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What the fuck? Who’s left here at this hour? 

You gasp, spinning in your chair. Jungkook stands in the doorway of the newsroom, backlit by the hallway lights. His lip piercing snags on the light when he tilts his head, white button-up rolled to the elbows, sleeves shoved up to show off the ink snaking down his veiny forearm.

He should’ve left hours ago, along with the rest of the Fox crew. 

“What are you—”

He doesn’t respond. Rather, he steps inside and closes the door behind him. Slowly, he turns the lock until it clicks. 

Gulping thickly, you inhale, trying to gather whatever oxygen is left in the room now that he’s in it. He takes a few footsteps, nearly towering over you once he reaches your chair. God, you haven’t seen him since before you two… since before…

And god, you want it bad. 

Your eyes drag up the length of him, his slacks unable to hide his half-hard length. He places his forearm on the desk, caging you in. Your mouth is as dry as chalk. 

With a smirk, he says, “You miss me?”

“What—I—Jungkook—”

All the usual banter disappears from his tone. His gaze darkens, something like out of a trashy AO3 fanfiction. Regardless, nothing matters, because the fire that burns between your thighs doesn’t give two shits about your alleged smear campaign against him. 

“Get up,” he orders.

You do. Your legs feel like jell-o, and every part of your brain flags this as irrational, but you listen. He walks you backward until your hip hits the edge of the desk, hand falling to your waist to steady you. Up close, you can see his plump lips, the mole right below his bottom lip. 

Don’t kiss him, don’t kiss him, don’t…

And then his mouth is on yours, like a moth to a flame, one hand fisting in your hair. His other arm sweeps your keyboard, notes, color-coded case file clean off the desk in one motion, pulling you upwards onto the desk so you can fit him between your thighs. Papers flutter to the floor, pens clatter against the carpet. 

All you can feel is the arousal pooling in your panties. He nudges your thighs wider to let his hand desperately under the hem of your dress to see for himself just how bad you crave him. You tug him by his collar toward you, even though there’s not an inch of safe space between. His hot, wet tongue runs along the seam of your mouth, and you let him in, chasing the taste of him. Kissing him isn’t like kissing anyone else. It’s a hit straight to the bloodstream, has you chasing the next one before you’ve even come down from the last.

His thumb brushes over the wet spot on your panties. “Already soaked for me.” your body jolts forward at the glimpse of pleasure he’s allowing, thumb rubbing circles over your clothed clit. “Gotta make this quick, sweetheart. There’s not much time.”

“It’s okay,” you hastily reply. “No one’s coming.” Tugging his jaw toward you, you slot your mouths together like a key in the lock, automatically finding each other with no restraint. His free hand fumbles with his belt buckle, and he’s pushing his jeans down before you even really get a chance to think much more. Even if you wanted to, coherent thoughts aren’t capable of being formed right now. 

You feel his hardened cock over his boxers, stroking the length. When your lips divide from him, a string of saliva remains, but not long before he’s pulling you back into another sloppy kiss. In college, you watched as girls missed exams over a boy, skipped classes just to fuck. You used to make fun of those girls. 

But there’s a version of you right now that would burn the whole newsroom down and not even blink, and you’re starting to understand. 

Your hand comes to touch the exact ridge of his cock, breath rasping against your jaw as he kisses you wherever he can. His fingers dig into your hip like he’s trying to leave proof behind, something to look at when you wake up in the morning. Pushing aside your panties, he pushes into you, every inch of him. “Fuck!” you gasp, legs scrambling to tighten around his waist for stability. You whimper, tip your face back, part your lips. 

“So fucking tight for me,” he grunts, fingertips bruising your skin as he lets his length twitch inside you. He’s just as affected as you are, and the realization of it all almost shocks you, does your head in, world spinning off its axis. Jungkook pulls out carefully, and you feel each inch, each vein, before slamming back in and setting the pace. 

“You’ve wanted this so bad, hm?” he groans, snapping his hips forward, and there it is, his normal amount of insufferable for him during sex. You’re too blissed out to care, to respond, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your skull when his thumb comes to play with your clit. He drops his forehead to yours. “You in love with me yet or what, doll?”

Huh?

Even this is too cocky for Jungkook. Sure, he’s insufferable, sure, he’d absolutely think it, would probably imply it with an eyebrow raise and let you do the mental math yourself. Weird. 

“Y-you wish.” Your nails rake down his arm, scrambling for purchase as his pace hits your sweet spot, walls clenching furiously around his length. 

His hand slides up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face to his, and you brace for another filthy line, something crude enough to make you roll your eyes even as you cream around his cock.

Your eyes bore into his as he says, “Just like you dreamed about, hm?”

You never dreamed about it. Or him. 

Wait. 

You never told him that. 

With a gasp, you bolt upright, sheets twisted around your legs, comforter hanging off the bed. Your heart is running a hundred miles an hour, sweat cooling against your skin, your popcorn ceiling glaring back at you. The aircon hums, indifferent to the fact that you just had a fucking wet dream about Jungkook Jeon. 

Unbelievable. You get to have the best sex of your dream-life and your subconscious still finds a way to ruin it. 

Running a hand over your face, you groan and roll over to check your phone. Your bleary eyes look at the homescreen. 5:30 AM, which is a bummer, since you’ll have to fully up for another day of torture in about an hour. You swipe through your notifications, see what emails are already waiting for you. 

And then, you stumble upon one message from Rosalie. With her new France timezone, it’s probably another picture of her and Taehyung outside some museum, captioned in French like je ne sais quoi even though she took four years of Spanish in high school and you watched her fail the final. You unlock your phone, already composing a sarcastic reply about croissants in your head.

Rosalie: checking in on my mission for you. have you fucked anyone yet???

No ‘bonjour.’ No context. No picture of a pastry. God, you’d rather listen to her recite the French dictionary, anything but this sexual torture. 

You drop the phone face-down on the mattress, and flop on your stomach into the pillow. A guttural scream escapes you, one that you’re sure your neighbors, with your flimsy walls, can certainly hear. The cops should be at your house in five minutes. 

Fuck. You are undoubtedly, tremendously, diabolically screwed. 

Sleep proved itself to be elusive, which, fine, you guess you can’t really expect much else when you’ve woken up from a sex dream with a man you’ve been trying to forget exists below the neck. Your body’s out of whack, running on forty minutes of REM sleep and an old chocolate donut you found in your kitchen. By the time you’ve showered, dressed, and downed half a Celsius on the way, your eyes are drooping shut with every blink, caffeine doing nothing to override the exhaustion brewing inside you. 

Like a zombie, you shuffle through the hallways, badge limply swinging off your hip, and by some miracle make it to your desk without walking into a wall. Everyone else is already deep in the trenches, keyboards clacking, arguing with sources over the phone. 

The sight of your desk gives you motion sickness. It’ll take a miracle to not throw up all over it today. 

You plop into your beside Emma and let out a wheezing sigh, so loud that it causes Emma to glance over at you and snort. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks. It’s what I was going for today.”

“I mean it.” And you really have to commend her ability to be brutally honest, because no one else will report on the fact that your undereye bags are vicious and your socks are mismatched. “Did you get hit by a bus? Trampled by one of those White House tour groups?”

“I didn’t sleep, that’s what happened,” you sigh, pulling your laptop out of your bag and booting the power on. The bright light reflecting off it makes you squint in pain. 

“Groundbreaking,” she dryly chuckles. “None of us sleep. It’s basically a company benefit at this point, right up there with the shitty government health insurance that doesn’t cover therapy.”

You rub your eyes, regretting it when your mascara smudges against your knuckle. Great. Perfect. Add that to the tally of shitty things that happened to you today. “Bad dream.”

Emma’s fingers pause over her keyboard. “What kind of bad dream?”

“You do not want to know.”

Really, she has no idea just how serious you are. Her distaste of Jungkook stems from you. Everything you’ve shared with her about his vile personality has turned her off completely, and you pride yourself in playing a massive role in that. You can’t backtrack on it now. Bad for the brand. 

“Oh my god.” She swivels her chair to face you now, eyes lighting up with a twinkle you haven’t seen in months. “Was it a stress dream? Did you show up to an interview naked? Did Delgado somehow end up in it? Please tell me Delgado was not in your dream, I will need to go home and never come back.” 

You roll your eyes. “Not Delgado.”

“Oh, but it was someone,” she pauses, and you watch the gears rotate in her head. She’s too smart for her own good. “It was a sex dream?”

No comment. 

Her eyes widen. “No fucking way. Who was it? Please say it was that hot NBC correspondent.”

Your eyes dart to your laptop, then back to Emma, then at the ceiling, which looks oddly familiar to the one from your dream… and goddamnit. 

“Oh my god. No,” Emma’s entire expression shifts. “It was him.”

“Pfft,” you wave her off. “Who?”

“You know who.”

“No, I’m stupid.”

“Okay, so it was Jungkook—”

You lunge across the space between your desks and slap your hand over her mouth, nearly upending your laptop in the process. Emma’s pupils blow up, muffled indignation vibrating against your palm. A few rows over, Paul’s head pops up like a prairie dog sensing danger, and some guy from two rows down who never remembers your name swivels his chair around. You can now add assaulting a coworker to your growing list. 

Leaning in, you hiss, “Do you want the entire floor to hear you?!”

Emma peels your hand off her mouth. “I feel like that was an overreaction.”

“Absolutely not. Even implying such a thing is—is—heinous! Firable offense,” you retort. 

You slump back into your chair, dragging both hands down your face, mascara be damned. “It’s not him. Obviously. Why would it be him? That’s insane. That’s the most insane thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Emma studies you with her beady little eyes. “Okay. Fine. It’s not him.”

“Exactly.”

“Though if it was…” she twirls her hair around her finger. “I’m just saying, hypothetically, that’d be like dreaming about Satan.”

“You get it,” you nervously chuckle, and you wonder if she can sense the anxiety radiating off you. “That’s exactly what he is.”

You don’t even get a moment’s worth of peace before Jenna’s voice booms through the office, too chipper for a Tuesday. “Morning, everyone!” She has your coffee on hand, and a brown bag with what you hope is bagels, and there’s a spring in her step. 

Jenna sets your cup on your desk, then drops her designer bag onto her own, clapping her hands together in excitement. “Big day!”

“Hm?” you say, because your brain is currently operating at 15% capacity. Most of your processing power is still tied up in damage control from the Emma questioning and the residual, humiliating warmth unfurling in your belly. 

Jenna slowly blinks, as if she’s questioning whether or not you’ve lost your ability to understand fluent English. “Monroe…? First on the record interview? Everything you’ve been working toward?”

“Oh, that’s not until next week,” you smile. “The 26th.”

Jenna pulls her phone out, tapping at it like the millennial boss she is. “Um. Last time I checked my calendar,” She turns the screen toward you. “Today is the 26th.”

The letters and numbers stare back at you unforgivingly. The digital proof of your incompetence, laughing at you from her screen. 

It feels like a vat of cement slides down your throat, settling somewhere in the pit of your stomach to join the rest of the debris accumulating there. Between the catastrophic mess that is you and Jungkook, you had forgotten. 

Today, you need to sit next to Jungkook Jeon in a room, focus on Monroe and asking the right questions, without a single hitch. 

“Right,” you grin widely. Almost too wide, to the point where you think you look like a serial killer. “The 26th. Yep. Totally knew that.”

Jenna narrows her eyes, inspecting your state. “You feeling okay? You look a little gray.”

“I’m wonderful. Never been better.” You force what you hope resembles a smile and not a grimace. 

Thanks to whatever entity resides up in the clouds, she drops it. “Cool. I’m excited for you. This is a really big deal for CNN, and I mean… if this makes front page, who knows what’s next for you?”

Hopefully, a good night’s sleep. 

Emma’s fingers, which had resumed their usual aggressive typing rhythm, go still. “That’s awesome,” Emma chimes in, although her tone falls flat. “Big win for you.”

“For all of us,” Jenna corrects, “This is a CNN win, Ems. Team effort.”

Emma nods, eyes focused on her computer screen. You really should ask about what articles she’s working on—it feels like you two have hardly a chance to catch up on all things work related. 

“Don’t let Jungkook walk all over you today, [Y/N]. Seize the moment with Monroe,” Jenna gets in these motivational moods where everything’s a team effort until it’s bonus season, and then suddenly, it’s an individual sport. “Grab him by the balls.”

Emma snorts, and you sink lower, lower into your chair until your limbs are dangling off. “Will do.”

“That’s my girl. Go get ‘em!” she smiles before sauntering off with her laptop in tow. 

You slump so far into the chair you nearly slip off. “Good luck grabbing Jungkook Jeon by the balls today,” Emma teases. “Try not to enjoy it too much.”

Oh, if only she knew how that ship has already sailed. Set sail, circumnavigated the globe, and docked itself in your brain, given the whole wet dream situation you’re still repressing.

As it turns out, you are not the cool, calm collected working woman you always perceived yourself to be. The thought of seeing Jungkook Jeon sends your blood pressure into numbers your parents would send you to the hospital for. It’s been easy to avoid him, especially with your system in place. Leave the office by 4 PM sharp, before he’s back from wherever Fox sends him for the day. Route all communication through email, CC Jenna on everything, and keep every subject line clinical. Just how it should be, like you’re not two people who know exactly what the other one sounds like when they cum.

But you knew this was coming. Knew it from the moment you agreed to go to his apartment, from the kiss in that hotel hallway in New York, from every moment you’d subconsciously been collecting like stamps on a passport. Unfortunately, you can’t email your way around a joint on-the-record interview. You can’t CC yourself out of Jungkook Jeon. 

It’s the whole reason why you don’t mess around with coworkers, or entertain anyone who can take away what you’ve built for yourself. You keep people at arm’s length for a reason. A very good, very functional reason that has kept your life orderly and heart intact for years.

Your heartbeat can’t seem to contain itself as you make your way to the room where you know he’s sitting, waiting with some conniving joke to throw you off your game. Maybe he stole your questions somehow, dug through your bag when you weren’t looking. 

At least, that’s what you’re hoping for. That he’ll be exactly that—insufferable, competitive, the Jungkook you’ve spent eight years perfecting an immunity to. 

The alternative is Jungkook being human. A human with real emotions, ones that might surround you. 

Hands trembling, you push the door open, sweaty from your brisk jog across the lawn. Immediately, you spot him. Chair positioned across from the empty couch where Monroe will sit, notepad open on his lap. From the back, you can make out his broad muscles, white button-down pressed and ironed. 

You sit down in the remaining chair beside him, clutching your notebook to your chest. His eyes don’t dare flick over to you, he keeps doodling or writing. You can’t tell from this angle, and you refuse to lean over and find out. 

You open your own notepad instead, scanning through your questions. Luckily, Monroe’s story has already been dissected by you and Jungkook, over and over, and you both are on the same page: help clear Monroe’s name and show Delgado as the misogynistic, cheating pig he is. 

“Your coffee’s over there by the way. Thought you’d want it today.”

Slowly, your head turns. And there it is, sitting on the side table next to your chair, condensation already beading down the plastic cup.

He fucking brought you a coffee. Your coffee. 

Probably no rat poison, you think, staring at it like it might grow legs and walk away. Ninety percent sure. You’d put decent odds on it, given the general trajectory of your relationship with this man over the past few weeks. 

Your throat’s doing that thing again, that vat-of-cement thing, and if you open your mouth right now there’s a tangible risk that something humiliating and honest might fall out of it instead. You take a sip, let the cold hit the back of your throat. 

For a few moments, the sound of his pen scratching on paper, and your slow sips fill the room. 

Words are the one thing you’ve never been afraid of. Words are the one tool you’ve always trusted to get you out of anything. 

Some old, buried, seven-year-old-packing-her-own-lunch part of you knows that thanking him for this means admitting he saw you. Admitting someone paid attention to you without being asked to, without it being owed to them, without a transaction attached. You don’t know what to do with people who give you things and don’t want anything back for it. You’ve never had the practice.

Either way—what possibly could Jungkook want in return from you?

“You’re avoiding me.” He doesn’t meet your gaze, doodling in his notepad as though that’s the most important thing worth focusing on. 

You inhale sharply. “I don’t avoid people, Jeon.” 

He snorts. “Understatement of the fucking century.” 

“Don’t start—-“

“You know, I don’t get you.” His scribbling gets faster, more frantic. Even as you try to avert your gaze, you can practically hear the boiling steam coming out of his ears. “For someone who says they hate me, you sure as hell spend a lot of time doing the fucking opposite.” 

Your brows knit together. “What are you—“

“Never mind.” He slams his notepad shut, finally looking up to meet your eyes. You inhale a sharp breath, your nerve endings lit on fire like a match was struck to them. “It’s not worth my breath, clearly.”

“Jungkook, I don’t think we should talk about this before we’re about to go on the record with Monroe,” you argue, wincing at how casual your words sound. How do you possibly explain that nothing about the way your heart thumps at the thought of him is casual?

Maybe that’s the thing—it was never going to be casual. 

One-time things are for people you meet in hotel lobbies. People whose apartment you’ll never see again, whose families exist only as framed faces you glimpse on your way to the bathroom. People who won’t remember you in a month.

One-time things are transactions. You exchange something physical, then you leave and it’s over. It doesn’t change anything about who you are or what you want or how you see the world.

One-time things don’t leave marks on your breasts that you see every morning when you get dressed. They don’t have photographs of you on their shelves.

One-time things don’t make you feel like you’re at the top of a rollercoaster, looking down, with the fear and excitement of falling wrapped in one. 

He lowers his eyes, playing with his expensive cufflink. It looks familiar, probably from the pictures in his apartment. “Later, we can talk. It’s better than the alternative.” 

“Which is what, exactly?” 

“Not talking to you at all.”  

And just like that, your one simple, load-bearing belief came crumbling down: that your presence was something to be endured. That you were the itch under his collar, the competitor he tolerated because losing has never once been something Jungkook Jeon has done with grace. A thorn in his side. 

But your absence costs him something. The hole you have created in his life takes up more space than you could ever imagine. 

Not once had you ever stopped to envision it like that. Not in the eight years you’ve been arguing in classrooms and newsrooms alike, not in every panel where you both angled for the same soundbite. 

You used to dream of days without Jungkook, a life that’s peaceful, one where you’re not constantly checking behind your shoulder. 

The strange thing is, you can’t picture it. 

There’s no press room where you don’t instinctively know which seat he’s in before you even look. No byline that goes up without some private part of you checking Fox first. No argument you’ve ever won that didn’t taste better because it was him you beat. 

“Jungkook, I don’t want us to—”

“What?” he sneers. “Never speak again? Because you made that clear that’s what you wanted after… it.”

“Was I not supposed to leave after we were done?” 

You’re walking a fine line, one so thin you’re teetering off the edge. 

“Oh, we’re doing this now?” He turns his body to face you, and now you can finally see his face—the undereye bags that droop like he’s hardly getting any sleep either. Exhaustion is spelled out across his entire body. “We had sex, [Y/N]. Great sex, if we’re being honest, which, shockingly, we never are with each other. And then you literally ran out of my apartment like the grim reaper was waiting for you.”

“I had a busy day the next morning—”

He cuts you off, laughs. “God, do you ever listen to yourself when you speak? I’ve seen you corner senators in rooms for less than that.”

Heat crawls up your neck. “Don’t use my job against me.”

But he’s right, he’s so fucking right, and no one has been this honest with you in years. 

“You will interrogate everyone in this goddamn city except for yourself.” He sits back in his chair and huffs a breath. 

For a second, you wonder if he’s done, if he’s gotten it out of his system. 

“I’m not some dick who’s mad you left. I just thought, even after everything, you had more respect for me than that.”

“Because I didn’t know what to say!” It comes out louder than you mean it to, your own voice startling you. “What was I supposed to say? There’s no version of that conversation that doesn’t end with one of us getting hurt.”

He blinks rapidly, and your heart nearly shoots through the floor when you catch what he’s doing. 

“One of us is already hurt,” he murmurs. 

For the first time in longer than you can remember, you don’t have a comeback ready. Not a single sly remark. 

“Sorry I’m late, darlings,” Monroe’s voice echoes through the room, but you can barely register it, ears ringing from Jungkook’s words. A cloud of her perfume wafts through your nostrils, contributing to the nausea settling in your stomach. “Traffic on the parkway was an absolute nightmare.”

When she finally plops herself on the couch across you two, she glances between you and Jungkook. “Well,” she begins, crossing one leg over the other. “Isn’t this cozy?”

“Are you ready?” you ask, hoping to sound as professional as possible, voice curt. 

“As ready as one can be.” She pulls out her compact mirror, looking at herself, although this won’t be recorded on camera. “I suppose you two are ready with your questions.”

“Absolutely,” you and Jungkook reply in unison, and you ignore his eyes on your face. 

“Well, let’s begin,” Monroe clears her throat. 

You and Jungkook reach for your recorders at the exact same moment, sliding onto the coffee table between you and Monroe. The red button flicks on. Old habits die hard, no matter how emotionally compromised you are. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Monroe says, folding her hands in her lap.

Leaning forward, you click your pen on. “Let’s start simple. Recount how you and Delgado met?”

“A policy retreat in Virginia two years ago. I’d heard things about him beforehand. Nothing flattering.”

“Such as?” Jungkook interrupts, just as your lips part. You shoot him a side glare. 

“Arrogant, entitled, snobby, the usual of any senator,” she grimaces. 

“But you got involved with him anyway. Why?” you cut in. It’s Jungkook’s turn to narrowly peer at you. 

She shrugs. “People rarely fall for who they expect to.”

As you write down her words, your hands tremble. 

Jungkook picks up your loose ending; June, the beginning, who initiated it, how they kept it hidden, whether anyone on the Hill suspected. A familiar swell of competition flares back to life beneath your ribs. Even now, even after everything, your body craves to beat him to the better follow-up.

Relief washes over you. At least the rivalry remains intact. 

Monroe gives you the story in fragments. You have to actively fight the urge to glance at Jungkook, see if he’s making the same connections you are.

Secret hookups in rooms. 

Someone almost caught them. 

Always giving enough just to keep her around. 

You ask about September, and her posture immediately flinches. “An intern caught me leaving his office. That’s how it started falling apart.”

“Falling apart how?” Jungkook inquires. 

“He started creating distance. After all, we had just been caught, and we were about to be front page news. But I guess he had already decided he was going with a different story.”

Your heart buzzes in your chest, at the thrill of the story cracking wide open. 

“There’s been reporting,” you say, “suggesting the Senator has characterized you in private conversations with colleagues as unstable and vindictive. That you were who pursued him.” You watch her face for the tell. “Is that accurate?”

“He’s called me a lot of things. None of them true, all of them convenient. As a man, he gets to walk into any room in this city and be believed. I have to prove everything, and they’ll say I’m fake.”

“And you’ve never spoken publicly about the imbalance,” Jungkook says. 

Monroe dryly chuckles. “What would be the point of that? He talks, and somehow I get punished,” she pauses, staring at her manicured nails. “We were in love. He was going to propose. I have a text message where he told me he’d never felt like this about anyone. I could show it to you right now and none of it would matter. In politics, a man’s word outweighs a woman’s proof every single time.”

Jungkook's pen has gone still on his notepad. 

“I’ve never deleted a single text from him,” she continues. “I can try to hate him, but I can’t bring myself to delete any of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

She turns her rings, wedding band notably absent. “I regret being surprised by how it ended. I shouldn’t have been. Men like him are always upfront about who they are. I just chose to ignore it.”

“What would you want people to take away from this?” you ask. 

“That loving someone doesn’t make you stupid.” Her eyes bounce between you and Jungkook. “It’s what makes us, even politicians, human.”

You peek at Jungkook from your peripheral. He’s looking at you. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” you say, and Jungkook nods in agreement, both of you reaching for your recorders, thumbs hovering over the stop button. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Monroe says, rising and smoothing down her skirt, “I’m going to need a moment outside.”

Perfume fills the air as she vanishes out the doors. 

Flipping through your notes, you highlight quotes to share with Jenna. Beside you, Jungkook powers down his recorder, sets it gently on the table, rubs a hand over his face. 

Your instinct is to peer over his shoulder at his notes, steal a few key points. Maybe set fire to his belongings. Yet, the urge never comes. 

His gaze rose to yours, big eyes pinning you in your chair, and every muscle in your body goes taut. 

You are in so much fucking trouble. 

“I’m gonna check on her,” you say, scrambling toward the door before he can get another word out. 

The hallway offers minimal relief. In no particular direction, you walk, putting distance between you and the room that holds Jungkook. 

It feels as though Monroe handed you a preview of your future and you’re too far gone to turn around. 

A cough interrupts your train of thoughts, coming from somewhere past the end of the hall. You follow it until you reach a set of doors cracked open, overlooking the floors below. Monroe stands there, one arm wrapped around her waist, other lifting a cigarette to her pursed lips. Smoke floats up into the air, disappearing before taking shape. You hesitate in the doorway, hand resting against the frame, unsure if you’re intruding on something private.

She’s not necessarily the friendliest. But you step out either way. 

As you push the door open further, it creaks, announcing your entrance. Monroe peeks over her shoulder, then turns back. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, settling against the railing a respectful few inches away, 

“I’m okay. Been better.”

“That bad?” You almost slap yourself at your words. Of course it’s that bad. She’s practically the laughingstock of the Capitol. 

“Reliving my failed romantic escapades on camera for a national audience? Never better, actually.” A dry, humorless huff of a laugh. “You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll pass,” you crack a smile. 

“Smart girl.” She taps ash over the railing, watching it scatter and disappear before it hits the ground. Then, places her sunglasses over her eyes as if that’ll shield her from your reading of her emotions. 

For a while, neither of you says anything, silence filled by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of wind through the garden hedges below.

“If you told me two years ago how this would end, I wouldn’t have changed a damn thing,” Monroe studies the cherry of her cigarette. 

“Wow,” is all you can utter. 

“That’s love. Makes you do crazy shit,” she smirks. “I was always a rational girl. Top of my class at law school. And then I let some dude with wrinkled suits gaslight me and my career.”

You let out an undignified snort.

“You had options. Your career, your reputation, your independence. You could have walked away at any point. Why didn’t you?” you ask, and Monroe takes a long drag of her cigarette, letting the smoke disappear into the cool air. 

She peers at you over her sunglasses as if she were sizing you up. “Darling, you really think power protects you from feeling things?”

“Doesn’t it give you the power not to?” You press further, and you don’t even know what you’re looking for from her anymore. Maybe something to dull the ache in your brain.

She cocks a brow, tapping her cigarette to let the ash fall. “Not really. Power, in my opinion, gives you everything except immunity from your own heart.”

You scoff, struggling to hide the anxiety that coils inside your stomach. “But you knew who Delgado was. You knew his history. You knew he’d—” 

“Hurt me? Of course I knew,” she chuckles, inhaling again. With her next exhale, she says, “But knowing something intellectually and protecting yourself from it emotionally are two very different things.”

“So you let it… happen?” 

“I didn’t let anything happen. I made a choice. I chose to love someone who could hurt me. You can’t live life with the fear that people will hurt you. I have spent my entire life being strong and strategic and all the things I dreamed of as a little girl. And you know what that gets you? Lonely. So fucking lonely.” 

You can’t look at her. Can’t let her see whatever expression is on your face right now.

She drops her cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of her shoe. “May I ask you something personal?”

You swallow thickly, a lump of cement dragging down your throat. You nod. She continues on, “The other journalist working on this story. Jungkook Jeon. Is he the reason you’re asking me all these questions?”

“No, no,” you rush to argue, but the speed in which you deny only adds further gasoline to the flames, to what she possibly already knows. “No, this is for the story—”

Monroe’s lips spread into a tight smile, a pitying one. “I know what it looks like when someone’s trying to logic their way out of feeling something.”

Bile rises up your throat, and despite the fact that you’re outside, it suddenly feels like there’s not enough air in your lungs. 

“Does he know?" Monroe asks. 

“There’s nothing to know.”

Your stomach churns. Emotions whirl inside you like a hurricane, a storm that was brewing offshore for years, gaining momentum everytime you told yourself the skies were clear. 

Monroe chuckles, reaching into her purse for another Marlboro. “That’s what I said too. Right up until I couldn’t say it anymore.”

“It’s really not like that with us.” You try to steady your tone, but it comes out uneven. “He’s… he’s competitive, and he doesn’t care about who he hurts in the process to get to the top. He’s too ambitious, cocky, too—”

“Too much like you?”

Everything feels off-kilter. Maybe it’s the cigarette smoke hazing your brain, making every fuzzy at the seams to where you might think she’s right. You open your mouth to argue—to list all the ways you’re different, all the reasons this isn’t the same—but the words die in your throat because they’re not real reasons at all. They’re excuses.

“He and I couldn’t be further from the same.” 

“Oh, honey,” Her eyes soften, and you concentrate hard to ignore her gaze. “You know that’s not true.”

Feebly, you mumble, “It is.”

“[Y/N]...” she shakes her head, ashing her cigarette. “The heart doesn’t care about things like success or career goals. It just shows up and changes everything you thought you knew about yourself.”

Your fingernails dig crescent moons into your palms. “It’s just professional rivalry. Tension… it’s nothing more.”

Monroe studies you. Looks at you, past the wall you’ve built up, past the facade you’ve been hiding underneath. It’s as though she’s stripped away every defense you’ve ever built, seeing straight through to the parts of yourself you’ve spent decades burying. She takes a deep inhale of her cigarette, then offers it out to you subtly, but you shake your head. 

With a soft smile, she says, “I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

She’s wrong, you know she is, because that’s not possible. And despite everything you tell yourself, even though you’re terrified of the answer, you ask, “How does he look at me?”

“Like you’re the only one worth debating.”

The cigarette falls from her hands to the floor below, letting the flame burn out on its own.

“Y-You don’t know him.”

“I don’t need to to recognize a look. I dated a man who works in politics, remember?” Monroe pulls out her lighter, works absently at the flint. 

“It’s just really not that.”

Except maybe it is, and you want out. You need out right now. 

“Why not?” she presses, lips curving up. 

“Because… well, I told you.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she lowers her voice an octave, “Not that I’d have anyone to tell. God knows I’ve burned through most of my friends this year. But for what it’s worth… and I recognize it’s coming from someone whose life just imploded on camera, so take it accordingly… avoiding it does more harm than good.”

For once, your brain, so quick to build a case, so practiced at finding the counterpoint, draws a blank. 

“Anyway,” Monroe straightens. “I should head back in before your charming, transparent colleague comes looking for both of us.”

“He’s not that charming.”

She cocks a brow, shakes a head, and walks past you down the hallway. 

The smell of smoke still lingers in the air, and you feel lightheaded, world tilting on its axis. 

When you left his apartment, you weren’t thinking about whether or not you made the right choice. You needed to escape. It needed to be over, terrified of what would happen if it didn’t, if you let it continue, if your toe dipped even deeper in that pool. So worried it would begin to mean more than it already did, that your heart would be on the line for a fleeting orgasm and a man who knows you better than you know yourself. 

Because guys like Jungkook Jeon… confident guys, intelligent guys, ones that can command a room with their presence, guys like that break you apart without a second thought. 

And you can’t deal with the wreckage anymore.

But it doesn’t matter, because some twisted part of you doesn’t care about your constant denial. 

He wants you for some reason, and possibly, you might want him too. 

You set the glass down and take a look around the bar. 

The place is called Coyote’s—it’s the first place you stumbled upon on your drive home from work. There's a coyote skull mounted above the door, walls wood-paneled and covered in neon beer signs and old license plates. The floor is sticky with mysterious liquids, heels glued to them when you walked in. Somebody’s boots are keeping time to the Zac Brown Band song bleeding out of the speakers, and two men in actual, non-ironic Wranglers are playing pool in the back while eyeing the girls in skimpy outfits. 

It’s a disorienting environment, especially when you’re still dressed in a blazer and slacks after your first day at your new job. 

You had upped sticks in need of a change from New York City, without bothering to think much about the vast differences between Austin, Texas and New York City. 

New York City bars had exposed brick and cocktail menus with names like “Forbidden Muse” and men who wore blazers for their fancy, high-paying finance jobs. Nobody dared to wear cowboy boots, definitely not when they were surrounded by their stuffy superiors. 

New York City was crawling with men that were exactly like your conniving, narcissistic ex-boyfriend, Daniel. 

Fucking Daniel.

You take another sip of the whiskey you don’t like.

You’d caught him on a Wednesday. Not even a Friday night—a Wednesday. He couldn’t even be bothered to cheat on you on a respectable day of the week. You had come home early from work, key in the door, bag on your shoulder, and there he was in your shared apartment. Balls deep in a girl who was, insultingly, very pretty.

Then, he had the nerve to act surprised to see you in the apartment you two shared. 

Texas was never supposed to be in the cards. In fact, it wasn’t even a blip on your radar. It was a job offer that paid two times what you made in New York, but giving up your city lifestyle had sounded deranged. You only applied because a very eager recruiter reached out to you and begged you to. 

But getting cheated on really put things into perspective for you, and before you knew it, being a marketing director at a regional firm in Austin that paid good money, offered a fresh start, far enough away that you wouldn’t have to see Daniel’s face sounded ideal. You’d accepted it at 11PM that same Wednesday, half a bottle of wine deep.

You look down at your outfit again. Silk blouse underneath your blazer, tailored slacks and pointed heels. Nothing like the girls line-dancing by the jukebox, batting their eyelashes flirtatiously at the men with cowboy hats on. 

Honestly, you didn’t think cowboys were real up until you landed in Texas three days ago. Lo and behold, they’ve managed to outdo your wildest fantasies. 

Clearly, you’ll need to redo your wardrobe if you plan on enjoying your new gig. Your boss wore a bandana around his neck in the office, and if that was the norm, you were either severely underdressed or accidentally cosplaying as someone’s accountant.

You take another slow scan around the room, mostly to give yourself something to do that isn’t drinking whiskey you hate and thinking about Daniel.

The women here seem to move differently. Easy and dallying, hips finding the beat of the music. A line of them near the dance floor step and turn in unison, boots striking the wood, and there’s something hypnotic about it—they laugh without covering their mouths, take up space without apologizing for it. Not for the first time tonight, you feel like you’re watching a nature documentary from behind glass. The men in Texas are far more shameless, with no pretense of disinterest. A guy in a tan Stetson tips his hat when a brunette catches him staring. She grins back, winking. 

Your gaze drifts toward the back, toward the crack of pool balls and low laughter. Groups of men pile around the table, clearly big-dicking each other. They all look similar. Tall, muscular, chiseled, charismatic…

Your eyes land on the far right of the pool table, where one man in a black cowboy hat stands. His arm is covered in tattoos, hair poking out underneath the hat in what you assume is a mullet. His tongue pokes out, toying with the lip rings adorning his bottom lip. 

And despite the commotion buzzing around the bar, or the game of pool that’s been ongoing for at least an hour, he’s not paying attention to any of it. He’s watching you. 

Your neck snaps back toward the direction of the bar, struggling to focus as the bartender, Stacey, pours bourbon into a glass for a patron. You’d barely gotten a full look, but you’d caught enough, you think. Broad shoulders filling out a black button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black cowboy hat pulled low and a black bandana tied loose at his throat. 

Fuck. You need another drink. Or about two shots of straight whiskey to handle the kind of eye contact that man is making with you. 

“Uh, Stacey?” You’d only learned her name an hour ago, but now’s as good a time as any to use it. She whips to face you, blond hair tousled from the rush. “Am I able to get another glass of whiskey?”

“Sure thang, sweetheart.” She grins. 

While she pours, your eyes make a point to not care about the man staring you down across the room. He can’t possibly be looking at you, what with your corporate outfit, heels, and resting bitch face. There are better options in this bar, ones who know how to two-step and ride a horse. 

Stacey places the glass of whiskey in front of you. “This one’s on the house. Looked like you needed it.”

Before you can protest, she tosses you a wink and saunters off to serve two men. Clearly, you’re not as unreadable as you thought you were. 

The brown liquid slithers down your throat, burning your lungs. The thing about drinking whiskey neat is that you’re not going to remain a respectful amount of tipsy for long. Instead, you’re going to teeter on the line of drunk, something you don’t normally allow yourself to get. 

And transparently, drunk you wants another look at the dark-haired cowboy. 

Maybe you should let her. Maybe you should stop being so weird about it. It’s not like you’re not going to marry the man. Maybe you just need to get fucked.

Your eyes scan the crowd, lingering on every man wearing the same black bandana, half-convinced one of them might transform into him. With each passing moment, your heart skips in your chest like a toddler playing hopscotch. 

Maybe he went home. Probably realized the women here were duds and made his grand exit. Honestly for the best. You can’t even remember the last time you flirted with someone who wasn’t Daniel, and look how spectacularly that turned out.

You down the rest of your whiskey in one go. Stacey whistles playfully from the sidelines. All you can manage is a feeble smile in response. It feels as though the lights dim a little lower, the sound of boots hitting the hardwood floor echoing in your ear. Euphoria pumps through your bloodstream, and then Country Girl (Shake It For Me) starts blasting on the jukebox, and well—your brain just sort of short-circuits. 

“Can’t possibly be comfortable in that outfit, sugar.”

Warm breath fans against your ear, woodsy cologne trailing close behind. Your heart thumps, almost as if the organ knows who it is before you do. 

Slowly, you turn to face the owner of the voice. 

The first thing you see is a black bandana. Your eyes travel further up, up, up, until they snag on the plumpest mouth you’ve ever seen on a man, two metal rings looped through the bottom lip. They continue their climb, landing on captivating eyes that sink their teeth into you. Dark brown tresses poke out from under the brim of his hat, but you can still make out every inch of his sharp features. 

“Never seen you ‘round here before.” He raises an eyebrow. “Anyone with that outfit on gotta be from the East. Ain’t seen a girl in heels in this bar in my whole life.”

“Maybe I like standing out,” you say, tilting your chin up and puffing your chest out. The whiskey’s doing wonders for your nerve. “Someone’s got to remind you boys what real shoes look like.”

The edges of his mouth curve upwards, pondering if he’s impressed or amused by your bite. Secretly, you hope it’s both. 

“Sugar, those things are a workplace hazard. You’re tellin’ me you can run in ‘em?” Under the dim lights, his eyes twinkle, setting your chest ablaze with something other than the burn of whiskey. 

“I don’t need to run anywhere. I’m a New Yorker. We walk at a fast pace in 7-inch heels.” You’re not well-versed in the whole flirting thing, but this has to be what it’s like… right?

That gets a real laugh out of him, head tipping back, and you feel an absurd little spike of pride at having caused that sound. 

“That so?” He moves from behind you, leans an elbow against the bar, angling his body toward you. He travels in languid movements, like he’s got nowhere else on earth to be. “And here I thought you Yankees just had bad manners and worse weather.”

 “We’re not rude,” you scoff. “We’re blunt. Honest. There’s a difference.”

He takes a step closer, and the scent of him encroaches, your brain turning fuzzy. “Mm. Didn’t realize those were the same thing.”

“Cousins. Close enough.” You shouldn’t have downed that drink. Now you really need another, because you’re certain you won’t make it out of this conversation in one piece.

“Then let me ask you somethin’, since you’re so honest.” His eyes flicker to your parted lips before jumping back to your eyes. 

“Go ahead.”

The music comes to a halt, and Carrie Underwood’s voice blasts through the speakers. You’ve never really liked her music all that much, but her misplaced pep talk might be exactly the kind of bad influence you need.

His head tilts in your direction. “You ever met a Southern boy before me?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“So you must not have heard ‘bout Southern charm, sugar. That’s supposed to be our whole thing down here.” His eyes dare you, jaw twitching with glee at the way you press your thighs together.

“I’ve heard that.” Carelessly, you shrug. “Haven’t seen much evidence of it yet.”

“Keep talkin’ like that and I might have to prove it to you,” he says, voice only a little mocking. 

Your body can’t help but lean in his direction, like sunflowers facing the light on a warm summer’s day. “I’d like to see you try, cowboy.”

“Mm.” The man hums, studies you for another moment. Then, he straightens and reaches for the brim of his hat. “Well. Where are my manners?”

He pulls the hat off his head, revealing disheveled chestnut hair that’s longer than you anticipated. You want to run your hands through it, know what it feels like to tug on the locks. The gesture is almost comically formal against the backdrop of the bar, but on him, it doesn’t look like a joke at all. He reaches for your hand. His palm is warm, calloused, swallowing yours whole. “Jungkook.” His eyes don’t dare leave your face. “And who do I got the pleasure of speakin’ to?”

A shuddering breath escapes you, legs clenching. 

“[Y/N],” you stumble over your words, trying to find your voice. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. Must be my lucky night,” he grins, and you have to wonder if he says that to every girl who isn’t from here. You stick out like a sore thumb in this bar, but how his eyes track your every movement suggests he doesn’t mind one bit.

“What’re you drinkin’, sugar?” he asks, nodding toward your empty glass. Oh. That. You had almost forgotten it was there, lonely and sad. 

“Whiskey.”

His eyebrows lift, mouth curving into disbelief. “You sure about that? You don’t seem like a whiskey girl to me.”

He’s right, which only makes it worse. Turning to the bar, he lifts two fingers. “Stace. You mind makin’ one of those strawberry margaritas for our city girl here?”

Stacey’s already grinning cheek-to-cheek before she even gets close, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Absolutely.”

While Stacey works, you take the opportunity to look at him properly without the panic of being caught. He’s tall, like most cowboys that are written in romance novels. His chest looks like it could double as a wall. A very nice wall you wouldn’t mind being pressed against. 

Stacey slides the margarita across the bar, sugar-rimmed and flamingo pink. “Here you go, hon.”

“Add it to my tab,” Jungkook says, not bothering to glance over.

“Of course, Kook.” She tosses you another friendly wink, and the swell of confidence bubbles up inside you.

He nudges the glass another inch toward you with two fingers. It’s a little dominant, something you’re not normally used to. But you follow the order, taking a sip. It’s exactly what you wanted. Cold, candied, the tequila barely whispering under the sugar, and you have to stop yourself from outright moaning at the bar.

“So why you out here, sugar?” he asks, “Don’t seem like a bar for a girl like you.” Jungkook places his hat atop his head again, and you’re almost devastated to see his hair go. 

You set the glass down, lick a stray grain of sugar off your bottom lip. His eyes stalk the movement. “I live here now. I work downtown.”

His gaze doesn’t move from your mouth fast enough. “Like a corporate job?”

“Indeed.” As you speak, you notice his pupils are blown so wide there’s hardly any brown left. He hasn’t moved his eyes from your lips. “And I’m assuming you ride horses?”

He barks out a laugh, loud enough that a couple heads turn near the pool table. “A little more than that.” His finger points off toward the back of the bar, toward a broad-shouldered man laughing with the group by the pool table. “That’s Namjoon. Owns a ranch a few miles out. I handle his shit. Y’know, paperwork, horses, bulls, all of it.”

“So you’re a rancher.” You toy with the straw in your glass, and you can’t miss the way he seems entranced by every move you make. 

“I’m a lotta things.” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “Rancher’s one of ‘em.”

“What are the others?” 

There’s something lingering in the air. New city, new boy, new life. You’re back to square one, the bottom of the societal food chain. You get to forge your own path here in Austin. For one night—and maybe other nights—you get to be someone else. 

“Depends who’s askin’.”

“I am,” you retort coolly. 

“Then I guess you’ll find out,” he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear “Eventually.”

The bar noise fades around you, Carrie Underwood’s righteous fury bleeding into another tune, until it’s just the two of you and a few inches of space neither of you seem all that interested in closing yet. “Hmm,” you hum. “Horses and bulls sound dangerous.”

He chuckles. “Knowin’ how to handle somethin’ wild is mostly about knowin’ when to be gentle and when not to be.”

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?” 

“Could be." He shrugs. “But also, I just really like my job, sugar.”

“As do I,” You take another sip, making a point to pucker your lips around the straw. 

Jungkook’s gaze is different, far more scandalous than any other man you’ve been with. It almost feels dirty when his eyes scan your face. “Figured someone like you’d be home by now. What is this, your first night out since you got here?”

It is, in fact, your first night out since you got here, and you’d rather die than confirm it.

“I wanted to immerse myself in the culture,” you say instead, lying through your teeth with admirable conviction. “It’s one of my greatest fantasies, actually. Cowgirls, horses, the whole lot of ’em.”

“Oh really?” he smirks. You’re distracted by the strand of hair flopping from beneath his hat, and you wonder if the curtain matches the drapes. “How ‘bout cowboys?”

“I’m still gathering data on them.” You tap the rim of your glass thoughtfully. “Field research, if you will.”

His knee brushes against yours as he leans in. The man has never heard of personal space. “I would love to hear your findings.” 

“Well, actually, I think I need to run a few final experiments.”

“Like what?” He tuts, fingers migrating from the bartop to your pant-covered thigh. They linger, not pressing down harshly. “Humor me, sugar.”

A burst of confidence rushes through you. You get one chance, and you really, really, really don’t want to make the same mistakes again. Reaching up, you pluck the hat right off his head. 

It’s heavier than you expect, but soft in your grasp. Warm, like it’s been sitting against him long enough to steal some of his body heat for itself. You settle it on your own head, tipping it back so it doesn’t slide down over your eyes. You must look ridiculous, blazer and silk blouse under a cowboy hat that’s seen ranch work.

But how he’s looking at you, you might as well be wearing nothing at all.

Jungkook’s jaw goes taut, gaze darkens, and the fingers placed on your thigh flex before relaxing. 

“Well, sugar.” His voice drops several octaves, and the whole bar spins on its axis until you nearly topple over. “If you’re gonna wear my hat, you know what they say?”

Your response is no louder than a whisper. “What?”

Smirking, he leans in until his breath ghosts your ear. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Oh god. 

Your eyes flicker down to his lips, then his captivating eyes, and he follows suit. If he really wanted to, he could probably kiss you right now, could take you right on the bartop and you’d let him. The sugar from the margarita and the whiskey swirls in your stomach, mixing with butterflies you haven’t felt in years. There are moles scattered across his face, a few near his lip and some under his cheek, and you think that you could connect them into a constellation if you had a pen and several more drinks.

But then he steps back, and tips two fingers toward the brim of the hat that’s no longer on his head.

“I’ll see you ‘round, sugar.”

He strolls off toward his friends, and you blink into the void, hat heftier on your head than when you first put it on. 

God help you, you really want that ride. 

Frankly, this is the most desperate thing you’ve ever done. 

That’s really saying something, considering one time, you sprinted after a situationship four blocks down Fifth Avenue in four inch heels, caught your foot on a crack in the sidewalk, and introduced your face to the concrete in front of a hot dog stand. Or, there’s also the time you showed up to a first date a week early, realized halfway through appetizers that something felt off, checked your phone, and had to sit alone with a bread basket before leaving. 

All of that pales in comparison when you realize you’re sitting at the same bar, in your corporate outfit, awaiting a man who you may never lay eyes on again. 

You take a nervous sip of your strawberry margarita, the periphery of your eyes doing more work than usual. Coyote’s is quieter tonight, a few stragglers nursing drinks at tables, and playing something slow on the jukebox. No pool game in the back, no men in cowboy hats, no broad shoulders filling out a black button-down. 

You’ve probably made a colossal mistake. 

“Need a refill on the marg?” Stacey circles back after tending to some older men at the end of the bar, brows raised.

“Nah, I’m okay,” you sigh. “Thanks though.”

Slowly, Stacey looks around the bar, stares at the drunk men at the end of the bar, and decides you’re more worth her time. She places both elbows on the bartop and leans in. “You lookin’ for someone special, hon?” 

“No!” you yelp, practically leaping out of your stool in dissent. “Absolutely not. I just—don’t even know anyone here. I just like the margaritas.”

“Uhu,” Stacey nods, something in her eyes twinkling. 

“I really do. You make a mean marg.”

“Sure you do,” she toothily grins. Her eyes pan over your outfit, a similar vibe to the one you wore yesterday to work. Today, you’re wearing a silk blouse and a pencil skirt that jugs your curves. “You know, most people take their work clothes off before they come out for a drink.”

“Well, I came straight from the office.” You square your shoulders, puff out your chest as though you have something to prove. 

“Two nights in a row?”

“I’m testing out the bars in the city,” you quip. 

“Mhm.” She doesn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth, and she’s not even trying to hide it. “What is it you do, exactly?”

“Marketing director. I just started.” You take a sip of your cocktail to bide time as Stacey widens her eyes in shock. 

“No kidding.” Her eyebrows lift. “What brought you all the way out to Austin? You don’t exactly scream Texas, no offense.”

“None taken,” you giggle. You’re not entirely sure how your silk blouse and skirt could come off as anything but condescending, uppity New Yorker. “Believe it or not, an ex-boyfriend who doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants.”

Stacey’s pupils blow up, and she throws her head back to cackle, loud enough that one of the older men down the bar glances over. “Oh, honey,” she says, reaching for the cocktail shaker without seeming to realize she’s doing it. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“Well,” you swallow, exhale a shaky breath. And then you say, keeping your eyes on nothing but your near-empty glass, “My boyfriend of three years was always upset I was busy at work. He said I cared too much about it, but not about him. I thought I was doing a good job at dividing my time equally… but I guess not. Found him in bed with a girl on a Wednesday night in our apartment we shared.”

Your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. Retelling the story allows you to replay the night like a horror movie film outtake reel. And everytime, you ask yourself, how could you be so stupid? So naive? So nonchalant?

Stacey slides a fresh margarita across the bar. “Please tell me you at least threw something.”

“Nope. Just stood in the doorway, said his name, turned around and left.” Even now, it’s as clear as day; you marched out, heart drumming in your chest as you fled down the stairs of your building, not even bothering to listen if he even said your name or chased after you. It didn’t matter either way, because he never once tried to beg for you back.

He let you go. 

“Men,” Stacey snorts, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t know a good thing if it slapped them ‘round the head.”

“Men,” you agree.

Sometimes, you can’t help but blame yourself, and wonder if it’s less about men, and more about your inability to care about anything but your career growth. 

“You know what your problem is?” she says, pointing at you. "You’ve been datin' the wrong kind of man. All that New York finance guy, blazer-wearing, artisanal-coffee-drinking bullshit. What you need is a little Southern charm.”

“Oh really?” You have to hide the smile that threatens to bloom on your face. 

“I’m just sayin’ what the people are thinkin’.” 

“No one, especially me, is thinking that.” Except you are. More precisely, of one that loaned you his hat and never claimed it back. 

“It’s what I’m thinking," she says, wiping down the bar. "You ever even dated someone who works with their hands? Outdoors?”

You open your mouth to argue and realize you don't have a rebuttal for that. Every man you’ve ever dated has had some stuffy job, like finance or law, which is somehow the most depressing thing that’s popped into your head all week. 

“I just need to get back on my feet,” you say instead. “New city, new job, new start. I’m not looking for anything.”

“Sure, sure.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll pretend I believe ya.”

You slump forward on the bar. “I just need to focus on myself for a while. Get settled. Figure out what I actually want without someone else’s opinion clouding everything.”

“Healthy, but you’re no fun,” she pouts, flinging the rag over her shoulder. “Look hun, your ex sounds like a real piece of shit. But you deserve way better than that.”

“Yeah,” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “I’m starting to think so too.”

Stacey wipes her hands on the towel over her shoulder, turning back to you. “A fresh start in Austin, Texas. You picked a hell of a place for it.”

“Yeah…” Your eyes avert around the shoddy bar. You try not to make eye contact with the coyote head. “It’s a lot.”

“You’ll love it. Give it a month.”

“You think?”

“Ella Langley didn’t write Choosin’ Texas ‘bout us just for shits n giggles,” she chuckles. “People come here thinking it’s temporary and then they wake up one day and they’ve got boots and a favorite two-step song.”

A shiver runs down your spine. “Good god.”

“That’s just Texas, hon.”

You laugh, and she looks awfully pleased with herself. The two men down the bar gesture her over, and her eyes flick over your shoulder before a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. 

“Southern charm might be closer than you think,” she murmurs, and then saunters off to her customers. 

Shaking your head, you take a sip of the margarita, and you swear it’s stronger than your last. Stacey clearly plans on fucking you over. 

“Didn’t think lightning struck the same place twice. Guess I was wrong, sugar.”

The hair on the back of your neck stands tall. Anxiety and desire blend in your stomach until the two become indecipherable. 

The sip of your margarita stalls its path down your throat, making a home, and an embarrassing croak exits your mouth. Your eyes water, one hand firmly placed on the bar, looking like one of those warning ads for choking customers.

A strong hand lands between your shoulder blades. Pats once, twice, with an ease that makes your heart rate kick up a notch. 

“Easy there. Bar’s not the place to go out.” You can hear the sarcasm in his tone, the smirk that’s probably curled upon his pink lips. 

“I’m fine,” you wheeze. 

“Uhu.” He takes the stools beside you, coming into plain view. You;re not sure what you expected him to look like this evening, but somehow, he looks even more delectable than last time. He’s sporting a new cowboy hat, a black one with white detailing that matches his jeans and top. Once he settles, he signals to Stacey for a drink with two fingers. “Surprised this place didn’t scare ya away after the first time.”

You square your shoulders, wiping the final tears from your eyes. “New Yorkers are resilient.”

“Hmm,” he mindlessly hums, letting his eyes drag up and down your figure, a clear assessment that has your thighs clenching to hide the arousal pooling in your panties. “Nice to see you again, by the way.”

There’s a smudge of something on his forearm, below the edge of his tattoos. Dirt, maybe, or grease. You wonder if he came straight from work, or errands, or whatever it is Jungkook does with his day besides looking like a wet dream. 

“Is corporate attire all you own, sugar?” He tosses bills on the table as Stacey slides a cold beer toward him. You do your best to ignore her pointed smirk. 

“Are boots and hats all you wear?” you retort. 

He laughs and leans an elbow on the bar, angling toward you the same way he had last time, almost as if his body naturally points in your direction. As you gaze into his brown irises, you can’t stop thinking, can’t slow the waterfall of thoughts gliding down your brain. You’re not from here, don’t dress like anyone in this bar, don’t know the words to a single song on that jukebox, and can’t two-step to save your life. There are women in this city right now who are objectively better suited for him. Your brain implodes trying to understand his interest in you. 

“Can I ask you something?” you say.

“Go ‘head.” He takes a swig of his beer, lips shiny from the liquid.

“Why are you over here?” 

He deadpans. “Come again?”

“I mean…” Vaguely, you gesture around the room, at the bar that’s filling up with women laughing near the jukebox. “You could be anywhere in this bar right now. Talking to anyone. So why are you sitting here talking to me?”

A flash of expressions shift across his face. “You think you’re not worth talking to?”

“Never said that.”

“Implied it,” he grins. He pauses, traces the condensation on his beer bottle. “Maybe I’m intrigued.”

A feeble laugh escapes you, but he doesn’t mirror the action. Oh. He’s not joking. “For the record, I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re real terrible. Don’t know why I bother.”

“I am serious. I have no plans on learning either.”

He holds your gaze for a moment. “Never asked you to get on one, sugar.” His eyes rake over your face as if he’s searching for more, and finally, he pushes on, voice steady. “I’m over here because I wanted to be. That a problem?”

It’s an offer as much as it is an out. If you told him it was a problem, you’re certain he’d leave you alone, never talk to you again. But you really, really don’t want that. 

“Not at all.”

Jungkook nods in finality and takes a pull of his bar. Silence follows, but it’s not uncomfortable. 

“Can I ask you something now?” he says.

“Fair’s fair.”

“You don’t got someone back in New York, right?” 

“No,” you sigh. “Not anymore, at least.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “He let you go?”

“Kind of.” You don’t really feel like elaborating, and he lets it go, but you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches, there and gone in a breath. 

“His loss.”

“What about you?” you wonder. “You’ve got to have someone, or something.”

“Ain’t got a girl,” he shrugs. His body slants toward you so that your knees brush. Your cheeks warm at the contact, but he doesn’t move away. 

“No?” Your margarita is watered down and vile now, but you take a sip anyway. 

“Ranch takes up most of my time. Sun up to sundown, most days. Not a lot of room left over for much else.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” you ask. 

He considers it, tilts the neck of his beer bottle between two fingers. “Sometimes… but it’s a good life. I don’t need a lot. Just the ranch and the right company, every now and then.”

His pupils are blown so wide you can’t spot any brown in them. He’s staring at your parted lips. “I could probably settle for the right girl. A good girl. Smart, funny, prettiest in the damn room.”

You think he’s talking about you. He must be. It might be wishful thinking, but just maybe, just this time…

“That’s a very specific type,” you retort. 

“Gettin’ more specific by the minute.” With that, he takes a swig of his beer, eyes never leaving yours. 

You pick up your own drink, taking a long sip that burns your esophagus. “Stacey made this too strong,” you awkwardly laugh. It feels like someone turned the temperature up on the thermostat by ten degrees, shut all the fans off. 

“Stace always does,” Jungkook shrugs. 

When he sets his beer down, you can calculate how little space exists between his stool and you. Mere centimeters divide the two of you, and you can soak up his scent, a woodsy musk. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to show you the ranch sometime. Horses get real excited around pretty girls. Scout’s honor.” He holds up two fingers. 

“You were a boy scout?” you laugh. 

“Three weeks in the 4th grade. Got kicked out for letting the ponies loose at the state fair though,” he shrugs. “In my defense, they looked very unhappy.”

He watches, mystified, as you laugh again. “I don’t know if the ranch is for me.”

“It’s just horse, open land, some fresh air. Nothing like what you’re used to, I’d imagine.”

“Exactly,” you knowingly smile. “All we have is smog, overpriced coffee, and tall buildings.”

“Can’t have that.” Disapprovingly, he shakes his head. “Come out to the ranch. I’ll make you coffee that costs nothing and tastes better than anything you’ve had in your life.”

“Bold claim, cowboy,” you tease. 

“Think you can tell I always get what I want, sugar,” he retorts. You open your mouth to reply with something witty, but a tingle, pins and needles, lands on your thigh, and when you look down you see Jungkook’s veiny hand resting. Fingers splayed wide, palm radiating heat through the thin fabric of your slacks.

“How many horses do you have on the ranch?” Your voice has gone airy. 

“Seven right about now. We lost one last spring, and Joon took it hard.” His hand doesn’t waver. Instead, his thumb moves, carelessly tracing patterns on your pants. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumble, staring daggers into how large his hand is compared to the rest of you. 

“It’s the nature of it. You get attached. Hard not to.”

“Do you…?” you pause, swallow thickly until your tone gets warbly. “Get attached?”

The double entendre isn’t lost on him. “I do.”

You are going to need Stacey to pour a glass of ice water directly over your head. His thumb traces another path up the inside of your thigh. Your mouth dries up like the Sahara desert in late August. 

You want to be someone who leans into this. Want to be the girl from night one, the one with liquid courage and reckless new-city energy. You want to tilt toward him and let whatever this is become whatever it wants to be. But underneath it, a quieter voice resides within you. 

The one that remembers thinking everything was fine right up until it wasn’t.

“I don’t know if I’m..” you start, then press your lips together. He taps your thigh twice, urging you on. “I’m not sure I’m ready to be attached yet.”

Automatically, your body is bracing for impact, like he’ll toss you on the side of the road for something shiner, something ready. 

But Jungook’s expression does not falter. He finishes the last of his beer and sets the bottle down, rising from the stool to his full height. “When you’re ready, sugar,” he reaches out, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you know where to find me.”

For most, life isn’t sunshine and rainbows.

And it’s not like one wakes up and the color has drained from everything overnight. It’s small increments, tiny ones, that add up, and they’re unrecognizable until you can’t remember the last time you did something for yourself. You used to believe in love the way meteorologists believed in weather—inevitable acts of nature that happened to everyone sooner than later, in its own time, in its own particular way. You believed that people who found each other meant to find each other. 

But just like weather, the clouds part and things unravel in messy ways. The couple in your freshman dorm who were so in love you deemed it aggressive, who broke up over Thanksgiving and couldn’t look at each other in the dining hall after. Your college roommate, whose boyfriend of four years sat her down on a Sunday morning and said I just don't think I’m in love with you anymore. She sat very still for a long time after she told you, and you thought I will never let that be me.

But then it was you, it was your own demented heart, it was your own boyfriend who cheated on you, and you suddenly didn’t know which ordinary Tuesday was the last good one. 

You still don’t know if there was a last good one at all. 

“You gonna liquidate my bar tonight, hon?” 

Stacey’s shrill voice cuts through your train of thought, and you blink back into the bar. The neon sign flickers above the bar, and the usual horny men sitting down the bar tip their hats at you.  A shudder of disgust travels through you. She’s leaning on the bar in front of you, brow arched, nodding at the margarita you’ve been nursing for the better part of an hour, contemplating the nuances of life. 

“Perhaps.”

She refills your water glass without asking and props her chin in her hand. “You know damn well not to do all that thinkin’ round my bar. Tell me what’s wrong, I might be able to help.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you sigh, playing with the straw wrapper. You slump against the bar, the fatigue of your mind raving catching up to you. 

“I ain’t Sherlock but I can tell something’s up, sweetie.”

You could deny it one more time, but you think Stacey will dropkick you out of the bar and leave you without any more alcoholic beverages. 

For a week, you’ve avoided this very bar. Thus, you haven’t run into Jungkook in a week. It was on purpose, simply because you couldn’t give him the hope that you were ready by running into him again. But bars that you felt comfortable being alone at were far and few between, and you knew Stacey would be waiting for you. 

It’s been seven days of you daydreaming of walking into this bar and scanning the back corner by the pool table before you’ve even found a stool, of telling yourself you’re not looking while very obviously looking, and telling him you’re ready for whatever he wants to offer. And at the very least, give it a shot. 

One week feels longer than it should for a man you’ve spoken to twice. You don’t know his middle name. You don't know his family lore or his favorite pair of boots or whether he’s ever read a book for pleasure or what he sounds like when he’s just had a bad day. 

But you do know one thing: he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, like he was ready to lean over the bar and devour you whole. 

No one’s looked at you like that in a long time. 

“Fine,” Stacey squints her eyes into evil little slits. “If you won’t talk I will. You’ve looked at that door eleven times since you sat down, and I’ve got a fresh margarita with your name on it, and sometimes thinkin’ about nothing looks a whole lot like thinkin’ about something… or someone.”

A massive gulp of your margarita slithers down your throat. Then another, and another, until you set it down and peer at Stacey with drunk goggles. Her jaw is set in a no-nonsense way, and you recognize how she’s only ever seen you at your most pathetic across this bartop.

What’s one more time to add to the tally?

“Am I stupid for not hooking up with Jungkook?”

Stacey’s face remains stone cold. She reaches for the tequila. It’s not your usual brand, a more expensive one you haven’t touched since New York.

“The thing is, I wanted to.” Stacey should really file a restraining order against you for sharing your deepest, darkest thoughts with her under the influence of one very strong margarita. “I really wanted to. He’s very attractive. And he’s not how I expected him to be, like a bimbo cowboy.”

Stacey says nothing. Continues making the margarita, pouring strawberry puree into the shaker. 

“And it’s not even, it’s not like I’m opposed to it. I am a grown woman. I know how sex works. I’ve had one night stands before, and they’ve generally been fine, sometimes better than fine, and Jungkook looks like he would be better than fine, which is part of the problem too.”

Her hair flips wildly as she mixes the shaker behind her shoulder. You barrel on, “I don't know if I’m actually not ready or if I’m just scared, and I don’t know how to tell the difference anymore between self-preservation and self-sabotage. Daniel made me feel like an idiot.”

You prop your chin in your palm. “Was it my body? My personality? Was it the way I talked too much at dinner parties or the fact that I can’t fall asleep without the TV on or just, like, was I boring? Was I just boring to him? Am I even hot?”

A glass filled with pink liquid slams in front of you, dropping with a decisive thunk, sugar on the rim. 

“Drink.”

Your nose scrunches up in disgust as the smell of tequila wafts into your nostrils. Stacey rolls her eyes, smacking your arm playfully, and you fold under zero pressure. 

“Sweetheart, even in that god-awful collared shirt, I can see you’ve got a hell of a body on you. I would throw you down on that pool table and find out for myself if I swung that way,” she nonchalantly shrugs, and it takes all your might not to spit out your drink. 

“Stacey,” you scold. 

“Nuh-uh,” she tuts, “You’re stunning, darlin’. You are not the problem. You were never the problem. The problem is a man who ain’t know what he had and traded it in for a girl who’s probably not even half of you. That’s his cross to bear, not yours.”

When you sip the margarita, the tart taste of strawberries floods your tastebuds. Stacey has ruined every margarita you will ever have anywhere else for the rest of your natural life.

She raises an eyebrow. “What are you scared of with Jungkook, specifically? Ol’ Kook has been around the block, but he ain’t dangerous.”

“Well… I’m more scared that it’ll be good.”

It even sounds ridiculous leaving your mouth. You know it’s idiotic to place all of your emotional baggage on a cowboy who wants to fuck you. 

“I’m scared it’ll be good. That he’ll be… that it’ll be good, and I’ll want more of it, and wanting more of it means having something to lose again, and I just,” you stifle a humorless laugh. “I just got here. I just put my furniture in an apartment I’ve never lived in, in a city I don’t know yet, in a state I didn’t grow up in.”

Stacey purses her lips in the way your mom usually does when you know you’re being irrational. “I’ve worked at this bar for nine years. I’ve watched a lot of people sit on that stool and talk themselves out of things, and not one of them has ever come back and said I’m so glad I stayed scared.”

“Whatever.” You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over this. He probably doesn’t even think about me. Probably just another girl on his list to bother when he’s drunk.”

Stacey deadpans, expression souring. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Although, after two of her strong margaritas, you might be. 

Her dish rag comes flying across the bartop, smacking you straight in the arm, leaving a vibrating pain in your arm. “Ouch!---”

She flings it again, leaving another welt on your skin. “Stacey, what the fuck—”

One more on the other arm to even the score out. “Alright, enough with the smacking, I’m a customer—” “You’re my charity case and you’ll take what you can get.” She tucks the rag back into her apron. “That man has come into this bar every single night for the past week lookin’ for you, only to take one look around, find me instead, and leave lookin’ like somebody canceled Christmas. I’m insulted.”

Before you can even roll your eyes, the rag comes flying out of her pocket once more, aimed at your arm. 

“I said enough—”

“Then don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“I didn’t even—”

“Kook doesn’t care about girls,” Stacey continues. “Never has. He’s got his ranch and his boys and that’s the full extent of his social calendar. He doesn’t go out of his way to chase people.”

Then, as almost an afterthought, she adds, “I ain’t never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you in those little work outfits.”

Under wishful thinking and margarita-induced delusion, you have been trying to ignore the truth of her words. Even as you think about that first night when you met him, you remember it as the most natural thing in the world. Neither of you seemed to be searching for anything other than a drink in the bar. But of all the connections people make in this world, you two stumbled upon each other.

Jungkook could’ve kissed you that night, you think. You probably would’ve let him. But then he let you have the out, left you sitting there with his hat on your head, the hat that sits on your windowsill now as a reminder of your almost. 

Stacey’s expression resembles compassion, eyes softening as she watches the gears turn in your head. “Can I tell you something without you waving your hand at me again?”

“Probably not, but go ahead.”

“He did ask me about you the other day,” she says. “Asked if I’d seen you and if you were doing alright. Last night, you two just missed each other. He sat right where you’re sitting now for twenty minutes nursing one beer before he gave up and left. Kook nurses a beer for nobody.”

“He doesn’t even know me,” you snort, gathering the condensation of your watered-down drink. 

“He knows what kind of drink you like. For some men, that’s further along than most.”

And that’s a lot more than you plan on giving to anyone else but him. 

“Stacey, can I ask you something else?”

“‘Course, darlin’. Anything for you.”

You know what to do. It’s as clear as the sun after a summer storm. 

“What do cowgirls wear?”

Oh god. 

Oh god. 

Who knew cowboy boots were this tight around the calves? The white fabric digs into your skin, leaving imprints you’re sure will never erase. The hem of your ridiculously short denim shorts rise up your ass, practically digging into your thong. Before you left your apartment, you made a promise to yourself—one you’re very close to breaking—that you won’t pull those shorts down. 

This get-up can’t possibly be comfortable, but never mind what you think. It’s not about you or your outfit choices tonight. 

This was not what you had in mind when you asked Stacey what cowgirls wear. What you had in mind was something tasteful. What Stacey had couriered to your apartment via her cousin Deanna, who runs a boutique off Fifth Street, was a white lace top cropped to somewhere just above your navel, distressed denim shorts, and boots the color of fresh cream that zip up the side and are currently engaged in warfare with your calves and ankles.

You felt like a prize cow up for auction. A very well-dressed prize cow, but one nonetheless. 

You swing the door open to Coyote’s. It’s rowdier on a Friday night. The place is packed shoulder to shoulder, girls in outfits like yours and boys in their finest everything, hats and buckles and boots, the jukebox fighting to be heard over the noise of two dozen conversations happening at once. You push your way through the packed space, fighting your way to the bar where Stacey and her counterpart are furiously making drinks. 

God, these shorts are really tight up your ass.

Her hair whips around as she tries to tend to five people at once. You don’t dare try to get her attention on a busy night like this. But as if she can sense your presence, she turns around, and the shaker nearly flies out of her hand. “Good god almighty.” Her eyes grow to the size of saucers, then lets out a whistle that anyone can hear above the music. “Atta girl!”

She slaps the counter with one palm, then grabs her colleague by the sleeve without looking at him. “Pete. Pete, turn ‘round.”

The aforementioned man turns around, mimicking Stacey’s expression. “Well. Welcome to Texas, ma’am.”

You smile politely. “Thank you, Pete.”

“Told ya,” Stacey squeals, reaching for the tequila, pointing at you like she’s won first place at an arcade. “Told you. Did I not tell you?”

“You told me.”

“What’d I tell ya?”

Your brows furrow, racking your brain as you try to remember words, which for your sake, were many. “That I had a hell of a body and you’d throw me down on the pool table—”

“No!” she rolls her eyes. “That you’d clean up nice,” 

She shoots Pete a look that makes him stop ogling your tits and find the other end of the bar very interesting. She starts on your margarita, and you settle onto your stool and try not to let your eyes do the thing they want to do, which is scan the back corner by the pool table.

Three older men are nursing beers at the far end, next to a couple sharing a basket of fries. A row of women line the jukebox, scanning the room in hopes of finding their cowboy for the night. Somehow, you relate to them now more than ever. 

“Ain’t no way a pretty girl like you is all alone tonight.”

A man’s voice appears behind your left shoulder… and it’s completely and utterly the wrong fucking voice. Not the right timbre, or warmth, or scent underneath it that makes you want to lean into it. 

Said man sidles up beside you, and you peer up at him. All things considered, he’s not unattractive. Brown hair, good jaw, a Miller Lite in one hand and a handsome smile that’s probably worked on most people. He tips his hat and leans against the bar. “Colin,” he offers.

“Nice to meet you. [Y/N].” You give him your hand to shake, and he does so politely. 

“You new ‘round here?” His flirting is more than apparent. 

“That obvious?”

“Little bit.” He grins. In a life where you hadn’t spent the last two weeks being dismantled by a man with a lip ring and a ranch, you might have smiled back with intention. “Can I get you a drink?”

“She’s got one.”

Stacey slams the margarita down on the bartop with enough force to make the sugar on the rim jump, and looks at Colin with an implacable expression. “Move it Colin. This one’s Kook’s girl.”

Colin’s hands defensively come up, the universal gesture of a man who knows what hills are and are not worth dying on. “My bad. Have a good night, ma’am.”

“Sorry about her,” you call after his retreat. Colin was perfectly nice and none of this is his fault.

“Don’t you dare apologize to him,” Stacey scolds. “You’ll be fending ‘em off all night with that outfit. I hope you prepared.”

You gaze down at yourself, and a flicker of doubt moves through you. “I don’t look dumb, do I? Be honest. I can handle it.”

“Sweetheart, the only person in this bar who’s gonna think you look dumb is you.”

Of their own accord, your eyes drift around the bar again. 

Stacey takes the time to add, “And Jungkook, is definitely not going to think you look dumb.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes for the nth time since you’ve met her. 

“Move along,” Stacey says, turning back to her next customer, waving you off with the dish rag, “Go on. I’ve got work to do.”

“I haven’t seen you care about a work since the day I met you—”

“Scram, kid.”

You peel your hand off the bar like a kid being dropped off on the first day of school, a pit of reluctance settling in your stomach. 

Almost immediately, the attention begins. A few men tip their hats at you, while another does a double take while aggressively elbowing his friend in the ribs. Someone lets out a low whistle that you feel in your spine, and you nod politely, keep moving. 

It’s profoundly strange. Sure, you can recognize you’re a pretty girl. But in New York, you were invisible, which is to say completely unless someone wanted something from you. Here, people look at you like you’re someone they want to be near, no matter what they can get from you. You just wish it was one specific person doing the looking.

Migrating towards the back, you push through clusters of people, squeezing through gaps in the crowd. The women are less forgiving than the men. Some eye your outfit, then look away in disgust. 

Eventually, you find a sliver of wall near the back and stand near it, not on it, margarita held tight to your chest. From here, you can see the layout of the bar. The dance floor, the jukebox, bodies packed between you and the exit. Groups of men cluster together like men do at bars. 

“Kook! Over here, man!”

Your eyes find the source before your brain catches up. A blonde, fit man weasels through the crowd, waving down the one person you’ve been hoping to see. 

There’s no slow motion, no cinematic lighting change, no romantic song swelling up from the jukebox at the precise moment. People around him part without noticing they’re doing it, a gap opening up like the bar itself is making room for Jungkook’s grand entrance. 

Your stomach drops through the floor. Butterflies that you want to convince yourself are just anxiety or tequila detonate all at once, wings beating against your ribs so feverishly you press your hand flat to your chest to hold it all in.

This is stupid, you think. This is so stupid. He’s just a man.

He reaches his friend, and you can see him under the dim lights. Jungkook’s in a black jean jacket, wife beater underneath, black hat adorned on top of his head. He’s smiling, saying something, unaware of you pressed against this wall.

Two women near the jukebox drop their voices, heads together as they giggle. A girl in red boots nudges her friend while eyeing him. 

Fuck. You hadn’t once stopped to think about all the competition you might have. 

You wonder how many girls he’s offered a ride, or to see his ranch. 

His eyes move across the bar, and on instinct, your spine straightens. He seems to scan the bar, eyes moving through the crowd. Past the jukebox, the dance floor, past the bar.

And then, after what feels like eons, his eyes land on you. 

The noise of the bar goes fuzzy around the edges, heart leaping into your throat as you hold his gaze. His eyes drag down the length of your body, pausing at the sliver of your waist. He continues on, past the shorts and down to the boots that hug your feet. From meters away, you watch his jaw set and gaze darken. 

Jungkook tips his hat, and you raise your glass. 

Turning to the friend beside him, he whispers something brief into his ear. The friend turns to look at you then swivels back to Jungkook to shove him in your direction. 

Electricity lights behind your sternum and radiates outward, down your arms, into your fingertips where they’re wrapped around the cold glass, and you think Carrie Underwood was right. Those damn cowboy casanovas. 

He moves through the crowd in your direction, eyes unwavering from yours. His musky, tree-like scent hits you first. Up close, the black jean jacket sits across his broad shoulders. His lips are curled into a sinister smirk that would scare you if you didn’t find him unbelievably attractive. 

“Howdy, cowboy,” you grin up at him. 

Jungkook cocks his head. His hand comes out, two nimble fingers catching the hem of your lace top. Your heart leaps clean out of your chest and goes somewhere it can’t be retrieved from. “This all for me, sugar?”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’ll try not to.” He doesn’t bother pretending he’s not ogling you. 

“Trying to get in touch with my Texan roots, y’know?” you joke, playing with the straw in what you hope is flirtatiously.

“Yeah? C’mon then.” He holds his hand out, chin tilting up. “Give me a twirl, sugar.”

With a smile, you place your hand in his and turn, jutting your hip out. You rotate under the light and when you come back to face him, his eyes have darkened enough that you can hardly see the brown in them. 

He politely whistles, still holding your hand but bringing it down. “Well. If I knew Texas was gonna do that to a city girl, I’d have started recruitin’ from New York a long time ago.”

“You scouting for others?”

“Never,” he chuckles. He braces one hand against the wall beside your head. “You know, I’ve had a cowgirl fantasy or two as well.”

“Have you?”

“Mhm. Used to think it was about the boots." His eyes drop to your shorts, the way your hips hug the fabric. “Think I might’ve been wrong about that.”

“What’s it about then?”

“The girl wearing ‘em.”

“Scout’s honor?” you tease, and the smile that curls upon his lips sets your insides on fire. 

“Always,” he salutes. “I was getting worried I wouldn’t see you ‘round here no more.” 

From here, you can really see the height difference between you two, the way he towers over you. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Is this a goodbye, sugar? Don’t break my heart,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. 

Involuntarily, you grin. “I wanted to make sure when I came back here, I knew what I wanted.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, expression shifting. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, and his thumb rubs circles on your knuckles. “And now what do you want?”

“Hi, Kook.”

It’s one of the girls you spotted earlier. She’s batting her eyes like she’s got a speck of dust in it, and is eyeing Jungkook in a way that makes her intention crystal clear. 

“Hey.” Jungkook glances at her for a second, maybe two, before his gaze is back on you. 

“I wanted to come over and say hi. Know it’s been a while since we last saw each other,” she purrs, ignoring your daggered eyes. 

“I guess,” he shrugs, a protective finger looping through the belt holes in your shorts to pull you an inch further into him. Suddenly, you feel painfully inadequate. She’s actually trying to dissuade him to pick her instead of you. 

“Remember when we spent that night under the stars last month? Just you, I, and a bottle of Jack—”

She shifts her weight onto her other foot, and she casts a furtive glance at you as if to question your presence. You’re questioning your existence right about now too. 

“Hm.” He interrupts, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Her lips twist as though she’s just bit into a lemon. Then she sends a harrowing look in your direction, and you’re reminded that you’re the reason he won’t give her the time of day. You don’t really give a shit, though. 

“Oh. Alright, then. Have a good rest of your night.” Her tone is tinged with hurt as she turns on the heel of her boots and flocks back to her group of girls, all of whom are busy throwing dirty looks at you. 

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t pay much mind. His dark eyes are still fixed on your face, thumb still looped through the hole. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” you say into your drink. 

“You want me to be nice to her?” he coyly smiles. 

You think you’d rather lose all your limbs in a fire. 

You shrug in silence. Jungkook tilts your jaw up to meet his eyes. “You were about to say something before.”

“Was I?”

“Before we were interrupted,” he retorts, settling his hand in your jean pocket. 

“Oh.” Finding the words doesn’t come easy, even if you know exactly what you want to say. Instead, you settle on, “Did you drive here?”

“‘Course, sugar.”

“Well… you wanna get out of here?” 

Amusement crosses his face. “Damn right I do.”

He plants a warm hand at the small of your back, guiding you toward the door. You drop your half-drunken margarita on a nearby table. As you let yourself be steered by him, there’s a smug smile glued to your face, especially when you catch the eyes and whispers of girls. There’s something about this city, this man, that makes you confident in yourself. 

Jungkook parked his car in the back of the filled lot. From there, the noise dissipates into nothingness, nothing but the sound of bugs chirping and cars in the distance on I-40. Out here, you can forget about your old life. 

“Earlier, you asked what I wanted.”

“I did, sugar.” He’s loitering with his keys in his pocket, a smirk evident on his lips as he leans against the driver’s door of his pickup truck. 

You gnaw at your lower lip. “I think I want to repay my debts to you.”

“Really?” In the dark of the night, you can hardly make out his obsidian eyes, the shadows on his face settling. “How do ya plan on doing that?”

“Think I owe you that ride still.”

His lips come crashing down onto yours, large hands weaving into your hair, tugging on it. You unabashedly moan into his mouth as he tugs you further into him, like he wants you to live in his skin. Your hand lands on his chest, and you feel the broad muscle under his tank, the rapid flutter of his heart. His tongue licks into your mouth, sloppy and full of desire, and you don’t even care about how your whimpers sound against him. It’s all so sudden your body takes a moment to find its rhythm, but when you do, you realize how soft his lips are, how such a good fucking kisser he is. You probably shouldn’t have expected anything less from the Austin's communal mattress, but that’s neither here nor there. 

The hand once pressed against your back wanders down, down until he’s cupping your ass firmly. He kneads the skin, and he groans into your mouth, lips hot and wet against your own. Austin, Texas is known for its sweltering heat, but with Jungkook’s body against yours, the brisk, night air can’t even cool you down. 

His lips trail off your lips, pressing against your cheek, and you feel the cold metal of his piercing against your burning skin. “You look so pretty in this outfit, sugar.”

Your body combusts under his weight and words. His tongue slides back into your mouth, hand moving from your ass to your neck where he gently clutches around it. “Wore it for you,” you whisper between kisses. 

“Hm.” he pecks your lips once more. “I was hoping so. Must be real lucky to be the first cowboy to have you.”

“And the last,” you say before leaning back in for another messy kiss, drunk off the way he tastes, more than any alcohol could ever give you. 

His hands come down to cradle the back of your thighs, and before you can protest, he’s lifting you, pressing your back against the door of his truck. Gasping, your hands scramble for purchase around his neck, thighs snugly hugging his waist. Jungkook’s lips press against your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses wherever he can. You want all of him, more of him, by any means you can get it. Your fingers entangle in his dark locks, tugging at the nape. He groans, “F-fuck, we need to get in the car, sugar.”

“Mhm, take me there, then,” Your smile is dopey as he carries you around to the passenger side, opening the door and sitting down so he can plop you directly onto his lap. His thighs are firm muscle beneath you. He slams the door shut, lips finding yours once more. Your knees cage him in, and he digs his fingers into your flesh. You can hardly keep up with the movement of his tongue, can’t really do anything but open your mouth and take whatever he gives you. 

For once, you don’t care about anyone seeing you, or what anyone might think. Luckily, the lot is empty, save for people who are far more worried about entering the bar than leaving, or whatever you’re doing in this vehicle. 

“Lift your hips up for me, doll,” he mutters, lips hardly breaking from yours, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shorts. You do as he says, allowing him access. He slides your shorts down your legs, depositing them on the floor of his truck. Your knees feel like jelly, quivering with anticipation as he tugs your underwear off next. Desperately, you fall back into his lap, clit pressed against his jeans for as much friction as possible. 

Beneath you, you can feel his hard length poking through his jeans, and your cheeks warm up at the thought of him getting hard from just some kissing. You gently test the waters, hips rolling into his crotch. He grunts, hands steadying your movements. “Fuck, sugar, I won’t last long if you plan on doing that.”

“Who says I want you to last long?” you whisper, lips tracing the shell of his ear. And then he’s grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you in, in, in, kissing you like he wants to swallow your essence entirely. He pulls the straps of your top down until your tits pop out. You gasp at the sudden exposure, cold air causing your nipples to perk up. His fingers come to play with the pert bud, and you whimper atop him. 

“Most perfect tits I’ve ever seen, sugar.” He trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your collarbone, tongue licking a path down to your breasts. His lips wrap around your perked nipple, and a choked moan escapes you. 

Your fingers intertwine in his hair, tugging, and that elicits a groan from him. His tongue flicks the nipple up, down, and your back arches against the dashboard. You tug at his hair as he messily sucks your tits, leaving bruises you’re sure will last weeks. Jungkook’s hips rut into your sopping entrance hopelessly, and his length pokes into your inner thigh. You’re pretty sure you’re creaming all over his pants, not that he even minds. On every hitch of his hips forward, his teeth grazes your nipple, undoing you. 

Truth be told, you’ve been soaked since the moment you laid eyes on him. Since the moment you saw the hat upon his head, muscles bulging out of everything he owns. You push his jean jacket off his shoulders, seeing the tattoo that extends across his biceps and collarbone, a myriad of color. 

Finally, he peers up at you, swollen lips and blown pupils. You waste no time in pressing your lips to his again. He can probably taste the remaining sugar from your margarita on your tongue, and if anything, the thought seems to excite him, the thought that other parts of you may be sweet as well. Gripping onto his biceps, you can feel the veins that trace up his arms. A whine exits from the back of your throat. “Jungkook, touch me.”

“Hm, where, sugar? Use your words.” He presses a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips. 

Words aren’t something you can muster, so you take his hand and place it against your clit, right where he can feel how fucking soaked you are, dripping onto his jeans. “Shit,” he curses, swallowing thickly. “You’re dripping. You been like this the whole time?”

Eagerly, you nod like a broken bobblehead. 

One finger dips between your folds, gathering your essence before taking it back to his mouth and licking it clean off. “Just as sweet as I imagined.”

There’s no air left in your lungs to form words with, no brainpower beyond the feeling of wanting more, more, more. His finger finds your clit, and you throw your head back, moaning loudly that you’re damn near certain the entirety of Texas heard you. Toothily, Jungkook grins, pointer and middle finger rubbing circles against your clit. His tongue comes to lick a trail up your neck, sucking the sweet spot behind your ear. It’s like he has a map to you, knows exactly where to touch you to have you writhing. 

A finger slides through your wetness before finally pushing into your entrance, down to his knuckle. Your fingernails rake down his biceps, leaving red marks in its place. He fucks the finger steadily in and out, thumbing at your clit simultaneously. “Ngh—fuck, don’t stop,” you moan, grinding into his finger. Just one isn’t enough, you know it won’t be, need to feel him fill you up. 

“P-please,” you beg, although you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. But he seems to understand, pushing a second finger inside you, curling upwards to your sweet spot. Your body jolts forward, nails now digging crescent moons into his skin. “Oh fuck, feels so good.”

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he groans. “Your pussy’s so tight and warm. Gonna be a dream to fuck you, sugar.”

“M-me either.” You shiver, and on autopilot, your shaky fingers come to undo his belt buckle, unzipping his jeans. “Please fuck me, Kook. I want it. Want to feel you inside me.”

“Yeah?” He presses open-mouthed kisses against your cheek and nose, “Want me to fuck you the way you deserve?”

A long, languid moan escapes you, anticipation leaping into your throat. “Please. Please l-let me give you that ride.”

“If you insist,” he devilishly smiles, pulling his fingers out of you, licking them clean once more. He pulls down his boxers as much as he can with you on top, gets out his cock, and hisses as he strokes himself a few times. 

Shit. You should’ve known he would be big, but he’s at least twice the size of your ex. Saliva pools in your mouth at how veiny and red his cock is. His hat hangs over his eyes as he looks down at his cock, chest heaving and bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth. 

It’s like a lightbulb flashes over your head, with an idea so sinister you almost can’t believe you came up with it yourself. 

You get your hands on the soft fabric of his hat, nudging it off his head and placing it on yours. It’s a little too big, hangs over your eyes, but Jungkook’s jaw goes slack nonetheless. “You gonna give me that ride while you wear my hat?” His cock twitches in his palm as he lazily strokes it, eyes never leaving yours. 

“Uhu,” you agree, replacing his hand with yours on his cock. He’s girthier than you imagined, can hardly fit the whole of him in your palm. He quickly moves to kiss you again, and you take the opportunity to glide the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering the arousal that’s pooled. You both moan in unison. 

“Fuck, don’t tease me, sugar,” he grunts, eyes glazed over with lust. 

Whimpering, you obey him, and his cock enters you in one go. Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and it’s a slow, torturous slide down, until your folds hit his pelvic bone. He sharply inhales, cursing as his head hits the headrest. Your legs tremble with how full of him you feel, how much of him bulges in your stomach when you look down. “Fuck, Kook. Y’you’re so big.”

Jungkook’s calloused hands run up and down your sides. His face is mostly hidden behind the shadows in his car, but you can make out his rosy lips and cheeks. “I know, baby, but you can take it. Go ‘head and give me that ride you owe me.”

Slowly, you move up and down, only a mere inch at a time. Just enough to see the bulge inside your stomach move a tad. The hat slides further over your eyes as you gently move. He tips it back, cupping your cheek so he can see how fucked out you look already. “C’mon, use me, sugar. Show me how you ride dick.”

You nod in response, your cunt clenching around his length. Arousal drips down his cock onto his abdomen, and your head hits the ceiling as you use all your strength to bounce on his cock. Loud whines and curses fill the space, Jungkook’s mouth buried into your neck, hands coming to spread your ass cheeks so you can take him deeper. “Yeah, that’s it. Ride my fucking cock, sugar.” 

The sounds fog up the window—your pussy squelching with each thrust, the slap of his balls against your ass, his throaty groans. 

“These fucking tits. Wanna see them bounce in my face all the time,” he says, a hand coming up to slap your hardened nipples, and you moan. A trickle of sweat falls down your back, falling into the fabric that has now pooled around your waist. “You doing good, sugar?” His voice is sinful, and your cunt clenches around him again. 

“Mhm. Your cock is so deep inside me.” Bouncing becomes more tiresome, thighs trembling with pent-up desire. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy to ride cock as one had hoped, but you’re determined to get you and him over the edge. 

His hair is ruffled by your fingers as he trails a path of sloppy, wet kisses to the valley of your breasts. “You look so fucking good with my hat on.” Even though the edge is tipping over your eyes again, he fondly peers at you, how utterly blissed out your expression looks, cheeks ruddy. 

Somehow, he must feel the exhaustion creeping upon you, because he plants his boots onto the floor and bucks up into you, causing moans to elicit from you. “Fuck, your pussy’s so tight n’ wet. It’s like a fucking drug, sugar,” he croons into your neck. 

His cock plunges in and out of you with more force. Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you tight, tight, tight to his chest, tits bouncing against him. You hold onto the hat, leaning against the dashboard so he can hit your sweet spot, just where you want him. “Oh—fuck, right there, Kook!”

His teeth drag against your skin, hips pistoning in and out. Puffs of breath escape his mouth and hit your skin. “If you were mine, would never let ya go,” he babbles, clearly pussy drunk. “Ain’t never letting you get near another cowboy. You’re all mine now, sugar.” 

Clearly, your body takes a liking to the buckets of filth he’s pouring in your ear, and your walls clench around his length, your imminent orgasm creeping up on you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, and the pit in your stomach grows and grows, the knot almost coming undone as he continues hitting what you think might be your cervix. 

You swear you feel him in your stomach as he says. “You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock? Make a mess of my truck?” 

“Gonna cum, Kook. Please make me cum,” you chant, and then it’s a gush of wetness escaping you, back arching far enough that the hat falls onto the console, thighs trembling and jaw slack. Normally, you’d be embarrassed, but all you can think about is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, walls frantically clamping down on him as you ride out your orgasm. 

“Are you gonna cum inside me?” You’re sure you sound desperate when you ask, but he peers up at you with hooded eyes and responds, “If that’s what you want, sugar.”

It only takes a few more pumps of his hips to send him over the edge as well, hips stuttering, before groaning and emptying himself inside you. Slumping against his chest, his cock twitches, then softens inside you, and all that can be heard in the truck is the sound of you two struggling to catch your breath. 

“Holy shit,” is all you can say. 

His nails gently run down your spine, sending goosebumps blossoming across your skin. “Good ride?” he jokes, pressing kisses down the slope of your shoulder. 

“Totally worth it.”

And you mean it, every ounce of it. Can see the sunshine and rainbows, the things you thought were once hidden behind dark clouds. 

Just like you thought it would, it was good. Probably even better than that, probably impossible to find a word in the English dictionary to describe it. Enough so that maybe, you’ll extend your year-long lease in Texas. Make it two, perhaps. 

“Jungkook?”

“Hm, sugar?”

“Can you take me to the ranch?”

A chuckle reverberates through his chest, and you feel it everywhere his skin touches yours. “Yeah, darlin’. How ‘bout tomorrow?”

Watching you systematically disassemble his pristine marble desk was, without a doubt, the most entertaining thing that had happened in this office all fiscal month.

Taehyung leaned his hip back against the edge of the dark oak console, crossing his arms. He watched the focused line of your shoulders as you picked up his heavy crystal paperweight, turning it over as if expecting to find a tracking device or a curse written on the bottom.

Your fingers were utterly disrupting his perfect order, but he found he didn't care.

The scent of rosemary and earth you brought with you was slowly suffocating the sterile scent of leather and floor wax, and he liked it.

"Anything?" he asked, his voice an amused rumble.

"Not yet," you muttered, not even bothering to look at him. Your fingers trailed down to the handle-less brass drawers built into the side of the marble. "I’m looking in the drawers. Is there anything I should be cautious about?"

Taehyung’s smirk widened. An open invitation like that was practically a crime to pass up. "I have some condoms there."

You instantly froze, your hand hovering over the drawer as your glare snapped up to lock onto him. "You’re disgusting."

"I'm providing an experience with a view," he countered smoothly.

He turned slightly, pointing a long finger toward the massive windows behind his desk, showcasing the dizzying drop to the city below. "You have no idea how it looks during the dark, Hex. The skyline, the absolute scale of it..." His eyes drifted back to you, voice dropping into a suggestive purr. "It’s quite the backdrop."

"I could assume," you replied, your voice dripping with such heavy sarcasm he could practically taste it.

"I can make that happen," he offered instantly, his head tilting as he took a slow step closer to you.

"Pass."

Taehyung let out a quiet, exasperated chuckle. "You’re so..."

"So?" you challenged, finally pulling the drawer open with a sharp click.

Your fingers instantly brushed against a matte black box. You pulled it out, and the moment your eyes registered the brand, your face contorted into annoyance. He was not kidding.

Before he could even open his mouth to tease you, you threw the box of condoms directly at his chest.

"Ugh, pig!"

Taehyung caught the box with effortless, cat-like reflexes, a rich, genuine laugh bubbling up from his chest. The sound was deep and warm, completely filling the serious space of his office. He casually tossed the box onto the desk, his eyes locked onto yours, glittering with a flirtatious heat.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," he murmured

After searching for what felt like an eternity, turning over every heavy crystal paperweight, scanning the rows of leather-bound books, and running your fingers under the edges of his desk, you flung yourself into his executive chair, thoroughly defeated.

You had found close to nothing. Well, close to nothing if you counted the box of "ultra-thin real feel" condoms you had violently thrown at his chest earlier.

Your fingers gripped the armrests of his chair, the rich leather cool against your palms. You had to be forgetting something.

There was absolutely no way the energy was completely dead here; you were practically feeling the static of the curse vibrating in your bones. But the office was vast, and whatever was anchor-pointing the curse here was buried too deep for a quick sweep.

You looked up at the clock on the wall.

Then, you looked over at him.

In all honesty, you were ready to leave. The sheer stress of discovering a generational, bloodline-tied curse—paired with his relentless, shameless flirting—was starting to drain you.

Taehyung was currently leaning against a glass partition, lazily ogling his phone. The very second you had passed on his desk-sex invitation, his professional boredom had returned, though his posture remained relaxed, long legs crossed at the ankle.

Before you could gather your things and officially declare defeat for the afternoon, a clean knock sounded on the heavy double doors of his office.

"Yes, enter," Taehyung called out, his eyes finally shifting away from his phone as he straightened up from the glass partition.

The heavy double doors swung open, and a very tall, imposing man stepped into the office.

He was built broad—almost buff—with a commanding presence that immediately demanded attention. His long black hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses sat on his nose, framing piercing green eyes. He was clad in an impeccably tailored, obviously expensive suit, but as he crossed the threshold, his gaze swept over the room and locked directly onto yours.

An icy, bone-chilling shiver traveled straight down your spine. It was the exact same heavy, stagnant energy you had felt radiating from the hematite stone on Taehyung's shelf.

Taehyung, entirely oblivious to the sudden drop in your internal temperature, smiled warmly. "Theodore! What a pleasure."

"Ah, Mr. Kim. My apologies for the interruption—" Theodore's voice was deep, smooth, and too polished.

His green eyes remained pinned to you.

"Nonsense," Taehyung waved off, stepping fully away from glass partition. He gave you a pointed, dry look. "He—I mean, Y/N here was just leaving, probably."

You froze in the leather chair.

Now, how the fuck did he know your name?

You hadn't introduced yourself, and you certainly hadn't signed any guest logs. Yet, there it was, slipping off his tongue as if it were a natural fact.

Your eyes narrowed as you slowly stood up from Taehyung’s chair, your gaze locking onto Theodore.

Why was he looking at you like that?

You slowly scanned him up and down. His face. The sharp line of his jaw. The pale skin of his neck. His broad torso. The expensive fabric of his dark suit. His hands...

You caught the slight movement of his cuffs. Your breath hitched in your throat. Is that a—

"No! Actually..." you burst out, your voice cutting through the quiet office so suddenly that both men visibly startled. You stepped around the massive black marble desk, planting your feet firmly. "...we actually have some highly professional business to talk about. Quite federal."

Taehyung slowly cocked a single brow, his lips twitching with a mix of utter confusion and amusement. "Quite federal?"

"I can leave and return at a more convenient time," Theodore offered smoothly, his green eyes dipping slightly as he made a polite, almost too-perfect bow.

"Yes. Leave," you said flatly, pointing a commanding finger toward the door.

The doors clicked shut behind Theodore, and the oppressive static in the air evaporated instantly. It was like someone had suddenly restored the oxygen to the room.

Taehyung stood there, his arms still crossed, staring at you with an incredibly amused, mock-thoughtful expression. "Quite federal?" he repeated, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Shut up," you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs as you stared at the closed doors.

"Oh, because I thought you didn't do corporate lingo—"

"Shut it, Taehyung." You whipped your head around to face him, your eyes wide and urgent. "Who is that man?"

"An aspiring associate," Taehyung said, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back against his desk. "He’s been trying to get on my team for a few months now. Handled a few minor cases for the firm. He's really good."

"I bet he fucking is," you muttered, a bitter laugh escaping your throat. You took a step closer to him, lowering your voice as if the walls themselves had ears. "Tae. That is not a man. That's a spiritual entity."

Taehyung blinked, the teasing smirk on his face faltering for just a fraction of a second before returning twofold. He let out a soft, patronizing chuckle. "I'm sorry? A what now? Listen, Hexy, I know you like me and clearly want to spend more time with me, but that is a man in flesh and bones. He has a law degree from Columbia and a very real, very annoying habit of replying to emails at three in the morning."

"No, he's not," you hissed, grabbing him by the lapels of his expensive suit jacket to force him to look at you, to actually listen. "Did you see his cufflinks?"

Taehyung didn't even flinch at the sudden physical contact; instead, his gaze dipped to your hands on his chest, a pleased spark igniting in his eyes. "I don’t concern myself with fourth-tier cufflinks, sweetface. My taste is a bit more... refined."

"Taehyung, I am not joking," you said, your voice almost shaking with intensity. "Those weren't designer cufflinks. They were carved hematite. The exact same stone as the anchor on your bookshelf."

He went entirely still, the playful warmth in his eyes instantly cooling.

"The engraving on them wasn't a monogram," you whispered, your grip tightening on his jacket. "It’s a rune. Specifically, the Thurisaz variant—the thorn. It's used in high-level binding rituals to channel and direct chaos. That 'man' isn't trying to get a job at your firm, Taehyung. He is the one feeding the anchor in your living room."

Taehyung stared down at your hands gripping his lapels, his chest rising and falling against your palms. The teasing glint in his eyes had hardened into something much colder, much more calculated.

For a second, the quiet in the office was deafening.

"Okay," he said slowly, his voice dropping into a low rumble. "Let's do an imaginary game. Let’s assume for a minute that whatever you're spewing is actually true, and he has somehow breached my space."

He leaned down slightly, his face inches from yours. "What would we even do?"

"I need to find out more about him," you said

A dry smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You want to go on a date with my hexer?! That's cold, even for you."

"No, you idiot!" you hissed, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

You began pacing the polished floor again, scratching your head in absolute vexation.

Your mind was a chaotic web of worst-case scenarios. How could you possibly stay in Theodore's presence long enough to figure out his true angle, let alone dismantle a generational curse, without alerting him?

How could you save this oblivious corporate giant sitting right in front of you from the spiritual trap he was willingly walking into?

You stopped pacing and looked directly at him.

"Hire me," you said.

Taehyung blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face. "What? If you want to roleplay, you just have to say the word."

"No, I mean it," you said, deadpan. "Hire another assistant."

"I have Minji," he pointed out, gesturing toward the closed double doors. "And no offense, Hex, but you don't have a single clue how I take my coffee, let alone how I schedule my multi-billion dollar meetings."

"I'll be your spiritual assistant."

"So I'm schizophrenic now?" he asked, letting out an amused laugh.

"This is serious, Taehyung!" you insisted, your voice tightening with urgency. "I need to be here. I need to be in this room. Hire me as something. Anything."

Taehyung’s laughter faded, his gaze lingering on your face. He pondered your words a bit too long, his eyes darkening as they traced the serious line of your mouth.

He slowly bit his lower lip—a habit you were starting to realize meant he was negotiating a deal in his head.

"Fine," he said, his voice dropping to an almost-purr. "You’re gonna be my pretty-faced assistant."

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you’re gonna stay in my office, look gorgeous, and occasionally print shit I need for my meetings," he said, leaning back against his desk and crossing his ankles. "A decorative placeholder."

"Am I getting paid?" you asked immediately.

Taehyung scoffed, throwing his hands up.

"You literally begged for the job—"

"Fine, fine," you cut him off, waving a hand to silence his whining. "But I won’t be able to take my usual apothecary hours if I'm stuck here playing secretary, so I actually need some income for rent."

He watched you, his eyes scanning your face before he gave a slow nod. "I'll cover your rent, and I'll pay you a salary."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Yes," Taehyung murmured, a spark suddenly lighting up his eyes as he stepped off the desk, towering over you once more. "But you’re starting tomorrow morning. No excuses."

You swallowed down the sudden flutter in your chest, matching his intense gaze. "Perfect."

next chapter | previous

You glanced up from your book, peeking over the pages at your boyfriend’s back. He was sitting at the desk, headphones nestled over his dark hair, and the quiet, faint sound of his instrumental played through the open back of his over-ear headphones. This was your favourite part of visiting Yoongi at the studio. After about 7 or 8, everyone else had gone home for the day, and you’d arrive with takeout and a book and get to appreciate his silent company while he puttered away with his tracks.

“Everything okay?” you asked, eyes curious, closing your book and heading over to stand behind him.

“The EQ is just messing me up,” Yoongi replied, adjusting his headphones and shaking out his hair.

He turned to look up at you with a soft smile and patted the chair next to him, welcoming you to join him at the mixer. You dropped into the rolling office chair, gazing at the collection of tracks and audio waves stretching across the monitor.

“Are you all packed yet?”

Yoongi frowned a little.

“No. And I don’t want to think about leaving right now.”

He clicked around the screen a few more times as you watched before he opened a new project window, the blank white glow of the screen illuminating both your faces in the dim room. Yoongi froze for a moment, just staring at the empty timeline, before turning his head to gaze at you.

You blinked at him, eyes curious.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Y/N. You know I love you."

You giggled.

"Yeah, Yoongi, I know you love me."

"And leaving you is torture."

"Mhm."

"Let me take a souvenir with me. Something to remember you by."

"Mm? Like what?" You cocked your head to the side, still staring at the open mixing program. Yoongi's eyes drifted to the rest of your body, scanning you up and down for a moment before landing back on your eyes with a smirk.

"Will you get in the booth for me, please?"

You let out a surprised laugh.

"And do what?"

"Just do it for me."

Yoongi turned his head back to the monitor, adjusting his headphones back onto his ears. You furrowed your brows in confusion, but stepped into the sound-dampened little room anyway. You sat down on the stool, right in front of the microphone and slid the headphones onto your ears. You gave Yoongi a little wave through the window, and he peered at you over the computer monitor with an amused, flirty grin.

He leaned forward and pressed a button on the board before you heard a little crackle in your ear.

"Alright, can you hear me okay?" His voice came through into your headphones.

You nodded and gave him a thumbs up.

"Let me hear you mic check for me."

You laughed before leaning into the microphone in front of you.

"Hiiii baby," you cooed into the mic. Your eyes were glued to your boyfriend sitting outside, watching his lazy smile grow at the sound of your voice in his ears. "You look cute sitting over there, your hair looks so pretty today."

Yoongi looked up from the computer monitor and gave you an amused, gummy smile, shaking his head. You grinned at his reaction: it didn't matter how long you two had been together, he always struggled a little to accept such sweet compliments from you.

His voice came through your headphones again.

"I'm going to adjust a few things, keep talking."

You leaned back into the mic, eyes never leaving him through the glass.

"Check check check, I'm sitting in a recording booth because you told me to," you giggled. He continued staring at the computer screen, pushing and adjusting the sliders on the master as you rambled to yourself.

"I'm going to miss you, Yoongi. It's what I get for dating a superstar, you're too loved by everyone. What am I going to do with myself while you're gone? Maybe take myself to all the restaurants I've always wanted to go to, without you..."

Yoongi snapped his head up, visibly mildly offended. You laughed into the mic before continuing.

"Okay, or I cook and order takeout from the same few spots until you come home. Does that make you feel better, handsome?"

Yoongi laughed to himself before taking his headphones off and standing up out of his chair. He opened the booth door, enveloping himself in the small room with you with a soft click of the door.

"Hi, you," you hummed with a smile as he stood next to you, hands in his hoodie pockets.

"You feel comfy in here?" he murmured, reaching out to adjust the mic stand so it lined up a little better with your mouth. You nodded, headphone cable still dangling from your ears. He gently lifted your headphones off of your ears and hung them back over the mic stand.

"I'm going to miss you," he whispered, taking a step closer towards you. You smiled at him as he closed the distance, tilting your chin up a little so that he could press a sweet kiss to your lips. You unintentionally let out a happy sigh into his mouth, and you felt him tighten his lips into the kiss.

"You know I love hearing all the pretty little sounds you make," he whispered into your mouth. "Even when I kiss you, you're so vocal for me."

You felt your cheeks warm up at his verbal observation: you knew that you were a little more chatty than your boyfriend was, but he always let you know how much he loved it when you filled the silence with your voice, and especially your sounds. It was like his ears perked up at the sound of you at any given moment.

His hands were wrapped gently around your face and neck, holding you against him firmly as he continued kissing you, just passionate enough to make you feel a little weak in the knees.

"Yoongi—" you sighed into his mouth again. Your lips parted a little more, and he took the opportunity to tilt his head further, pressing his jaw further against yours, nearly interlocking your mouths together. The deepening of the kiss sent a twitch directly in between your legs. His tongue swiped across yours in your mouth, the faint taste of mint on his tongue.

You whimpered into his mouth at the passion of his kiss, and he gave you a quiet groan back, his hands sliding down your neck and grazing down your sides until they landed on your waist.

"You're my everything," he murmured into your mouth, before his hands drifted even further south, gripping your hips and tugging you closer to him, the weight of you almost slipping off the wooden stool with how tightly he was pulling you towards him. Your legs were parted enough to let him stand between them, and you felt your boyfriend grind his hard-on into your clothed crotch, eliciting a stammered whine from you.

"Oh," you whined, your moan interrupted by another few wet smacks of your makeout. “What was that?”

Yoongi pulled away for a moment and looked at you with a smug smile.

“What was what?”

He continued kissing you, the pressure gentle enough to let you know that he was still calm and in control, but firm enough to make you feel dizzy. Every hand placement, every movement of his jaw against yours, was intentional, as if he were adamant about making the most of his limited time with you.

"You know you're the most beautiful thing in the world to me," he hummed as he slid his mouth down your jaw and planted wet kisses along your neck, his hands still roaming around your waist. Without hesitation, his right hand disappeared under your waistband, two fingers gliding possessively over your already damp underwear, just enough to make you jolt in your seat.

"Baby," you whined, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around your boyfriend's waist as he gently rubbed circles around your clit through your underwear. He hummed into your neck as he continued teasing you, his other arm wrapped firmly around your waist to hold you against him in the small room.

It wasn't long before he couldn't get enough of you, removing his lips from your collarbone with a wet smack and dropping to his knees in front of you. He started gently removing your sneakers from your feet for you, the sweetness of him taking such good care of you intensifying the burning sensation in your lower core.

He looked back up to you, still on his knees in front of you, before looping his fingers in your waistband again.

"Lift your hips up for me."

Your eyes widened at the realization of what he wanted to do to you in this rented studio.

"Yoongi, there are still staff out—"

"Who fucking cares," he muttered as he tugged your sweatpants and underwear down, sliding them down your legs until they were discarded in a neat pile by his knees on the ground. "I have you dripping in front of me like this, the last thing I'm thinking about is who else is still working."

Without another wasted moment, he leaned forward, establishing his home between your parted legs, and planted a soft, sweet kiss right over your clit, his eyes still glued to yours.

You let out a hesitant whine, your breath already hitched and shaky at the sight of your boyfriend so eager to eat you out.

"Let me taste how sweet you are for me while I'm still at work," he murmured, his eyes peering up at you from in between your legs. "Nobody else can hear us in here, I promise."

You gave a hesitant nod, still propped against him, and he gave you an appreciative, cocky smile.

He reached upwards towards the mic stand and adjusted the microphone so it was lined up a little closer to your mouth. He gave you a smug grin.

"I'm still recording, so make sure you sing a little extra well tonight, yeah, honey?"

Your mouth fell open at how forward he was, and you saw an extra little twinkle in his eyes at how shy you were getting.

"Baby, I—"

A visceral, high-pitched moan escaped your lips as Yoongi pressed his tongue firmly against your heat, licking a commanding stripe from bottom to top, parting your wet folds with his mouth.

"Fuck," you hissed, your eyes immediately fluttering shut as you held yourself up with your arms behind you, propping yourself up on the stool to give him easier access. "Oh, my god."

He chuckled into your heat at your reaction and began to lick quicker patterns against your trembling pussy, each flick of his tongue making you cry out directly into the microphone.

"Yoongi, fuck, that feels so good," you whined, bucking your hips against his face. He moaned in reciprocation, letting you grind your hips gently against his face.

"Mm, that's it."

He picked up the pace just slightly, dragging his tongue intentionally hard against your hole, letting just the tip of his tongue dip into your warm heat. You wrapped your legs around the side of his head, your body desperately encouraging him to continue. With a grumbly moan, he focused his attention on your clit, licking and suckling gently as he held you against him with his hands on your hips.

"Fuck, baby, you do that so well," you hissed, head fallen forward as you watched your boyfriend nudge his pretty face against your pussy, the lower half of his face entirely buried in you.

"Yeah, huh," he moaned back, the taste and reactions of you alone making his cock strain in his sweatpants. "You're always so easy to please, jagiya."

Yoongi looped his arms behind your knees and wrapped them around your thighs, locking his fingers together. You cried out as he held you down against his face like a seatbelt, pinning your thighs against either side of his head as he buried his face deeper into your wet heat.

"God, fuck," you cried, unable to move with the way he held you. His tongue worked your clit expertly, every massage of his wet muscle against you coaxing a whiny, pornographic moan from your lips.

"You sound so pretty for me, make such pretty noises," your boyfriend groaned into your cunt, the sounds of encouragement making him eat you out even more feverishly. "I could listen to you cry for me for hours."

Your legs were pinned down against him, unable to move or escape from the addictive sensation of your boyfriend eating you out so hungrily. You felt the familiar build-up in your lower stomach, and your pussy clenched desperately around nothing as you neared your climax.

“Yoongi I'm going to cum, fuck, Yoongi please—“

“That’s right,” he murmured against your skin. “Let me hear my name when I listen back to this.”

His one hand released you from his hold before he inserted two long fingers into your cunt, curling and beckoning against your inner wall, as if he was trying to make his tongue and fingers meet through the warm flesh of your pussy.

"Baby, oh my god, just like that," you cried, and you felt your boyfriend nod against your cunt, his tongue still connected to your clit unendingly.

Your climax overtook your body soon after; your back arched beautifully, head thrown back as you chased your ecstasy against Yoongi's mouth, his hands and arms still holding you hostage against his tongue.

The small room was filled only with the starving groans and sounds of Yoongi feasting as if you were the ripest fruit, paired with your desperate whines and cries as you rode out your high on his face. Each twitch and jolt of your body was reciprocated by another hungry, affectionate flick of his tongue against you, like he was limit testing how much of you he could consume before you were straight up crying.

“Fuck, you’re so delicious,” he groaned against your clit, his head nodding between your thighs as he drank you up. His nose was pressed firmly against your skin, desperate to feel every twitch and pulse of your orgasm against his face as you slowly dropped down from your high. His two fingers gently curled and massaged inside of you, helping you milk every last drop of pleasure out of your peak before gently slipping out of you.

Yoongi stood up, chin glistening under the single pot light in the insulated booth. Without another word, he repositioned the mic stand, angling the mic lower, about halfway between your mouth and your hips.

“Baby, what are you—“

“Gonna miss hearing the sound of you,” he murmured as he tugged down his sweatpants, freeing himself from his boxers with a yank of his elastic waistband. “Especially going to miss the sound of you taking my dick.”

Yoongi stepped closer to you and wrapped his one arm around your thigh, holding you up and open for him while his other hand guided himself into your already half-ruined entrance.

"Don't hold back," he whispered. "Wanna hear every little sound from you."

He pushed himself into your still sensitive pussy, the stretch of his cock feeling double as intense through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He let out a breathy groan at your warmth, testing your waters with a swift roll of his hips.

"Oh-oh," you whined, gripping your boyfriend's bicep, your nails desperately anchoring themselves to his muscle.

"Fuck, baby, you're wetter than ever," he moaned, his hands coming to hold your waist, giving him more leverage to pull you back onto his cock as he thrusted into you. "No keepsake can ever make me not miss this body."

You whimpered and nodded at him, unable to respond to how intensely the tip of his dick was knocking into your cervix. The angle at which you were sitting on the stool with your boyfriend standing between your legs was extra intense: the soft curve of his cock slotted perfectly inside of you this way, like the two of you were made for each other in every way.

"You make me so crazy," he muttered, rocking his hips into yours at a torturous, assertive pace. "Can't get enough of you."

The wet crude sounds of his pelvis smacking up against your drenched pussy filled the soundproof chamber. Yoongi watched you with half-lidded eyes as he fucked you in an upright missionary, your back leaned against the cushioned booth wall, your legs bent and spread wide for him as he made love to you.

"You hear that?" he groaned. "The sound of you taking me so fucking well? I can hear how wet your fucking pussy is for me, Y/N."

You nodded, your lower lip almost being pierced by how hard you were biting down. Another particularly sharp thrust of his hips made you cry out, your nails almost digging into the skin of his arms now.

"Yoo-yoongi-" you were panting now, your cheeks flushed beautifully. "Gonna-cum again, you fuck me so well, god-"

"Yeah?" Yoongi hissed, a small cocky laugh escaping his open mouth. "I know, babe."

Your walls were squeezed around him so tightly now, with how close you were to another orgasm. Yoongi dropped his head forward, cursing under his breath as he held out on his own climax, determined to finish after you had.

“You make such sweet sounds,” he murmured. “Love the way your body cries for me.”

Yoongi’s hand lifted your chin, tilting it up towards him. His mouth was half open, his pants acting as the perfect instrumental to your symphony of desperate whines. He could tell you were close, with your wide eyes and furrowed brows, lips parted in a perfect 'O', the most beautiful erotic image of his girlfriend he's ever seen.

"Close, huh," he tutted, cocky smile on his face. You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as you focused on the growing fire in your stomach.

He gave you an open-mouthed, breathy, wet kiss before lowering the mic stand closer towards your mouth.

“Into the mic, baby,” he instructed. “Wanna hear you loud and clear.”

You let out a strangled cry as your second orgasm of the night shook through your bones. Yoongi maintained his pace inside of you as you threw your head back, then forward, tossing in your chair desperately with how good every nerve ending was shocking you.

"Fu-fuck," you sobbed. "You feel-so-so good."

He raised his finger to your chin, tilting you up to look at him so he could plant another long, wet kiss on your lips.

"Fuck, Y/N," he moaned into your mouth before you felt the grip on your waist tighten, his fingers pressing so hard into your body that you felt like it could bruise. His thrusts became staggered and sloppy as he released inside of you, his warm climax flooding your insides in desperate, erotic spurts.

The wet, sticky sounds of skin-to-skin echoed throughout the room, accompanied by the whines and pants that escaped both of your lips as you came down from your highs together.

"Baby," you whimpered as Yoongi finally slowed and then halted. "Oh my god."

Your foreheads were pressed together, sweaty, warm, and both equally as spent. Yoongi's eyes were still glued to yours, a tired, panting smile plastered all over his face.

"You okay?" He grinned at you.

"Yeah," you panted, half-smile on your face, your chest heaving.

Yoongi pressed a peck to your lips.

"Good."

He slowly pulled himself out of you, the wet, sticky mess threatening to drip out of you. Yoongi picked up your underwear and sweatpants from the floor and helped you back into them. As soon as you stood up from the stool, your knees buckled and you collapsed slightly towards the floor.

"Woah," Yoongi muttered with a furrowed brow. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You let out a breathless laugh.

"Just a little wobbly, that's all."

All the concern in his expression dissipated into a cocky, smug little grin as he realized that your weak legs were a result of his performance.

"Mmkay," he tutted, tongue-in-cheek, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, helping you stand up fully. "Give me a second."

Yoongi pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before disappearing out the booth door, reappearing through the glass at the computer. The sight of him, sweaty hair, flushed cheeks, his afterglow always made your heart race. He looked so worn out, so yours.

You took a moment to yourself to readjust yourself, making sure you looked decent enough to walk past the staff out in the lobby again.

"I love you," his voice crackled through the headphones again, left abandoned, hanging on the mic stand. You heard his little voice come through the speaker and looked back up at where he was standing. He was grinning at you, leaning over the desk. "Say it back."

You leaned back into the microphone in the booth one last time, eyes still locked with his:

"I love you too, Yoongi."

He smiled widely and turned his focus back to the computer screen, finally stopping the recording.

"Cut." He said with a laugh.

"You're going to have to apologize to the staff for staying here so late," you mumbled with a laugh, finally stepping back into the studio and collecting your bag from the couch. "Let's go home."

"One second," he murmured, double-clicking the track title and landing his fingers on his keyboard. You watched as he typed out a new name for the file.

hidden track: Her

He grinned to himself before turning off the computer screen.

"Okay. Ready to head home?"

"Mhm. I'm sleepy now."

Yoongi chuckled as he stood up and grabbed his bag and headphones from the sofa, giving you a quick kiss as his hand guided you on your lower back.

"Me too."

────୨ৎ────

“Lisa would give you the money back.” your son retorts.

“What’s going on?” you ask. You take your seatbelt off. “You’ve been quiet the entire ride home and now all of a sudden you want to quit?” 

You don’t mean to raise your voice at Ji-tae. It wasn’t him who had you at edge, it was Jungkook. The entire ride home, you had clenched the steering wheel so tightly that you were sure your palms would bleed. Your heart hadn’t stopped beating, either, and all you could think about was the look on Jungkook’s face as the elevator doors closed.

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Excuse me?” you snicker. You knew sooner or later, Ji-tae would be a teenager. Having a teenager meant dealing with the smart remarks that came with it.

“Nothing.”

When Ji-tae lifts his hand to open his door, you stop him. “We aren’t done talking.” you tell him. “Tell me what’s going on. Do you not enjoy it anymore?”

Ji-tae lowers his hand to his side. He looks at you fully now. “I do.” he says.

“Then why do you keep insisting on quitting?” you question. “I told you I can afford it now.”

Ji-tae swallows. His mind flashes with the older man - obviously your boss - sitting behind the desk. His eyes watching you, and then him.

“Tae…” you trail off. You knew your son enough to know that something was troubling him. 

“Are you sleeping with him?”

The car grows quiet. You’re left stunned - far too stunned to form a sentence right now.

You hadn’t expected that to be your son's question. As your mind races, the pieces slowly begin to work. It explained the look on your son's face when he stared at you, and then to Jungkook. The glare in his eyes…

No parent wants to be in your shoes right now. You feel so small in your son's gaze, one that resemblances Jungkook far too much for you to handle right now.

“You are.” Ji-tae deadpans.

“Tae,” you sigh, closing your eyes. “What-”

“That’s how you’re paying for it, right?” your son interrupts, his voice rising. “That’s how you got this car, too?”

“Tae - Tae!”

You get out of the car just as Ji-tae does. You slam the door behind you, not even bothering to lock it. You follow him right into the apartment. “Stop-”

“If that’s what you have to do to pay for everything then-”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop?!” you hiss at your son, your tone low and full of anger - but not at him. At yourself for putting your son in this position. Ji-tae may be young, yes, but he wasn’t dumb nor naive - especially not how you were when you were his age. He was highly aware of the world he lived in, even if he didn't speak it aloud.

Now, Ji-tae probably saw you differently. 

“I told you to stop worrying about shit that doesn’t concern you!” you continue. Sometimes, you think the way you speak to your son, and the way he responds to you, isn’t that of a mother and son. You could blame that on teen pregnancy.

Ji-tae snickers. “It does concern me. If you’re sleeping with him to pay-”

“Stop.” you hiss, eyes widening at him. “It’s…complicated, Tae…” you take a deep breath. “You’re too young to understand it.” 

You lean against the closed front door and sigh. Jumping into an abyss would be easier than having this conversation with a 13 year old.

“I’m old enough.” Ji-tae retorts. 

You snort. You tilt your head a bit as you peer at your son. You lick your lips, your throat clogging up. 

“I’m old enough to know that you look like you’re about to…cry.” Ji-tae murmurs. His shoulders slump a bit and now he feels remorseful. Maybe he should take your advice and remain his age - a part of him wants to. The other part of him hears his grandmother's words and her condescending tone telling him that you couldn’t afford the luxuries you give him - not without that job. In such a short amount of time, you’ve given him everything he’s asked for and more. You surprised him with a new gaming system, along with the overly expensive gaming chair you’ve remembered him speaking about.

But Ji-tae knows that he’ll gladly give it all aways if it meant you didn’t have to do what he’s suspect you are doing.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” you respond.

Sometimes you felt like it was your son who was the parent. You blame it on you being nothing but a dumb teenager when you had him, forced to grow up entirely too fast that you skipped the pivotal chapters. He was far wiser than anyone you’ve met his age, a trait you knew he hadn’t gotten from you.

“I don’t hate you.” Ji-tae swallows. “I don't want you to be taken advantage of, either.”

“You look just like him, you know? Your eyes were probably clouded with so much animosity that you hadn’t seen it.”

You make your way towards the kitchen. You could go for a drink right now, but you've decided that you’ll have to live with the self-pity for just a bit longer.

Ji-tae hovers in the door frame of said kitchen. He’s silent, replaying what you said in his mind.

“You said you’re old enough, right?” you ask. Ji-tae is eerily silent. “That’s Jungkook. He’s…your father.”

The word father coming from your lips sounds entirely too foreign.

There was a time that Ji-tae had asked about his father. He was only 7, you recall, and older than when you expected him to ask. You thought you prepared yourself for this moment, but even after he has asked you such an innocent question, you were left stunned for longer than you should’ve.

 “You don’t have a dad..” Ji-tae pointed out, his small hand in yours as you and he strolled home from school. It’s an activity he remembers enjoying because it meant you and he could stop for ice cream. It was only when he was older did he realize why you never got yourself any.

You laughed at how blunt children could be. “I do.” you told him. 

“Grandma says he’s in the ground.”

You nodded your head slowly. Your father wasn’t dead, he was just dead to your mother.

“Is my dad in the ground-”

“No!” you quipped. “He’s…just not around right now.”

It was the only explanation you’ve given Ji-tae and even then he took it. He hadn’t asked again, even if you told yourself that if he did, you’d explain it better to him. A part of you wished that you had more time but 6 years was enough time for you to say something to him.

Now, however, Ji-tae isn’t saying anything. He stands in the doorway and peers at you with familiar dark eyes that you weren’t sure you could handle.

“Tae,” you begin. “I didn’t-”

“Grandmother said you didn’t know who he was.”

You roll your eyes, because of course your mother would tell him that. You ponder how long your son sat and thought about you in a certain light.

“I did.” your teeth grits. “And if she was truly paying attention to who I brought in, she’d know, too.” you murmur, more to yourself than to Ji-tae.

 While you were more involved in your son's life - his interests, friends, hobbies and all - your mother gave you the freedom to do whatever. You’re positive she regretted it in the end.

Ji-tae is quiet again, but his eyebrows knit together.

“Whats on your mind?” you ask him. 

“So what?” your son shrugs his shoulders. “Why is he here now? Did he offer you this job out of pity or something?”

“What?” you shake your head. “Tae-”

“He wasn’t around for 13 years, ma. You don’t have to go back and do that-”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your body warms with hot embarrassment at how conscious your son could be. Sometimes, though you’re grateful that he isn’t, you’d wish he’d be like the other boys his age and worry about childish things.

“Tae, stop.” you interrupt. “I don’t want you to,” you swallow, eyes fluttering open to look at your son. Your heart jolts. “hate him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” your son snorts.

“Because,” 

Ji-tae knows that when you bounce your leg it means that you’re nervous. You always tend to avoid his eyes.

“he didn’t know about you.”

There isn’t any weight lifted from your shoulders like you wished there would be.

“We drifted apart. I got pregnant, and he went to college.” you deadpan. “I never told him about the pregnancy. I never thought I’d see him again.” you admitted. “I didn’t know he’d be who he was today. I didn’t know it was his company I was interviewing for.”

In front of Jungkook, the clouds appear like an ocean full of cotton, the sky a fiery pink and purple. The sun is setting and it glows intensively just outside his window. He watches it from his seat, only blinking when he feels his eyes grow dry.

Jungkook’s mind replays the last 13 years in his mind for any clues he may have not noticed until now. It’s easier to pinpoint when you fell pregnant as it was only one time, but when did you find out? Was it prior to graduation or after?

Ji-tae’s face flashes through his mind. The glaring look that he sends his way is far too obvious that he for one, didn’t know who he was, and for two, held great animosity for him.

Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose and closes his eyes for a bit. It appears that things with you were more complicated than he thought they were.

Just then, Jungkook’s ears perk at the sound of the elevator. “Lei…” he grumbles underneath his breath. “...I have enough surprises.”

Who Jungkook was hoping to see was you. He had gone through several scenarios in how he would approach this.

You were scared, obviously. You didn’t tell him because you yourself were afraid of how he’d react. It’s the reason why, for a while, you kept the pregnancy hidden. There were no records of you giving birth to Ji-tae because they were hidden.

Even if Jungkook was optimistic, there was still the lingering thought in his mind that told him you had hidden the pregnancy for the same reason you decided to ignore him all together. That thought alone plagued his thoughts and feeds on the insecurity he told himself he got rid of years ago.

You weren’t behind the door when Jungkook turns just as they open. Instead, it was Ji-tae again. He doesn’t step inside and the uncertain look on his face tells Jungkook that even he hadn’t thought about what he’d say.

Jungkook peers inside the elevator to find that he’s alone. “Where’s Y/N?” he questions.

“Home.” Ji-tae responds quietly.

Jungkook blinks.

Ji-tae does, as well.

“You can come in.” suggests Jungkook awkwardly. “Does she know you’re here?”

Jungkook’s eyes capture the way Ji-tae runs a hand through his hair before hesitantly walking through the office. Instantly, his eyes soften at the realization that the younger boy knows more than he did when he left.

“No.” Ji-tae responds. “I snuck out.”

Just great, Jungkook thinks. At first, he thought your motherly instinct came natural to you when you interacted with Jinah. Instead, you had 13 years of experience on your belt that gave you a head start. Witnessing the worried expression on your face earlier only told Jungkook that it was a matter of time before you realized your son was gone.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Jungkook rolls his leather seat out and prepares to sit. “She’ll be worried.”

“You don’t have to play the fatherly role.” Ji-tae retorts with a roll of his eyes. In that instinct, he saw you in the boy that resembles him.

Jungkook nods his head gently and says, “Do you want to sit?”

Jungkook motions for the leather seat on the opposite side of his desk. 

“You came all this way for a reason, right? What’s on your mind?”

Ji-tae finds it easier to talk where he’s standing - which is awkwardly by the closed elevator. He doesn’t realize the height Jungkook possesses until he does get closer, or the dark eyes that seem to follow him as he sits down. In that moment, he believes his mother is right about the resemblance he holds to this same man.

Jungkook sits down, as well. His office is far too quiet for his own liking.

“What’s going on between you and my mother?”

Straight to the point, Jungkook notes. Another thing he inherited from you.

“Well,” Jungkook begins. “she works-”

“I know you’re sleeping with her.” Ji-tae interrupts, and that shuts Jungkook right up. “I’m not sure if you gave her this job out of pity or-”

“Pity?” Jungkook is confused now. 

“Yes, pity.” Ji-tae swallows the lump in his throat. “I already told her she doesn’t need to pay for my classes anymore, so you can-”

“I didn’t hire your mother out of pity.” Jungkook interrupts the boy all together with a shake of his head. “I…what did she tell you about me?”

“What she told me is something I’m not sure I believe entirely.” Ji-tae murmurs. 

“And what are you unsure about?” Jungkook leans against the desk.

“If you truly had no idea about me at all.”

Jungkook is taken aback and he visibly winces. Ji-tae bites the inside of his cheek, thinking it’s something he shouldn’t have said.

“As I was walking away she said that,” Ji-tae takes a deep breath. “that you were already accepted at some college and she didn’t want to ruin it.”

Didn’t want to ruin it, Jungkook thinks. His foot begins to tap against the marble floor. His eyes blink a few times.

“Were you two dating?”

Ji-tae knows it isn’t any of his business truly, even if it was the reason why he was alive right now. However, a part of him doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“No. Not really.” Jungkook murmurs. 

“Oh…”

“I loved her.” Jungkook nods his head, leaning back against the chair. He feels exhausted in just a short amount of time. “I would’ve stayed if she told me.”

Ji-tae doesn’t know what to say, but before he has a chance to,  a loud ring sounds throughout the office. Immediately, he knows it’s you calling.

“I guess she found out I’m not home.” Ji-tae sighs, your name flashing on his phone.

“You should answer it. You don’t want to worry her.”

Ji-tae takes a glance at Jungkook. “She’s going to be pissed at me.” he mumbles. “Can you talk to her?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a bit. A part of his heart softens at the request. The other side knows that you would be just as equally pissed at him as you were with Ji-tae. However, Jungkook nods his head and holds out his hand for the ringing phone.

When he answers, you’re already on the other side demanding where Ji-tae was and why in the world he would leave without letting her know.

“Y/N.” Jungkook speaks into the phone. Ji-tae watches as the yelling stops for a moment, his eyes hopeful. “He’s fine. Maybe we should all talk together.”

Time’s were once simpler, you recall, like the moments you’d sneak out with your own friends. 

It’s something you shouldn’t have done, but your mothers disregard gave you freedom a teenager shouldn’t have and you took advantage of it. 

At times, you could feel it; the wind blowing through your hair whenever you drove with the windows down. When you heard a particular song that you’d once belt at the top of your lungs alongside them. You could taste the cheap alcohol that was either stolen from your parents, or liquor stores. Sometimes both.

The first time you’ve been to Jungkook’s house was one of those nights. The streets were quiet as you stumbled into his backyard, a borrowed  pair of heels in your hand. The look on Jungkook’s face when he saw you at his window. “You shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” you recall him scolding you softly, a hand around your waist to assist you in coming in through his window. “You can’t be too loud, my brother’s room is right across from mine.”

You weren’t sure why you made your way to Jungkook’s house. It felt better than going home alone, you thought, or continuing to do dumb shit with your friends that teenagers had no business doing. You dropped your heels and tilted your head at Jungkook.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” you asked. “Jacking off again?”

The redness on Jungkook’s face is something you always found cute. It’s the reason why you often teased him to no end. You licked your lips, eyes glancing around Jungkook’s bedroom. Far tidier than you’d imagine a teenage boy's room to look. “You’re such a nerd.” you murmured to him upon witnessing a tall shelf with comic books and figurines on it.

“I wouldn’t be able to do your homework if I wasn’t one.” was Jungkook’s response. “I wasn’t jacking off.”

Your eyes turned back to Jungkook, his ears just as red as his cheeks. Maybe it’s the booze in your system that has you giggling uncontrollably, a hand over your lips. You plopped down onto his bed, snuggling yourself into his comforter. “I don’t believe you. Other boys are out and you’re in your room fucking your hand. It’s pathetic.”

You never believed your own words. You found Jungkook interesting, which was the reason you kept returning time and time again. It was more than using the boy to do your assignments and projects. With time, you enjoyed playing with Jungkook - if it was forcing him to smell your panties, sitting into his lap “innocently” to the point you felt an obvious bulge, or even forcing him to speak so demeaning to himself. 

However, it isn’t always that. You did like to hear Jungkook talk about things that he was passionate about. Video games, or certain movies - mainly marvel. He’d sit and explain an entire timeline to you that you actually listened to. It made you realize you didn’t have anything like that yourself that you were passionate about. 

“You’re probably right.” was Jungkook’s response. His eyes focused on the way your skirt rises up, his morality screaming to stop being so perverted. It was obvious you were far too intoxicated.

“You’re such a virgin.” you giggled. “Aren’t you glad I've given you all your firsts so far?”

You lift from Jungkook’s bed to face him. He licks his lips, doe-like eyes widening. His heart was pumping in his chest. “I am glad,” he murmured. 

“Say thank you.” your eyes harden a bit, however your own heart jolts, as well. “I gave you your first kiss, right? Your first handjob, too. You should be more grateful that someone like me pities you enough.”

Again, Jungkook’s body warmed. You were always so quick to remind him everything you’ve done to him, even if it was just a secret you and he shared. How could you tell your friends that you enjoyed playing with Jungkook, someone they deemed beneath them? A loser? 

“T-Thank you.” Jungkook stammered.  

You broke out into a smile. It’s low and a bit sinister, but Jungkook still thinks you’re far too pretty and someone who couldn’t do any wrong. “Have you ever thought about…me fucking you, Kookie?”

It’s easy to notice the growing bulge in Jungkook’s pajama pants. It excites you to no end.

Jungkook’s heart thumped even louder because yes, he absolutely had thought about it. He didn’t know what sex felt like yet, but he imagined - with you - it would be something incredible. 

“Yes.” Jungkook murmured.

You laughed.

Your laugh is just as demeaning as your tone always was.

“You’re such a pervert.” you quip. “Say it.”

“I’m a pervert.” Jungkook mumbled. From across the hall, he hears his brother’s tv sounds.

You laughed again. You were too buzzed to handle Jungkook and his submission. 

“You’d do whatever I tell you to, huh?” you tease, a grin on your lips. “I should stop being so mean to you, right?”

Jungkook wasn’t sure where the sudden change in your demeanor went. It happened fast, your teasing and soft eyes, to something more serious. He didn’t have the chance to question you on it before you return back to what you once were. “Take your pants off.”

“W-Why?”

“Just do it.” you shrugged your shoulders.

Jungkook had a lot of memories of you and he drawn into his memories. This moment, watching the way you hike up your skirt to remove your own panties and toss them aside, was one of many. He recalls the way he does as he’s told easily, his cock hardened at just the mere sight of you.

Jungkook remembers the way his bed creaks when you push him onto it and get on top of him, your thighs caging him between you. You sit directly on him, your clit grinding against his shaft. This was the closest he’s ever been to having sex, and he wasn’t even inside of you - that didn’t make it any less exciting for him.

“You don’t have to do this.” was what you hadn’t expected to hear from him - or any teenage boy. “You’re drunk, right?”

You recall the way your nails dig into his shoulders and how wide your eyes got. Your heart had jolted once more, but you were always left confused whenever Jungkook showed signs of genuine concern for you. 

“I’m not drunk.” you murmured to him. It wasn’t a complete lie, you were buzzed, yes, but not completely incoherent. “Maybe I feel sorry for you being all alone.”

It was you who felt lonely after far too many drinks, your mind clouded with the very boy beneath you.

 You press yourself firmly against him. “I left my friends to come here.”

You lied and told them you had to go home.

“Aren’t you happy?”

You didn’t know how you'd act if Jungkook had rejected you fully at that moment. 

Jungkook doesn’t. He tells you that he is happy - and it was genuine. He’s happy that you chose him out of anyone to do this with, even if his cock wasn’t inside you. Feeling your pussy, warm, wet and dripping all over him, was enough.

You weren’t quiet in the slightest, however, no matter how hard Jungkook pleaded with you with fluttering eyes. You were in bliss yourself, your hips rutting, slippery pussy gliding against his hard cock. Your hands tug at his own to touch you anywhere, stating that he should be grateful you were here with him right now.

“I think I’m going to cum-”

Jungkook didn’t mean to slam his hand against your lips, he just didn’t need anyone waking up and hearing you right now. 

What Jungkook didn’t expect was your tongue to wrap around his fingers and suckle onto them, blurry eyes staring right at him. He cums, it’s hard and fast and sticks all over you, but you don’t care because you cum right along with him.

You share many memories with Jungkook, even if your situation with him only lasts a school year. That was the first time he had told you about his college entrance exams, stating that the very next morning he had to take them. You recalled the way he calls you a good luck charm when he places an arm around your waist and holds you close to him, the intimacy frightening you to no end.

Jungkook recalls the way you were gone by the time he woke up the following morning as if a fragment of his own imagination.

Now, Jungkook watches the way his son - it was weird to even think about - eyes stare at the large estate as he drives through the gates. 

Ji-tae doesn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much the entire ride there. Your car is already waiting for them as they arrive and once Jungkook pulls in, you’re already getting out of the car.

“You live here?” Ji-tae murmurs as Jungkook puts the car in park. A part of him isn’t ready to face you.

“Yes.” Jungkook responds. “Are you hungry? Dinner should be served soon.”

Ji-tae furrows his brows. “You have a cook?”

“Only sometimes.” Jungkook admits. “There was no time for me to cook today.” he trails off, because it was obvious. He had to find someone else to pick up Jinah entirely instead of you like she’s used to.

You have to admit seeing Jungkook and Ji-tae together does something to your heart. You didn’t want to face the reality of it all, however, especially when Jungkook draws nearer. “He’s hungry.”

“He always is.” you glance at Ji-tae, who adverts his eyes as soon as you look at him. “I was just about to start cooking until I realized you were gone.”

“We need to talk.”

“I should take Ji-tae-”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Jungkook interrupts. 

You take a deep breath. “I’m taking my son-”

“Your son?!” Jungkook scoffs at your choice of words.

You swallow. “Get in the car, Tae.” your words grit out. “Jungkook, I’ll-”

“He’s hungry.” Jungkook hisses, his eyes glaring towards you. 

Ji-tae has never been in a parental dispute before. In just a short amount of time, he realized he had a father.

 No, his father wasn’t dead. 

Yes, his mother knew exactly who he was.

And he was right in the middle of it all.

“Let him eat.” Jungkook continues. “You and I need to talk.”

There wasn’t any getting out of this, you note. Jungkook’s eyes are hard and staring right through you. 

“Fine.” you quip. 

Sitting across from a child that looked just like him wasn’t on Ji-tae’s itinerary.

Jeon Jinah stares at Ji-tae just as he stares right back at her. His stomach rumbles when he smells the food that the older man - a chef - places right in front of them. 

Jinah watches curiously as the older boy eats as if he hadn’t in days. It reminds her of when her dad eats, shoving food down faster than he could chew. It makes her laugh but just a bit and she follows his lead, shoving food into her own mouth just as aggressively.

“That’s it?” Jungkook scoffs. “That’s all you have to say to me? It is what it is?”

Jungkook’s office is the furthest from the dining area that would grant them such privacy.

“You kept my son-”

“You have no proof that he’s yours.” you deadpan, only because you had no actual argument.

“Can you be serious for once, Y/N?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You’re actually so fucking selfish.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes glaring daggers at him. “I’m selfish?” you spit.

“Yeeesss!” Jungkook hisses. “What the fuck have I done to you?”

You snicker. “I don’t have time for this.” you wave Jungkook off. You were only willing to talk because it was evident Jungkook wasn’t going to let you leave - and you didn’t want to cause a scene with Ji-tae watching and Jinah close.

Your hands grasp the doorknob to get out of this entirely, but from behind you Jungkook slams it shut. “You’re good for that, aren’t you?” he hisses.

“Fuck off, Kook.” you push yourself away from him. 

“No.” Jungkook steps closer to you. “That’s all you do, Y/N. You keep running. How long are you going to run until you’re out of breath?”

“When are you going to get out of the past?” you question. “You’ve forced me-”

Jungkook laughs in disbelief. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”

“No?” It was your turn to laugh. “Was it not you claiming that you wouldn’t let me leave?”

“You’re changing the subject. That isn’t the point and you know it.” Jungkook barks. “Why are you choosing to ignore the elephant in the room? The elephant being a 13 year old child. My child.”

You cross your arms over your chest. You didn’t have an answer. At least not the right one Jungkook would be looking for. Your body is hot and you were in fight or flight mode - and he knows exactly which mode you’ll rather be taking now. 

“It is,” your eyes look at Jungkook’s once more. “what it is.” 

Jungkook takes a deep breath. His throat makes a noise - a snicker of disbelief. He blinks a few times. He recalls the one and only time he’s ever put a hand on a woman and it was Jinah’s mother - for good reason, he always tells himself. But now, he finds that he wants to do the same to you. He doesn’t, but the thought flickers in his mind. 

“Did you hate me that much?” 

Your hard demeanor crumbles at Jungkook’s words. Even more at the crack in his voice at the end of his question. You don’t look at him anymore, and instantly Jungkook notices. 

“You did.” Jungkook licks his lips. “Whatever animosity you felt towards me, Y/N, you didn’t have to take it out on him.” 

“I didn’t take anything out on Ji-tae!” you hiss, uncrossing your arms. 

“You did!” Jungkook barks back. “You denied him a father, have you not?” 

The way you flinch has Jungkook taking a step back. He swallows the lump in his throat. He has to calm himself down, he thinks. 

“For once, can you just think about how I feel?” Jungkook questions. “To have him look at me the way he did. With such animosity. He thought you were lying to him.” 

You turn away from Jungkook. The study is large with books lining the wall. A studded leather seat sits behind a desk that looks obsessively organized. You don’t care about the study or the desk, you just don’t want Jungkook to look at you right now. Your eyes were beginning to burn and it was you that now appeared utterly pathetic. 

“About…what?” you murmur. 

“About not knowing he existed.” Jungkook grits his teeth. “He thought I abandoned him, Y/N. That now I pity you and-“

“I told him the truth!” you exclaim, still your back turned away from him. “I…I don’t want him to hate you.”

“Too late for that.” Jungkook scoffs. “I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t believe it, either. It still hurts.”

You squeeze your eyes close. You didn’t want to be here anymore and have to face the consequences of your actions. Jungkook was right to feel how he does. You should have told him about your pregnancy. You should have explained it all to him - your feelings, no matter how confused you were about them, your reasoning for leaving him alone entirely. All of it.

And not even just Jungkook, but Ji-tae. You had taken a father away from him. Even if you told yourself you were doing the right thing, it didn’t mean that it was the right thing. There’s a part of Ji-tae that he’s missed out on for so long that he’s told you himself he doesn’t want if it meant hurting you. 

“I didn’t hate you.” you murmur, so low and defeated. 

“You sure?” Jungkook snickers. You haven’t turned around yet. “Could have fooled me. You know…I told you about Jinah,” he begins. “about how she needed a woman in her life. Why didn’t you tell me then? You didn’t think Ji-tae needed a father in his life?”

“Of course I did.” 

Your throat begins to ache and before you know it, you feel your cheeks wet. You were crying, something you didn’t want - not in front of Jungkook. 

“Maybe I wasn’t the father you thought he needed.” 

Jungkook speaks so certainly. He’s doing what he always does when it comes to you. He gets further into his head, his own insecurities speaking louder than you are. 

“What?” You wipe your own eyes and sniffle a bit. “What the fuck are you on about now, Kook?”

“Well what else could it be?” Jungkook exclaims. “You made your choice 13 years ago. You ghosted me and took Ji-tae with you.”

“That’s not true.” you turn around, eyes glossy and red. 

“Then tell me what the fuck is the truth?!”  Jungkook is taken aback by your appearance. Glossy eyes, trembling lips. He realized he’s never seen you cry before - or look this vulnerable. “I followed you around because I was pathetic, right? I did your homework and all assignments.”

“Stop.” you hiss, but he doesn’t.

“I did whatever you told me to do. I touched myself in front of you because you told me to. I smelt your panties because you told me to.” 

Jungkook is now a few inches away from you. He’s angered, similar to the way he was in his office hours ago. 

“I told you I loved you.” Jungkook murmurs. “And still I wasn't good enough for you.”

You push past Jungkook, feeling the familiar ache in your throat. You’re at his office door again - you couldn’t deal with this. Not now.

“There you go again.” Jungkook is behind you just as you peel the door open. “Running away from your problems.”

You don’t make it far out the door before Jungkook is grasping your bicep and yanking you back. 

“Be honest for once, Y/N. Say it.” Jungkook forces you to face him. “Tell me how pathetic I am, again. Isn’t that why you left me? You’ll rather have Ji-tae grow up without a father than for me to be that.”

You push at Jungkook’s chest as hard as you could. His grip on your bicep disappears, but you can still feel his fingers on you. 

“Don’t you think I did it because of you?!” you hiss, pushing him again. 

“Because of me?!” Jungkook’s eyes widened at your audacity. 

“Yes, you!” you bellow. You don’t mean to. The door is wide open now and you’re positive Ji-tae and Jinah could hear. “I didn’t have what you did. I wasn’t accepted anywhere like you!” 

You push him again, but this time Jungkook doesn’t attempt to dodge your attack. 

“I didn’t have parents that cared about me like you did. Do you really think you’ll be where you are now if I would have told you?” 

Jungkook watches the way you cry once more. That was twice in just a short amount of time. You’ve stopped pushing him and instead sob just a bit. 

Now, Jungkook feels terrible. His words replay in his mind and he comes to the actuality of your words. You did it for him. 

“Y/N…”

Your sobbing stops. You peer, through blurred eyes, the look that Jungkook gives you. Instantly, it angers you. You hated being pitied.

“Shut up and don’t look at me!” you hiss.

“Don’t do that.” Jungkook shakes his head with a sigh. “Don’t shut me out again.”

Jungkook wants to reach out and touch you, but he’s afraid that you’d attack him for real this time. 

“Do you really think,” you wipe at your eyes bitterly. “that your parents would’ve allowed you to give everything you worked for…for me?” you scoff. “A slut who got herself pregnant-“

“I got you pregnant.” Jungkook interrupts. “Stop blaming yourself, Y/N. You didn’t do anything by yourself. I loved you more than going to fucking college.”

You scoff and shake your head. “You don’t get it, Kook. Do you really think I wanted you to do that?”

Before Jungkook has the chance to get further into his own head and jump through conclusions, you continue. 

“Do you really think I wanted you to give up everything you worked hard for? For me? 

Watching Jungkok with his family, from afar, was enough for you to come to the conclusion that you’d keep this pregnancy to yourself; at least for now. Even now, you recall the way your stomach sunk at the look on Jungkook’s face. He’s holding up his diploma as he takes pictures alongside his parents. There’s several medals around his neck and even an award in his hand.

Jungkook wasn’t like you - you thought it right there. Jungkook had two parents that loved him. He had parents that were proud of him. His own mother had tears in her own eyes as she stared at her son so lovingly.

Proudly.

“Cheer up!” Ava exclaimed, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. She shakes you a bit. She doesn’t know about your pregnancy, nor does she know just who you’re staring at. “We actually passed!”

“Thanks to Jungkook.” Lia giggled on the other side of you. “College is going to be hard without him. We sure as hell ain't going where he is.” 

You felt your stomach churn at the mention of Jungkook. To your friends, he was nothing but a nerd you used to get what you wanted out of him, and in a way he was. However, you hadn’t told them how your heart felt whenever you were around him. You hadn’t told them how funny Jungkook actually was, and smarter than he even shows. 

Your friends didn’t know about you sneaking away from them to visit Jungkook in his bedroom. How your heart felt as he held you all night - how you wished you’d stay but forced yourself to leave even before the sun came up. 

Your friends didn’t know that you preferred the company of Jungkook over theirs. 

“Yeah.” you murmur. “We aren’t.”

Now, Jungkook stares at you. You’re breathing so heavily and for the first time, you actually feel like just a bit of weight is coming off of your shoulders.

“Look at everything you’ve accomplished.” you wave your hand around at the estate - at everything, truly. “The business. The success. Do you really think you’d have it if you hadn’t left?”

The question has Jungkook stunned. He’s silent, pondering on it. Would he, he thinks, have it all? You were the main cause of his success. You leaving him gave him the drive he needed to be where he was today. It was an action he took to prove to you that he was worthy, even if he never saw you again. 

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, his heart jumping in his chest. 

“No, right?” you run a hand over your hair, chuckling a bit. Bitterly. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, either.” Jungkook responds. “I would have been fine going to community college. Or nowhere at all if it meant I could have stayed with you.”

You feel that ping in your chest again. It’s the same feeling you felt all those years ago while in Jungkook’s room. The way he looked in your eyes and told you that you didn’t have to do this. It’s a feeling you’ve never felt until that moment, you recall. The softness in his voice and the genuine look in his eye. 

“Jinah wouldn’t be here.” you mumble. Jungkook wasn't getting it, you think, or at least not in the way you need him to. 

Jungkook is silent once more. 

Jinah.

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook feels that wave of exhaustion flows through him once more. 

“Stay here tonight.” Jungkook pleads. “And don’t leave this time.”

You knit your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You always leave. Everytime.” Jungkook murmurs. “Like you did the first time. In my bedroom. You leave before we have the chance to actually talk.”

You bite your lip. Now wasn’t the time for you to bottle your emotions and mask them underneath slick remarks. 

“I want us to talk when we’re both level headed. Right now…let’s just eat. As a family.”

Jungkook steps out into the hallway and presses a hand onto your shoulder. He peers down at you, tilting his head just a bit. His eyes are curious. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He wants to ask everything - how was your pregnancy? How did you find out it was a boy? Did you have him naturally? Jungkook couldn’t imagine how you felt in labor, alone without him there to comfort you.

Jungkook’s lips are warm against your head. Your shoulders slump a bit, a sudden calmness overcoming you.

Ji-tae watches from the corner. Jinah is behind him. She’s confused, maybe even a bit upset at how irate her father appeared. She looks up at him with similarly dark eyes, her clothes ruined by attempting to keep up with him in eating.

“Are they fighting?” Jinah whispers. 

“We gotta go sit down.” was Ji-tae’s response just as Jungkook lifts his lips from your forehead. “I bet you can’t beat me to the table.”

Jinah instantly forgets the yelling just down the hall and runs as fast as her legs could bring her. Ji-tae glances back at you - the sight of you and Jungkook. His mind races with questions that he himself wishes he had the answers to. Instead, he turns on his feels and strolls after Jinah, assuring she got to the table right before he had. 

Jinah talks - and talks, and talks. It makes the dinner table feel a bit less awkward. Her main fascination now was Ji-tae - the new boy who was older, but not yet a man like her father. She asked question after question and it’s Jungkook who’s impressed by how patient he was. He answers all of her questions while Jinah sits with dirtied designer clothes and stained cheeks.

You’re a bit amused - and maybe even a little content - with watching Jinah and Ji-tae, even if she doesn’t fully comprehend who he is just yet. She invites him to her ballet recital, stating that he could sit front row alongside you and her dad. At first she was disappointed with hearing “I’ll try”, but it subsides when Ji-tae tells her it would depend if he was done with his gymnastic meets. As if on queue, her - and Jungkook’s - ears perk. The younger girl goes on and on without taking as much as a breath in how she too takes gymnastics - how she flips and always lands on her feet; unlike the other girls her age.

“Can I go?!” Jinah then turns to Jungkook - because she always did. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t get out of him, her matching eyes staring longingly at him until he eventually gave in.

“I don’t think-” was all Jungkook could get out before her eyes began to water rather dramatically. Jinah knew that her father was leading up to a no, and a young girl with a closet just for her dolls, designer clothing and a tea set imported from Europe wasn’t accustomed to anything that wasn’t yes.

“You can come.” Ji-tae speaks up. “On one condition.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief when Jinahs eyes - that coincidently appears dry now - turns to Ji-tae.

“Con..di..shon.” Jinah squints her eyes. She doesn’t know what that means.

“Condition. Like…a promise.” Ji-tae takes another bite of the steak. It happened to be his second plate right when you and Jungkook arrived. “When I come in first place, you cheer louder than everyone there.”

It’s you that rolls your eyes - Ji-tae was always competitive, a trait he didn’t get from you as you couldn’t care less about coming on top. “It’s a local competition, so she won’t be kicked out.”

You learned the hard way when Ji-tae was 10. To think of the amount of money you spent leading up to the competition, you’d be able to cheer.

Jungkook watches the way Jinah lifts her pinky as if she was signing a contract. He glances your way to find you’re already looking at him and he thinks maybe things are going to be alright  - at least in this moment.

Currently, Ji-tae lays in the large bed in Jungkook’s home. He’s wearing headphones, his eyes staring right on the ceiling. His mind is clouded a bit, drifting to everything that he’s learned all in one day. He thinks of your and Jungkook’s conversation that you hadn’t known he was listening to, how you stated you didn’t have the things Jungkook had. He thinks of the pictures that were lining the living room walls of Jinah in different stages - gymnastics, ballet, her first days of pre-school and kindergarten.

Ji-tae even notices other pictures of families, but his eyes don't linger on them for longer than he needed to.

Ji-tae stirs when the dim room begins to brighten. He removes the headphones from around him and lifts up from his laying position to look towards the door. 

Jinah’s so small as she peers in. She opens it more once she realizes that Ji-tae is already up.

She’s holding something in her hands when she comes deeper in. Ji-tae sets the headphones beside him and goes towards the lamp on the end table and turns it on.

“Ice cream.” Jinah murmurs quietly as this was one of her biggest secrets once her father went to bed. She’s none the wiser about the cameras in the home, nor does Jungkook ever scold her about her late night ice cream adventures.

Ji-tae is amused when Jinah holds out the ice-cream for him. It’s wrapped in white wrapping and instantly, he knows it’s a drumstick. He takes it from her small hands. “Thanks.” he whispers to her. 

Jinah settles onto the bed, her legs crossed as she messily opens the ice cream, a few of the roasted peanuts falling onto her pajamas and onto the bed.

You sit on Jungkook’s bed, your eyes lingering on his back. It flexes each time he moves his arms as he dries his hair. You had showered after dinner when he was getting Jinah ready for bed, and as he did, you had spoken to Ji-tae about spending the night, assuring that in the morning you’d get him a change of clothes and her gym bag. 

“I think he hates me.”

Jungkook turns around to face you. You’re already watching him. He thinks you look cute when you wear his clothing, now only being in an oversize shirt as you didn’t have any of your own clothes here.

“Ji-tae doesn’t hate you.” you say to him. “Why do you feel that way?”

Jungkook strolls towards the right of the room and back towards the bathroom. He hands his towel to dry before returning. “I don’t know, really.” he admits. “I might just be projecting. I mean…I’d hate me if I was him.”

“Come here.” you gesture for Jungkook to take a seat besides you. He’s only wearing underwear, prepared for bed. You want to do just that, but you also know Jungkook wouldn’t be able to sleep if his mind was so hell-bent on telling him he was hated by a 13 year old.

Jungkook does. You face him as he sits down, your eyes take in his face, to his bare chest.

You take a deep breath. For a moment, you are both silent. Jungkook knits his brows a bit - it looks like you want to say something, but it appears to be troubling you. There’s a slight grimace on your face.

“I’m sorry.” you mumble.

Jungkook blinks.

Then, Jungkook blinks again. He blinks a total of five times.

 His eyebrows soften. “That took a lot out of you, huh?” he snickers, his lips twitching.

The snarky side of you would’ve snapped at him by now, something that wouldn’t have offended him entirely because he loves it, but you note that it wasn’t the time for that. Jungkook, after having some time to think over your words, had calmed down from earlier.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” you ask. “You didn’t do anything.”

Unless you count the way he spoke to you after not seeing you for 13 years. Or how unprofessional the relationship you and he had as boss and “assistant”. The list could go on - how he talked about you to his closest friends that he met in college, said friends that now despise you without even truly knowing you. How he had resentment towards you that caused him to take it out on every woman afterwards.

It isn’t Jungkook’s proudest moments.

“You had to go through it all alone, right?” Jungkook questions. “I can be upset with you for how things happened, but I can also try to put myself in your shoes.”

You hated being sentimental. It was a weird feeling - different than the sexual tension that Jungkook fucked out of you. That was easier than sitting here right now underneath his gaze. Your throat begins to ache and your heart does the annoying jolting again.

“I would’ve stayed.” Jungkook repeats his words from earlier.

“That would’ve been dumb.” you snort, glancing away from him to further avoid his gaze. “You would’ve stayed with the bitch that used you?”

Your foot begins to bounce slightly.

“You were too kind, Kook.” you say. “You let me use you and-”

“Was I not a willing participant?” Jungkook interrupts you. He leans closer to you, reaching out to gently poke your cheek. “You speak as if you took advantage of me, Y/N. I did your homework because I wanted to. I skipped classes because I wanted to.”

When you finally turn back towards Jungkook, you find that his own eyes are already waiting for you.

You exhale. “I thought you would’ve found a girlfriend in college.” you attempt to change the subject. “Someone nice.”

“I did.” Jungkook replies.

You furrow your brows. “Oh?” you ask. You’re unsure how to feel - even if you know you don’t deserve to feel anything at all. 

Jungkook tilts his head. “Didn’t work out.” he murmurs. 

You swallow. “Why not?”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “She was too nice.” he responds. “Isn’t that fucked up? It didn’t work out because she was too nice?” he snorts. “I was an asshole in college. I’ve built up resentment towards you without even realizing that I was trying to find you in every woman I involved myself with. Too nice, not nice when it mattered, too submissive. I was just never satisfied.”

Again, you feel it. This time, it’s a feeling you’ve felt before when Jungkook, as teenagers, stated that he didn’t talk to other girls; something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“What about you? Have you dated anyone?”

“Y-Yeah.” you nod. “Not long. Only one guy.”

“What happened?” Jungkook doesn’t want to think about someone else having you.

“Stole from me.” you reply quickly. “Called me a crazy bitch on his way out. Stealing from me meant he was also stealing from Ji-tae. After that, I realized I didn’t have time to date. I stopped.” You shrugged your shoulders just as he did. “It’s always just been Ji-tae and I.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He tries to imagine what you’d look like pregnant, even as young as you were. What you’d look like holding a young boy's hands and navigating the world when you yourself were so young.

“This has to be a lot to take in at such a young age.”

You nod your head in agreement. You want to talk to Ji-tae again in the morning. He’s punctual and waking up in a new environment would surely throw off his routine, but Jungkook does have a home gym you were sure he didn’t mind him using. 

You hum to yourself, your mind drifting a bit before Jungkook speaks again.

“I want him to talk to a therapist.” 

You blink.

“I know someone. He’s a friend of mine,” Jungkook begins. “from college. He’s the best in the city, too. I think it’ll be good for all of us.”

You find yourself inhaling again. “I think so, too.” you agree. “Hopefully whatever we say is confidential.” you tease - only a bit, because you did want some form of privacy if you were going to be speaking to a therapist.

Jungkook snorts. “Joon’s professional.” he assures. “He takes his job and license seriously. Plus, he’s a genuine friend of mine. He’s one of the few that doesn’t hate you.”

Jungkook stiffens a bit when he realizes he’s said too much. He watches your expression change for a moment, before it flickers back to the more stoic one he remembers.

“I mean-”

“I know what you mean.” you interrupt. “So…how much of a bitch did you tell them I was to you?”

You’re staring so intently at him, but you appear so calm. Jungkook doesn’t know if you’re upset with him, or toying with him like you enjoy doing.

“Did you tell them how obsessed you were with me?” you murmur. It’s right then that Jungkook sees it, that twinkle in your eyes. “I bet they tried hooking you up with girls, right?”

You adjust yourself to turn fully towards Jungkook, his oversize shirt hiking up your thighs just a bit to offer him a peak of what's beneath it - which isn’t anything at all. His shoulders relax just a bit, his eyes blinking away from your smooth thighs back to your eyes.

Softly, Jungkook nods his head.

Your lips curl upwards just a bit and it excites him. He feels a shudder run up his spine, the hair on his arm rising as goosebumps break out.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

You move fast - or maybe Jungkook just doesn’t care to react. You climb right into his lap, sitting directly against his clothed crotch and he immediately wants to remove his underwear to feel you fully. 

Your hands settle on his chest a bit, your eyes watching the way your fingers trace along the tattoo on his chest. You tilt your head just a bit just as Jungkook’s hands settle onto your waist.

“Did you tell them the wicked bitch from your past return? Or am I a secret?”

Jungkook doesn’t intend to hide the truth from you. “Secret.” he responds. He knows his friends. You haven’t been a topic to them for years now, but when you were they didn’t have anything nice to say. Namjoon, like he stated, was neutral. He attempted to see things from your point of view, even if he didn’t have it. He came up with his own conclusions to not fully demonize you, a teenage girl.

Jimin, however, couldn’t be convinced. Upon immediately meeting Jungkook, the shy freshman with soft eyes that kept to himself, he thought of you as a lion that preyed on a lamb. His attempts in meeting different girls in college had gone down the drain, but it didn’t mean he ever stopped. He was ecstatic in knowing that Jungkook had a child on the way and prayed that it would work out with Jinah’s mother.

It didn’t.

However, Jimin wasn’t one to quit.

Hoseok was uninterested in you, but brought you up the most as the years dragged on. He couldn’t understand how one girl could have his friend act in such a way.

“How would they react if you told them?”

Your fingers tap upwards to his collarbone, to his neck.

“I bet they were hoping you’d get over me, too.”

“They’ll get over it.” Jungkook grabs your hand into his own. He brings it to his lips to press soft kisses onto your fingertips. “They have to, right? You aren’t going anywhere.”

It’s a settled statement, not a question in sight. He’s telling you directly as calmly as he could. 

“What was your pregnancy like?”

You blink.

Jungkook watches the way your expression shifts, your eyebrows knitting together. “My…pregnancy?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods curtly. “Did it go easily?”

The shift in conversation takes you by surprise, but you try not to dwell on it. “Um,” your mind races in order to think back to your pregnancy years ago. “I remember being exhausted. All Tae did was kick nonstop.”

Jungkook wants to envision it; you pregnant, your stomach forming as the months go on. The more he thinks of it, the sadder he gets - as pathetic it sounds - to not experience it alongside you.

“I was always hungry. I thought I’d get these weird cravings, you know?” you tell him and Jungkook listens intently, intrigued by it all while you sit in his lap. “But I didn’t. I would eat while walking around the house because that seemed to calm him down a bit.”

“Did you want a boy?”

Jungkook’s question brings you back to that time all those years ago. It reminds you of how lonely you felt without your friends - without him. All of your doctor visits were held in the next town over to assure - as your mother requested - you wouldn’t be seen by anyone she knew. Almost rarely did she attend with you.

It was moments like that, you sitting alone in the small space, that you ask yourself what it would’ve been like if you had told Jungkook. Or anyone else. 

You stare with squinting eyes at the screen, your heart jolts against your chest at how weird it felt to see the fetus right inside of you. 

You pondered if she was judging you, someone so young and without anyone to accompany her. She was nice, you recall, always smiled at you and even asked if you wanted to know the gender at a different appointment.

You hadn’t thought about the gender much -  not until that day. At your uncertainty, she had given you an envelope and it takes you exactly 2 weeks to open it. 

You weren’t sure exactly what you were afraid of - you were doing this regardless. Did you want a girl? That would be easier seeing as you yourself were one. You knew what it was like to be a girl living in this world. You knew how the world operated - for the most part - and you could teach her things your mother hadn’t taught you. You could show her the affection you wished you had, even right at that moment.

You remember the way you cried upon opening the envelope and reading “It’s a boy!” written neatly on it. You weren’t sure why you were crying. You hadn’t cried in months, but yet there you sat in your own bedroom, bawling at the thought of raising a boy all on your own.

“Yeah. I did.” you answer Jungkook truthfully. “I cried,” you snorted to yourself. “but then…I was happy. It’s just been Ji-tae and I ever since. We grew up together.”

Jungkook smiles at that. His fingers tap along your waist as he thinks about you and Ji-tae - you holding his smaller hands in yours. You holding him to your chest, him learning how to walk and talk similar to how he and Jinah were.

“I know what I did wasn’t right.”

You lean closer to Jungkook until your forehead touches his and your nose glides against one another. Jungkook’s heart races at how close you and he are. It appeared that no matter how many times he’s had you, you always had the ability to make his heart race as if he was the same teenage boy from his youth.

“But…” you murmur. Your lips are nearly touching his. “...I don’t want you to hate me.”

In that moment, Jungkook feels you shift in his lap and press yourself against his (embarrassingly hard) cock. It’s easier to feel you as you weren’t wearing anything underneath his shirt.

“I don’t hate you.” Jungkook answers almost instantly, his lips parting a bit. “You know I don’t.”

“Hm,” your hands trail teasingly behind his neck, and when you do so Jungkook has no choice but to shudder. “I know.”

Your lips capture his and he takes it all in needily. Instantly, his hold onto your waist tightens as you  kiss him, growing more lewd by the second. 

Your fingers trail into his hair, lightly tugging at them as Jungkook’s hands slide upwards and underneath the shirt to touch your soft skin. His tongue suckles onto yours, moaning into your mouth helplessly.

“Where do we go from here?” you say against his lips. Your body feels so hot and Jungkook’s hands on you doesn’t help.

“Where do you want it to go?” murmurs Jungkook in response. 

There’s another light tug on Jungkook’s hair, one that feels good to the touch. Maybe because you were the one doing it.

“I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

Jungkook inhales your scent. It’s clean and simple, nothing too dramatic. He can feel his cock twitch to be free from its barrier and feel you. His hands slide up your sides until they’re right underneath your breast.

“I don’t want you to go.” Jungkook says, pecking your lips, then sending kisses down your jaw. “I want you both here with me and Jinah.” 

You hum, deciding to deepen the kiss once more. Jungkooks’s hands tighten their grip on you, sliding up until they’re gripping your breast entirely. Your nipples hard instantly and you couldn’t help but groan into his mouth.

“You aren’t making it easier for me.” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I think you know what you’re doing.”

You’re amused. “What am I doing exactly?” you ask, but you know the teasing tone in your voice followed by the way you slightly grind against him that it’s obvious. 

“That,” Jungkook sighs. “you’re torturing me, right now. You always liked doing that.”

You did. As much as you enjoyed doing it, Jungkook enjoyed being on the receiving end of it. His thumbs press against your hardened nipples, twirling them slowly, his dark eyes watching you. 

“You’re supposed to be madder at me right now.” you voice. Leaning away from Jungkook, he immediately misses your warmth, but his hands settle on your waist. “You’re too forgiven.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. For a moment, he watches you. It’s hard being upset with you when you’re already in his lap and he can feel just how wet you are, even through his underwear. It makes it harder when he does hear things from your point of view, something Namjoon had insisted he do plenty of times before, even when he didn’t have it. While he went years building resentment for you while simultaneously trying to find you in every woman he sought out, you were raising a child on your own.

Jungkook isn’t sure what he thought your life would be, truly. He assumed you’ve gone to college elsewhere and found someone else as weak as him. He assumed you used your abilities to get yourself somewhere far, far away from it all.

“You’re thinking too hard again.” 

Your voice brings him back to reality. He blinks once, then twice.

“I am mad.” Jungkook murmurs. 

“Oh?” you tilt your head, peering down at him.

Jungkook feels his heart jolt.

“I’m mad you didn’t tell me, but you already knew that.” Jungkook continues. “I’m mad you did it all alone.”

“And what else?”

Jungkook isn’t sure what you’re doing by asking him this. What more did you want to hear from him? As long as he’s known you, there has to be some way for you to further toy with him. He’s sure of it when you grasp the end of his shirt and pull it over your head, removing the last piece of clothing until you’re fully naked on top of him.

“I’m mad you m-made me waste unnecessary time.”

“Did I?” you snicker, more amused by the slight stutter in his words. Your fingers tap along Jungkook’s chest, dipping lower and lower. “Maybe you should blame yourself, too. I couldn’t have been hard to find, right?”

You don’t blame Jungkook in the slightest and you were truly just talking for the sake of it. 

When you read his abdomen, Jungkook can feel his cock flinch desperately. 

“I wanted to.” Jungkook admits, a tint on his cheeks. “Jimin told me not to.”

“Jimin…” you say his name far too sweet for Jungkook’s liking. “...a friend of yours?”

Jungkook nods. 

“What does he think about me?”

Your fingers are now at the band of his underwear, the calvin klein lettering looking back up at you. 

“Jimin…holds grudges…” Jungkook licks his lips. “But he doesn’t know you, just-”

“Knows what you told him?” you finish the sentence. “I’m fine with that.”

Your fingers dig into his underwear and right as you lift yourself off of him, you peel them down. Embarrassingly, Jungkook’s cock shoots up, tip red and angry. 

Swallow, Jungkook murmurs, “I thought about you a lot. But…”

You allow Jungkook to speak. His underwear stops at his knees and he wiggles them off until he’s fully free of them.

“...I still resented you. Hoseok didn’t make it any better.”

You allow Jungkook to speak, grasping his cock in your palm and centering it at your entrance. You watch his face entirely.

“He told me to take my frustration from you out on other girls.”

Jungkook’s lips part, letting out a sharp breath when he feels the tip slide between your lips. So wet and warm, fully engulfing him entirely. 

“Go on.” you encourage, your tone strangely sweet that Jungkook does. “I tried. I told you the relationship didn't work out.” Jungkook murmurs. “Every hookup, all I could think about was you.”

There it was, Jungkook thinks, the twinkle in your eyes as he speaks. He thinks his words are fueling your own ego. Your walls squeeze around the tip immediately as you enter it and Jungkook shudders.

“Tell me more.”

And Jungkook does. He says it all - how he resented you for making him feel that way. How even after years away from you, all he could think about was the way you made him feel. He tells you how he became unrecognizable to himself, someone he didn’t recognize when he looked in the mirror - and he blamed it all on you. Blaming it on someone made it easier for him to get through life, even if he knew that it made him as pathetic as you called him.

Your thighs cage Jungkook in as he speaks, your hips rising and falling. You go faster and faster with each admission, your eyes focusing on the way Jungkook’s flutter and his lips part to let out satisfied moans.

“What do you feel now, Kookie?” you couldn’t help but ask. Your hands settle onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin without a care. Jungkook finds the stinging pain pleasurable. 

It’s hard to speak with the way you were taking him, rising and falling onto his cock so well. Your breasts bounce in his face and it’s right here that Jungkook thinks he’s in heaven.

“I love fucking you.” Jungkook gasps, his hands grabbing your waist in an attempt to slow you down, but if anything it feeds you. You grind against his cock, groaning with how deep inside of you it is. “I love having you close to me again.”

“You sound-”

“Pathetic?” Jungkook answers for you with a whimper. “I know.”

Nothing about what Jungkook was going through - and what he’s openly admitting - was admirable. He was everything you told him he was. And, at the moment, he hadn’t cared. Instead, his focus was on the way your pussy squeezes around his cock so lovingly, sinking him into the pleasured abyss, his tip slamming against that sweet spot he’s grown to love. 

“I love being around you.” Jungkook has to stop you himself by lifting you off of him. His breath quickens and for a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut. He didn’t want to cum - not yet.

“Too much?” you murmur, hovering above him. “Everytime you get sentimental, you act like you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle it just fine.” Jungkook retorts. “Maybe I just want to savor it.” he says.

Much to your dismay - partially - Jungkook flips the two of you. Your back hits the bed, but only a second goes by before he flips you once more, your chest pressed firmly against the bed.

“Knowing how you like to do things.” Jungkook retorts right behind you, and before you could snap back at him like he knows you would, his cock is entering you. 

As if on instinct, your thighs part, needing to feel more of him inside of you. Your lips part and as hard as you try, you couldn’t help the moan that falls pass them.

“Never know when you’ll get up and run away.” Jungkook snaps his hips forwards, a hand falling right besides your head, the other onto your waist to keep you right where he needs you. “You’re good for that, you know?”

Jungkook starts at a steady pace, his eyes fluttering with how well you feel around his cock. He doesn’t get tired of this - of you. 

“Fuck you.” you hiss just as your hands grip the sheets beneath you tightly. 

Then, Jungkook’s pace quickens. Who was he not to give you what you were desperately asking of him? His cocks pumps into you deeply, his stamina never wavering. The sight of you alone has his heart racing. You look so beautiful beneath him, your back arched just a bit, your thighs pushed apart to allow more of him in. It was perfect.

“But those days are behind us, right? You won’t be running anymore.” Jungkook huffs, lowering himself to press a kiss against your back.

You bite the inside of your cheek harshly, your eyes fluttering. Jungkook always has this switch to him. One moment, you’d be in control of it all, then the next he was. It was a healthy contrast to his younger self who allowed you to do whatever. It reminds you now that he was indeed a man.

As much as Jungkook was torturing himself with pulling out right as he was about to cum, he’s torturing you just as much. You’re a trembling mess beneath him, only the tip still in your clenching hole. He’s only a bit smug with how fucked out you are right now, loving the way your body flinches and your pussy squeezes at him, wanting more.

“You look so pretty like this.” Jungkooks coos, allowing his cock to push deeper inside of you and on instinct, your hips buck. A straggled moan passes through your lips. “It’s so different to see you compliant.”

Your pussy is already so wet and with each stretch, a sloppy squelch dances through Jungkook’s ears. It’s something he’d never get tired of. He pushes the rest of his cock in, burying it to the hilt. Your back arches and your fingers are tightly fisted into the bedsheets. A part of you is grateful that Jungkook’s home is as cheap as your apartment. The walls aren’t as thin and behind the thick, mahogany door you couldn’t hear anything. 

Witnessing the way your pussy takes all of him, Jungkook couldn’t help but licks his lips. Your body is so flushed, your thighs shaking and he cannot see your face, but he knows by now what you look like - glossy eyes and fucked out expression; his favorite.

“You tapping out?” Jungkook chuckles, thrusting out just to push back into you once more. He enjoys the sight of your ass slamming against him. “Can’t handle it?”

Jungkook isn’t slow in fucking you this time. He’s tortured you - and himself -  enough. He doesn’t give you a chance to give him a snappy response, and instead beats you to it. Each thrust has your body crashing against the bed, a moan - sometimes a high-pitched squeal - following immediately after. He thinks how perfect you are beneath him - how much he doesn’t want this to end. Your pussy is so wet that it captivates him entirely, plunging in and out of you roughly as you beg him for more - deeper, harder, faster.

You don’t have anything catty to say to the man, nothing besides sobs of pleasures. Maybe Jungkook won this one, you think, but there'll be many more battles that you’ll overcome. Until then, you allow your hips to meet Jungkook’s thrusts. Your pussy spasms, arousal pooling down your thighs filthily.

“Theeere you go,” Jungkook groans. His left hand slides from your waist slowly, leaving goosebumps behind them. He stops at your neck and roughly grasps it and hoists you up against his chest. His pumps don't stop as his lips press against your ear. He nibbles on it teasingly before his tongue licks along it. “I know you can take it just fine, baby.”

From your neck, Jungkook’s hand softens as it glides down to your chest. He squeezes a breast into his palm possessively, all the way his tongue falls to your neck. 

“Feel how wet you are.”

You do without hesitation - another part to Jungkook for how submissive you were being. You’re embarrassed by how right he is, your thighs coated with your own arousal. His cock pumps more out with each thrust. Your fingers twirl around your clit as your orgasm approaches closer. Your body falls limp against Jungkook’s.

Squeezing your breast again, Jungkook grumbles, “You aren’t going anywhere.” 

Jungkook knows that no matter how demanding and monotonous he speaks, deep down, there’s the same pathetic teenage boy you remember. The same one who watched you from afar and wished, that even if once, you’d talk to him again. He needs to hear you say it, so he tells you to. “Say it.”

You let go, juices pulling onto your fingers as Jungkook sloppily thrusts forward - deeper and deeper, hitting that sweet spot so well.

“Say you’re not going to leave.” Jungkook nearly begs into your neck, his stomach forming into knots.

You do, the simple “I’m not going to leave you” that has his pathetic heart fluttering. At that moment is when Jungkook cums, spilling so much inside of you that it knocks him unconscious immediately afterwards.

Jungkook is groggy when he awakes. He isn’t sure what time it is or how long he’s been asleep for - and for a few seconds, he forgets what day it is. Then, nearly all at once, does he remember exactly what’s happened the day prior.

Jungkook also remembers you fucking him to sleep, so much so that he couldn’t do his nightly workout session.

Reaching out his arms, Jungkook feels his heart jolt at how empty the bed feels. His eyes attempt to adjust and when they do, he finds that he’s alone, the large bed holding no trace of you. At first, he doesn’t know what to think or how to react - then his mind jumps into multiple scenarios. 

You left him - again. You fucked him to sleep and took the first moment you could to get the fuck out of there, taking Ji-tae with you. Of course, there’s only so far you could go, but it’s the first thought that comes to mind.

Then, however, Jungkook notices the faint smell of cinnamon. It eases his heart just a bit that he notices that his bedroom door is cracked just a bit. 

Within 15 minutes, Jungkook is washed up and takes the long hallway down to the kitchen.   He hears running water and when he rounds the corner, he sees you.

“Well you’re finally awake.” you say, glancing up from the plates you were scrubbing. 

Jungkook takes a deep breath, watching you long enough that you look up at him and catch his eye.

“Rough night?” you’re teasing him. The smile that forms onto your lips is enough for him to know that.

Jungkook hums, deciding to enter the kitchen instead of lingering in the entry way. His eyes scan the scenery and inhale the cinnamon smell once more.

Jungkook swallows, feeling a fluttery sensation in his stomach. 

You hadn’t left him, he thinks. Instead, you’re still here. You’re cleaning up what was cooked for breakfast, a meal he’s obviously missed, and you’re dressed for the day. 

You hadn’t left him. You cooked. You’re still here. You’re teasing him.

“You made breakfast.” states Jungkook, deciding that if he didn’t come back to reality soon, he’d probably confuse you.

“Your plate’s in the microwave. Didn’t want to wake you.”

You woke before anyone, but you weren’t surprised when Ji-tae was the next person up. You had managed to drive home, grab more than a few items that he’d need to start his own day, before returning. 

Jinah was the next one up. Her hair was a mess and at the sound of pancakes, she’s wide awake. 

“Jinah’s with Ji-tae.” you say as you place a plate onto the drying rack. “I told him he could use your treadmill. He usually runs every morning.”

Jungkook’s eyes glanced around the kitchen once more. He supposed that explains items being out that he’s positive you wouldn’t use - like the chocolate flavor protein powder.

“Is that fine?”

Jungkook blinks back at you. Your eyes are on him, this time scrubbing a pan.

“Of course.” Jungkook responds coolly. “I hope Jinah isn’t annoying him,” he says. He goes towards the microwave and opens it to find the stack of pancakes - blueberry; Jinah’s favorite. “She grows attached quickly.”

You should know, Jungkook thinks, as she grew fond of you quicker than he expected. 

You snicker. You have to admit that Ji-tae fits the role of the older brother perfectly and watching the two of them does something to your heart. It was him who cut her pancakes when she asked and at the sight of Ji-tae adding extra syrup to his pancakes, she insisted that she wanted the same.

“Tae’s fine.” you tell Jungkook. You’re rinsing the last pan. “She hasn’t left his side yet. They actually look so cute~”

Jungkook scarfs down the pancakes when you remember. The two of you remained in a comfortable silence in the kitchen as he ate. You make your way towards the island where your bag sits. You rummage through it.

“I went home while you were asleep. Grab some things for Tae.” you start. “Thought…you’d wanted these.”

Jungkook licks his lips. His eyebrows furrow a bit when you hold up a black album. Immediately Jungkook notices it’s a photo album

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours for a moment. You look…nervous? 

Jungkook grabs the album from your hands. It’s black with a gold band outlining it.

“I know pictures can’t make up 13 years but…” you trail off. You can feel your heart in your chest now. Still, you’re unsure why you’re feeling this way. There weren’t anything but pictures throughout the years, and yet you feel as though you want the world to swallow you whole right now. 

Jungkook opens the album, his eyes falling on the first picture. It’s of you - the you he remembers 13 years ago. You’re so young, he thinks, laying in the hospital bed sporting the gown. In your chest is a small infant, curled up. Your hands cradle him close and at the sight, Jungkook swallows thickly. 

“My mom took that picture.” you murmur, glancing at the photo across from him. “He actually came a few weeks early. I was actually so relieved,” you snickered. “all he did was move and kick constantly.

Jungkook goes through the photo album, witnessing the way Ji-tae - and you - age. First birthdays, to first days of school. Award ceremonies at school, to his gymnastic meets - a sense of pride goes through Jungkook when he notices that Ji-tae was always first in everything.

The most recent picture in there is one of him this year, his final school picture before he’d be entering High School. He stares at the picture of the boy that’s so close to him now that shares the same dark eyes and smile.

You watch the way Jungkook’s eyes are nearly unblinking the entire time, flipping through the pictures. A few of them you explain - like Ji-tae participating in gymnastics, or the time he won so many awards at school that you treated him an entire day at the arcade, something you saved up for.

“Are you okay?” you couldn’t help but ask, causing Jungkook to blink a few times. He hadn’t talked much and now, all he had been doing was staring at the school picture in front of him.

“Is it…too much?”

You were afraid to hear what Jungkook had to say. A part of you feels bad for having him and Ji-tae find out the way they did. You understood the decision wasn’t only yours and in the end, it was Ji-tae that lost out on a paternal figure. The other part of you - the stubbornness that Jungkook knows all too well - doesn’t feel the same. Could you look at yourself the same if you knew Jungkook would have given up everything he worked hard for to stay with you?

You thought giving Jungkook an insight of what it was like, even if it was just a small fraction of it, would be a start. Now-

“You’re all he has.”

Jungkook’s words replay in your mind - over and over again.

“And he was all you had, too.” Jungkook murmurs. He closes the album and finally looks up at you. “I understand now why he thinks I’m taking advantage of you.”

“He doesn't think that anymore.” you protest, but Jungkook cuts you off.

“If looks could kill, Y/N, I would’ve been dead the first time he saw me.” Jungkook isn’t upset, you note. He’s understanding - now more than ever. “He’s just protective over you.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head. “I know…” you exhale. “I don’t want him to be. I want him to be a regular teenager and not worry about anything. But that’s Tae for you.”

“Can I keep these?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the pictures.

“Y-Yeah.” you nod. Your body warms up and you have to look away from Jungkook in order to feel cool again.

You hadn’t realized Jungkook had rounded the island until you felt him. A pair of arms wrap around your shoulders. 

“Kook-”

“Thank you.”

Ji-tae feels like, in a short amount of time, he’s grown well of hiding around corners to listen in on you and Jungkook. He watches the way Jungkook wraps you into an embrace that has you shocked. The way he whispers “Thank you” to you, followed by a “I want us to be a family”.

Ji-tae listens in for a bit longer. He studies the way you couldn’t hold Jungkook’s gaze before you’re looking away from him nervously, but you find his kisses inviting. You tell him that you aren’t sure if it’s something he - Ji-tae - would want so soon. You don’t want to change everything he’s known overnight. “Whenever he’s ready.” was Jungkook’s response. Ji-tae knows that he has to play it cool when Jinah’s feet paddle against the floor, coming closer and closer. When she reaches Ji-tae, her small hands grasp his and she says, “I found you!”

“You did.” Ji-tae hums, a low grin forming onto his lips. “I guess it’s my turn to count.”

“Lei,”

Lei looks up from her computer. She offers a kind smile. 

“Mr. Park.” Lei stands, offering a head bow. “Welcome.”

Park Jimin offers the same smile her way, one that always has her stomach falling at how handsome he is.

“Is Mr. Jeon expecting you?” Lei asks. 

“Not exactly.” Jimin giggles. 

Behind Jimin stands a woman, her arms behind her back as she waits patiently for Jimin. Her hair is a golden brown and through the floor length windows behind her, it appears to glow. She’s model-like, Lei notes. Tall, slender, toned. 

“Let me call him-”

Lei picks up the phone to dial her boss right on the top floor. Jungkook isn’t one to be stern, but he’s made it clear that he would need to be informed before anyone makes their way up.

“That won’t be necessary.” Jimin assures, placing a hand onto the desk. “I’ll give him a call on the way up, okay?”

Lei appears hesitant. She bites her lip, glancing between Jimin to the model-like woman behind him. She knows who he is. After being employed here for years, she’s well acquainted with those close to Mr. Jeon. 

Jungkook and you have been nothing but unprofessional in his office. But you and he are on lunch break so it’s completely fine. You’re seated on his lap now, your once buttoned shirt now wide open for him. Your skirt is scrunched up at your hips. Your panties are soaked as they grind against his hardened cock.

Completely unprofessional for a boss and his assistant.

But it’s okay, because you’re also the mother of his son.

Jungkook’s tongue slurps and suckles against your hardened nipple, his thumb and index finger tugging at the other one. His right arm is wrapped around your waist, his palm directly against your ass, encouraging you to grind harder against him.

“I can get more work done around here if you’d stop trying to fuck me so much.” 

But the way your hands grip at Jungkook's hair tells the true story. You didn’t want him to stop, and neither did he.

“Anyone would be happy to get paid to rub their pussy against me.” Jungkook retorts, popping your wet nipple from his lips. 

Jungkook is right about that, but he also doesn’t have the chance to continue further due to the elevator sounding. He feels his head begin to hurt. 

“How many times do I have to tell Lei?” he grumbles.

It takes you and Jungkook 2 minutes to get situated. It would’ve been faster if the man wasn’t hellbent on kissing you every few seconds, laughing against your lips while you attempted to button up your shirt.

Just as the elevator doors open, you’re already sitting at your desk. 

Jungkook’s knowing smirk drops when he realizes who is behind the elevator doors.

“Well well,” 

Your eyes follow the man that walks through, then at the woman behind him. Glancing at Jungkook, your eyebrows knit. He doesn’t look content in seeing either of them.

Jungkook stands from his seat. “What-”

“You’ve been ignoring all of my calls and texts.” the man tells Jungkook. “Hobi said he hasn’t heard from you, either.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath as he looks at a stern Park Jimin, one of his closest friends.

Seeing Jimin now wouldn’t be an issue, of course, if he hadn’t been avoiding him because of you and Ji-tae - mainly you. 

Slowly, you and Jungkook were growing accustomed to being a family. It took two weeks for you to allow Ji-tae to occupy the spare room and make it his own. The first session with Namjoon was just a week ago, and tomorrow will be the second one. 

Namjoon himself has been sworn into secrecy and had been speechless at the words Jungkook had told him over the phone. At times, he laughs at the look on Namjoon’s face when he comes to his home and actually see’s Ji-tae for the first time.

The events of last month had occupied Jungkook’s time to the point that he didn’t have time to answer Jimin’s blind date requests. He knew it was a matter of time before Jimin came to him himself.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say, standing at your desk and rounding it. Being professional with him is so out of the ordinary that it even surprises you. “should I get refreshments for you and your…guests?”

Jimin turns to you, allowing his eyes to trail the entirety of your body before meeting your eyes. “Hello.” he says, offering the same kind smile to you that he did to Lei. “I wasn’t aware you had an assistant now. My apologies.”

Jungkook watches the way Jimin holds out his hand for you to take. When you do, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Park Jimin,” the man says.

Jungkook watches the way your eyes flash with sudden realization. He licks his lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Park Jimin…” you hum back his name so sweetly that Jungkook knows it’s an act. Your eyes connect with his and you feel like it’s your lucky day. “...I’ve heard about you.”

Jimin snickers. “Have you?” he asks. “It’s a shame. My closest friend has kept me in the dark for months now.” he lets go of your hand and turns back to Jungkook. “So much so that I had to track him down myself.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook sighs. He didn’t have time for this now. 

Jimin’s eyes trail along Jungkook’s desk, witnessing pictures of Jinah, the adorable little girl that has so much of Jungkook’s personality that sometimes he swears she was created in a lab. His eyes fall on another picture, one that has his eyes squinting.

Immediately, Jungkook notices where Jimin’s eyes are focused. It’s of Ji-tae and Jinah, a picture that has been taken recently by you. It’s become one of his favorite pictures with how excited the two of them look holding their own ice cream cones, double scooped with disgustingly good amounts of toppings and fudge on it that it drips down the cone entirely.

Before Jimin can question anything, Jungkook speaks. “Yes, refreshments would be nice.” 

Jimin’s eyes snap upwards at Jungkook, before he turns back to you. Your heels click against the marble floor as you make your way towards the elevator. 

“I didn’t get your name.” Jimin calls just as the elevator doors open.

“That’s right.” you smile, entering the elevator. “Y/N.” you tell him, pressing the button to the lobby. You had to say it was well worth it to watch the grin on Jimin’s lips falter almost immediately at the sound of your name.

so i wanted things to be wrapped up in 3 parts, but knowing me you guys will be waiting for another 6 months LMAO and i cannot have that

Shit.

You should have seen this coming—in fact, you had seen it coming. The tarot cards from your personal draw three nights ago had explicitly shown the Queen of Swords paired with a sudden disruption. You just thought it wouldn't happen so soon. You were barely ever wrong when it came to your own intuition, so why on earth had you let your guard down and convinced yourself she wouldn't call today?

Letting out a heavy sigh, you leaned the broom securely against the counter and wiped your palms down the sides of your linen trousers, trying to rub away the sudden spike of nervous energy.

You picked it up, sliding the green icon across the screen and lifting the phone to your ear.

"Yes, mother."

"You're in over your head," her voice cut through the line, instantly sharp and entirely devoid of pleasantries. She didn't ask how the new city was treating you, or if business at the apothecary was steady. She just went straight for the throat. "The threads are knotting up around you. I felt the pull all the way back here. You’ve let someone in."

You closed your eyes, rubbing the bridge of your nose as you immediately went into your usual defensive mode when you’re speaking with her.

"Mother, it’s not what you think. It was a completely isolated incident at the lounge last night. There was an energetic imbalance, a spiritual breach, and I had to use a binding catalyst with blood just to contain the fallout. It was a calculated boundary, perfectly sealed in an inox bowl to ensure it wouldn't bleed into my personal space. I have the wards up, I threw sea salt over the threshold this morning, and I'm cleansing the shop crystals right now. I am completely in control of the perimeter."

"He's a black hole," she stated flatly, ignoring your paragraph of justifications. "I saw the horizon line this morning in the dregs of my tea. Total eclipse. An impending doom is settling over your house, and you're standing there holding a broom like it's a shield. You're going to get dragged into the dirt."

Instead of hanging up immediately as you had thought to do, you pressed the phone tighter to your ear, determined to make her understand.

"Mother, it was foretold," you argued, your voice dropping to a whisper. "You know this. We both saw it in the alignment weeks ago. The disruption was inevitable, whether it took this form or something else."

"Nonsense," your mother snapped back, her sharp words cutting through the line without a shred of hesitation. "Seeing a storm on the horizon doesn't mean you run outside to catch the lightning. You are not the one who should be doing this. You are putting yourself directly in harm's way for a man who doesn't even believe in the dirt he walks on."

"You're projecting," you said flatly, the defense slipping out before you could stop it.

The line went dead silent for a terrifying beat before her voice returned, icy and unyielding.

"No child of mine will get tangled into that. I don't care how clever you think your boundaries are. Not after what happened with your aunt. I watched that exact same pride tear her life apart root by stem, and I will not sit back and watch you repeat history because you think you're too smart for the consequences."

You let out a long, exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as the weight of old family trauma threatened to crash into the room. "Mother, please, just listen to me. It's not like that. This isn't an emotional attachment, it's a completely calculated arrangement. I have the upper hand here—"

"I don't want to hear another syllable of your foolish justifications when you are playing chicken with a spiritual void, because the moment that pact seals itself completely, you won't just be dealing with the threats, you'll be drowning in the collective rot of everything he attracts, and if you think for one single second that your salt and your little obsidian rings are going to protect you from a generational pull like that, you are severely mistaken, so you will lock that door right now and—"

"Okay, bye!" you yelped, completely overwhelmed by the furious, rapid-fire lecture.

You slammed your thumb down on the red icon, cutting the line mid-sentence and ending the call. The sudden silence of the apothecary rushed back in to swallow you whole, leaving your heart hammering against your ribs.

When 6:00 PM rolled around, the melodic chime of the shop door was heard again.

Taehyung strolled in, perfectly framed by the warm amber light of the entrance. He was dressed in the exact same style of immaculate, sharp three-piece suit he always wears, though this time the fabric was a very dark, midnight navy that practically screamed corporate authority.

Despite his intimidating attire, his posture shifted the moment the door closed behind him. He stood there looking around like a lost puppy, his eyes wide as he actively took in everything—from the hand-carved walnut shelves to the rows of uniform glass jars glowing under the low-hanging bulbs.

His eyes landed on a burning display by the counter, and his deep voice broke the quiet space. "Ooouhhhh, incense sticks."

You shot him a sharp, warning glare from across the room and gestured toward the velvet curtain.

"You. In the backroom," you ordered, your tone completely stern.

Taehyung's lips twitched, that familiar, smug smirk instantly returning to his face as he stepped closer. "No dinner first? You’re very forward, Hex. But yes, to answer your question, I can do the backroom thing."

You shot a very audible, visceral "Ew" right at his face, wrinkling your nose in disgust as you stepped out from behind the counter.

"You are a total horndog," you stated flatly, crossing your arms and refusing to give an inch to his smirk. "I meant for the reading. The cards. The reason you've been aggressively double-texting me since the middle of the night."

Taehyung blinked, his eyes widening in mock surprise as he let out a low, amused chuckle. He smoothed down the front of his navy vest, entirely unbothered by your rejection.

"Oh," he said, tilting his head with a look of skepticism. "We're actually doing that? I honestly thought the whole 'witchcraft and prophecy' bit was just an elaborate, creative ploy to get me alone in a dark room again. A strategy to see me."

"Your ego is genuinely a public safety hazard," you muttered, rolling your eyes so hard it practically hurt. You walked past him, your shoulder brushing his expensive sleeve, and forcefully yanked the heavy velvet curtain aside. "Get in there before I decide to hex you for real. And sit at the table."

Taehyung watched you for a fraction of a second, his calculated gaze tracking the sharp movement of your hands before he finally stepped past the threshold. The dim warmth of the backroom instantly swallowed him, the scent of cedar and old magic wrapping around his crisp, expensive cologne like a physical trap. He didn't look intimidated—if anything, he looked like a man walking into a boardroom he fully intended to buy.

His long fingers drifted across the edge of the workspace, brushing against a small coil of natural hemp rope used for bundling dried lavender and sage hanging near the table.

A slow, wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

"Hex..." he murmured, his thumb sliding over the rough fiber. "Hex..." Each time he repeated the ridiculous nickname, his voice dropped lower, turning the word into a thick, deliberate purr that vibrated through the quiet room.

You snapped your head toward him, your glare icy enough to freeze water. "What."

He looked up from the twine, his eyes glittering under the dim candlelight as he fully leaned into his own arrogance. "I didn't know you were into ropes. Honestly, it makes me glad. I thought I'd have to spend a considerable amount of time convincing yo—"

"Are you serious?" you cut him off, your voice deadpan and flat.

"Dead serious," Taehyung replied smoothly, his gaze dropping to your hands before rising back to lock onto your eyes. "Though, if we're being completely honest, I think silk ones would be better for your tender wrists. Hemp chafes."

"Sit the fuck down, Taehyung."

"Fine," Taehyung murmured, the smugness still playing at the edge of his lips as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

He finally slid into the wooden chair directly across from you, the dark green cloth separating your spaces. But before you could even reach for your tarot deck, his warm fingers reached across the table. With practiced, smooth confidence, he caught your wrists, turning your palms upward and resting his large hands entirely over yours, lacing his fingers loosely through your own.

You froze, the sudden warmth of his skin sending a sharp jolt right up your spine.

"What the hell are you doing?" you snapped, trying to pull back, but his grip remained firm, anchoring you to the wood.

Taehyung merely tilted his head, his eyes looking completely unbothered under the dim candlelight. "Is that not how this goes?"

"No???" you shot back, incredulous. "You don't just grab the reader. I need my hands to actually shuffle and lay out the cards, you absolute menace."

He let out a low, amused hum, his thumbs tracing a slow, deliberate circle over the sensitive skin of your palms. "A shame. I figured a proper reading required a thorough examination of the evidence. I’m just submitting my hands for inspection, Hex."

You yanked your hands backward with a sharp twist, finally breaking his grip. You immediately reached into your bag and pulled out the heavy, silk-wrapped tarot deck, thumping it down onto the center of the dark cloth right between his sprawling fingers.

"I meant bring your physical presence so I could read your energy, not assault my personal space before I've even lit the cleansing sage," you muttered, untying the silk ribbon with quick, practiced movements. "And for the last time, stop calling me that."

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his face as he watched you spread the cards in a flawless arc across the table. He laced his fingers together over his stomach, the dark navy of his vest shifting slightly. "You're going to have to be more specific, Hex. Stop calling you what? A menace? Or the name that perfectly encapsulates how much of a disruptive hold you think you have over my life?"

"Both," you said, not looking up as you began to shuffle the heavy cardstock, the rhythmic thrup-thrup-thrup of the deck filling the tense, amber-lit space. "But mostly the latter. It's childish."

"I think it's efficient," he countered smoothly, his deep voice dropping into that quiet rhythm he used when he was setting a trap. "A clean label for an unresolved variable. But please, proceed. Tell me what the universe thinks of our little dynamic. I'm dying to hear how my corporate strategy aligns with your celestial timeline."

You paused mid-shuffle, your eyes snapping up to meet his unwavering gaze. The candlelight flickered, casting long, sharp shadows across his high cheekbones.

"You think this is a joke," you said softly, the playful annoyance leaving your voice.

Taehyung's smile faded slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction as he took in the sudden shift in your demeanor. He didn't lean away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, invading your space once more without ever touching you.

"Then educate me," he murmured, his tone dropping. "Lay out the pieces, Hex. Let's see who really holds the hand in this game."

You stopped shuffling and cut the deck exactly three times, your movements precise and heavy with intent. With a slow, deliberate sweep of your hand, you drew three cards from the arc and flipped them over onto the dark green cloth.

As your eyes scanned the illustrations, your brow furrowed, and your face contorted into a deeply unsettled frown.

Taehyung tracked your expression, a faint, cocky smirk returning to his lips as he leaned a fraction closer. "What's that look for? Do the cards say I’m super handsome? Because they're right, you know. You don't need a deck to tell you that."

You shook your head slowly, a little taken aback, completely ignoring his vanity. The air in the backroom suddenly felt ten times heavier, the candle flames flickering violently for a split second before freezing completely still.

"This isn't a joke, Taehyung," you said, your voice dropping into a tense tone barely above a whisper as you stared at the central card. "There’s... something wrong with your alignment. You’ve been almost hexed. Or targeted."

Taehyung let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, rolling his eyes as he slumped back into his chair. "Oh, come on. A 'hex'? Are we really doing this? I hire premium security for my apartment and my office, Hex. My cyber-security team is the best in the country. Nobody is targeting me."

"I'm not talking about your data or your locks," you retorted, your eyes snapping up to lock onto his skeptical gaze. "Look at the cards. There is a massive, suffocating pool of dark energy swimming directly around you. It’s completely enveloping your perimeter, but... it's not actually doing anything to you. Not yet. It’s like whoever or whatever put it there has it on standby. It's just waiting. Lingering in your shadow until a specific trigger sets it off."

Taehyung groaned, waving a dismissive hand in the air as his expression turned thoroughly deflective. "Right, a standing army of invisible ghosts is waiting in my shadow. Sure. Look, I don't know what kind of theatrical performance you usually give your paying clients to get them to buy more sage, but you can drop the act with me. I live in the real world. My problems have names, corporate titles, and bank accounts. They don't swim around in the ether waiting for a 'trigger'."

Silence on your part. This is so peculiar.

Taehyung scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive in the quiet room. "You can drop the dramatic pauses, Hex. You're trying to weave a narrative where we're somehow mystically bound, and I'm just not buying the script."

You leaned forward, the dark green cloth catching the amber glow of the candle between you. You needed to correct his assumption before his ego completely ran away with it.

"Let's get one thing perfectly straight," you said, your voice cutting through his deflection. "We aren't bound together. A blood pact requires mutual spiritual intent, an open connection, and alignment."

Taehyung’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed your words, looking for a bluff he couldn't find.

"But," you continued, tapping a finger against the central card on the table, "that doesn't change the fact that the flame from your blood last night was entirely wrong. It behaved in a way that defied every basic law of the craft. It was weird."

He leaned his forearms against the edge of the table, his midnight navy suit shifting as he stared back at you, thoroughly unconvinced but inherently curious. "Weird how?"

The way his blood had reacted on those discarded tissues you burned was just odd.

You didn't say it out loud, but your mind immediately flashed back to why you had gone through the trouble of gathering them in the first place. Sure, you had done it to protect him. It was incredibly, profoundly foolish of him to leave his bloodied tissues scattered carelessly around a witch bar where you had absolutely no idea who was coming in and who was walking out. You didn't know what kind of messy wards the bar manager used, or what kind of dark, lingering intentions had saturated that place before you ever took the job. Leaving a biological anchor like blood out in the open was practically begging a roaming creature to take notice.

It was better to be safe than sorry.

But looking at the sharp, stubborn line of his jaw and the smug skepticism in his dark eyes, you decided against laying it all out. You weren't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you had been looking out for him, and frankly, he wouldn't get it anyway. To a man who viewed the world exclusively through legal contracts and corporate assets, spiritual hygiene sounded like a fairy tale.

You leaned back, crossing your arms firmly over your chest as you let out a quiet sigh.

"It was just weird, Taehyung," you replied, your tone completely flat as you abruptly shut down the detailed breakdown. "No other explanation. Just a bad reaction to the elements."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the sudden conversational wall you had just built between you. He leaned his chin into his palm, his navy sleeve catching the amber light as he stared at you. "A bad reaction. Right. So we're pausing the grand supernatural lecture because the logical explanation fell through?"

"The logical explanation didn't fall through, your capacity to understand anything beyond a spreadsheet did," you shot back, narrowing your eyes. "I'm saving my breath."

Taehyung let out a low, mock-offended gasp, leaning forward. "A spreadsheet? Please, Hex, I deal in high-stakes human psychology and legally binding ruin. A bit more sophisticated than columns and rows. But if it makes you feel better to blame my lack of 'spiritual woo-woo' for a bad match, be my guest."

"You're impossible," you muttered, throwing your hands up. "You come into my shop, demand my time, and then mock the very foundation of the craft that kept your mess contained last night."

"I'm not mocking the craft," he countered smoothly, his eyes glinting. "I'm mocking the theatrical gravity you apply to it. You look at a flickering candle and see an omen. I look at it and see a drafty backroom."

As you opened your mouth to deliver a scathing reply, a sudden, flickering idea took bloom inside your head.

Your mother's furious, rapid-fire warning from earlier echoed in your mind: You'll be drowning in the collective rot of everything he attracts. But if this dormant hex or whatever dark energy was swimming around him was on standby, the only way to map its trigger—and neutralize it before it blew up in your face—was to see his personal perimeter. You needed to inspect his space.

You cut yourself off, smoothing your expression into something dangerously calm. You looked him dead in the eye. "Invite me over to your house."

Taehyung froze for a fraction of a second, entirely caught off guard. Then, a slow, incredibly wicked, and thoroughly flirty smirk spread across his lips. He leaned his chin into his hand, his eyes darkening with amusement. "Wow. No dinner, a demanding tone, and now you’re practically begging to see where the magic actually happens? I knew I was charming, Hex, but I didn't think you'd break your strict boundary this quickly."

God, just like your mother said, you always meddle in absolute bullshit. You were running straight toward the landslide.

"Don't flatter yourself, corporate," you rolled your eyes, refusing to let his heat get to you. "I need to inspect the environment you spend most of your time in. If there’s an anchor for that energy, it’s at your place. It's strictly professional."

"Strictly professional," he repeated, his tone dripping with mock belief. "Right. Is that what we're calling it when a beautiful woman wants to come over to my luxury apartment? Should I leave the silk ropes out, or do you want to bring your own?"

"If you don't shut your mouth, I'm going to turn your tongue into a toad," you snapped, leaning over the table. "Do you want me to figure out who is targeting you or not?"

Taehyung watched you for a long beat, the teasing light in his eyes settling into something quieter, heavier, and intensely focused. He liked a challenge, and clearly, he liked having you in his orbit, regardless of the excuse.

"Fine," he murmured, a dangerous compliance in his deep voice. "You want an invitation? You've got it. But if you find out my apartment is just an apartment, you owe me a very non-professional drink."

"Deal," you said flatly.

It’s settled.

You were going to his house tomorrow.

next chapter | previous

You love Taehyung and you will not be separated from him. You run your fingers up and down the exposed parts of his body. His skin is cold because it is winter and the rooms are cold. Hopefully he doesn’t feel like freezing. You should tug him in.

You work very diligently, settling under the covers with him as you lie back down. 

His eyes are open, racing over your features. Your pulse increases instantly, your tummy flutters. 

“Did I wake you?” you ask. 

“I love you”, Taehyung whispers urgently as if he was burning to tell you even in his sleep. As if he woke up solely to declare it. As if he would have burst otherwise.

“I love you too”, you whisper it back, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Closer.”

You scoot to him and work with him to get you into his arms and against his chest. Naked skin against naked skin. How absolutely, world-changingly, amazing. His scent engulfs you, he warms you up and hides you away from the world. 

This is so important to you.

Your marriage to him is so important to you. You close your eyes and put your arm around his waist, pulling yourself tighter against him. He is becoming your beacon of safety, one hug at a time.

Taehyung inhales deeply and exhales in a huff of air. Like a dog that settles happily into a few more hours of sleep. You join him. 

Normally, this is the time where you get up and start the day, but you promised Taehyung a lazy morning. And truth be told, after all the sixteen hour shifts you pulled to distract yourself from your growing feelings, you dearly need a lazy morning.

And sleep. Lots of sleep and cuddled against Taehyung’s chest, it has never revitalised you more. 

When you wake again, your bodies have produced quite a lot of heat. Just slightly sweaty where your skins touch, you unglue yourself from him. He grumbles, opening his arm albeit very pouty.

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t, but I’m thirsty.”

“I can go.”

“No, it’s alright. Stay.”

You open the blanket, instantly shivering. The winter is definitely not the time to be running around nude. You work quickly to get some water, covering yourself in your shift just to fight some of the cold. 

You return to bed. Taehyung peels his eyes open, running them over you. You are focused on drinking, eyes glued to nothing in particular and nipples hard under the shift. He does a double-take, tummy fluttering. His mind went there. He could have noticed anything else, but all he sees are your nipples. Last night really did it to him.

“Just what I needed”, you finish half of it then offer the jug to Taehyung, “you should hydrate.”

His heart palpitates. You are offering the same cup you drank out of. This is so intimate, so romantic, so typical for couples. 

“Thank you”, he says and drinks with a dry throat. His feelings for you are suffocating him, but before he can act on them, you are out of bed again. “Where are you going? Come back to me.”

“Soon.” 

You do not seem like you are getting ready to leave. The moment of intimacy is still ongoing. Your legs are bare, your feet without shoes and your collarbones are exposed. This version of you is unkempt, practically naked and real. Only he gets to see it. You claim the space you are owed, walking each step with confidence.

Taehyung dreamed of having you in his bedroom in this specific way for so long.

“Now I’m freezing brrr”, you say and run back to bed. He opens the covers for you, having to gasp when you seek him out without being asked to do so.

You snake your arms around his torso, nuzzling his chest and rubbing yourself against him with cute noises leaving you.

“So warm, how wonderful. You are like my own personal stove.”

Taehyung does not know whether to hug you back or crumble into a million pieces. 

So he lies in your arms frozen until you let go and the moment passes. 

You flip to your other side and pick up what you got. 

“Honey cake?” 

Taehyung opens his mouth and lets you put a piece of cake onto his tongue. You eat the other piece. You shared.

“This is the worst breakfast ever. We will feel so tired all day with the lack of nutrition.” You snicker. “I have truly become a rebel.”

“Hah, yeah.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I just don’t think this is real. Am I dreaming?”

You cradle his face and kiss him. Your lips taste like honey, his heart does somersaults in his chest. He pulls you closer, hands claiming the small of your back and the nape of your neck. You are so real. This feels so real. 

The kiss breaks but the tingles remain.

“Does this feel like a dream to you?”

“More than anything.”

Your gaze softens, you trace his cheek.

“We’re both dreaming then because I feel the same.”

“You also feel as if your chest might burst?”

“Yes and as if my lungs are expanding and my stomach is infested with ants.”

“Exactly. Are we both sick?”

“Maybe, but then I do not want to find a cure for it.” You snuggle against his chest. “I’m so happy.”

He finally hugs you back, cradling the back of your head and holding you oh so tight that it accidentally rides up your shift.

“I’m happy too.”

You snicker, “you just made my shift go up my butt.”

“Really?” He touches your naked buttocks, eliciting a shaky gasp from you. “You are right. What a perfect ass.”

You giggle and crane your neck to look at him.

“Do you like my butt?” you ask.

“I do.”

“I like your butt too.”

He smiles.

“I don’t regret anything from last night”, you confess.

“Yes?”

“Mh-hm. I really like being with you this way. When we move to the hanok, we can have many mornings like this.”

“I would love this very much.”

“But not too many. I still have to be a good healer.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to slack.”

You agree with him by nuzzling his chest again, purring happily. Taehyung feels on fluffy clouds. 

You rub his back and waist, sneaking a cheeky bum grab as well. Taehyung chuckles, tensing his buttock. You match his happiness with giggles and a dreamy look. One he has to retort by kissing the tip of your nose. 

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Hehe.” You kiss his lips quickly then grin at him. 

Taehyung is so happy. This version of you makes him fall even deeper for you. You shimmy back just enough to talk comfortably.

“Are you warm?” you ask.

“I am.”

“What about food? Are you hungry?”

“A little, but don’t call for the servants. Then this ends and we have to be mannerly again.”

“Alright. Then we wait. If this continues, we will end up having lunch instead of breakfast.”

“It is barely even eight, you just wake up way too early.”

You agree in a happy giggle, tugging strands of hair behind his ear. You massage it afterwards.

“Are you sure that you are warm enough? Your ear is cold.”

“Yes”, he says, chuckling.

“Sorry. I acted like a healer again.”

“It’s adorable. Don’t stop on my account.”

“I just…really like touching you and I don’t know how much is too much because I never felt like this with anyone before.”

“You will have to do a lot of touching for me to grow tired of it”, he says, making you giggle yet again.

“Yes?” 

“Mh-hm. I am officially diagnosed with touch deprivation”, he jokes.

“Oh? Oh that is indeed a very grave illness. I will prescribe you with touches from me for an indefinite amount”, you play along, which makes him giggle and scrunch his nose.

This moment couldn’t get any better. Your eyes race over his features, gaze becoming more and more serious.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“That you were so different last night.”

“I was?”

“Yes. You are so sweet right now, but last night you were so sensual. I mean, you had your tongue down there.” You fluster. “It’s difficult to believe that you are the same person.”

“You really must have liked my tongue to still think about it.”

You nudge him, “you are teasing me again.”

He grins, nodding his head.

“If you had to rank it. What did you like the most? My hands, my tongue or my cock?”

“Taehyung.”

He laughs, stealing a chaste kiss. 

“I couldn’t resist. I like teasing you.”

“You are really unfair, now I’m getting warm again. You know, warm.”

“Yeah? And what do you want me to do for you?”

“Nothing, you’re being mean.”

“I’m not being mean’, he laughs.”Come on, tell me. Don’t be shy."

“Can I really pick?”

“Of course.” He massages your ear softly. “Anything you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, but truth be told, you are only thinking about his tongue. Even if you tried to go back to the sweet moment, you couldn’t. You want him. 

“Can you do the thing with your tongue again?” you ask, playing with your hands shyly. 

Taehyung nods his head, eyes crinkling in a happy smile. He closes the distance, kissing your cheek.

“I’m happy, my darling”, he whispers, petting your head.

“But before you do it, I have to tell you something.”

“Alright?”

“I want to try holding out longer than last night.”

“Yeah?” His gaze softens. “You think that you can do that?”

“No, probably not.” You pout. 

Taehyung snickers, kissing it.

“But maybe you could try not being so good and then I can hold out for longer?”

“You want me to be bad on purpose?”

“Yes.”

He laughs, “why would you even want to hold out?”

“Because I don’t want it to be over so soon. It feels so good and I want to enjoy it.”

“Mhm how can I say no when you make such a compelling argument? Fine, I will suck on purpose.”

“Thank you.” You settle on the pillow and close your eyes. “Now I’m ready.”

He chuckles, finding you beyond adorable.

“Alright. Here I come”, he purrs and bites your cheek softly.

“Hey. Not nice”, you laugh with him. 

“Just needed to make sure that you are not consumable.”

“Oh my gods, you say so much sweet stuff.”

He smiles, running his hands down your sides.

“Shift on or off?”

“I think I would get cold without it.”

“Perfect. You’re so tempting in it”, he says and kisses your neck, hands squeezing your waist in a sensual way. “You can stop me any time you need.”

“Yes, alright. I don’t want to stop.”

“Mhm, me neither.” He begins to kiss your neck, but stops when you tug his hair. He lifts his head. “Yes?”

“I want your tongue really urgently.”

“Ah, I see. So you wish for me to drag it out, but you also want my tongue instantaneously? Am I correct?”

You hesitate for a moment, flustering.

“Yes”, you whisper, painting a grin onto Taehyung’s features.

“Oh? So the woman gets licked once and now she is even too impatient for foreplay is that it?”

“Yes”, you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

Taehyung chuckles, pecking your lips. “I’m obsessed with you.”

He leaves your lips with a little bite, shimmying down the mattress until he is between your legs. He knows that you want him to rush it, but slows down despite it, placing kisses on your inner thighs. They are so warm this morning and incredibly soft.

You try to keep your eyes open, focusing your attention on your breathing. There must be a technique behind control and you are hellbent on figuring it out. Taehyung inches closer to your pussy, increasing the fluttering of your heart. It felt so good last night, you cannot wait.

“Remember to suck”, you say, tapping his head as if to call his attention.

“Of course”, he purrs, placing one last kiss to your thigh. Afterwards puts his lips around your clit and sucks.

You gasp loudly, sitting up in shock and pushing his head away.

“You said that you would suck!”

Taehyung laughs deeply, looking up at you.

“I did.”

“You- Tae, that’s not what I meant with it”, you whine to which Taehyung simply laughs and kisses your thigh.

“I can’t resist teasing you.”

“Hmpf, you’re so mean”, you mumble and drop back into the pillow. You keep your hands in his hair just in case. “Don’t be mean again, I’m really trying.”

“Mhm alright. How is this?”

He connects the tip of his tongue with your folds, outlining them without including your clit.

“You have to suck more.”

“Mhhm alright.”

You know what is coming, you knew the very second you said it. Taehyung sucks on your clit a second time, purring around her as he does.

“Tae! Don’t do that”, you mewl, back arching off the sheets and toes curling. “Tae stop, Tae please I’m going to-”

Taehyung stops right at the tipping point, leaving you with a deep, aching void which screams to be filled. You mewl, gripping his hair with all of your fingers.

“You’re so mean, you’re so fucking mean”, you mewl, shaking your head from side to side.

He chuckles, apologising by swirling his tongue down to your entrance. A gasp silences you, fingers falling from his hair to grab your own thighs instead. How easy you are to shut up. Taehyung is bloody obsessed with you.

Slick has already gathered by your entrance coating his tongue. A faint hint of his own orgasm lingers in your taste this morning. He blames the late night creampie he gave you. He likes it, eating it up with soft purrs while you try really, really hard to breathe normally. It is difficult after the stunt he pulled previously. The void still aches and waits to be satisfied.

He definitely is not bad on purpose. This feels just as good as it did last night. Everything about it. The movements, the shape of his tongue, how wet it is and how warm. The only difference is that you at least know a little what might happen. It isn’t as surprising, but not any less exciting.

“Taehyung, stop please.”

He lifts his lips, gazing up at you.

“Please try to be bad.”

“Is this working too well, mhm?”

“Yes.”

“How about this then?”

He swerves his tongue further down, lapping at your rim. Tingles run through you, weakening your legs to the point of dropping them against him. He pushes you apart again, hands sliding to the back of your thighs so he can press them up into your body. Your legs lift this way, vulnerable hole at his full mercy and pussy stimulated by the squeezing of your thighs. His tongue suddenly feels ten times more amazing and deeper. The void is screaming in delight, getting filled rapidly each time he curls his tongue and squeezes your legs together. He does this on purpose, he moves them in a slight circle just so your pussy gets stimulated.

“No Tae, this isn’t helping. A-ah, Tae…please….I have to-”

He stops, takes it away right before it hits you.

“No, no, no. You’re mean”, you whine, stomping your feet on the mattress like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“Oh?” Taehyung laughs fondly, gazing up at you with widened eyes, “what a darling reaction, my love.”

He stops your legs, kissing your inner thighs.

“You’re doing all of this on purpose, you’re working me up o-on purpose.”

“I’m not, I’m only dragging it out.”

“But it’s awful. It hurts”, you whine.

He chuckles deeply and kisses your pussy, “I know, darling.” Kiss. “Let me try something else.” Kiss. “Yes? It will suck on purpose.” Kiss.

“Yes, do that. You have to suck on purpose”, you say, watching him curiously propped up on your elbows.

He parts your pussy gently with two fingers and puckers his lips to let saliva trickle down. You watch it drip on you, holding your breath. He connects other hand with your pussy, spreading the spit on her in circular motions. Once happy, he flips his hand palm up and uses the lubrication to push two digits inside.

“You tricked me”, you squeak, dropping into the sheets and clenching around his fingers.

“You got me”, he chuckles, spitting on his fingers to lube them up even more. You are already wet enough on your own, but Taehyung is into it. And judging by how much more slick you produce, you are as well.

“I trusted you. Ah…Tae…you’re me-mean.”

“You learn best through experience, darling. You can’t practice when you don’t experience the real thing”, his words are dripping with amusement, his eyes are focused on his digits. Your pussy stretches around them so prettily, taking him like she was waiting for him. Taehyung is addicted to pleasuring you and it has only been four times at this point, well three and a half of he is honest avou the messy morning fumbling a few weeks ago. He curls his fingers deep inside you, soaking the sheets.

“You promised”, you whine, fire in your belly growing with each curl. He reaches spots you needed touched so bad. Every second with him is like heaven on earth. Oh he frustrates you so much, but you cannot bring yourself to stop him. “You promised….”

“I know that you can do it. Just let me help you”, he whispers, lowering his tongue to your exposed clit. He does not lick her directly, instead he traces the area around her, working up your anticipation and the aching void inside. He keeps the rhythm of his fingers constant, timing the curl of them whenever he bottoms out. You are so sticky inside, coating every inch of him. He loves that he affects you so much, that he is a husband who is able to get his wife wet.

“You promised to help me”, you whine, breathless and worked up. Holy fuck, Taehyung is obsessed with your voice when it sounds like this.

“I am”, he purrs, placing kisses on your clit. He keeps them chaste, just a faint tickle. One kiss. Two. Three. Four and five. He darts out his tongue with the sixth and licks you with the seventh. Just once to wet your clit so he can blow air on her afterwards.

The change in temperature shoots blood straight to her, forcing you to drop your hand over your own mouth and squeeze your eyes shut.

He looks at your face. There she is: the pleasure-high woman of last night who finally gave up on thinking.

Taehyung licks your clit once again to coat her in warm spit then blows on her. Cold air swirls on your skin, making you flinch and whimper behind your hand. The third time he does it, you have to arch your back and by the fourth you put your other hand over your mouth as well.

Your clit is throbbing, begging for his tongue. Your pussy squelches loudly around his digits, insides burning up in desperation. You want to be licked. You want it. You want him. Please you want to be licked.

Taehyung moans happily and finally takes in your clit to warm her up. He does not suck, instead he lets his lips sit around her as he moves them like he was kissing you.

Your little sounds are heavenly to him. It is adorable how quickly you gave up on your plan.

He does not mind that you did, it was a silly plan anyway. As if he would suck on purpose when he can drag it out in other ways.

Like taking it away when you tense for a high. You flinch like he punched you, frozen for a second before you mewl loudly and kick your feet again. Little tippy taps, filled with urgency and desperation. He chuckles, amused beyond comparison and slips his fingers out just so he can crawl up the mattress. He wraps them around his hard cock, using his mouth on your swollen nipples while he guides his tip through your folds. He lingers every time he is at your entrance, pushing in just enough to give your cunt a taste of him.

You cannot stay still, hands unable to decide where to grab him so you grab him everywhere. All of it.

The question of what you liked most was a trick question because Taehyung is giving you all of him. Tongue, fingers and cock.

“You tricked me again.”

“Mhm-hm maybe”, he purrs, sucking your nipple through the fabric. His head is pounding, holding back is difficult for him. Every time he pushes his tip inside, his body begs for him to go all the way. But he cannot. Judging by the rapidly increasing tempo of your breathing, he is working you up to an orgasm again. It is so exciting how easy it is to make you fall. Taehyung is obsessed with you. He does not change anything. He grinds his cockhead on your pussy, pushes inside, leaves when your cunt aches for more and repeats the grinding motions. All while his lips turn your nipples into a sensitive, swollen mess.

Your fingers, shaky by now, clasp his shoulders and dig into his flesh. One more. He can allow himself another push, moaning deeply because fuck it feels so good to be inside you. The grip on his shoulders deepens. Taehyung lifts his lips and steps back, holding your legs open to watch your pussy beg for release.

“Why would you- no- aaah Tae why would you do that?” you are almost sobbing your words, hitting the mattress in frustration.

“I am helping you drag it out, darling. Can’t you see?”

“I don’t like it, no I don’t”, you whine, wiggling your hips.

“So you changed your mind, mhm? Want me to make you orgasm?”

“Yes, please.”

“I don’t know, I’m not convinced.”

“Please don’t be mean to me, please can you make me orgasm? Please.”

“Good girl. I’d love nothing more than that”, he purrs and lowers himself between your legs again. He parts you, slipping his fingers back in your pussy.

“More.”

“More?” A third joins, stretching you. This is paradise.

“Yes. Taehyung….”

“Fuck, you’re making me so hard”, he murmurs and wraps his lips around your clit to kiss her slowly. His own taste coats his mouth first. Masculine and tasty. He knew that he leaked quite a lot. He still does, soaking the silk sheets. If this continues he might need to fuck the bed for relief. Everything aches.

“Taehyung…” oh what a sweet moan.

He gazes up at you but gets stuck on your nipples. The wet fabric is sticking to them. They are calling to him. So he lets your cunt close naturally, not that a lot changes because by now you hold your legs open very far, and runs his fingers up to your chest. He massage your left nipple, using the fabric to his advantage for added stimulation.

You don’t say anything, instead you gasp loudly and slam your hands onto your own eyes, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Your clit throbs in his mouth, asking to be licked. Taehyung curls his fingers and presses down on your g-spot, flicking his tongue up and down your clit. He manages to get to three flicks this morning, an improvement, before your orgasm rips through you.

“Tae”, you squeak, legs closing around his head and hands falling over your mouth. You are muffling yourself, entire body tensing from the effort. He licks you harder as a result, tickling every single wave of pleasure out of you with his long fingers. That is where he wanted you: lost in pleasure from all the edging. These are the kind of amazing orgasms you deserve. He does not stop until your hips instinctively flee him and your voice comes out as mewls.

His fingers taste like your orgasm and his past pleasure as he licks them clean, you whimper so sweetly above him as you catch your breath.

Taehyung kisses his way back up. His love drunk eyes are soaked in adoration, his lower face is messy. He smiles so brightly that it crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks.

“I did. It felt so good and made me so hot.” You mewl, hiding your eyes. “You didn’t follow my plan.”

“Because it was a silly plan. It never would have worked.”

“You don’t know that. I could have lasted.”

“Yes?” He rubs your clit with his fingers, making you gasp loudly. It is proof enough that no matter what he would have done, you would have been sensitive.

Defeated you drop in the sheets, glaring up at him.

“I don’t like you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, you are a mean man who likes teasing me.”

He chuckles, taking you into his arms and nuzzling his nose into your head. His heart is racing like crazy.

“So you hate me?” He bites your ear gently. “Do you wish to find out what I do with my enemies?” he threatens, fingers dangerously close to your ticklish spots.

“Okay! I love you, I lied”, you giggle, fleeing him before he can attack you.  

“That’s what I thought. Give me a kiss.” 

“I blame you”, you say, lips tingling from the kiss.

“Good. Blame me. I’m so happy.”

“I’m happy too, Tae.”

To your surprise, he settles against you afterwards. He serves without expectations. 

Taehyung, happy about pleasing you, basks in the lingering taste of you. It is fading from his tongue. His lips long stopped carrying it. Your scent makes up for it. So nice, so safe. He could doze off again.

“Taehyung?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I try to lick you?”

“Yeah”, he inhales deeply, “mhhhm this makes me hot in my tummy, my darling.”

“Because I thought that maybe you would like it as well and we still have a lot of time in our lazy morning, you know?”

“I know and I’d like this very much.”

“So yes. Okay. Lie down on your back and I will use my tongue.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Like this.” You pet his shoulders. “Are you comfortable?”

“Very.”

“Then I will start. Right?”

“Yes, start.”

He smiles at you, nodding his head. He loves every second he gets to spend with you.

You slip off the bed, disappearing from his view.

“Where are you? Yah!”

With a skilled grip and a strong tug, you pulled Taehyung to the edge of the bed. He is gawking with his mouth wide open and his eyes comically round. 

“I told you, it is all about technique”, you say, kneeling in front of the bed.

“You are a dangerous woman. Fuck, I thought that I was about to die”, he says and drops his head back in the sheets, laughing loudly.

You laugh with him, hugging his right leg. You want this moment to last forever. Just you and him bonded by laughter.

“I could also lift you if I tried.”

“I believe you.”

You share snickers and it happens naturally that it just kind of dies out. The silence is comfortable, your gazes are locked deeply. Taehyung cradles your cheek, eyes softening.

“I adore you”, he whispers.

“And I you”, you breathe, kissing his palm before you place your kisses on the inside of his thighs instead. Just like he does when he licks you.

Taehyung rests back on his elbows, stroking your head every now and then to make sure you know that you are adored.

You reach his intimate places, looking at him for approval.

“You’re doing well”, he encourages you.

“I really like your cock”, you confess in giggles, connecting your lips with his balls to kiss them.

Taehyung bites his lip, trying to stay calm in order not to scare you away. This is your chance to explore, to figure yourself out and Taehyung is more than willing to be part of it. You lift your head, lips glistening and pupils dilated.

“You smell differently down there. I like it a lot.”

“Yes? I clean myself daily.”

“That’s good, personal hygiene is very important for healthy geni- I’m sorry I’m being a healer again.”

“That’s alright, whatever makes you feel comfortable.” He softens his eyes. “You don’t have to this if you aren’t ready.”

“I am, I want this”, you say and lower yourself again, trailing your kisses along his shaft. You hum every now and then, hands on his thighs which makes kissing him difficult. You snicker, Taehyung does as well. He helps you by grabbing the base of his cock and holding it in place this way.

“You’re doing good”, he praises, aching to be inside your mouth. Five years. Five fucking years without getting his cock sucked. And now he is getting it adored by his beloved wife. Taehyung might very well start drooling.

Your soft lips reach his tip, exploring it in kisses. Taehyung sighs, cradling your cheek. His thumb traces your skin, his touch is filled with adoration. Deep breaths. Stay gentle. Even if he feels like he might scream because of how good you feel.

“I like this a lot”, you whisper.

“Me too”, he answers you just as softly, breath hitching in his throat when your tongue darts out. You flick it up and down like he did with your clit.

Taehyung moans softly, caressing your cheek.

“My darling”, he whispers, tingles in his stomach gentle and constant. You are unknowingly making him so incredibly desperate. He allows you the slow time for a while, working through the growing desperation by holding your cheek.

You swirl your tongue, again just like he did. Taehyung takes deep breaths. Three of them before he finally breaks. 

“Beloved?” he asks.

“Yes? Do you need a break too?”

“This is nice, but I like something else more.”

“Oh. Alright. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay, you’re doing great. Can I just show you?”

You nod your head and sit back on your heels. Taehyung straightens up, caging you in between his legs.

“Give me your hand.”

You let him take it.

“Now stick out two fingers.”

You obey, albeit a little confused.

“Imagine your fingers are my cock. This is the base and this is the tip”, he explains, tracing your fingers gently. 

“Alright.” 

Taehyung leans in, connecting his tongue with the base of your fingers to drag it up to the pads. This sends goosebumps all over your body. It is so sensual and arousing. He looks into your eyes and slips your fingers between his lips. Wet and warm. Nice.

He sucks, creating a suction sensation around your fingertips. You have to rub your legs together because of it.

“I can see why you would like that. This feels nice.”

He hums and sinks your fingers into his mouth, pressing the flat of his tongue to them. Once all the way in, he moans. 

“Oh? I can feel that.” 

And up he goes again, moving his tongue left and right before he ends it with a flick on the tip of your fingers. He kisses them, then your lips.

“This was so sensual”, you talk into it.

“Mhm, felt good to do” he licks your lips. “Do it on my cock, please.”

“Okay”, you say, breaking the kiss so you can dance your lips down his torso.

Taehyung settles back on the sheets, closing his eyes in anticipation. He wants to be surprised, it only adds to the pleasure. You take his legs and push them into his torso. He chuckles, hooking his hands behind his knees. A peculiar way to start the blowjob, but he is not one to stop you. Especially because you leave such wonderful kisses down his thighs.

His balls next, your tongue darts out to lick them. Taehyung purrs, biting his lip and smiling. He sets his feet on the mattress, getting comfortable. He cannot wait, heart pounding.

Your tongue suddenly goes southwards, hands sliding to his hips.

“What?” 

You connect your tongue with his hole, just like he does to you. Taehyung gasps and grows silent. You look up at him. He is stuck in a back arch, lips parted and lungs refusing to breathe. How arousing to watch.

You move your tongue, like he did, in circular movements. The pleasure shoots through him like a seizure, he drops his back again, releasing his breath in a needy moan. How satisfying. And his hole is really exciting to feel with your tongue. The texture is so interesting and his skin is so soft. You understand why he went there last night. And this morning. Oh, this morning it drove you absolutely frenzied. This is fun. You don’t want to stop, hoping to drive him just as frenzied. 

You wrap your right hand around his length and jerk him off. Your eyes are glued to it, watching your own movements while your tongue dances on his rim. It is so exciting because Taehyung’s thighs keep twitching against their will. Oh, you love seeing him getting pleasured. The curious healer in you loves it just as much as the adoring wife does.

Perhaps if you increased the speed with which you masturbate him and tried to bury your tongue in his hole, something new could happen. You attempt to fill him, just like he did. It is more difficult than he made it seem. The resistance is strong, making you really work for it. It isn’t something Taehyung does voluntarily, it is simply because his hole is unexplored territory.

You have to really wiggle your way in there, resulting in intense sensations for him. Especially paired with the handjob you are giving him.

Taehyung has to scream. He shouldn’t but he has to. Panicked, he takes a pillow and bites into it. He gets it. He finally gets what you went through last night. Holy fuck, he did not go easy on you. How in the ever living hells did you stay sane?

But then.

The way you currently feast on his ass like a hungry beast is very far from sane. He did that.

He created a monster and he is paying the consequences.

Slip.

Taehyung’s eyes rip open, his neck tenses as he fights a mewl. Your tongue finally managed to breach him. You moan into him, twisting your fist around his cockhead.

“Stop. Stop, stop, wait”, he chants, pushing your head away, “wait.”

You sit back, abandoning his intimate places. His taste still lingers on your tongue, fading slowly now that he pushed you away.

“Oh thank gods, that was close.”

“What was close?”

“You almost made me orgasm.”

Your gaze turns shy and giddy, “so you liked it? I thought that I could lick your hole first before I do the thing you really like. Just like you always do.”

“I have never had a tongue there.”

“Whaaat? So I… Tae this is exciting, so I gave you something first too. Now we are equal.”

“Yeah”, he laughs breathily and drops in the sheets, “holy fuck, you don’t know how hard I am.”

“No, I do”, you wrap your hand around his cock, “a very hard example, mhm very voluptuous and delicious. I prescribe you with a cock sucking”, you are joking, making him snort.

“You drive me absolutely insane. Please, can I have the remedy?”

“Of course”, you say and snicker, “I shall be the best remedy.”

His reactions really motivated you and encouraged you to act, so you do not feel nervous lowering yourself to his cock. As a matter of fact, you feel utterly excited.

You begin with a kiss, then a lick. His taste became stronger, coating the tip of your tongue and as a result exciting you for more. You try to remember what he did. First lick up the shaft. Yes, let’s do that. Taehyung makes a desperate sound, tummy tensing for a second. Then swirl your tongue on his tip.

“I’m gonna go insane”, he says under his breath, rolling his hips.

Now finally take him in.  

“___”, Taehyung moans, hand falling to the back of your head and toes curling on the sheets. Truth be told, he has a difficult time holding back his orgasm. It’s been so long and you excite him so much that it is twice as hard. And then you had your tongue in his hole. Taehyung is struggling.

This is the best thing ever! Your jaw has to work more than you expected to, but you don’t mind. You sink him in further, finding it difficult to swallow your spit. But you don’t want to slip off and waste time swallowing, so you let it simply trickle out of you. It covers your fingers and his shaft, taunting you to move. Maybe you should.

“Fuck. ___! Ahngn”, Taehyung exclaims, silencing himself with his own hand. He bites into his

palm, legs dropping into the sheets just so they can swipe around aimlessly. New salty goodness spills on your tongue. How rich in flavour, how surprisingly exciting! You close your eyes and moan, relaxing your jaw so you can move your mouth up and down his tip.

His muffled noises reach your ears, mixing with the wet slurps your mouth automatically does as it masturbates him. Maybe you could use your left hand to hold his waist. Your thumb digs into his muscles, his skin burns hot and he seems unable to stay still.

You love this so much, moaning around him again as you suck. Taehyung closes his fingers on your head, accidentally grabbing a bundle of your hair. It tangles in his hand, spreading a dull tugging sensation on your scalp. You like it a lot, moaning around him oh so loudly that Taehyung’s once deep moans pitch.

He squeaks, breathing heavily to the point he is panting as if he had to run. This is intoxicating you, turning you frantic. You speed up your hand and grip his waist tighter, trying to push himself deeper. And deeper and deeper. A gag runs through you, but you pay it barely any mind. You slip up his cock and let the saliva wet your handjob, gathering all of your hunger to feast on his first few inches. They are the most sensitive anyway – unbeknownst to you – and Taehyung reacts with a desperate, helpless plead.

“You are making me come. I-I can’t hold it when you suck me like - holy fuck -like this.”

Good. You want to get him there. You want to feel his orgasm, hear it, experience it and taste it. Shit, you really want to know how it tastes. Your moans are constant, your wet mouth sloppy. Taehyung grasps your head with both hands.

“I-if you don’t want me to, to release inside, you have to ah slip off.”

You don’t slip off, you keep moaning and sucking.

“___ I really can’t-”

You give him a nod of your head and a pleading look up. Taehyung understands, eyes rolling back in bliss.

“___ darling”, he moans, arching his back. He grips the sheets and twists them, ripping his mouth open to moan silently. A second later you get a mouthful of his orgasm.

You squeak in surprise, spilling way too much because you did not expect such masses. You gag a little as you rediscover your rhythm, head going dizzy from his taste. Holy shit, this is amazing. Overtaken by greed, you find yourself again and suck him off vigorously. It only makes his orgasm so much more intense, overstimulating him to the point of having to bite his own hand again.

Holy shit, he can’t stop throbbing. Holy fuck, it is like you are sucking the sanity out of his cock or his soul and life and anything that keeps him together. The overstimulation builds and builds and builds until it suddenly bursts and Taehyung panics.

“I can’t”, he sobs, cradling your face, “I-I can’t I’m dizzy, stop please.”

You slip off of him with a bop of your lips, letting his ruined cock drop against his stomach. You instantly close the distance to him, kissing him just like he showed you to do. His orgasm coats his lips and tongue, your hands explore his torso hungrily and you sit down on his thigh. Taehyung is still out of it, holding your back for dear life. Then he feels it. He feels how you begin to instinctively hump his thigh, needy moans tickling his lips and skin getting marked by your cunt.

Sucking his cock made you so desperate that you are chasing another high. He has to grab your ass and squeeze, letting you move on your own and kissing you so much deeper. It really doesn’t take long, it doesn’t. You got so worked up, so wet and sensitive that it is truly only a matter of a minute before your body shakes in this distinctive way Taehyung learns is your orgasm shakes.

He enjoys it just as much as you do, heart beating irregularly in his chest. To think that mere two days ago, you were too ashamed by your own needs. And now he has you chasing another orgasm after you sucked him dry. Taehyung is so happy for you and he loves you so much.

The kiss breaks with the end of your high.

“O-oh”, you let out weakly, slacking atop of him.

“You needed that, didn’t you?” he purrs his words, rubbing your back.

You whimper happily, nodding your head. Everything is fuzzy and warm and nice. You like him so much and what he does to you.

“Did I do a good job?” you ask quietly, shyly almost.

“You did such a good job. I feel breathless”, he is dragging his words.

“I’m so happy”, you confess, giggling into his neck. “I…really…really like orgasms.”

“Me too. Mhhm darling, I can’t believe you did that.”

“Yeah, me neither. I feel like a real woman now. Thank you for being so patient with me, I know I didn’t make it easy for you.”

“Please don’t worry about it. I only hope that you really wanted it.”

“I did. So much.”

“That’s good”, he whispers and sighs when you press a kiss to his cheek.

“Are you thirsty?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I’ll get you something”, you say, rolling off him to hurry to his water jug. You fill two cups then return to the bed. “There you go.”

“Thank you.”

You share the water in silence, exchanging giddy looks because nothing feels as nice as being together. Once the empty cups are discarded by the bed, you snuggle up under the blanket. You rest your head on his arm, painting mindless patterns on his chest.

“I really don’t want to leave this room today”, you confess.

“Me neither.” He stubs your temple with his nose, placing a kiss on it afterwards.

 “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You said last night that you have a plan for the king. Are you going to kill him?”

“No, not yet.”

You look up at him again. Taehyung feels so connected with you. 

“I see. I was asking because I actually thought about how I might be able to help.”

“Yes? How is that?”

“What if we poisoned the king?”

“Huh?”

“Nightshade, hemlock or wolfsbane. Just to name a few. Most will make it seem as if he died in his sleep.”

Taehyung studies you very seriously.

“What?” you ask.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

You snicker, “well it is for a good cause. It will save hundreds of lives.”

“You are truly one dangerous woman.” He chuckles his words, kissing your temple. “But not yet. We have to be clever about this. First we need to get the court on our side so that once we kill him, they do not overthrow us. I’m the military so it should be an easy task to convince them.”

“I understand. Gain allies first, then strike. It is careful and clever. What then? Are you going to become king? Wait. Am I going to become queen? Can I still work as a healer then?”

“I was actually thinking that perhaps my mother could take the throne. She is the first born sibling, it should have been her all along. If we could convince the court of her competence, we could give her what she is owed.”

“A female head of state. I like it. It is about time that we modernise. And you think that your mother would cooperate?”

“I am quite certain, but I will have to talk to her and my aunt first. I will leave for the countryside in two days.”

“What? You’re leaving me?”

He smiles softly, “are you going to miss me?”

“Yes. I just found my true me who loves you and wants to hold you. I think the state should wait so I can hold you more.”

He laughs, “wow, you are indeed a rebel.” He caresses your cheek. “It will just be a few months.”

“No.” You hug him as tightly as possible, pressing your face into his chest. “No, I refuse to let you go.”

“But think about it, beloved. It is the perfect opportunity to make the king believe that we have fallen apart. It wasn’t certain that you would accept my proposal to move. If I leave now, it looks as if we had a fight.”

“But I don’t want to make it seem like that.”

“But we have to. You are going to be safe from the king while I am gone. He will think that you are still under his control because you refuse to go with me.”

“What if he doesn’t believe it?”

“He will.”

“No. No, I will go with you. Hyeonah and Sooyeon are capable of running the hospital in my absence. I could lie and say that you invited me so that we can build a countryside hospital.”

“Oh? I did not think that you would like to leave your hospital.” He kisses your head. “Of course you can come with me and make the countryside hospital an actual thing.”

“Yeah, right”, you laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“Wait. Really? You think that I could make it work? I always dreamed of bringing medicine to the simple folk.”

“You could make anything work, darling. I believe in your competence and wisdom.”

“This means a lot to me, thank you.”

You exchange a kiss.

“But then we have to wait a while longer, so I can prepare. Perhaps we can leave in a month so it doesn’t seem suspicious. You know, make it seem as if we came up with the idea in our hanok”, you say.

“Mhm, you’re right. Then the plan is set.”

You wiggle yourself free, sporting a blinding smile.

“This is perfect. I’m very excited. I already have so many ideas for the hospital. And the king thing as well.”

“But don’t be too excited about the latter. We cannot let people know what we are planning. At least not yet.”

You nod your head, “I am very good at acting like nothing is going on. I pretended not to be totally obsessed with you for months.”

“Yes. Right. That was very rude of you.”

You snicker and smooch his cheek.

“I’m sorry. But now I am very ready to be your wife.”

“Mhm good.”

You tug him in and kiss his ear. Then you get comfortable, keeping enough distance so you can look at him. 

“I am so happy to have you by my side, Taehyung.”

“You don’t know how happy I am to have you, ___.”

You love Taehyung and you will not be separated from him. You run your fingers up and down the exposed parts of his body. His skin is cold because it is winter and the rooms are cold. Hopefully he doesn’t feel like freezing. You should tug him in.

You work very diligently, settling under the covers with him as you lie back down. 

His eyes are open, racing over your features. Your pulse increases instantly, your tummy flutters. 

“Did I wake you?” you ask. 

“I love you”, Taehyung whispers urgently as if he was burning to tell you even in his sleep. As if he woke up solely to declare it. As if he would have burst otherwise.

“I love you too”, you whisper it back, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Closer.”

You scoot to him and work with him to get you into his arms and against his chest. Naked skin against naked skin. How absolutely, world-changingly, amazing. His scent engulfs you, he warms you up and hides you away from the world. 

This is so important to you.

Your marriage to him is so important to you. You close your eyes and put your arm around his waist, pulling yourself tighter against him. He is becoming your beacon of safety, one hug at a time.

Taehyung inhales deeply and exhales in a huff of air. Like a dog that settles happily into a few more hours of sleep. You join him. 

Normally, this is the time where you get up and start the day, but you promised Taehyung a lazy morning. And truth be told, after all the sixteen hour shifts you pulled to distract yourself from your growing feelings, you dearly need a lazy morning.

And sleep. Lots of sleep and cuddled against Taehyung’s chest, it has never revitalised you more. 

When you wake again, your bodies have produced quite a lot of heat. Just slightly sweaty where your skins touch, you unglue yourself from him. He grumbles, opening his arm albeit very pouty.

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t, but I’m thirsty.”

“I can go.”

“No, it’s alright. Stay.”

You open the blanket, instantly shivering. The winter is definitely not the time to be running around nude. You work quickly to get some water, covering yourself in your shift just to fight some of the cold. 

You return to bed. Taehyung peels his eyes open, running them over you. You are focused on drinking, eyes glued to nothing in particular and nipples hard under the shift. He does a double-take, tummy fluttering. His mind went there. He could have noticed anything else, but all he sees are your nipples. Last night really did it to him.

“Just what I needed”, you finish half of it then offer the jug to Taehyung, “you should hydrate.”

His heart palpitates. You are offering the same cup you drank out of. This is so intimate, so romantic, so typical for couples. 

“Thank you”, he says and drinks with a dry throat. His feelings for you are suffocating him, but before he can act on them, you are out of bed again. “Where are you going? Come back to me.”

“Soon.” 

You do not seem like you are getting ready to leave. The moment of intimacy is still ongoing. Your legs are bare, your feet without shoes and your collarbones are exposed. This version of you is unkempt, practically naked and real. Only he gets to see it. You claim the space you are owed, walking each step with confidence.

Taehyung dreamed of having you in his bedroom in this specific way for so long.

“Now I’m freezing brrr”, you say and run back to bed. He opens the covers for you, having to gasp when you seek him out without being asked to do so.

You snake your arms around his torso, nuzzling his chest and rubbing yourself against him with cute noises leaving you.

“So warm, how wonderful. You are like my own personal stove.”

Taehyung does not know whether to hug you back or crumble into a million pieces. 

So he lies in your arms frozen until you let go and the moment passes. 

You flip to your other side and pick up what you got. 

“Honey cake?” 

Taehyung opens his mouth and lets you put a piece of cake onto his tongue. You eat the other piece. You shared.

“This is the worst breakfast ever. We will feel so tired all day with the lack of nutrition.” You snicker. “I have truly become a rebel.”

“Hah, yeah.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I just don’t think this is real. Am I dreaming?”

You cradle his face and kiss him. Your lips taste like honey, his heart does somersaults in his chest. He pulls you closer, hands claiming the small of your back and the nape of your neck. You are so real. This feels so real. 

The kiss breaks but the tingles remain.

“Does this feel like a dream to you?”

“More than anything.”

Your gaze softens, you trace his cheek.

“We’re both dreaming then because I feel the same.”

“You also feel as if your chest might burst?”

“Yes and as if my lungs are expanding and my stomach is infested with ants.”

“Exactly. Are we both sick?”

“Maybe, but then I do not want to find a cure for it.” You snuggle against his chest. “I’m so happy.”

He finally hugs you back, cradling the back of your head and holding you oh so tight that it accidentally rides up your shift.

“I’m happy too.”

You snicker, “you just made my shift go up my butt.”

“Really?” He touches your naked buttocks, eliciting a shaky gasp from you. “You are right. What a perfect ass.”

You giggle and crane your neck to look at him.

“Do you like my butt?” you ask.

“I do.”

“I like your butt too.”

He smiles.

“I don’t regret anything from last night”, you confess.

“Yes?”

“Mh-hm. I really like being with you this way. When we move to the hanok, we can have many mornings like this.”

“I would love this very much.”

“But not too many. I still have to be a good healer.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to slack.”

You agree with him by nuzzling his chest again, purring happily. Taehyung feels on fluffy clouds. 

You rub his back and waist, sneaking a cheeky bum grab as well. Taehyung chuckles, tensing his buttock. You match his happiness with giggles and a dreamy look. One he has to retort by kissing the tip of your nose. 

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Hehe.” You kiss his lips quickly then grin at him. 

Taehyung is so happy. This version of you makes him fall even deeper for you. You shimmy back just enough to talk comfortably.

“Are you warm?” you ask.

“I am.”

“What about food? Are you hungry?”

“A little, but don’t call for the servants. Then this ends and we have to be mannerly again.”

“Alright. Then we wait. If this continues, we will end up having lunch instead of breakfast.”

“It is barely even eight, you just wake up way too early.”

You agree in a happy giggle, tugging strands of hair behind his ear. You massage it afterwards.

“Are you sure that you are warm enough? Your ear is cold.”

“Yes”, he says, chuckling.

“Sorry. I acted like a healer again.”

“It’s adorable. Don’t stop on my account.”

“I just…really like touching you and I don’t know how much is too much because I never felt like this with anyone before.”

“You will have to do a lot of touching for me to grow tired of it”, he says, making you giggle yet again.

“Yes?” 

“Mh-hm. I am officially diagnosed with touch deprivation”, he jokes.

“Oh? Oh that is indeed a very grave illness. I will prescribe you with touches from me for an indefinite amount”, you play along, which makes him giggle and scrunch his nose.

This moment couldn’t get any better. Your eyes race over his features, gaze becoming more and more serious.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“That you were so different last night.”

“I was?”

“Yes. You are so sweet right now, but last night you were so sensual. I mean, you had your tongue down there.” You fluster. “It’s difficult to believe that you are the same person.”

“You really must have liked my tongue to still think about it.”

You nudge him, “you are teasing me again.”

He grins, nodding his head.

“If you had to rank it. What did you like the most? My hands, my tongue or my cock?”

“Taehyung.”

He laughs, stealing a chaste kiss. 

“I couldn’t resist. I like teasing you.”

“You are really unfair, now I’m getting warm again. You know, warm.”

“Yeah? And what do you want me to do for you?”

“Nothing, you’re being mean.”

“I’m not being mean’, he laughs.”Come on, tell me. Don’t be shy."

“Can I really pick?”

“Of course.” He massages your ear softly. “Anything you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, but truth be told, you are only thinking about his tongue. Even if you tried to go back to the sweet moment, you couldn’t. You want him. 

“Can you do the thing with your tongue again?” you ask, playing with your hands shyly. 

Taehyung nods his head, eyes crinkling in a happy smile. He closes the distance, kissing your cheek.

“I’m happy, my darling”, he whispers, petting your head.

“But before you do it, I have to tell you something.”

“Alright?”

“I want to try holding out longer than last night.”

“Yeah?” His gaze softens. “You think that you can do that?”

“No, probably not.” You pout. 

Taehyung snickers, kissing it.

“But maybe you could try not being so good and then I can hold out for longer?”

“You want me to be bad on purpose?”

“Yes.”

He laughs, “why would you even want to hold out?”

“Because I don’t want it to be over so soon. It feels so good and I want to enjoy it.”

“Mhm how can I say no when you make such a compelling argument? Fine, I will suck on purpose.”

“Thank you.” You settle on the pillow and close your eyes. “Now I’m ready.”

He chuckles, finding you beyond adorable.

“Alright. Here I come”, he purrs and bites your cheek softly.

“Hey. Not nice”, you laugh with him. 

“Just needed to make sure that you are not consumable.”

“Oh my gods, you say so much sweet stuff.”

He smiles, running his hands down your sides.

“Shift on or off?”

“I think I would get cold without it.”

“Perfect. You’re so tempting in it”, he says and kisses your neck, hands squeezing your waist in a sensual way. “You can stop me any time you need.”

“Yes, alright. I don’t want to stop.”

“Mhm, me neither.” He begins to kiss your neck, but stops when you tug his hair. He lifts his head. “Yes?”

“I want your tongue really urgently.”

“Ah, I see. So you wish for me to drag it out, but you also want my tongue instantaneously? Am I correct?”

You hesitate for a moment, flustering.

“Yes”, you whisper, painting a grin onto Taehyung’s features.

“Oh? So the woman gets licked once and now she is even too impatient for foreplay is that it?”

“Yes”, you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

Taehyung chuckles, pecking your lips. “I’m obsessed with you.”

He leaves your lips with a little bite, shimmying down the mattress until he is between your legs. He knows that you want him to rush it, but slows down despite it, placing kisses on your inner thighs. They are so warm this morning and incredibly soft.

You try to keep your eyes open, focusing your attention on your breathing. There must be a technique behind control and you are hellbent on figuring it out. Taehyung inches closer to your pussy, increasing the fluttering of your heart. It felt so good last night, you cannot wait.

“Remember to suck”, you say, tapping his head as if to call his attention.

“Of course”, he purrs, placing one last kiss to your thigh. Afterwards puts his lips around your clit and sucks.

You gasp loudly, sitting up in shock and pushing his head away.

“You said that you would suck!”

Taehyung laughs deeply, looking up at you.

“I did.”

“You- Tae, that’s not what I meant with it”, you whine to which Taehyung simply laughs and kisses your thigh.

“I can’t resist teasing you.”

“Hmpf, you’re so mean”, you mumble and drop back into the pillow. You keep your hands in his hair just in case. “Don’t be mean again, I’m really trying.”

“Mhm alright. How is this?”

He connects the tip of his tongue with your folds, outlining them without including your clit.

“You have to suck more.”

“Mhhm alright.”

You know what is coming, you knew the very second you said it. Taehyung sucks on your clit a second time, purring around her as he does.

“Tae! Don’t do that”, you mewl, back arching off the sheets and toes curling. “Tae stop, Tae please I’m going to-”

Taehyung stops right at the tipping point, leaving you with a deep, aching void which screams to be filled. You mewl, gripping his hair with all of your fingers.

“You’re so mean, you’re so fucking mean”, you mewl, shaking your head from side to side.

He chuckles, apologising by swirling his tongue down to your entrance. A gasp silences you, fingers falling from his hair to grab your own thighs instead. How easy you are to shut up. Taehyung is bloody obsessed with you.

Slick has already gathered by your entrance coating his tongue. A faint hint of his own orgasm lingers in your taste this morning. He blames the late night creampie he gave you. He likes it, eating it up with soft purrs while you try really, really hard to breathe normally. It is difficult after the stunt he pulled previously. The void still aches and waits to be satisfied.

He definitely is not bad on purpose. This feels just as good as it did last night. Everything about it. The movements, the shape of his tongue, how wet it is and how warm. The only difference is that you at least know a little what might happen. It isn’t as surprising, but not any less exciting.

“Taehyung, stop please.”

He lifts his lips, gazing up at you.

“Please try to be bad.”

“Is this working too well, mhm?”

“Yes.”

“How about this then?”

He swerves his tongue further down, lapping at your rim. Tingles run through you, weakening your legs to the point of dropping them against him. He pushes you apart again, hands sliding to the back of your thighs so he can press them up into your body. Your legs lift this way, vulnerable hole at his full mercy and pussy stimulated by the squeezing of your thighs. His tongue suddenly feels ten times more amazing and deeper. The void is screaming in delight, getting filled rapidly each time he curls his tongue and squeezes your legs together. He does this on purpose, he moves them in a slight circle just so your pussy gets stimulated.

“No Tae, this isn’t helping. A-ah, Tae…please….I have to-”

He stops, takes it away right before it hits you.

“No, no, no. You’re mean”, you whine, stomping your feet on the mattress like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“Oh?” Taehyung laughs fondly, gazing up at you with widened eyes, “what a darling reaction, my love.”

He stops your legs, kissing your inner thighs.

“You’re doing all of this on purpose, you’re working me up o-on purpose.”

“I’m not, I’m only dragging it out.”

“But it’s awful. It hurts”, you whine.

He chuckles deeply and kisses your pussy, “I know, darling.” Kiss. “Let me try something else.” Kiss. “Yes? It will suck on purpose.” Kiss.

“Yes, do that. You have to suck on purpose”, you say, watching him curiously propped up on your elbows.

He parts your pussy gently with two fingers and puckers his lips to let saliva trickle down. You watch it drip on you, holding your breath. He connects other hand with your pussy, spreading the spit on her in circular motions. Once happy, he flips his hand palm up and uses the lubrication to push two digits inside.

“You tricked me”, you squeak, dropping into the sheets and clenching around his fingers.

“You got me”, he chuckles, spitting on his fingers to lube them up even more. You are already wet enough on your own, but Taehyung is into it. And judging by how much more slick you produce, you are as well.

“I trusted you. Ah…Tae…you’re me-mean.”

“You learn best through experience, darling. You can’t practice when you don’t experience the real thing”, his words are dripping with amusement, his eyes are focused on his digits. Your pussy stretches around them so prettily, taking him like she was waiting for him. Taehyung is addicted to pleasuring you and it has only been four times at this point, well three and a half of he is honest avou the messy morning fumbling a few weeks ago. He curls his fingers deep inside you, soaking the sheets.

“You promised”, you whine, fire in your belly growing with each curl. He reaches spots you needed touched so bad. Every second with him is like heaven on earth. Oh he frustrates you so much, but you cannot bring yourself to stop him. “You promised….”

“I know that you can do it. Just let me help you”, he whispers, lowering his tongue to your exposed clit. He does not lick her directly, instead he traces the area around her, working up your anticipation and the aching void inside. He keeps the rhythm of his fingers constant, timing the curl of them whenever he bottoms out. You are so sticky inside, coating every inch of him. He loves that he affects you so much, that he is a husband who is able to get his wife wet.

“You promised to help me”, you whine, breathless and worked up. Holy fuck, Taehyung is obsessed with your voice when it sounds like this.

“I am”, he purrs, placing kisses on your clit. He keeps them chaste, just a faint tickle. One kiss. Two. Three. Four and five. He darts out his tongue with the sixth and licks you with the seventh. Just once to wet your clit so he can blow air on her afterwards.

The change in temperature shoots blood straight to her, forcing you to drop your hand over your own mouth and squeeze your eyes shut.

He looks at your face. There she is: the pleasure-high woman of last night who finally gave up on thinking.

Taehyung licks your clit once again to coat her in warm spit then blows on her. Cold air swirls on your skin, making you flinch and whimper behind your hand. The third time he does it, you have to arch your back and by the fourth you put your other hand over your mouth as well.

Your clit is throbbing, begging for his tongue. Your pussy squelches loudly around his digits, insides burning up in desperation. You want to be licked. You want it. You want him. Please you want to be licked.

Taehyung moans happily and finally takes in your clit to warm her up. He does not suck, instead he lets his lips sit around her as he moves them like he was kissing you.

Your little sounds are heavenly to him. It is adorable how quickly you gave up on your plan.

He does not mind that you did, it was a silly plan anyway. As if he would suck on purpose when he can drag it out in other ways.

Like taking it away when you tense for a high. You flinch like he punched you, frozen for a second before you mewl loudly and kick your feet again. Little tippy taps, filled with urgency and desperation. He chuckles, amused beyond comparison and slips his fingers out just so he can crawl up the mattress. He wraps them around his hard cock, using his mouth on your swollen nipples while he guides his tip through your folds. He lingers every time he is at your entrance, pushing in just enough to give your cunt a taste of him.

You cannot stay still, hands unable to decide where to grab him so you grab him everywhere. All of it.

The question of what you liked most was a trick question because Taehyung is giving you all of him. Tongue, fingers and cock.

“You tricked me again.”

“Mhm-hm maybe”, he purrs, sucking your nipple through the fabric. His head is pounding, holding back is difficult for him. Every time he pushes his tip inside, his body begs for him to go all the way. But he cannot. Judging by the rapidly increasing tempo of your breathing, he is working you up to an orgasm again. It is so exciting how easy it is to make you fall. Taehyung is obsessed with you. He does not change anything. He grinds his cockhead on your pussy, pushes inside, leaves when your cunt aches for more and repeats the grinding motions. All while his lips turn your nipples into a sensitive, swollen mess.

Your fingers, shaky by now, clasp his shoulders and dig into his flesh. One more. He can allow himself another push, moaning deeply because fuck it feels so good to be inside you. The grip on his shoulders deepens. Taehyung lifts his lips and steps back, holding your legs open to watch your pussy beg for release.

“Why would you- no- aaah Tae why would you do that?” you are almost sobbing your words, hitting the mattress in frustration.

“I am helping you drag it out, darling. Can’t you see?”

“I don’t like it, no I don’t”, you whine, wiggling your hips.

“So you changed your mind, mhm? Want me to make you orgasm?”

“Yes, please.”

“I don’t know, I’m not convinced.”

“Please don’t be mean to me, please can you make me orgasm? Please.”

“Good girl. I’d love nothing more than that”, he purrs and lowers himself between your legs again. He parts you, slipping his fingers back in your pussy.

“More.”

“More?” A third joins, stretching you. This is paradise.

“Yes. Taehyung….”

“Fuck, you’re making me so hard”, he murmurs and wraps his lips around your clit to kiss her slowly. His own taste coats his mouth first. Masculine and tasty. He knew that he leaked quite a lot. He still does, soaking the silk sheets. If this continues he might need to fuck the bed for relief. Everything aches.

“Taehyung…” oh what a sweet moan.

He gazes up at you but gets stuck on your nipples. The wet fabric is sticking to them. They are calling to him. So he lets your cunt close naturally, not that a lot changes because by now you hold your legs open very far, and runs his fingers up to your chest. He massage your left nipple, using the fabric to his advantage for added stimulation.

You don’t say anything, instead you gasp loudly and slam your hands onto your own eyes, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Your clit throbs in his mouth, asking to be licked. Taehyung curls his fingers and presses down on your g-spot, flicking his tongue up and down your clit. He manages to get to three flicks this morning, an improvement, before your orgasm rips through you.

“Tae”, you squeak, legs closing around his head and hands falling over your mouth. You are muffling yourself, entire body tensing from the effort. He licks you harder as a result, tickling every single wave of pleasure out of you with his long fingers. That is where he wanted you: lost in pleasure from all the edging. These are the kind of amazing orgasms you deserve. He does not stop until your hips instinctively flee him and your voice comes out as mewls.

His fingers taste like your orgasm and his past pleasure as he licks them clean, you whimper so sweetly above him as you catch your breath.

Taehyung kisses his way back up. His love drunk eyes are soaked in adoration, his lower face is messy. He smiles so brightly that it crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks.

“I did. It felt so good and made me so hot.” You mewl, hiding your eyes. “You didn’t follow my plan.”

“Because it was a silly plan. It never would have worked.”

“You don’t know that. I could have lasted.”

“Yes?” He rubs your clit with his fingers, making you gasp loudly. It is proof enough that no matter what he would have done, you would have been sensitive.

Defeated you drop in the sheets, glaring up at him.

“I don’t like you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, you are a mean man who likes teasing me.”

He chuckles, taking you into his arms and nuzzling his nose into your head. His heart is racing like crazy.

“So you hate me?” He bites your ear gently. “Do you wish to find out what I do with my enemies?” he threatens, fingers dangerously close to your ticklish spots.

“Okay! I love you, I lied”, you giggle, fleeing him before he can attack you.  

“That’s what I thought. Give me a kiss.” 

“I blame you”, you say, lips tingling from the kiss.

“Good. Blame me. I’m so happy.”

“I’m happy too, Tae.”

To your surprise, he settles against you afterwards. He serves without expectations. 

Taehyung, happy about pleasing you, basks in the lingering taste of you. It is fading from his tongue. His lips long stopped carrying it. Your scent makes up for it. So nice, so safe. He could doze off again.

“Taehyung?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I try to lick you?”

“Yeah”, he inhales deeply, “mhhhm this makes me hot in my tummy, my darling.”

“Because I thought that maybe you would like it as well and we still have a lot of time in our lazy morning, you know?”

“I know and I’d like this very much.”

“So yes. Okay. Lie down on your back and I will use my tongue.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Like this.” You pet his shoulders. “Are you comfortable?”

“Very.”

“Then I will start. Right?”

“Yes, start.”

He smiles at you, nodding his head. He loves every second he gets to spend with you.

You slip off the bed, disappearing from his view.

“Where are you? Yah!”

With a skilled grip and a strong tug, you pulled Taehyung to the edge of the bed. He is gawking with his mouth wide open and his eyes comically round. 

“I told you, it is all about technique”, you say, kneeling in front of the bed.

“You are a dangerous woman. Fuck, I thought that I was about to die”, he says and drops his head back in the sheets, laughing loudly.

You laugh with him, hugging his right leg. You want this moment to last forever. Just you and him bonded by laughter.

“I could also lift you if I tried.”

“I believe you.”

You share snickers and it happens naturally that it just kind of dies out. The silence is comfortable, your gazes are locked deeply. Taehyung cradles your cheek, eyes softening.

“I adore you”, he whispers.

“And I you”, you breathe, kissing his palm before you place your kisses on the inside of his thighs instead. Just like he does when he licks you.

Taehyung rests back on his elbows, stroking your head every now and then to make sure you know that you are adored.

You reach his intimate places, looking at him for approval.

“You’re doing well”, he encourages you.

“I really like your cock”, you confess in giggles, connecting your lips with his balls to kiss them.

Taehyung bites his lip, trying to stay calm in order not to scare you away. This is your chance to explore, to figure yourself out and Taehyung is more than willing to be part of it. You lift your head, lips glistening and pupils dilated.

“You smell differently down there. I like it a lot.”

“Yes? I clean myself daily.”

“That’s good, personal hygiene is very important for healthy geni- I’m sorry I’m being a healer again.”

“That’s alright, whatever makes you feel comfortable.” He softens his eyes. “You don’t have to this if you aren’t ready.”

“I am, I want this”, you say and lower yourself again, trailing your kisses along his shaft. You hum every now and then, hands on his thighs which makes kissing him difficult. You snicker, Taehyung does as well. He helps you by grabbing the base of his cock and holding it in place this way.

“You’re doing good”, he praises, aching to be inside your mouth. Five years. Five fucking years without getting his cock sucked. And now he is getting it adored by his beloved wife. Taehyung might very well start drooling.

Your soft lips reach his tip, exploring it in kisses. Taehyung sighs, cradling your cheek. His thumb traces your skin, his touch is filled with adoration. Deep breaths. Stay gentle. Even if he feels like he might scream because of how good you feel.

“I like this a lot”, you whisper.

“Me too”, he answers you just as softly, breath hitching in his throat when your tongue darts out. You flick it up and down like he did with your clit.

Taehyung moans softly, caressing your cheek.

“My darling”, he whispers, tingles in his stomach gentle and constant. You are unknowingly making him so incredibly desperate. He allows you the slow time for a while, working through the growing desperation by holding your cheek.

You swirl your tongue, again just like he did. Taehyung takes deep breaths. Three of them before he finally breaks. 

“Beloved?” he asks.

“Yes? Do you need a break too?”

“This is nice, but I like something else more.”

“Oh. Alright. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay, you’re doing great. Can I just show you?”

You nod your head and sit back on your heels. Taehyung straightens up, caging you in between his legs.

“Give me your hand.”

You let him take it.

“Now stick out two fingers.”

You obey, albeit a little confused.

“Imagine your fingers are my cock. This is the base and this is the tip”, he explains, tracing your fingers gently. 

“Alright.” 

Taehyung leans in, connecting his tongue with the base of your fingers to drag it up to the pads. This sends goosebumps all over your body. It is so sensual and arousing. He looks into your eyes and slips your fingers between his lips. Wet and warm. Nice.

He sucks, creating a suction sensation around your fingertips. You have to rub your legs together because of it.

“I can see why you would like that. This feels nice.”

He hums and sinks your fingers into his mouth, pressing the flat of his tongue to them. Once all the way in, he moans. 

“Oh? I can feel that.” 

And up he goes again, moving his tongue left and right before he ends it with a flick on the tip of your fingers. He kisses them, then your lips.

“This was so sensual”, you talk into it.

“Mhm, felt good to do” he licks your lips. “Do it on my cock, please.”

“Okay”, you say, breaking the kiss so you can dance your lips down his torso.

Taehyung settles back on the sheets, closing his eyes in anticipation. He wants to be surprised, it only adds to the pleasure. You take his legs and push them into his torso. He chuckles, hooking his hands behind his knees. A peculiar way to start the blowjob, but he is not one to stop you. Especially because you leave such wonderful kisses down his thighs.

His balls next, your tongue darts out to lick them. Taehyung purrs, biting his lip and smiling. He sets his feet on the mattress, getting comfortable. He cannot wait, heart pounding.

Your tongue suddenly goes southwards, hands sliding to his hips.

“What?” 

You connect your tongue with his hole, just like he does to you. Taehyung gasps and grows silent. You look up at him. He is stuck in a back arch, lips parted and lungs refusing to breathe. How arousing to watch.

You move your tongue, like he did, in circular movements. The pleasure shoots through him like a seizure, he drops his back again, releasing his breath in a needy moan. How satisfying. And his hole is really exciting to feel with your tongue. The texture is so interesting and his skin is so soft. You understand why he went there last night. And this morning. Oh, this morning it drove you absolutely frenzied. This is fun. You don’t want to stop, hoping to drive him just as frenzied. 

You wrap your right hand around his length and jerk him off. Your eyes are glued to it, watching your own movements while your tongue dances on his rim. It is so exciting because Taehyung’s thighs keep twitching against their will. Oh, you love seeing him getting pleasured. The curious healer in you loves it just as much as the adoring wife does.

Perhaps if you increased the speed with which you masturbate him and tried to bury your tongue in his hole, something new could happen. You attempt to fill him, just like he did. It is more difficult than he made it seem. The resistance is strong, making you really work for it. It isn’t something Taehyung does voluntarily, it is simply because his hole is unexplored territory.

You have to really wiggle your way in there, resulting in intense sensations for him. Especially paired with the handjob you are giving him.

Taehyung has to scream. He shouldn’t but he has to. Panicked, he takes a pillow and bites into it. He gets it. He finally gets what you went through last night. Holy fuck, he did not go easy on you. How in the ever living hells did you stay sane?

But then.

The way you currently feast on his ass like a hungry beast is very far from sane. He did that.

He created a monster and he is paying the consequences.

Slip.

Taehyung’s eyes rip open, his neck tenses as he fights a mewl. Your tongue finally managed to breach him. You moan into him, twisting your fist around his cockhead.

“Stop. Stop, stop, wait”, he chants, pushing your head away, “wait.”

You sit back, abandoning his intimate places. His taste still lingers on your tongue, fading slowly now that he pushed you away.

“Oh thank gods, that was close.”

“What was close?”

“You almost made me orgasm.”

Your gaze turns shy and giddy, “so you liked it? I thought that I could lick your hole first before I do the thing you really like. Just like you always do.”

“I have never had a tongue there.”

“Whaaat? So I… Tae this is exciting, so I gave you something first too. Now we are equal.”

“Yeah”, he laughs breathily and drops in the sheets, “holy fuck, you don’t know how hard I am.”

“No, I do”, you wrap your hand around his cock, “a very hard example, mhm very voluptuous and delicious. I prescribe you with a cock sucking”, you are joking, making him snort.

“You drive me absolutely insane. Please, can I have the remedy?”

“Of course”, you say and snicker, “I shall be the best remedy.”

His reactions really motivated you and encouraged you to act, so you do not feel nervous lowering yourself to his cock. As a matter of fact, you feel utterly excited.

You begin with a kiss, then a lick. His taste became stronger, coating the tip of your tongue and as a result exciting you for more. You try to remember what he did. First lick up the shaft. Yes, let’s do that. Taehyung makes a desperate sound, tummy tensing for a second. Then swirl your tongue on his tip.

“I’m gonna go insane”, he says under his breath, rolling his hips.

Now finally take him in.  

“___”, Taehyung moans, hand falling to the back of your head and toes curling on the sheets. Truth be told, he has a difficult time holding back his orgasm. It’s been so long and you excite him so much that it is twice as hard. And then you had your tongue in his hole. Taehyung is struggling.

This is the best thing ever! Your jaw has to work more than you expected to, but you don’t mind. You sink him in further, finding it difficult to swallow your spit. But you don’t want to slip off and waste time swallowing, so you let it simply trickle out of you. It covers your fingers and his shaft, taunting you to move. Maybe you should.

“Fuck. ___! Ahngn”, Taehyung exclaims, silencing himself with his own hand. He bites into his

palm, legs dropping into the sheets just so they can swipe around aimlessly. New salty goodness spills on your tongue. How rich in flavour, how surprisingly exciting! You close your eyes and moan, relaxing your jaw so you can move your mouth up and down his tip.

His muffled noises reach your ears, mixing with the wet slurps your mouth automatically does as it masturbates him. Maybe you could use your left hand to hold his waist. Your thumb digs into his muscles, his skin burns hot and he seems unable to stay still.

You love this so much, moaning around him again as you suck. Taehyung closes his fingers on your head, accidentally grabbing a bundle of your hair. It tangles in his hand, spreading a dull tugging sensation on your scalp. You like it a lot, moaning around him oh so loudly that Taehyung’s once deep moans pitch.

He squeaks, breathing heavily to the point he is panting as if he had to run. This is intoxicating you, turning you frantic. You speed up your hand and grip his waist tighter, trying to push himself deeper. And deeper and deeper. A gag runs through you, but you pay it barely any mind. You slip up his cock and let the saliva wet your handjob, gathering all of your hunger to feast on his first few inches. They are the most sensitive anyway – unbeknownst to you – and Taehyung reacts with a desperate, helpless plead.

“You are making me come. I-I can’t hold it when you suck me like - holy fuck -like this.”

Good. You want to get him there. You want to feel his orgasm, hear it, experience it and taste it. Shit, you really want to know how it tastes. Your moans are constant, your wet mouth sloppy. Taehyung grasps your head with both hands.

“I-if you don’t want me to, to release inside, you have to ah slip off.”

You don’t slip off, you keep moaning and sucking.

“___ I really can’t-”

You give him a nod of your head and a pleading look up. Taehyung understands, eyes rolling back in bliss.

“___ darling”, he moans, arching his back. He grips the sheets and twists them, ripping his mouth open to moan silently. A second later you get a mouthful of his orgasm.

You squeak in surprise, spilling way too much because you did not expect such masses. You gag a little as you rediscover your rhythm, head going dizzy from his taste. Holy shit, this is amazing. Overtaken by greed, you find yourself again and suck him off vigorously. It only makes his orgasm so much more intense, overstimulating him to the point of having to bite his own hand again.

Holy shit, he can’t stop throbbing. Holy fuck, it is like you are sucking the sanity out of his cock or his soul and life and anything that keeps him together. The overstimulation builds and builds and builds until it suddenly bursts and Taehyung panics.

“I can’t”, he sobs, cradling your face, “I-I can’t I’m dizzy, stop please.”

You slip off of him with a bop of your lips, letting his ruined cock drop against his stomach. You instantly close the distance to him, kissing him just like he showed you to do. His orgasm coats his lips and tongue, your hands explore his torso hungrily and you sit down on his thigh. Taehyung is still out of it, holding your back for dear life. Then he feels it. He feels how you begin to instinctively hump his thigh, needy moans tickling his lips and skin getting marked by your cunt.

Sucking his cock made you so desperate that you are chasing another high. He has to grab your ass and squeeze, letting you move on your own and kissing you so much deeper. It really doesn’t take long, it doesn’t. You got so worked up, so wet and sensitive that it is truly only a matter of a minute before your body shakes in this distinctive way Taehyung learns is your orgasm shakes.

He enjoys it just as much as you do, heart beating irregularly in his chest. To think that mere two days ago, you were too ashamed by your own needs. And now he has you chasing another orgasm after you sucked him dry. Taehyung is so happy for you and he loves you so much.

The kiss breaks with the end of your high.

“O-oh”, you let out weakly, slacking atop of him.

“You needed that, didn’t you?” he purrs his words, rubbing your back.

You whimper happily, nodding your head. Everything is fuzzy and warm and nice. You like him so much and what he does to you.

“Did I do a good job?” you ask quietly, shyly almost.

“You did such a good job. I feel breathless”, he is dragging his words.

“I’m so happy”, you confess, giggling into his neck. “I…really…really like orgasms.”

“Me too. Mhhm darling, I can’t believe you did that.”

“Yeah, me neither. I feel like a real woman now. Thank you for being so patient with me, I know I didn’t make it easy for you.”

“Please don’t worry about it. I only hope that you really wanted it.”

“I did. So much.”

“That’s good”, he whispers and sighs when you press a kiss to his cheek.

“Are you thirsty?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I’ll get you something”, you say, rolling off him to hurry to his water jug. You fill two cups then return to the bed. “There you go.”

“Thank you.”

You share the water in silence, exchanging giddy looks because nothing feels as nice as being together. Once the empty cups are discarded by the bed, you snuggle up under the blanket. You rest your head on his arm, painting mindless patterns on his chest.

“I really don’t want to leave this room today”, you confess.

“Me neither.” He stubs your temple with his nose, placing a kiss on it afterwards.

 “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You said last night that you have a plan for the king. Are you going to kill him?”

“No, not yet.”

You look up at him again. Taehyung feels so connected with you. 

“I see. I was asking because I actually thought about how I might be able to help.”

“Yes? How is that?”

“What if we poisoned the king?”

“Huh?”

“Nightshade, hemlock or wolfsbane. Just to name a few. Most will make it seem as if he died in his sleep.”

Taehyung studies you very seriously.

“What?” you ask.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

You snicker, “well it is for a good cause. It will save hundreds of lives.”

“You are truly one dangerous woman.” He chuckles his words, kissing your temple. “But not yet. We have to be clever about this. First we need to get the court on our side so that once we kill him, they do not overthrow us. I’m the military so it should be an easy task to convince them.”

“I understand. Gain allies first, then strike. It is careful and clever. What then? Are you going to become king? Wait. Am I going to become queen? Can I still work as a healer then?”

“I was actually thinking that perhaps my mother could take the throne. She is the first born sibling, it should have been her all along. If we could convince the court of her competence, we could give her what she is owed.”

“A female head of state. I like it. It is about time that we modernise. And you think that your mother would cooperate?”

“I am quite certain, but I will have to talk to her and my aunt first. I will leave for the countryside in two days.”

“What? You’re leaving me?”

He smiles softly, “are you going to miss me?”

“Yes. I just found my true me who loves you and wants to hold you. I think the state should wait so I can hold you more.”

He laughs, “wow, you are indeed a rebel.” He caresses your cheek. “It will just be a few months.”

“No.” You hug him as tightly as possible, pressing your face into his chest. “No, I refuse to let you go.”

“But think about it, beloved. It is the perfect opportunity to make the king believe that we have fallen apart. It wasn’t certain that you would accept my proposal to move. If I leave now, it looks as if we had a fight.”

“But I don’t want to make it seem like that.”

“But we have to. You are going to be safe from the king while I am gone. He will think that you are still under his control because you refuse to go with me.”

“What if he doesn’t believe it?”

“He will.”

“No. No, I will go with you. Hyeonah and Sooyeon are capable of running the hospital in my absence. I could lie and say that you invited me so that we can build a countryside hospital.”

“Oh? I did not think that you would like to leave your hospital.” He kisses your head. “Of course you can come with me and make the countryside hospital an actual thing.”

“Yeah, right”, you laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“Wait. Really? You think that I could make it work? I always dreamed of bringing medicine to the simple folk.”

“You could make anything work, darling. I believe in your competence and wisdom.”

“This means a lot to me, thank you.”

You exchange a kiss.

“But then we have to wait a while longer, so I can prepare. Perhaps we can leave in a month so it doesn’t seem suspicious. You know, make it seem as if we came up with the idea in our hanok”, you say.

“Mhm, you’re right. Then the plan is set.”

You wiggle yourself free, sporting a blinding smile.

“This is perfect. I’m very excited. I already have so many ideas for the hospital. And the king thing as well.”

“But don’t be too excited about the latter. We cannot let people know what we are planning. At least not yet.”

You nod your head, “I am very good at acting like nothing is going on. I pretended not to be totally obsessed with you for months.”

“Yes. Right. That was very rude of you.”

You snicker and smooch his cheek.

“I’m sorry. But now I am very ready to be your wife.”

“Mhm good.”

You tug him in and kiss his ear. Then you get comfortable, keeping enough distance so you can look at him. 

“I am so happy to have you by my side, Taehyung.”

“You don’t know how happy I am to have you, ___.”