you. Ever since your mother passed, he had seen much more of you. Always at your fathers side. your watchful eye never passing judgment on the life they lived, only admiration and curiosity. Jungkook couldn’t shake the incessant need to seek another moment alone with you.

Moments altogether were few and far between. Normally reduced to watchful eyes across the room while you beamed pridefully beside your father at dinners or laughed at whatever ridiculous joke Taehyung was telling the group. In truth, he had hardly spoken to you directly since you were a child, the thought alone making his stomach clench in disgust for how quickly pure thoughts of joyous youth became an unbridled attraction.

Jungkook hadn’t thought much about the feelings he discovered he was harboring about you. It was purposeful. Dimming them to a dull throb in his subconscious was easier than facing the gravity of what they meant. He could admire from afar. He would admire a little closer tonight—but it was a special occasion.

Instead, he channeled all of that energy into creating the perfect evening. He had hired chefs working in his kitchen since four o’clock. The decor for the grand foyer and living space were designed and chosen meticulously, mostly gold accents to accompany that of the chandeliers. And of course, the cake, which he and Taehyung spent a good thirty-five minutes arguing about, settling on a chocolate mousse that could satisfy any crowd.

Guests began arriving about an hour before Jungkook knew he could expect you. This was good. This meant he had ample time for people to get drunk enough to not notice how insane he was going over just about everything: did he choose the right food? The right music? Could he have possibly forgotten someone vital to invite?

He was in the midst of checking over everything for what felt like the fourth time when he felt the startling clap of a hand on his shoulder. Jungkook dicked his head over to see Taehyung shuffle in beside him, his arm draped over his shoulders.

“Doing alright, brother?” Taehyung asked, but Jungkook had already turned his attention back to the table in front of him. He reached out to carefully adjust some of the dishes that were placed crooked.

Taehyung watched him fiddle for another moment before he gave Jungkook’s shoulder another squeeze, this time, a bit more firm.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung said slowly, to which he responded with a grunt, finally finding his eyes. Taehyung was looking at him sympathetically, a quaint smile on his lips. Meanwhile, Jungkook was certain he already looked like a wreck. Sweat dampened his brow, his heart pounding against his chest. “Everything’s gonna go just fine,” Taehyung consoled.

“Everything has to go perfect.”

“It will.” It was no secret that Jungkook was a perfectionist, but this was beyond his usual absurdity. Normally, taehyung would not pass up the opportunity to tease, but he knew better. This was important to Jungkook, which made it important to the entirety of the mafia clan.

Taehyung released Jungkook with a final pat between the shoulders. “I’m gonna make sure they’ve got enough hands at the front. Call me if you need anything, yeah?” Jungkook’s insufficient grumble would have to suffice as a response.

If you need anything. What did he need? To get his head on straight, for one. A drink, for two. An open bar may have been one of his best ideas of the evening thus far. He hiked his way over to the makeshift station, doing his very best to avoid the eye-line of his men and arriving guests alike. 

“Whiskey neat,” he mumbled to the bartender, wrapping his fingers around the glass when it was handed to him and taking it back in one, hearty swig. The burn was familiar, comforting in the way it slid down his throat. Numerous evenings much like this one were spent locked up in his house, the weight of an empire on his shoulders, while he nursed the entire bottle through the night. It calmed the nerves and steadied him. A habit that he, perhaps, needed to be mindful of, but was nonetheless grateful for in a moment of irritating self-doubt.

Jeon Jungkook had never been a man to question himself, his actions, his intentions.

Not until you.

“Surprise!”

When Lune, your oldest and longest friend, told you to get dressed up for the evening, you had an astute inkling that it may have had something to do with your birthday. You were rather indifferent to the occasion, content to spend the evening with a handful of friends inside watching films and eating snacks most years. But you would never pass up a party.

Especially not when it was being hosted by none other than Jeon Jungkook.

You had decided to get ready with Lune at her apartment, giving in to the soft nudge your father conveniently pestered you with to get out of the house. This was the first clue of the evening's plans. You spent the next few hours with homemade margaritas in hand, dancing around her living room to music much too loud while you dolled yourselves up; a routine you were all too familiar with, as many high school nights with Lune were spent doing similar antics. The dress of choice was a deep crimson, ball sleeves and off shoulder, hugging your curves in all the right places; it reached the floor, but saved room for the generous slit up your right leg. classy.

When the car arrived for you both, it took all of three turns before you knew exactly where it would be taking you. You had this particular route mapped out, and it wouldn’t have taken much on Jungkook’s part to organize your arrival with Lune. The idea alone that he sought out the guidance of your closest friend for a special day made your chest tighten in delight.

Your friends didn’t know what work Jungkook did, but they had their suspicions. They were smart enough not to question; they got to bask in the glory of what his field of work provided, and to that, they were content. Lune would dance her way around the conversation a bit less inconspicuously than the others, but she never pushed. Her friendship with you went beyond any perks of your father's mafia profession.

It wasn’t long before you were standing at the double doors of Jungkook’s foyer, being bathed in the love of friends and family alike. Your father was one of the first to approach you, pulling you into a hug and wishing you a happy birthday. You thanked him with glassy eyes, overwhelmed by the affection of those who greeted you. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling. Only heightening when you finally looked across the room to see a certain brown-eyed beauty sauntering over your direction as the path around you began to clear.

Oh, he looked good.

Slick back gelled hair and a firmly pressed black suit, you already felt like mush upon his gaze. His lips were curled into a quaint little smirk, and his dazzling eyes seemed to glisten a little under the chandelier lights. A proper host, dashing and bold. And yet, when he approached you, it was easy to feel like the only two in the room.

Jungkook stopped a few feet short of you, and you tilted your neck back to take in his glorious masculine features. You tried to bite back the grin that spread across your cheeks, but it was impossible. Not while he was looking at you like that. Not while you knew this entire spectacle had been his doing for you. You had hardly even noticed the two champagne flutes he held until he lifted one up to eye level.

“I believe I’m allowed to give this to you now,” he remarked, and you chuckled breathily.

He handed you one of the flutes, tipping his own in your direction for a gentle clink. You both took a sip of the bubbly sweetness and then, he was placing his free hand delicately at the small of your back to properly greet you, taking a step forward so he could lean his lips down to your ear. Your body ignited, growing taut at his touch.

“You look incredible,” he murmured, words only the two of you were allowed to indulge in. His proximity made sure of that. It also gave you a heavy whiff of him, the heady scent of his expensive cologne mixed with his natural masculine pheromones had your head spinning.

You let your eyes close momentarily, basking in the moment that was bound to be fleeting. “Thank you,” you whispered in response, and with a soft chuckle and careful peck of his lips to your temple, he released you.

You looked up to him again, this time, pure admiration displayed behind your eyes. “This is incredible,” you told him, nodding your head towards the decorated foyer in front of you. “Thank you for arranging all of it, I—”

He held his free hand up, halting you. “Ain’t no need to thank me, darling. Besides,” he said, tilting his head to eye you over your shoulder. “I had a little help.”

You turned your head to see Lune standing behind you still, glittering smile and all. She shrugged, swiping a piece of hair back from her shoulder in subtle boasting.

“Oh, it was nothing.” She couldn’t even pretend to hide her pride, but you didn’t mind. Eternally grateful to have someone who would go through such trouble to appease you for one night.

It wasn’t long before Lune was blabbering about how many things and people there were to see; old friends from high school, the few from childhood, new ones from university. Family you hadn’t seen for years, a photo booth she insisted be used by you and her first. Before you knew it, she was grabbing at your hands, tugging you away from the crowd that greeted you, away from Jungkook. You turned your head over your shoulder to shoot him an apologetic glance at her eagerness, hoping to convey how desperately you wished to continue talking to him. You could talk to him all evening long if obligation didn’t lie elsewhere.

He softly shook his head at you, mouthing a have fun, and you convinced yourself his focused eyes were promising you they would find you later.

The rest of the occasion was just as grand as you expected it to be at the hands of Jungkook.

A delicious array of food that kept your belly filled pleasantly, nonetheless allowing room for the decadent dessert that came shortly after. You held your cheeks, inflamed with appreciation and embarrassment when the horde of your friends and family sang happy birthday to you. It was one of the few moments you were able to spot Jungkook’s eyes throughout the evening, as he dutifully held up the cake with Taehyung whilst you blew out the candles. You couldn’t help but laugh when you saw him beaming at you, overcome with a delight you were not sure you had ever experienced as intensely.

The steady flow of champagne and dicktails kept your veins buzzing and your head free from worries. More of your school friends from the years had filed in throughout the evening; Steven, a particularly charming fellow that Lune had her eyes on for years, made an appearance. He brought along one of your old flings, Noah, who had remained a good friend despite your attraction to each other never blooming into more. You wondered how long it would take and how drunk Lune needed to be before she made her move on one or the other.

Around eleven, guests were beginning to make their exits at a leisurely pace. You were nowhere near tired nor ready to say goodbye to what felt like the perfect evening, but you could not overstay your welcome. Besides, nothing could diminish the sheer glee you felt in the fact that Jeon Jungkook had planned all of this just for you.

You were in the midst of embracing your father in farewell, promising him you would call as soon as you and Lune made it safely back to her apartment for the night when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning away from the doorway, you saw none other than Lune herself standing behind you, a smirk on her face and rocking giddy from heel to toe.

“Party’s not over yet, birthday girl,” she started, your confusion only sending her grin wider. “Two words: Night. Swimming.”

You frowned. “But I didn’t bring a bathing su—”

You didn’t notice the bag hanging off her fingertips until she brought it around from behind her back, dangling it in front of your face, proudly. You gave her a knowing look, and she beamed back at you because of course she came prepared. Preparedness meant you had no room to protest her plans, but even if she hadn’t come ready, you wouldn’t have complained.

Any opportunity to stay even a moment longer in Jeon Jungkook’s home as an opportunity you would take.

“Jump!”

Taehyung was the culprit of the barbaric screech and mighty splash of water that attacked everybody in the pool. He, amongst other younger members of the clan, as well as Lune, Steven, and Noah had joined the after-party in Jungkook’s spacious backyard paradise. Warm, twinkling lights you had never noticed before were strung up over the pool. You wondered if he set them out just for the occasion, a thought that made your chest warm with more than just the soothing touch of the heated water.

And yet, the gracious host himself did not partake. No, he sat idly by. Still fully clothed in his evening apparel. Watching.

You, on the other hand, could not decide whether or not you were thankful for or mortified at the choice of swimwear Lune brought you. Of course, it was your raunchiest bikini; a two-piece black set with triangles that just barely cupped each breast, and bottoms that, no matter much you tugged at them to cover more, revealed a generous amount of your ass.

You did your best not to draw too much attention to yourself, as if that was even possible on a day like this. At the very least, you tried your hardest not to keep casting eyes back at Jungkook who still sat at one of the lounge chairs. He would check his phone every few moments, a party still no distraction from the work he was still responsible for. But when he wasn’t occupied, you would catch his eyes on you; following your descent into the warm water, keeping a watch on the way you moved, maybe even how close the other men got to you.

The latter very well could’ve been a false fantasy, but it was one you didn’t mind indulging. Not one bit.

At one point, Taehyung set up a net at the far end of the pool, rousing everyone into a game of volleyball. You were lucky the estate had no nearby neighbors, as the shouts of triumph and groans of defeat echoed loudly through the night sky. You ended up on the winning team, much to Taehyung’s efforts.

The approaching midnight did little to cease shenanigans, and after the third game, it was decided that more drinks would be necessary before another round could commence. Taehyung chanted in excitement over something he had inside the house, to which both Steven and Noah showed interest in, eagerly grabbing their towels and following him inside.

You were the last to leave the pool, taking your time in drying yourself when you reached for your towel that was conveniently placed on the lounge chair adjacent to Jungkook’s. He had made no effort to move, still lost in his phone.

This is your chance, you thought. The most unobtrusive opportunity tonight thus far to get yourself a moment alone with him. You scrunched at your wet hair painfully slow, hoping the crowd would disappear without so much as a glance in your direction.

“You coming?!” Lune called from the sliding door.

Fuck.

“Uh, yeah! I’m just gonna dry off a little more. I’ll catch up,” you assured her with a tight lip smile. She returned it with an arch of her brow but pressed no further before slipping inside.

With the majority of the chatter migrated back to the house, a calming silence fell over the backyard. You could hear the crickets in their dusk song, a soft rustle of wind through the leaves on the trees, skin prickling with goosebumps at the realization that it was colder outside the warmth of the pool. When you were certain the back door would not reopen, you turned your attention back to the occupied lounge chair.

Jungkook’s eyes were already on you.

“Too cool to join us?” you teased, tilting your head at him as you continued to run the towel through your hair.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Someone’s gotta be sober enough to keep an eye on y’all,” he mused, carefully tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket. When he looked at you now, it was as though it was the first time he was really seeing what you were wearing. Or not wearing. He was shameless, letting his gaze run over the entirety of your figure once, twice, mapping out damp skin and committing it to memory.

You, on the other hand, were speechless. A gawking statue frozen in a perpetual daze, unmoving to the only spectator who had always made you feel like a piece of art worth looking at. Jungkook had that ability. To cast away your insecurities with his suave words and tender eyes, never giving any indication that his intentions with you were anything but sincere, whatever they may be. It was no wonder he consumed your very being; night and day, an endless cycle of senseless yearning you attempted, and failed, to tame.

You realized, then, that your time was limited. Girlish fantasies and chronic overthinking of his every move would have to wait.  You braced yourself with a deep breath, wrapping the towel around your torso and rolling back your shoulders in an attempt to release some of the budding tension before carefully stepping towards the chair beside him, and plopping down on the edge. It was now or never.

“Well, it’s certainly not me you have to worry about,” you feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes rather dramatically. Teasing him. “I’ve never had a drop of alcohol before tonight.”

Jungkook threw his head back, laughing. The kind that spread his lips so wide, his dimple showed, filling your stomach with heat.  “No, ofcourse not,” he agreed, turning his body to mirror you, knees nearly touching across the short distance between chairs. “Too much of a good girl to do such a thing, right?”

The way he said it, low in his chest, his chin tilted down and peering up through devilish eyes, you couldn’t even allow yourself to entertain the idea that he was just being nice. Being Jungkook. That had always meant something entirely different when it came to you, anyway, hadn’t it? All rational was thrown to the wind, and for a moment, as foolish as it may have been, you let yourself indulge in the idea that perhaps he was interested in you beyond being the daughter of one of his men.

“Right,” you breathed, internally scolding yourself for how winded you already sounded.

He was studying you again. In a way that made you hyper aware of your body, the droplets of water rolling over your skin the only saving grace from the way it burned under his gaze. Jungkook pursed his lips, and then:

“Come here,” he beckoned, lifting a hand to curl his fingers gesturally in the air. Your brows furrowed in momentary confusion. How much closer did he want you to get?

Realizing how stupid your own question was, you wordlessly stood, holding the towel taut around you as you stepped into the space between his thighs. He craned his neck back to look at you, the twinkle that sparked in his eyes simultaneously frightening and exhilarating.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, patting his thigh and seeming to pay no mind to the way your body was already dripping water onto his pants.

Your brows lifted and your lips parted a bit in surprise. He must have been losing it. You must have been losing it. “But…I’m all wet,” you said, your eyes peering sheepishly down at him.

He tilted his chin up at you, a casual smirk ghosting his lips. “I gotta closet full of suits, darling. I ain’t gonna miss this one.”

You wondered if he heard the way your breath caught in your throat.

You were a damn fool to even consider denying his request. Jeon Jungkook asking you to sit on his lap? He may as well have plucked the very fantasies from your brain with his own fingertips. If only you could tell the nagging voice in the back of your head reminding you of who he was, where you were, to shut up for five minutes. What better day of the year was there for selfish indulgences, anyway?

And fuck, were you eager to be selfish for him.

You didn’t allow yourself to dawdle any longer. Wordlessly, you lowered yourself onto one of his thighs, muscles rigid. He eyed you the entire time, the intensity of them drawing you in like a moth to a flame. His legs were sturdy below you, but his hands remained dutifully to himself.

“I’ve got something for you,” he spoke, his voice somehow sounding richer this close. He was reaching into his back pocket then, pulling out what was revealed before you as a black, velvet box.

You sucked in a breath. “Jungkook…” You peered down at the box in his hands, feeling as though your chest may explode. The entire evening had been grand, the idea of any more endowments seeming almost undeserved. “You really didn’t have to get me—”

“Hush, now. Ain’t no way you thought I wasn’t getting you a gift,” he interrupted, shaking his head at you. “Been waiting all night to give it to you,” he admitted, the soft glimmer that casted over his eyes when he said it making your heart flutter.  “Go on, open it,” he urged you softly.

You stared at the box for a moment before finally reaching out to hold it between your fingers, paying no mind to the way the towel slipped from below your arms. It bunched up around your lap, and you swore you felt Jungkook’s body tense below you. With trembling fingers, you carefully took off the top.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, eyes grown wide. Splayed within the box was a dainty station necklace; what it lacked in gaudiness it made up for in sparkle, a sequence of gems, alternating between diamonds and your birthstone. Even in the lowlight, they twinkled. Confirming their legitimacy. 

You were overcome by incessant emotion; the idea of him spending time meticulously hand-picking a gift for you, one that you would wear with pride, an eager display of the way his charm had consumed you, dowsed you in a sick sense of pride. Not to mention how expensive it must have been, and yet, he deemed you worthy. The thought alone made you shiver.

You tilted your head over your shoulder, eyeing up at him wistfully through your lashes. He was so close, and he smelled so good. Peering carefully down at you, you saw his eyes flicker to your lips.

“Put it on for me?” you asked softly. You watched the muscle in his jaw twitch before he nodded once. Hesitation was no longer a foe. You gave into instinct, turning your body until you were perched forward on his lap, his chest flushed against your back.

Jungkook reached around you, carefully lifting the necklace from the plush fabric it sat atop. You snaked a hand up, gathering your hair to the back of your head as he brought the gift closer to your neck. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter shut.

You were consumed by him. The sturdiness, the safety of his body around you. Warm breath fanning cool skin, while yours came bated. You imagined what a you  both looked like right now; Jungkook, fully clothed, your scantily clad body rested back against him. Perhaps you should have been ashamed, but all you could picture was what it would be like, feel like, to be just like this in a much less savory scenario. What it may feel like to have his hands mold your body to their touch, the way his lips would bleed whispers into your skin.

His knuckles brushed the tip of your spine while he secured the clasp. Sat perfectly above your collarbones, you couldn’t help but let your hair fall to reach the same hand forward, tracing gentle fingers over the stones.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

You weren’t sure he heard you at first, but then, you felt it. Feather-light, you assumed your mind was playing tricks on you. But there was no denying the rough sensation of his jaw as it tickled your neck, the plush of his lips just barely grazing your skin right below the precious gift. You stiffened, body set alight at the smooth pass of his warm breath over your wet skin. There was no doubt he could see the goosebumps that rapidly began to litter your arms and legs, and you held your breath in fear of whatever would come out in response to having him so close.

“I’m glad you like it,” he muttered, right into the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs together. The delicious baritone vibrating straight through to your core.

“I love it,” you emphasized, not trusting your voice to speak any more above a whisper. Even then, it came out mangled, strained. On the precipice of losing control.

Up until then, he had been rather restrained. But the hands he had honorably kept to himself had crept up slowly, knuckles brushing over the sides of your thighs. Even with the barrier of the towel, your skin felt like fire under his touch.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, huddled up in his lap, his very own branding around your neck, waiting patiently for whatever move he made next. But you were feeling bold, a bit tipsy, and intoxicated by the idea of him. Carefully, you maneuvered yourself atop of him again, turning halfway back around until you were able to look at him properly.

His eyes were on you, taking you in much closer than ever before. It made you gasp, the intensity of his gaze, though you couldn’t seem to falter from it. Tentative hands had crept up your thighs, settling delicately on either hip. Your hands ached to reach out and touch him in return, but your brain left you frozen. Casted under the spell of proximity, his scent alone, like hearty wood and a hint of mint, dampened your senses.

He said your name once. Quiet. A warning, or an inquisition, perhaps. Then, his eyes flickered down to your lips again, this time, lingering there. You could feel his breath against your face; one motion, and you could taste him. Satiate a hunger deeply rooted inside of you for years past and years to come. But he was already moving, lifting a hand and dragging two fingers over the apple of your cheek, tucking away strands of damp hair behind your ear.

Your breath had picked up, so loud you were sure he could hear it. See the way your chest heaved up and down. You thought you noticed his hitch, too. Shoulders taut and inviting below his button-up. The hand that pushed away your hair lingered at the nape of your neck, between your hair and his precious gift, holding you loosely in place.

He watched the way you took your bottom lip between your teeth nervously before dampening his own with his tongue. You followed the way it dragged across the appealing surface in awe, craving nothing more than to taste the very same spot.

When he said your name a second time, your thighs clenched harder than before. It was deep, almost a groan of sheer desperation and dwindling restraint. His grip on the back of your neck tightened ever so slightly, and you didn’t even have the capacity to question the integrity of what was about to happen because it was happening.

Unwilling to let the opportunity slip away, you reached a shaky hand forward and pressed it to his chest. This time, you were certain his muscles twitched, because you could feel them. Bouncing below your touch, as if your pliancy was a pleasant surprise. Maybe it was to him, but for you, it was the easiest decision in the world.

You held your breath, the invisible magnet between the two of you pulling you both forward until the tip of his nose brushed yours. You heard him inhale, the anticipation and hesitancy in both of your movements nearly too much to bear. A culmination of every desire you had ever experienced reduced to one moment.

The faintest brush was his lips, ghosting over yours, never quite leaning in. Testing the waters. Perhaps he expected you to retreat, dismiss him in a fit of rage. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth lay in the way you grabbed a fist full of his shirt between your fingers, your eyes perpetually following the movement of his mouth. His own hand tightened at the base of your skull, wrapping his fingers through your hair. A low sort of groan resonated in the back of his throat, and you heard the metaphorical thread of his restraint snap. He was pulling you to him, snaking his free arm around your waist to flush you forward, slanting his mouth towards yours with another delicate, mind-numbing brush of his lips, just about to capture yours and —

The sound of voices re-emerging through the back door ceased your fantasy before it even had a chance to begin.

You were off of Jungkook’s lap in seconds, scurrying to your feet and he back to his respective spot in the lounge chair. You stood petrified as Lune and the others filed into the backyard, unable to look at Jungkook while you shakily wrapped your towel back around you. You could hear him, though. Breath as labored and uneven as yours, dark eyes probably blown in the same sort of fear. You fiddled with your hair, trying to look inconspicuous as if you hadn’t just been perched on the lap of your father's boss, a man much older than you, who happened to be the head of the fucking mafia.

You should have felt more shame for the way that reality drenched you in arousal. It coated every inch of your skin; insatiable and growing, only fueled by the weakness in his self-control that you prayed would continue to break. The gift around your neck was an anchor, bounding you to him more than ever before. The feel of his lips, however brief, a beacon of his shared desire, the certainty you felt in it now destined to drive you mad.

Perhaps you would be the one to give in, to lose all sense of control.

You wouldn’t speak about that fleeting moment. At least, not for years to come. But it was only a matter of time.

Because fuck, you wanted him.

So desperately, you weren’t sure you would be able to stop yourself from wanting him until you had him.