elizadeath

you both came from broken homes, with your parents entangled in the world of drugs and abuse, his absent more times than present. you had each other though, and that was all either of you had ever really needed - that much had been true for years. it didn’t take long to fall in love with him, not when he treated you like blooming flowers in the first touch of spring; you were more than just his girl. you were his y/n.

no one blinked when he proposed, everyone half expecting it, and neither of you had wanted to wait to plan a lavish wedding when you were both the only constants in each other’s lives. and so, with cheap rings, a random dress you had found at the bottom of your wardrobe and his scuffed shoes - you had become husband and wife.

jungkook was the best partner you could have ever asked for. money was tight in the beginning as he threw himself into his job, making sure he had enough to spoil you rotten even if that meant coming home exhausted. it killed you to see him working so hard, but he never complained, not even once. it was done in the pursuit of his sweet wife, and therefore just.

he quickly began climbing the ranks, his intelligence unmatched, his speed and efficiency making him a force to be reckoned with. in a mere seven years, he had managed to go from the lowest ranking worker in the company right to head office, before formally being announced as ceo.

it was unheard of. people like him, people like you, they didn’t live like this. it felt like over night your entire life had changed, as the tiny, one bed apartment transformed into a penthouse suite in your city’s most reputable area, your beaten down car now more lavish than you could ever dream of. your clothes - silks, linens and luxurious patterns. you were a changed woman, all at the hands of your husband.

that was when the cracks had began to form.

the late nights began, jungkook holed up in his office for far longer than anyone else at the company, stacks of paper all around as he tried to crack numbers before the next day could bring its own workload. you didn’t mind at first, more so worried over anything else.

you packed late dinners, going up to his office and eating them with him just to keep him company, to ground him which he needed more than you could ever realise. he would sit you on his lap as he worked, all whilst you napped peacefully on his shoulder as though this was perfectly normal.

the first few months, it worked. after that, it could no longer hide the gaping hole that had begun to appear.

missed dinners. missed dates. jungkook showing up at two in the morning despite everyone else going home at five in the afternoon - this wasn’t normal. wasn’t healthy. the amount of arguments that were being caused due to his workaholic nature was alarming, especially considering neither of you had ever even raised your voices to one another prior to this.

your heart was getting heavier and heavier.

not because you doubted his love for you - that wasn’t even a question in your mind, that much was certain. if anything, jungkook loved you too much, entirely and wholly, with every single decision made in his life somehow tracing back to you in one way or another. whether it was purchasing things, buying them with the intent of impressing you, making you happy or smile. every opportunity, every signed contract, every bastard fucking meeting that he could feel so deeply in his bones was done with the intention of giving you a life so soft you would never experience hardship again.

that was where the problem lay.

jungkook didn’t know how to love in a way that could nurture your relationship through this, and so, he did the only thing he could. he sacrificed.

slowly, painfully, the realisation that somewhere between the neglect, the late nights and unanswered phone calls, your husband had stopped being your husband at all. he had become a mere ghost in your shared home.

the night you had made your decision was one that felt imprinted in your memory.

it was past midnight, the harsh light of your phone reminding you with each passing moment. the rain was harsh too, with it being the middle of autumn, causing you to curl deeper into the covers on your bed but it did nothing to chase the cold away. dinner had long gone cold downstairs, with your housekeeper giving you a long, sad look before leaving to her own home, patting you on the shoulder in comfort.

your heart hurt so fucking much.

your phone was untouched, with messages sent hours prior despite the lack of response.

‘where are you?’

‘are you coming home tonight?’

‘jungkook, you promised.’

‘i miss you.’

you felt pathetic. humiliation ran up and down your veins at the thought of having to beg for a morsel of attention from your husband, but what else were you supposed to do? what else could you do? loneliness had a tendency to do that to people.

the sound of the front door finally opening had your eyes looking up, no longer staring into space, thinking. overthinking.

jungkook finally stumbled in, hours and hours late, shoulders tense and black coat half wet due to the rain outside. his phone had died hours ago, and his brain was a jumble of numbers and stakeholders, still muttering under his breath over something one of his colleagues had said. he was exhaustion personified.

“baby.” he exhaled deeply upon the sight of you still up.

1:47am.

you stared at him, unable to focus on anything in particular as your reddened eyes somehow glinted in the moonlit essence of the room. his heart ached.

“you missed it again.” you whispered, barely audible.

another dinner sat cold. jungkook had noticed it on his way up, muttering a small fuck under his breath, but seeing you now? something had changed, something was different and the sight scared him to death.

“i know, i..”

“you said you’d be home for six.”

“i know baby, i’m so sorry, we had an emergency shareholders meeting and it was just..fuck.”

“it’s always an emergency.” you muttered bitterly.

the silence that followed felt suffocating to you both.

he carefully placed his things at the door before approaching you slowly, as though you were a wounded fawn struck by an arrow from his own back - it was his fault. he knew that, he could see it.

“i’m trying.” he whispered softly, as he crouched to meet your eyes.

that was the worst thing of all - of course he was trying. you knew he was, you could see it in every single thing he did but that was the part that made it so much more painful. it was unbearable.

tears burned harshly behind your eyes, lip openly trembling as you stared at the only man to have ever felt your affection, the love of your life. the same man that would set himself on fire just to keep you warm, who had done this all for you - even you knew that but, the pain. you weren’t sure when loving him had started to hurt this badly.

“i don’t need..i don’t want any of this, jungkook.” you corrected as your voice cracked, hands gesturing to the too large room. “don’t care about penthouses or cars, or money..”

“it’s not about that.”

“then what is it about?” you cried, months and months of neglect finally collapsing all at once. “because i’m losing you anyway.”

the devastation that appeared on his face would have floored you on any other occasion, but the horrible feeling that had taken over was consuming you from the inside out. you couldn’t rid yourself of your thoughts, the looming decision that had grown and grown and grown, so much so that it felt bigger than you in both mind and body. you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to.

“i feel so lonely.” you admitted honestly, a broken sob leaving your lips. “you’re all i have..all i’ve ever had and i feel lonely.”

the words physically wounded him as he felt his own tears begin to form, a horrible realisation fluttering through his body - this wasn’t fixable. he could see it now, the utter pain in your eyes, the way your body shook as you cried, and though he was crouched in front of you, arms wrapping around you; it wasn’t enough.

“i’ll fix this. i’ll fix this, fuck. y/n..” he shook, holding you so tightly, his heart beating out of his chest. “give me time. give me a chance. give me something, give me anything.”

you only cried harder at his words, collapsing entirely as the sobs racked through your body violently. you knew he meant it, knew he meant every single word, and you genuinely believed it too but you were tired.

so, so tired.

you knew that the love between you, no matter how deep, could not survive on patched up apologies and promises no longer.

the separation happened three weeks later.

perhaps that was too cruel of you - you should have given him more time, more chances, another opportunity to prove himself to you so he could actually begin repairing something that had already long collapsed before he had ever realised the damage. staying felt too painful, as though you were prodding delicate skin with a million sharpened blades. for once in your entire existence, you chose yourself.

you hated yourself for it.

you could no longer survive off of the memories of who your husband had once been, the once sweet teenage boy who slept on the streets with you just so you’d feel safe from the grasps of your parents. the man who had ran home to tell you about his promotion, who then sobbed in your arms at the mere prospect of getting to give you the life you deserved. oh, how each and every fibre of your being yearned for him, how it knew him by breath alone and yet it wasn’t enough. nothing could possibly hurt more.

packing your things nearly killed him. you remembered it vividly.

jungkook stood silently in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching numbly, as though his soul had left his entire body as you packed up remnants of a life once shared with him. cardboard boxes were filled with your books, your makeup, your silly trinkets you had acquired together - the sight of you crying as you packed your wedding album so delicately was enough to have him bite back his own sob, shaking his head at the reality of the situation.

he hadn’t stopped you. it was the worst part.

jungkook was intimidating to most; hardened by his life experiences and the struggle he had been raised in, his only priority for the past decade being you. you didn’t like to go into his work, knowing he was quite literally a different person there - efficient, yes, but also ruthless. and yet, he stood, watching you as though his eyes couldn’t comprehend the scene in front of him, tears wiped harshly from his face in fear that it would only upset you more.

even in moments like this, he put you first.

his hands sat caged on either side of him, as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. he wanted nothing more than to pick you up, cradle you, cherish you the way he so desperately wanted but in his love for you came your happiness. he was a man devoted to you, and he couldn’t cage you somewhere you no longer felt happy staying - he loved you too much to ever do that.

the divorce proceedings were somehow so much worse.

the media frenzy surrounding jeon jungkook, the elusive ceo who was known for his mysterious persona and dark eyes, was quite literally unbearable. the sudden separation exploded all over the tabloids and the internet, with headlines appearing faster than either of you could keep up with. the hate was too much, to which jungkook stepped in to silence everyone behind the scenes, throwing an insane amount of money at journalists to keep your name out of their filthy mouths. wife or not, you were one half of him and he’d be damned if you were spoken of in anyway that wasn’t praiseworthy.

you couldn’t even look at him during the hearings.

god, you tried. you wanted to, managing to sneak little glances where you caught him already staring at you, despair all over his face, but you couldn’t handle it, tears streaming out of your eyes almost immediately. he knew you loved him. he could see it, clear as day.

he looked sick, as though he hadn’t eaten for weeks, the mere sight of you enough to sustain him until the next meeting, where your feet lightly brushed against one another underneath the table in a subconscious way.

he barely spoke, only choosing to actually speak when he was asked a question, but other than that, he spent his time in the meetings staring at you longingly. he’d whisper a soft “don’t cry” whenever he’d see you tear up, your lip quivering each time you snuck a glance over, despite knowing it was breaking you.

he signed everything over to you immediately. his lawyers had practically choked, eyes wide as he silenced them almost harshly for even suggesting anything otherwise, your own eyebrows pulling together as you tried to reject. you didn’t want his money, you didn’t want what he had worked so hard for.

the penthouse, the cars, the accounts. every. fucking. thing.

“jungkook..” you had whispered through tears at the table, addressing him for the first time in so long. “i don’t want any of this, it’s yours. you’ve worked so hard.”

hearing you was enough to provide the energy he had been lacking, the very blood in his bloodstream pumping harder as he shook his head at you, offended.

“i got those things for you. it never belonged to me..was always yours.” he whispered back, causing you to look down with another choked sob.

it was the final hearing that truly cemented the empty hole inside of you.

your hands shook violently, so much so that you were unable to pick up your pen and sign away your marriage, the one thing you needed to do to finally let him go. everyone in the room frowned as they watched you, face flooded with tears as your digits simply refused, as though your body rejected the notion as being entirely unnatural. they all felt pity for you, for both of you - you both were clearly in love, and they couldn’t understand the gravity of the situation between you.

jungkook had stood from his side of the table, walking over to you until his hand had softly encapsulated your own, your quiet sobs only growing harsher at the feel of the one person you had been craving for so long. he held it, guiding you to your own, helping you write your name on the dotted line despite every part of his body aching.

ex-husband.

the thought should have killed you.

once it was signed, he held onto your hand, too scared to let go as the documents were taken, your lawyers and his slowly leaving the room, leaving you be. you should have let go, should have pushed him away as he no longer had any tie to you - you weren’t married, you weren’t together. alas, the thought felt sacrilegious.

instead, he knelt, knees hitting the hardened floor below you as your red eyes met his properly. entirely.

“i’ll fix this.” he promised you, voice no longer shaking, as you could hear the depth of his promise to you. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby, but you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you better, i’ll be worthy. i promise you, y/n.” he whispered.

another sob climbed up your throat, mean and harsh, as your body collapsed against the chair you were sat in, your emotion taking a complete hold over you.

because even then, after everything, you knew his words to be true. you knew home would be waiting.

—

eight months had passed now, and soon came the first touch of summer. the bleak sky had become brighter, clouds hibernating and birds chirping as the world became warmer, accommodating for the transition into what most would describe as a joyous time. unfortunately for you, your body was still recovering from what could only be described as the most traumatic stage of your life thus far.

everything felt unnatural and wrong - you were trying to keep up despite it moving a million miles around you.

even after all this time, your stomach still dropped whenever you’d see anything that referred to him as your ex husband, as though your mind and heart needed a moment to catch up. how could jungkook ever simply become an ex anything to you?

he had existed in your life for so long that removing him felt akin to ripping a vital organ out of your body, all whilst expected to function entirely normally. how could you? you suppose you were failing, really, with the way you moved through life out of necessity instead of want.

the tabloids loved him now more than ever. it was the paradox of tragedy, you assumed, as you knew how badly the world yearned for a broken hearted lover.

the youngest ceo in the country’s history, a billionaire bachelor - the elusive businessman was on the top of every social hierarchy, whilst people spoke about you in hushed whispers. the only woman to have ever gotten away. who were you? why did you leave? why did he leave you with so much?

he had become so much colder after the divorce, and people picked up on it like rats with forgotten food.

the media had always labelled him as an intimidating man, but now, there was no way of denying it. there was something unsettling about the pictures that were being papped of him, your hungry eyes taking him in top to bottom, nibbling your lip - he looked so different. broad shoulders remained the same, but he seemed bigger, no doubt taking out his pain in the gym. it was the look in his eyes, however, that had your stomach in knots.

he looked dead whilst alive.

jeon jungkook was heartbroken, and the world knew it clear as day.

he had dealt with it the only way he knew how - by burying himself six feet deep into his work, knowing he had nothing to come home to, often times sleeping in his office just so he could ignore the silence of his house.

meanwhile, you had spent the last eight months trying to learn how to exist without him.

the humiliation at first was all you were reminded of, as you realised how deeply you had intertwined into him and vice versa. the silence in your once shared penthouse was so unbearable that you had moved into a tiny two bedroom apartment, using the spare as a storage unit for all of your books. on your nightstand still sat a picture of you both, as you secretly cried over it most nights. you couldn’t even sleep unless you wore one of his hoodies, despite his scent having washed off months ago - it was the comfort of knowing you still had a part of your marriage with you.

you missed him in every small, stupid, awful way imaginable.

the feeling of his hand, heavy and strong, on your thigh as he drove you around. the way he would cage you into any surface he could find just to smother you in kisses, or even the way he would whisper into your ear stupid jokes that had you giggling too loudly for the world to hear.

you missed your husband. you missed jungkook.

everyday you battled with the regret of your choice, especially once you’d see the way his under-eyes had sunken with the lack of sleep and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. you couldn’t live that way again, not with the neglect - not with your past trauma from your parents.

jungkook knew the gravity of his actions, knew you needed to heal and reason with them before he could come back to you but fuck, it hurt so bad to wait.

sometimes, during your weaker moments, you found yourself searching him into your phone in the dead of night, breathing out an audible sigh of relief at the confirmation he was still openly single. it was pathetic, that much you knew, but it was selfish beyond anything else. so cruel to want the man you left to be alone, simply because he still belonged to you.

you had attempted to rebuild your life slowly, carefully piecing together fragments of yourself that existed before all of this had happened. your days were quieter now, so much lonelier but it was enough to keep your mind from spiralling every second of every waking day.

some habits, however, refused to die.

his contact remained as the only favourited number in your phone, as you spent all of your time rereading old messages, despite it ending in tears. if only you knew he too did the same, with his photo album on his phone his most used app as he stared at you nightly, often falling asleep with your picture shining brightly on his screen.

you still loved him. he loved you even more.

that could never change.

-

the first flowers came on a random tuesday.

you had just experienced one of the worst days you’d had in a while, with a final meeting with one of your clients going to shit after you realised hours of work and designs had somehow corrupted, and then deleted. by the time you had returned home, you were sure the world had seen your teary state, your body heavier than usual.

as you searched your bag for your keys, your eyes peered up, noticing them.

your breath caught.

sitting neatly outside your apartment door. a bouquet, large but elegant - white gardenias. the flowers you had held at not only your wedding, but the ones jungkook would buy you for your anniversary each year.

your flowers.

your chest ached so violently you found yourself gasping for air as your legs gave out below you. you slid down the wall, fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you looked for a note, only to realise there wasn’t one. you didn’t need to see who they were from, only one person knew you well enough and your heart felt like it had been split into two as you took them in.

it wasn’t your anniversary, wasn’t any special kind of occasion, and yet here they were. bright, promising, sweet.

your vision blurred with heavy tears as the painful feeling in your body grew, throat tightening with emotion before reaching out and taking a hold of them, breathing the flowers in openly.

the scent alone was enough to destroy you.

he was everywhere, all of the time - even now. especially now.

the flowers had become a norm, a pattern that was only recognisable to you, and completely deniable to any other person looking in. you were smarter than you looked and you knew what was happening, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out.

your favourite restaurant somehow managing to accommodate you always despite the line or packed out reservations list, or the paparazzi that often bullied you for your attention outside of your home mysteriously disappearing. even your car, that you had dented slightly, appeared in perfect condition as you walked down to go to work one morning, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

your chest bloomed with realisation.

jungkook.

he never appeared himself, no. never. it was unsettling really, the reminder that he was powerful and could have things done with a flick of his wrist - he was sure to never make you privy to it, so you’d always feel like he was the same boy you had met all those years ago. now? he had every intention of showing you the empire he had built for you and you alone. he lingered around you and your life like a floating ghost, invisible but permanent. you truly couldn’t get rid of him even if you tried.

three weeks later is when you felt yourself reaching breaking point.

for the first time in months, you were finally leaving the house to actually do something for fun. your best friend, yejin, who’s husband yoongi was ironically jungkook’s best friend, had forced you to come out for a drink. nothing intense, merely a nice bar where the drinks were smooth and the company was good, with slow jazz playing in the back.

exhaustion was heavy in your bones but you listened, doing your best to make yourself look nice despite how dead you felt inside. a little skirt that felt too short and a top that perhaps plunged too low - yejin had deemed you utterly perfect.

sat at the bar, you sipped your drink, wincing lightly as she yapped away about something her coworker had said. you appreciated how she refused to bring jungkook up, knowing that she couldn’t breach the topic unless you were the one to bring it up yourself. you hated how badly you wanted to, how desperate you were to find out how he was doing.

she filled the air constantly, like she was terrified of what would happen if your mind caught up to the reality of the situation, instead filling it with nonsense to occupy your demanding thoughts.

you let her.

you even found yourself laughing, the feeling and sound so startling that it reduced you to silence for a full minute afterwards as you welcomed the feeling of actual joy for the first time in so long.

you almost didn’t notice the shift in your phone, the slight light radiating from beneath as you had turned it onto its screen earlier in the evening. she, however, paused mid sentence, eyes dropping down to let you know someone was ringing.

nothing could have prepared you for the sight of his name on the screen.

the name, ‘kookie’ with a large, red heart adorned your phone as humiliation rummaged through you at the realisation you had never even bothered to change his name, the concept too painful to come to terms with. however, yejin all but gasped as she turned to you, eyes widened with an almost excitement.

“answer it.” she encouraged, hand on your back. “i’ll watch your drink.”

you weren’t sure what to say, as you nodded, staring down at the screen before shakily sliding off of your seat and heading towards the back entrance, where a smokers area sat empty. your hands shook as you cupped the phone to your chest, taking a seat before looking down at it once more.

he was calling you.

jungkook was fucking calling you.

before you could overthink, you swiped, answering it.

the phone felt hot against your ear, a reminder of what was currently happening as your heart began beating harder than it had in months, your hands shaking. for a second, neither of you spoke.

you could hear faint movement on his end, a shuffling of some sorts before he completely stilled, as though he had pushed everything he was doing to a side at the realisation you had actually answered.

“hi.”

god. your eyes squeezed shut tight almost immediately.

there he was - your jungkook. not the ceo extraordinaire that was plastered on every publication you could find, with dead eyes and a sharp expression. no, this was him. jungkook. your jungkook.

the sound alone nearly brought you to tears. you felt so pathetic.

“hi.” you whispered back, voice cracking.

silence settled again, but not awkwardly. you didn’t think an awkward silence was capable of existing between you, not when your bodies were so intertwined and so aware of one another. the distance between you was unnatural, neither of your minds able to comprehend an eight month hiatus enough to understand that this phone call alone shouldn’t have been happening.

he exhaled slowly, and your shoulders gently relaxed, your eyes closing momentarily as you imagined him. no doubt still at work, in a suit unbuttoned at the shirt, his tie long forgotten. his tattooed hand running through his hair, ruffling it the way you always would.

“you answered.” he broke you out of your thoughts.

your chest tightened painfully at the sheer disbelief in his tone.

“you called.”

a faint huff of amusement left him then, causing you to blink back any emotion that was building in your eyes. it eased you.

“yeah.” he breathed out.

another pause.

you felt so suddenly aware of yourself - your hand reached out to smooth down your hair, adjust your top and skirt, despite knowing he couldn’t see you. it was subconscious, as though the thought of him alone was enough to undo you, but his voice? hearing it after so long, directed at you, for you. yours. it was enough to have you soothed for months.

before you could spiral in your thoughts, he spoke again.

“where are you?”

“out with yejin.”

“mm.” you shivered at his hum. you had no idea he was so undone at the sound of you too. “a bar?”

“yeah.”

“you drinking?”

you rolled your eyes, tongue poking your cheek at his curiosity. some things truly had never changed.

“why?” you asked, and you could almost hear his grin on the other end. “can’t i ask?”

his tone, smooth. familiar. fuck, it did things to you, and you could feel your thighs pressing together just listening to him. secretly, your favourite part of jungkook was how possessive he had always been, and even in moments like this where he hid it under a layer of calmness, you could recognise it instantly.

it reminded you of when he’d ask you whether you had eaten, just before pulling you into his lap, lips attacking the side of your neck hungrily or when he’d tell you to take your medicine, with a slow ‘baby’ and kisses planted to your forehead and cheeks.

“one drink.” you revealed, with a nibble to your lip.

you had no idea that he too was a fucking mess.

jungkook was indeed in his office, with his legs spread, suit jacket and tie somewhere, his shirt unbuttoned a little as he too drank. a cup of whiskey in his hand, his hair a mess as he scoured over your instagram for the millionth time just that day. neither of you were ones to post much, especially considering your accounts were private with only a few people, but he stalked you daily in hopes of a glimpse of you. could you blame him? he was utterly, devotedly in love with you.

a measly divorce couldn’t stop that.

seeing yejin’s story, with your low cut top, and your big eyes showing a sign of life for the first time in months made his heart bloom. it had his cock straining, again, just looking at you, eyes hungrily looking over every inch of you and your soft smile. god, how he had missed it.

he had given you your time. respected your wishes, allowed you eight months of this but enough was enough. the flowers were just the beginning, marking his space back in your life through a promise he had every intention of upholding. he had told you directly he was going to fix this, and you, his sweet, sweet girl had believed him.

he would never let you down again.

“you having fun?”

“why do you wanna know every single detail?” you asked, tone a little harsher than intended but you couldn’t help yourself. this was an ambush on your senses.

he huffed once more, the amusement enough to disarm you.

“because i miss you.”

the words left him so easily that the breath in your lungs completely dissipated, leaving you a statued mess. no hesitation, no shame - pure, devastating honesty.

“you can’t say that, jungkook.” you weakly combatted, the intake of breath on his side of the phone at the sound of his name leaving your mouth enough of an answer for you.

“why not? i can’t miss my wife?” he scoffed lightly at you.

you blubbered for a moment. “i-i am not..i’m not your wife!”

“okay.” he hummed once more.

there was a quiet clink on his end, no doubt picking his drink up and taking a big gulp after abandoning it the second you answered. neither of you spoke for a few more moments, silence now becoming a running theme between you on the call, and yet it was still void of the awkwardness you’d find anywhere else. it was awful how familiar it felt. how comfortable and safe.

your fingers played with the hem of your skirt nervously, unsure if you had been too brash - he was hurting too after all.

“is that top new?”

your breath caught.

“..what?”

jungkook stayed quiet for an extra beat. “your top. haven’t seen that one before.”

heat flooded your cheeks, chest and neck before you could even respond, your lips bitten down as you inhaled shakily.

“how do you know that?” you were ignoring the way your pulse was hammering against your body, trying to feign an air of nonchalance.

at that, he couldn’t help the small grin. “saw you on yejin’s story.” he murmured, quieter now. “look so good. love when you wear pink, baby.”

it wasn’t even the words he had chosen, but more so the way he was saying them. so calm, so certain, so casual as if he wasn’t calling his ex wife baby over a bit of cleavage that was never really meant for his eyes - your blush spreading all over you now.

“jungkook..” you breathed out, shakily.

“what?” he asked innocently, and you could really hear the smile in his voice now. “am i wrong?”

you looked down at your top, nibbling away at your lip to hide the small smile that was beginning to form on your own face, something that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. your fingers brushed against your stomach, feeling the fabric before tucking a strand behind your hair.

“it’s new.” you admitted softly, heels shuffling slightly on the ground.

the sound he made in response was enough to ruin you. not a laugh, not quite a sigh - something pleased.

he hummed. “so pretty.”

your eyes squeezed shut, and jungkook could feel it. could see it as though you were right in front of him. you were never one to handle a compliment, always going pink and shyly looking away and god, he loved it so much. loved complimenting you in hopes that you would react just like that, just to see you get all flustered.

the feeling in your stomach..it felt so strange. the same one that had haunted you for the past eight months, an unbearable warmth that filled you from your toes to your head, something you craved so desperately from him and him alone. to be noticed, looked at, admired by jungkook was one thing but to be loved by him? it was joy in itself.

you could feel it.

no one had ever loved you quite like he had done, as though every single thing you were capable of was worthy of applause. it terrified you.

“you can’t do this.” your voice came out so much smaller than either of you had expected, changing the entire feel of the call instantly.

as a result, his own tone softened, as though he was dealing with something porcelain.

“do what, baby?”

your heart physically ached.

“talk to me..like nothing happened.”

you felt sick to your stomach, hands gripping your phone and stomach as your eyes shut tight. you wished you hadn’t of said anything, not with the way the silence kissed the air in a way that felt anything but familiar - it hurt. painful in every single way.

for the first time since answering the phone, you could see jungkook properly. could hear him breathing sharply as though your words were both a reminder and an understanding that no matter what, things could never go back to what they once were.

the slight twitch in his cheek, the way his fingers would naturally tighten whenever he was overwhelmed with emotion like he didn’t know where to put it, where to place it in his overworking mind. he had always loved so deeply, your jungkook; just didn’t know where to put it, or how to show it.

when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. stripped bare for you, so you could feel him.

“i know what i did.” he admitted softly. “i know i fucked up, and that i failed you as a husband.”

your throat tightened.

outside, rainwater still lingered from earlier, a sickly humidity wrapped into every air particle around you. the scent of lingering cigarette smoke was heavy enough to ground you in that moment as you listened to jungkook speak words neither of you could truly handle hearing, despite how necessary they were. it just hurt so, so badly.

inside the bar, you could hear muffled laughter, people egging one another on for drinks as jazz boomed, your heart easing as you could hear yejin’s voice amongst the crowd, no doubt the life of the party there too.

“then why are you acting like this?” you pathetically asked, lip jutting out in a teary pout. he could almost hear it on you. “you’re talking to me like we’re still together.”

“you’re still mine, y/n.”

your breath hitched violently.

“jungkook-“

“no,” he remained calm, a stark difference between you and him. “you asked me a question, baby, so let me answer it properly.”

the nickname rolled off of his lips so naturally, instinctively, and you hated how easily your body curled closer, almost desperate to hear it whilst he stood in front of you. you had always been putty in his hands, so easily undone with a few pretty words but you’d held back for the past few months for the sake of your boundaries. hearing him so open, so honest - it was fucking you up all over again.

“i know we’re divorced,” he continued before you could interrupt him again. “i know..you’re not my wife anymore, and i know this is my fault. you left because of me and i’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”

his voice cracked by the end of his statement.

“but i won’t sit here and pretend like the last eight months have suddenly erased the past fifteen years of loving you.”

the words shattered you. your delicate, pathetic heart broke once more at his words at the confirmation of what you needed to hear so, so badly.

years of abandonment issues stemming from your parents and friends who had only ever toyed with you meant you had put your all into jungkook, who had only ever put every inch of himself back in - you were a partnership, a welcome duo that made sense to the both of you. watching him pull back, forget you, neglect and abandon your relationship no matter the reason was enough to trigger you in ways that no one could reason with.

it was an intimate form of violence that though was never intended, hurt more than anything he could have ever done to you.

he knew that. he was openly telling you he recognised his faults, his wrong doings - you knew that too. god, you knew him better than anyone alive, and you knew that by leaving him it was the only way for him to understand and see.

“you’re making this so much harder, jungkook.” you whispered out through a flood of tears, your mascara and eyeliner smudging immediately under the slaughter of liquid.

“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry baby but i need you to hear me, okay? just..i need you to know i’m going to fix this. properly.” he breathed out, desperate now. “i’ve been doing things right this time..gave you space, let you breathe, been working on myself and going to therapy. don’t sleep at the office anymore, did at the start cause i didn’t like coming home but i’m better now.”

therapy?

you knew he held so much trauma with his own parents, his own upbringing, too scared to ever even speak about it if it wasn’t with you but to hear he had actually taken the steps to go forwards with something that put him directly out of his comfort zone was insanity to you. especially when his one and only concern had only ever been your own comfort, even at his expense.

his honesty made you burst out into quiet sobs - a noise he swore was harsh enough to kill him. he breathed out, cooing at you lightly as he shook his head despite you unable to see him, so pained.

jungkook recognised your pain immediately.

“yeah,” he muttered. “turns out working yourself to death because you’re afraid of losing everything after you’ve had a shitty upbringing actually isn’t normal behaviour. who knew?”

despite your heartbroken state, you let out a sincere watery laugh.

the sound hit him like a drug.

he went completely silent after hearing it, replaying it in the forefront of his mind. a greedy, gluttonous side of him climbing out of his very throat as he held it close to his soul, cherishing it - he was a starved man finally being fed.

“there she is.” he breathed. “fuck..missed hearing your laugh.”

you hated how easily you were able to slip back into him.

“jungkook..”

“i mean it,” his tone deepened slightly - more certain, more intentional. “i’m not calling you tonight to confuse you, y/n. i’m not calling because i’m lonely..”

your fingers tightened around the phone once more. “then, why?”

“because i’m getting you back.”

there was no hesitation in his voice, no wariness nor anything other than sheer determination. he sounded firm and a part of that thrilled you, whilst the other half sat scared of what this meant - you couldn’t survive this again, losing him. what if you had changed? what if you weren’t who he thought you were anymore?

“hey, stop it.” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “it’s just me, y/n. it’s just me and you, okay?”

“but what if we can’t do it?” you asked through a teary sob, scuffing your heels on the hard ground. “what if i’m different and what if it’s too hard? i can’t..i won’t survive it..”

silence once more.

“then, we do it slowly.” he whispered, assured, soothing you. no hesitation whatsoever. “i’m not asking you to trust me overnight, baby. i know i fucked that up already.”

your lip trembled, tears streaming so fast you could hardly keep up.

“but i’m here now.”

the words settled so deeply inside of you that it almost hurt. that was all you had wanted all along, was it not? a present husband, the same man that loved you without the frills of money and presents - you wanted jungkook. your jungkook.

you swallowed thickly, knowing it had taken so much of him to even say this to you, so confident as he knew you needed a rock at this moment despite also being emotionally devastated.

two whole minutes of silence stretched between you as you caught your breath, your tears still streaming but your sobs subsiding, allowing for sweet hiccups that he thought were the cutest thing he had ever heard. his mind swam, aching, knowing how needy you were after a cry. he wanted to bundle you up and hold you, kiss you until there were no more thoughts left in that pretty little head of yours, right until you were finally asleep and safe in his arms.

“are you still at work?” you asked softly, breaking the silence and pulling him out of his thoughts.

a small pause.

then, almost amused - “technically..”

“jungkook! it’s late..”

he laughed quietly under his breath, the sound warm enough to blanket you in it.

“finished hours ago, i’ve just been sat here.”

“doing what?”

another pause. slightly charged.

“looking at you.” he murmured.

heat rushed to your face immediately, wiping your under eyes. “what?”

“been stalking your instagram. yejin posted you like half an hour ago too, so..” his voice dropped lower, smoother. more intimate. “haven’t really thought about doing anything since.”

your thighs pushed together involuntarily at the confession, cheeks hinted even darker.

god.

“jungkook.” you chastised with a little sniffle.

“pink was a bad choice, baby.” he grunted slightly. “you know that colour drives me fucking insane on you.”

your eyes squeezed shut. there he was.

not the cold, mysterious ceo that had the world intrigued, nor the tall, hefty man that had most people cowering away as he walked past. no, this was your husband - flirty, affectionate and completely and utterly obsessed with you.

“you’re so ridiculous.” you shook your head through a hiccup, biting back the pathetic small smile that was about to form.

“yeah?” he hummed through a small laugh. “still answered the phone.”

the smile in his voice only had yours growing larger, a small laugh muffled by the back of your hand.

you could hear him moving around now, keys jingling lightly before the sound of a car door opening had your ears peaking up.

“wait,” your eyebrows raised. “are you leaving?”

“mhm.”

“where are you going?”

jungkook grinned. it was your turn to be curious.

“home.”

your smile dropped slightly. home.. that used to be a word that was synonymous with you. your chest ached all over again.

“couldn’t go back there without hearing your voice first.” he admitted quietly.

silence swallowed you whole. the vulnerability in his voice felt far more dangerous than any of the tears you had shed tonight, your fingers continuing to shake around the phone at the mere sound of it. before you could think of a response, he spoke again.

“there’s a gala next friday.”

your stomach tightened as you leaned your head against the wall, already understanding the direction of the conversation.

“jungkook..”

“come with me.”

no hesitation. no uncertainty.

firm, assured, confident. like there had never even been another concept, or thought in his brain - you were the first and only option.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea..”

“probably not.”

the honesty startled a laugh out of you - a real one. on the other side of the phone, jungkook sat in his car, eyes closed, breathing deeply at the sweet sound like he was memorising it. treasuring it so he could replay it over and over and over later when he laid in your once shared bed alone.

“fuck,” he breathed. “you have no idea how much i’ve missed that.”

your eyes burned once more.

“baby,” his tone gentled again, using the pet name you loved so much. “just one night. me and you.”

you wanted to scream, wanted to pull at your hair and jump all at the same time. of course you wanted to say yes, what more could you need? your ex husband so openly telling you he wanted to pursue you with every inch of his body, until he was nothing but yours to mould and shape.

“i’ll think about it.” you replied instead, nibbling away at your lip.

the grin in his voice was immediate.

“that’s my girl.”

—

you couldn’t breathe.

both physically and emotionally, you found difficulty in inhaling air as you looked at yourself in the mirror, yejin somewhere in the room finding accessories for you to wear all whilst you blinked rapidly.

the dress, although beautiful, felt too tight.

your hands shook on either side of you as she approached you, holding up a delicate diamond necklace you recognised as an anniversary gift jungkook had gotten you but never quite found the chance to wear. your eyes were unfocused as she clasped it onto your neck, watching the way it fell so softly against soft skin, as though it had been curated for you and you alone.

“you need to breathe, y/n.” she suddenly murmured behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder as you both stared at you in the mirror.

pale pink satin - not bright in anyway, but a sweet kiss of your favourite colour adorned your body in floor length, tight fitting dress. you were the embodiment of elegance as the fabric draped over your curves, all whilst cinching perfectly at your waist, allowing for a pretty silhouette. not only did you look the part for a charity gala, you had exceeded any expectation anyone would ever have for you thanks to your best friend’s styling.

“dress is tight.” you simply whispered back, hardly recognising yourself.

your makeup matched your dress. glowy and pink with soft blush dusted onto your cheeks, glossy lips puckered and sweet. your hair fell in waves and for the first time in a very long time, you felt utterly beautiful.

the problem, however, was in the circumstance itself.

you were about to see jungkook for the first time since you had officially walked away from your marriage and the thought had kept you up all week. you weren’t sure what you were thinking actually saying yes to his invitation, calling him to tell you would come only for him to audibly huff out of joy. he was like a child in a candy shop but you couldn’t help but wonder if he harboured the same anxiety.

it was heavy in your stomach as you stared at yourself. pink was your favourite colour, and he loved it on you. did you look pretty enough? all eyes would be on you both tonight, given the nature of your relationship and the almost celebrity like status that had been awarded to the two of you.

all in all, it was his face that had you nibbling your bottom lip in thought. there wasn’t a night where you left his name unsearched in your internet browser, desperate to see what he looked like in that current moment but seeing him in purpose was a whole different playing field.

you loved him in suits - a fitting joy that was awarded to you constantly given his occupation. the way his shoulders would fill out the material so nicely, the way his shirt would stretch over his chest and the way darker colours only brought out the darkness in his eyes - it was your personal kryptonite. you weren’t sure how you were supposed to think, behave even, once you caught got sight of him.

“hey, y/n, look at me.” yejin pulled you out of your thoughts, soft hands pulling at your jaw. “it’s just jungkook. you know him better than anyone, okay? you’re all good.”

you nodded, though you continued to blink at her rapidly. “s’just been so long and..i don’t know..i’m scared. is that weird?”

she offered a sad smile. “it’s been eight months of healing, babe. that love doesn’t just go away and from what you told me, this is a step in the right direction. just gotta let him in.”

before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell blared through the apartment, making you look up to where the door sat on the other side. if you thought your heart had been beating fast before, you were sure you were on the edge of passing out now as yejin mumbled a quick ‘that’ll be him’ beside you.

oh god. oh god. oh god.

the dress felt too tight around your ribs.

your hands smoothed down the satin again despite having done it what felt like a million times already, fingers tips trembling over expensive fabric as your breathing came out shallow. you hated this - hated the fear of it all when it was jungkook on the other side of the door. your jungkook.

eight months. eight whole months and your body still knew him better than your mind was ready to let on.

“y/n.” yejin practically cooed at you, assuring you with a hand on your back. “breathe.”

you nodded quickly, though it went in one ear and out the other.

the intercom buzzed again, impatient time.

ironically, it was this that had your shoulders slumping softly, your shortness of breath slowly soothing as you realised the familiarity of the situation. of course jungkook would buzz twice - it was a telltale sign of his own anxiety, something you could recognise from a mile away. knocking twice, calling your name twice, checking the front door before bed twice.

it was just jungkook.

“okay.” you whispered to yourself.

you turned, more determined now you knew he was in the same state as you, as your heels clicked on the floor of your much smaller apartment, the noise loud enough for him to hear from the outside. each step felt heavier the closer you got, but there sat an anticipation in you that had you almost desperate to see him.

your hand finally wrapped around the handle before you opened the door.

and there he was.

god.

for a moment, your brain completely malfunctioned.

jungkook stood in your hallway beneath the almost dingy apartment lighting, one hand wrapped around a large bouquet of flowers you recognised to be the ones he had been gifting you with continuously for the past few weeks, and every anniversary. white gardenias.

your eyes fell onto them immediately with a strangled gasp, all whilst taking him in, your heart beating out of your chest as you felt almost faint at the sight of him.

a black suit.

the material stretched perfectly across his too broad shoulders and narrow waist, expensive to the eye as you could tell it had been tailored to fit him exactly. the contrast between the white shirt underneath was utterly delicious, and memories of pulling open buttons under heated exchanges flooded your eyes.

his hair was styled almost messily which you immediately recognised as his hands having ran through them, no doubt due to his anxiety - you wanted to pull at his locks, wanted to feel them against your fingers.

it was his face, however, that hurt to look at.

he looked healthier than most of the pictures you had seen over the span of the past few months, with warm in his cheeks, a slight dazed look in his eyes. still tired, with purple underneath his eyes indicating his lack of sleep, still carrying traces of heartbreak you knew you had placed there.

god.

jungkook looked every bit of the man you were in love with.

and here he stood, staring at you like he had just seen heaven open up right in front of him.

neither of you could look away from one another, as his eyes dragged over you slowly, inch by inch. your hair, your neckline that dipped lower than he was used to seeing, your manicure, your beautiful face. jungkook couldn’t fathom that you had once belonged to him, the pain of the past eight months surfacing as it gripped him by the throat like a vice - he had lost you?

you watched his throat bob.

his eyes met yours, the first time in what felt like a lifetime, and neither of you really knew what to do. how was it that the man you had known most of your life, the one constant, felt like a stranger in that moment? it was like you were discovering him again, an opportunity to relearn him presented to you and you took it with both hands.

he let out a shaking breath, one that had your cheeks flushing as he extended his arm, presenting the large bouquet for you.

“you look beautiful.” he whispered, voice struggling almost as you continued to watch his adam’s apple almost entranced.

with a shy thank you, you held them close to your chest, breathing in the familiar scent that brought you so much comfort.

your chest had eased now you were finally looking at him, now that he was actually in your space - the worst was over. you almost felt ridiculous for being worried about seeing him when it was just jungkook. eight months couldn’t erase that familiarity.

the hallway suddenly felt too small. too warm, too intimate; you felt like you were being caved in by his mere presence and for a moment you wondered if you needed breath at all.

you simply stood there, clutching the flowers delicately to your chest as though they meant something so much more than what anyone else could assume all whilst jungkook looked at you like you were the first beautiful thing he had seen in months.

his eyes couldn’t leave your face.

it should have made you uncomfortable, the intensity of his stare, but your body reacted the way it had always done when you were near him. you were inching closer without even realising it, him doing the same until you were looking up, head angled and his downwards, head bent to admire you properly.

“hi.” you whispered again.

the size difference between you had never been more apparent until then, what with all of his strenuous visits to the gym these past few months. he had always towered over you, but it was different now - his already wide chest and broad shoulders engulfed you, his biceps on either side of him enough to have you wanting him in a way that certainly was not becoming of an ex wife.

it’s like he could read your thoughts, with the way he inched closer to you, until your bodies were openly brushing against each other faintly. material on material, fabric kissing fabric. you wished you could feel him on your skin.

the sound of your voice had lulled him gently as he dipped his head down lower so you could properly see him, despite your head back to look at him.

“hi, baby.”

your stomach flipped violently.

there it was again. baby. fuck.

as though the divorce papers were fickle, representing a momentary lapse of judgement instead of a ruling decision. like he still woke up beside you every morning and ruined your cheeks with kisses before falling in between your thighs.

the dazed look on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

before you could even respond, yejin appeared behind you with the biggest smile she could possibly muster.

“oh my god,” she squeaked dramatically. “you both look insane!”

jungkook blinked, momentarily pulled from the emotional spiral you were both taking part in as he straightened slightly, despite still being awfully close to you. your cheeks heated at the sound of her voice, jumping a little in shock, causing you to brush against him faintly.

“hi, yejin.”

“don’t hi yejin me.” she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “if she cries tonight, i’ll kill you.”

“yejin!” you flushed red.

jungkook, however, allowed for a soft smile, nodding once. “fair.”

the sheer sincerity of it made the room go quiet, your eyes meeting his once more. you knew though it was a passing comment, he truly meant it - he’d let her kill him if it meant you’d hurt less.

your chest tightened all over again.

yejin seemed to realise it too, her teasing expression softening at the both of you. idiots in love, both too cautious to know what the correct next step was - thank god she loved to meddle.

“okay! you’re both gonna be late so hurry up.” she hummed, turning you and looking over you for any last minute touch ups. “i’ll take these. i’ll show myself out.”

with a cheeky wink, she all but pushed you backwards towards jungkook where your back gently brushed against his front. she had taken the flowers, shoved your clutch in your hand and shut the door in your face, all after giving you a big grin.

he didn’t move from behind you, despite you turning to properly face him. the two of you stared at one another openly, eyebrows pulling together - you could see it happening in real time, the way his body curled at the mere feel of you. to be so close to you, touching you; it was out of a far away dream.

you felt it too - god, you could feel it in your veins. the horrifying wave of unashamed want that filtered through you so naturally, your body knew him. your body recognised your husband.

your man.

his restraint was palpable. you could see it in the way his fingers flexed on either side of him, almost twitching as muscle memory surfaced from deep inside of him. for years touching you had been second nature, with a hand on your waist, fingers lifting your chin, arms around your figure to hold you up for a kiss.

now he looked almost tortured as he realised he no longer knew what he was allowed to do.

the realisation alone softened you.

“we should go.” you whispered up at him gently, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

jungkook stared at you, offering a small nod almost obediently despite the stark hunger in his eyes.

“yeah.” he cleared his throat. “yeah, okay.”

he stepped back and first; the distance was felt immediately.

you suddenly missed the warmth that radiated off of him, fingers faintly tugging on his suit jacket so gently you weren’t even aware you were doing it. what the fuck was wrong with you? one touch and you were already spiralling into him again like the last eight months had never happened.

jungkook noticed. of course he did.

his chest visibly expanded from beneath the expensive material, eyes darkening so suddenly you felt heat up and down your spine. the way he looked at you had emotion swirling in your stomach, so hungry. so devoted.

you slowly released him, blinking rapidly as though you’d only just realised what you’d done.

“sorry.” you whispered instinctively.

jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed together in offence.

“don’t apologise for touching me.” his voice came out firmer than expected, low. far too intimate given the apartment hallway you were in.

the silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on, neither of you making an effort to move despite knowing you were bordering on being late. the tension was so unbearable now that you were both alone, freely staring at one another after so much time apart - no yejin to soften the edges. just fifteen years worth of tension, want and need all accumulated between you.

his eyes flickered downwards as he watched you sway slightly.

“your heels are insane.” he muttered softly.

you blinked. “hm?”

“you’re already wobbling.”

offended, your mouth gaped. “i am not wobbling!”

jungkook let out a small huff of amusement, loving how easy it was to rile you up. the sound completely disarmed you, seeing a glimpse of the same jungkook you had been with all of your life.

“you almost fell walking out of the door.” he teased, with a tilt to his head downwards at you.

“i did not!” you shook your head with a small swat to his chest. he only let out another laugh. “you literally grabbed onto me.”

“that..doesn’t count, okay?”

“mm.” amusement stretched over his face, as he led you to the staircase, cautious to be slow as he watched you continue to slightly wobble due to the uneven surface of the hallway. “sure.”

before you could even think of a rebuttal, you watched jungkook look down the multiple staircases with a slight frown before turning to you. he suddenly bent at the knees, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for no longer than two seconds before one arm slid below your knees and the other around your back.

your gasp echoed.

“jungkook!”

he lifted you bridal style effortlessly, as though you weighed truly nothing to him.

your hands immediately flung to the back of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders in shock as your body felt more of him than it had done in what felt like eons. jungkook’s hands were so much bigger than yours, and you could feel him everywhere all at once, enough to have you dizzy with a sense of want.

“what are you doing?!” you whispered harshly, eyes blown wide as he sorted you on one single arm, checking his phone for the time with the other. it was beyond easy.

jungkook merely looked down at you calmly, entirely unbothered despite the way you could feel his pulse hammering below your fingertips.

“preventative measures. can’t have you slipping down the stairs.”

you stared at him in disbelief. “you can’t just pick me up!”

he scoffed a little, as though your words were going in one ear and out the other. your comfort came first, that much was ingrained in him and even you couldn’t stop him when it came to that.

he walked down the stairs as though it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand spread wide against your back, claiming whilst the other was hooked under your thighs, making sure you were as comfortable as possible against him. your dress was draped so beautifully over his arm that anyone who would have caught you in that moment would have remarked, ironically, how bridal you looked.

you couldn’t believe how safe he felt.

jungkook noticed the second you relaxed into him. properly.

“missed carrying you.” he admitted quietly as he descended another step.

your entire body burned. “jungkook.” you breathed weakly, though there was no real warning behind your tone.

“what?” he hummed innocently. “s’true.”

you remembered almost fondly - it was the one thing you probably missed more than anything else. he would carry you everywhere - from the bed to your bath, to the couch after you’d woken up, through grocery stores just to hear you squeak in embarrassment. one time he had held you for an hour straight, walking you home after a date just because your feet hurt.

and now, here you were again, tucked into his chest as though it was home. you supposed it was.

your heart ached so violently at the memory that looking up at him through your lashes had your brain whizzing too fast for you to keep up with.

“you’ve gotten so much bigger.” you whispered almost shyly before you could stop yourself, already tucked into him too comfortably.

big mistake.

his heart truly nearly fucking stopped. his head snapped down at you almost instantly, eyes darkening so visibly it had you avoiding any contact, instead focusing your gaze on his clothed pecs.

“yeah?” he asked slowly.

your cheeks were flushed dark, realising how that may have sounded.

“just..got broader.” you clarified through another whisper, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment.

“been working out a lot more.” he murmured down at you, ducking his head a little so that he could meet your eyes, a small smile forming.

you nibbled your lip with a little nod, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.

jungkook knew you loved the size difference between you, but it truly didn’t compare to how fucked it made his mind go. it was the first thing he had noticed when you opened the door again - how despite your heels, you were still so much shorter. it drove him insane, especially now that he was bigger. feeling you curled into his chest like this, all safe and protected, it made him feel wanted. to have you notice it, address it even so shyly; fuck. it ruined him.

by the time he had reached the bottom floor, your cheeks were still heated, dreading the fact he would have to let you go when all you wanted was to curl into him even deeper. to think ten minutes ago you had so much anxiety when now, he was actively conversing with you all whilst carrying you, it felt euphoric.

the driver stood outside of the car, the same man who drove you both to events when you were still together. your eyes widened a little as you watched him open the back door for you both, all whilst you were still leisurely held in his arms.

your embarrassment returned instantly.

“put me down!” you hissed quietly.

jungkook looked at you, unaffected. “why?”

“because your driver is literally staring at us, jungkook!”

the poor man looked away with a growing smile. he had missed seeing his boss so carefree, knowing that he was only like this when the situation pertained to you.

he smirked faintly. “he’s driven us around for years, baby. pretty sure he’s seen us do a lot worse.”

your mouth fell open, swatting his chest. “jungkook!”

that finally earned you a proper smile, brief but enough to knock the very air out of your lungs, your too large eyes drinking it in almost desperately. he was so handsome it hurt, and it wasn’t until now you realised how much you had missed his smile.

carefully, he gently lowered you to the ground, making sure you were comfortable on your feet.

his hands lingered. neither of you moved.

your faces were suddenly so close once more as your hands had slid down from his neck, but remained in contact, fingers digging into his chest faintly to feel him. the city noise faded around you and into the background as he looked down at you with an emotion that could only be classed as longing.

“you good?” he asked softly.

you nodded too quickly. “mhm.”

liar.

his eyes dropped to your lips once more, eyeing the gloss almost hungrily - would it taste like the strawberry you always applied? sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he’d remember the flavour.

then, like he had to physically pull himself back, he stepped closer to the car and gestured to it slowly.

“after you.”

you slid into the backseat first, smoothening your dress as it rode up your body, all whilst your pulse hammered harshly.

the interior of the car was sleek, donned in a luxurious black leather whilst it remained dimly lit in the back, with enough enough space to stretch out your legs. the scent of jungkook’s cologne was addicting, and you immediately recognised it to be the one you had bought him on your last anniversary together, your heart fluttering at the thought.

once he climbed in beside you, you realised how intimate the space actually was.

jungkook sat close enough for his thigh to brush against yours, broad shoulders taking up far too much room whilst the driver shut the door quietly behind him.

neither of you acknowledged the contact. it somehow made it worse.

it wasn’t until the divider between the front and the back began slowly sliding upwards, offering a layer of privacy that your breath caught audibly.

jungkook noticed - of course he fucking noticed. he couldn’t stop staring at you, especially now that he had you trapped here, pushed against him like you belonged with a drive ahead of you. god, the things he wanted to do to you in this dress were sinful at best, but he had to practise restraint, no matter how much it took out of him.

he leaned back, one arm sliding over to the top of your seat, where although he wasn’t touching you, you slyly leaned in just to have more of his warmth. it felt so familiar, so nauseatingly natural that anything other would have felt wrong.

he watched as your thighs pressed together.

fuck.

“you nervous?” he asked in his low voice, jaw ticking.

your eyes slowly shifted, finally meeting his gaze. through a shaky laugh, one without humour, you nodded. “obviously.”

he softened at that, sharpness melting away to reveal the tenderness below.

“it’s just me, y/n.”

you felt so hyperaware of everything. the rain that tapped softly against the tinted windows, and the gentle purr of the car engine beneath you. the feel of jungkook’s thigh soothed you, whilst his heavy gaze unnerved you - a cocktail mix that felt so entirely him.

you could feel his eyes on you before you even looked up. once you did, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare - not polite. certainly not subtle. his gaze moved over you, up and down, like he couldn’t help himself, like he he’d been trying to hold back the second you opened up the door to your apartment.

“fuck.” he muttered under his breath.

your cheeks flushed pink, whispering his name.

you watched his eyes flush down your body, eyes stuck on your cleavage and the way the material clung to your hips. “look at you.”

you instinctively looked down, shy at the attention but you couldn’t help but crave it. you knew exactly how obsessive jungkook was when it came to you, knew how deeply infatuated he was with every inch of you but seeing it so closely after so long almost felt soothing. it was a reminder that though everything had changed, somethings stayed the same.

his hand moved before you could think too hard about it, cupping under your chin and tilting your face upwards.

“don’t hide from me.”

your stomach tightened, eyelids hooded.

this thumb brushed against your jaw once, so soft, so unbelieving that you were in his arms despite the fact you technically weren’t his anymore. not that he believed that.

“i can’t stop looking at you.” he admitted, tone rougher now. “been trying since you opened the door, but it’s impossible.”

your thighs pressed together immediately, his gaze dropping to the small action. the reaction was subtle, but there - he noticed everything when it came to you.

you suddenly felt so warm.

“you’re staring so hard.” you murmured nervously, fingers twisting together in your lap.

“because you’re driving me fucking crazy.”

the words came out so plainly your eyes widened.

jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, head tipping backwards against his seat all whilst you watched with heavy breath. the far gone part of your mind wanted to track his neck, trace his adam’s apple with your fingers all so he could continue looking at you the way he had been.

he looked devastating like this - broad thighs spread in the backseat with your body pressed against him, his arm slung heavy on the head of your seat. the both of you were a mess for one another, sick in the head with infatuation.

you weren’t stupid. you knew your effect on him, perhaps not to the full extent, but enough to know that nearly a year’s distance between you was enough to drive a man like him insane. his hand dragged over his face with a quiet groan before adjusting himself slightly over his suit trousers.

your eyes flickered downwards before you could stop yourself.

jungkook smiled at the sound of your quiet giggle as you put a hand over your mouth to muffle it, looking up to meet his gaze after noticing he was half hard. all you had done was exist.

“yeah,” he murmured, the sound of your laugh blooming in his chest. “that’s your fault.”

you slapped his thigh gently, although you couldn’t hold back on the continuous giggles that were now leaving you as you felt lighter than you had in what felt like years. he too matched you, the intensity lightening up massively as he let out a quiet laugh despite himself.

“what’d you expect, hm?” he asked, voice soft. “i haven’t seen you in eight months, and now you’re sat next to me looking like this. wearing pink.”

his hand slowly slid over, brushing against your own, fingertips grazing your skin before he intertwined them, gently.

you let him.

the second you curled your hand into his yourself, his expression changed. up until now, it was him losing control, reigning himself in, biting himself down to make sure you were as comfortable as possible but fuck. you were the one touching him now, making sure he could see you intertwine your hands properly, squeezing his hand.

it felt like a confirmation that this was the beginning of a new chapter.

he wanted to scream, to yell on the top of his lungs at the thought of you openly showing him your willingness. his sweet, angel girl; he loved you more than words could describe and he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing you.

“missed this,” he admitted quietly, eyes on your much smaller hand holding his so intimately. “missed you touching me.”

your eyes burned suddenly.

jungkook noticed immediately with a frown, expression softening at the edges.

“hey, baby.” his thumb brushed yours. “don’t cry.”

“m’not crying.” you whispered, though your voice wobbled embarrassingly.

he held you close to him as you both remained quiet for the rest of the journey, though the silence felt welcomed after such a rush and mix of emotions. you had gone from anxiety, to confusion, to excitement, to warmth, to a painful reminder of what once was - it was enough to drive you insane. being around him hurt, but being near him was healing.

rain continued to pitter patter outside as your hands remained intertwined, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he sat there trying to fathom how this was real. you were letting him in, and he could see it, could see how much it was taking out of you and he’d be damned if he fucked it up again. to get a second chance was insanity alone, but to have it with you?

the car began slowing down.

through the tinted windows, you could see a flash of white, people trying to get a glimpse of the elusive ceo they were so obsessed with. you gulped as you watched other powerful business people walk in with their dates, models and celebrities lining up to have their picture taken.

you leaned into him almost immediately.

jungkook held onto you tightly, arm sliding over your waist and gently squeezing. “i’m here. stay by me.”

you nodded quickly, dazed. “okay.”

his eyes lingered on your face for a second too long before he muttered under his breath, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “you look so fucking pretty.”

your heart nearly stopped, meeting his gaze as your shoulders slumped, feeling calm through his sweet words.

the car door opened.

chaos.

jungkook stepped out first and the reaction was everything you had expected and somehow so much more. your eyes blinked as you watched the cameras explode violently, reporters shouting his name from all directions as they desperately tried to get a clear shot of him, knowing he could easily make front page news without having to try.

your heart stopped for a moment.

his back faced everyone else as he turned to you, taking a hold of your hands once more and gently helping you out of the car, smoothening your dress.

the second they saw you? everything multiplied by ten.

genuine screaming was heard from somewhere behind the barricades as you slowly stepped out, your own hand finding jungkook’s for a sense of comfort which he readily gave you, pulling you in a little closer than necessary. the noise was erupting, your vision blinded momentarily by the insane flashes, reports actually tripping over one another to take pictures of you in particular.

this wasn’t normal.

jeon jungkook never brought women anywhere. never entertained rumours, never dated publicly, never stood beside any other woman that hadn’t been you. even then, you had been painfully private, making sure to attend closed events with rare appearances, often opting to support in the shadows as opposed to centre stage as he was forced to.

but now? this was the loudest statement you could have possibly made and it slowly dawned on you both the nature of the decision.

you were telling the world you were ready to start again.

his entire demeanour had changed out here.

you were overwhelmed to say the least, but it was his arms around you that kept you grounded as you clung to him, your smaller frame tucked so delicately within his own that some found themselves putting their cameras down just so they could observe you both.

you were the epitome of love and neither of you even knew it.

ceo jungkook - all cold eyes, sharp jaw, that terrifying calmness. yet every few seconds he ducked his head down, whispering something in your ear that would have you smiling almost shyly back up at him, easing your mind away from the hundreds of people who wanted nothing more than to get a picture of you.

“jungkook over here!”

“is that your ex-wife?”

“are you two back together?!”

“y/n!”

you flinched slightly as the voices got louder the closer you walked down the carpet towards the venue, but it seemed jungkook’s presence only felt bigger.

“don’t look at them.” he whispered down into your ear, words tucked for you and you alone. “look at me.”

stupidly enough, you obeyed almost instantly. his eyes softened at the way you listened so sweetly.

“good girl.” he muttered absentmindedly before guiding you to the entrance and away from the prying eyes outside.

the words hit you far harder than they should have. good girl.

oh you were so fucked.

—

the venue was utterly breathtaking.

golden lighting spilled across towering ceilings whilst soft music played from a live orchestra at one side of the ballroom, so elegant you’re indeed whether you were even appropriately dressed. people stared at you openly, all whilst you and your flushed cheeks looked away, purposefully keeping your gaze vague and avoiding eye contact with most. glasses clinked together as powerful figures mingled amongst themselves, professional cameras still set up inside.

and yet, none of it compared to the way people reacted to jungkook.

conversations paused when he walked by, people straightening up. executives who had once terrified you now looked nervous approaching him and it reminded you exactly who he was outside of your relationship.

jeon jungkook was a terrifyingly cold, business man. he was untouchable and unfeeling, everything that made a powerful man powerful and then there was you. his one weakness.

his hand remained firm against the small of your back possessively, claiming you as his own in front of anyone who could see. you loved when he was like this, all brooding and dark as though anyone even had a chance to steal him from you - silly man. even now, with months of distance between you and a divorce, you were all his.

“breathe, baby.” he reminded with a quiet hum in your ear.

“i am breathing.” your cheeks warmed.

“barely.”

you shot him a look, though it was void of any real annoyance as he guided you further into the room. you couldn’t help but admire him openly, all whilst he scanned the room, not realising how deep you were falling into your own thoughts. he really had gotten so much bigger, with his chest so wide you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like under your hands. his shoulders too.

you had spent the entire drive trying not to stare at him. you had failed. miserably.

“drink?”

he pulled you out of your thoughts with a little gasp, realising you had been openly checking him out much to his pleasure. you found yourself nodding, nibbling away at your lip. “yes please.”

the words came out too fast, awarding you with a small laugh as he turned towards the bar.

your eyes followed him automatically.

that was another problem entirely. you see, no matter where jungkook stood, attention naturally followed. men greeted him immediately, keen to get into his good books whilst women openly stared, hoping to garner his fancy and yet he was completely and entirely uninterested. his gaze flickered back to you every few moments, as though he still couldn’t believe you were right there, just for him. just because he had asked you to come.

your chest squeezed painfully at the thought.

he returned only a few moments later with two champagne glasses, handing you yours to which you took with a nervous smile.

“thank you.”

your fingers brushed his purposefully. small, barely noticeable.

oh, but how jungkook had noticed. he noticed everything when it came to you and judging from the way his throat bobbed, taking a large sip of his drink, you knew that your poor ex husband was certainly not able to handle your charm.

the champagne helped much quicker than you were expecting it to.

after the first glass, the tension in your shoulders completely eased but it was the second that had you transforming. your overthinking thoughts ceased to exist, as the warmth in your blood brought out a shade of pink in your face that jungkook couldn’t look away from. standing close to him suddenly felt less terrifying and so much more thrilling.

a dangerous combination - especially when jungkook was looking at you with so much hunger.

a buzz had settled deep into your bloodstream, your brain slightly away with the fairies as you continued to sip, looking up at him. your other hand darted out, fingers trailing over his stomach openly, over to where the buttons of his suit sat. what was an absentminded action to you, tipsy, was enough to have jungkook almost shaking.

you were braver when you had alcohol in you, that much had been true your entire relationship, but even this felt quite insane. he watched as your fingers trailed up and down, sliding up to where his chest was only to drop lower and lower. it wasn’t until your fingertips were brushing the top of his suit trousers that he grabbed your hand.

you pouted at him, head tilted. “why?”

your whine had his shoulders rolling.

“because,” he said slowly, voice rough beneath the sound of the orchestra. “you’re getting handsy.”

your lips patted in faux innocence. “am not.”

jungkook stared at you half in disbelief and other half amusement, still holding your hand that he now pressed to his chest firmly. your fingers had nearly slipped below his waistband, a thought that had him nearly taking you home then and there but he knew it was because the alcohol was making you brave - his tipsy girl. his palm engulfed yours, feeling your fingers wriggle underneath to continue your plans with a slight whine but he was both firm and possessive, not letting you go.

you pressed your thighs together again.

this was the champagne.

he knew it, knew it to be a dangerous mix - the alcohol and your naturally clingy personality once you got comfortable, all combined with the eight months apart meant you were now simply doing whatever your heart wanted with little care to your mind.

your cheeks warmed as you watched him stare down at you, gaze heavier than anything all evening. it seemed the longer you were both in each other’s presence, despite how long you’d spent apart, the more bold you were getting - but could you be blamed? he might have been your ex husband but he still belonged to you, and you knew you were still entirely his, a fucked up fact that meant you were both drawn to each other in ways that meant you could never move on.

multiple months of healing all gone to shit in a single night, with a few drinks. who were you both kidding - moving on wasn’t an option. even you could see that now.

your fingers flexed under his hold, people secretly watching you both interact with bated breath. they couldn’t believe this was the same jungkook they were afraid of, made to mush at the hands of the pretty woman in front of him. he was but a man afterall.

rather than pulling away, your fingers simply curled around the fabric of his suit jacket, fingers touching his shirt purposefully to elicit another reaction out of him. he had reduced you to putty in the drive over and perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, but you wanted him to feel the same.

jungkook was quiet. too quiet.

jaw slightly slack as he took you in, you touching him like his body belonged to you and you alone. he relished in the fact you knew it just as well as he did.

he had missed this so much. just the feel of you, no matter how innocent you pretended to be, skin on skin. it felt like a promise.

and now, you were standing here, head tilted to stare up at him properly whilst looking through pretty lashes that batted at him subconsciously.

it was driving him insane.

“you’re staring again.” you hummed at him. his eyebrows narrowed. “because you keep touching me.”

you tried to bite down the smile that began to form on your lips as your fingers continued to flex, soon finding his heartbeat to confirm your suspicious. oh, he was a mess underneath your hand.

“you don’t seem to mind.”

his jaw flexed. you heard him curse under his breath, calling you a fucking minx which only had you giggling just as quietly. it was a powerful thing to have a man as influential as jungkook so weak in the knees for you, and you couldn’t deny the affect it was having on your mind. he snaked a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him in a way that was absolutely not becoming of the environment you were in.

“keep this shit up and i’ll take you home.” he promised quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

unfortunately for him, you had no intention of stopping. especially when you had just begun.

“promise?” you whispered back, eyes wide with a faux innocence you knew he wanted to ruin.

his jaw clenched again, blood half boiling at how cheeky you were being and cock hardening by how badly he wanted to ruin you. had this been any other circumstance, you’d already be in the bathroom with your dress to your chest, being pounded into by the only man who knew exactly how to ruin you until you were well bred.

but alas - this night was about proving himself to you, and no matter how hard you made him, he knew he had to do this right.

and so, instead, he pinched you at your waist slightly, pulling an airless squeak out of you before he brushed his lips against your ear.

“behave.”

the word should have been warning enough, but instead, warmth fluttered through you, rushing through your stomach so violently you pressed against him further. jungkook nearly hissed, watching how reactive you were for him, with your hooded eyes and slack jaw.

fuck.

his hands were all over you, with little care to who was watching and you knew tomorrow you’d be mortified when you remembered how brazen you had both been, but it was hard not to feel addicted when you were both feeling the same way. you giggled lightly, hiding your face in his chest momentarily before meeting his gaze.

“you’re very confident for someone i divorced.” you playfully hummed.

at that, he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. “didn’t stop you from getting your pretty hands all over me.”

the alcohol was well into your system as you found yourself giggling once more, fully hiding yourself in his chest to which he wrapped his arms around you properly, the two of you whispering and laughing together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook’s colleagues, rivals and admirers all watched you both in genuine curiosity at the way you were so well suited. two people, quietly infatuated with one another - it was toothache inducing.

the conversation between you both remained playful, with his thumb tracing your bottom lip at one point muttering something about how badly he wanted to know how your lip gloss tasted. an hour in and you were both practically trying to one up each other with how far you could take it, leaving you both laughing whilst trying to stay quiet.

this is what you had missed. joy. comfort. being around him in a way that didn’t feel like you were fighting to prove something. it had been so long since you’d felt this carefree that you realised pretty quickly that you couldn’t let him ago again. it was a horrible thought at first, realising that the past few months may have been for naught but perhaps absence did make the heart fonder.

soon enough, you had been there close enough two hours and jungkook had done the rounds once you settled in, less tipsy but still buzzed. you met his new business partners, clients you hadn’t seen in a while, a mixture of familiar faces and people you had only ever heard about. neither of you commented on the fact he introduced you intimately, with a heavy arm around your waist.

it genuinely felt like no time had past with the way you both felt so comfortable, the dynamics between you natural considering he had been the one constant in your life for the past fifteen years. you sipped on your glass of water as you listened to his conversation half mindedly, watching him discuss a new company contract with one of his shareholders.

it wasn’t until you heard a voice echo throughout the ballroom announcing the beginning of the charity auction that the conversation came to an end. jungkook immediately took a hold of your hand, planting a cheeky kiss to your knuckles with a slight smirk, before leading you towards the front of the room where the different things on auction sat to be admired over.

“c’mon.”

you followed him easily, hands intertwined whilst you walked side by side, champagne now a dull buzz in your body. people moved around you respectfully, all whilst their eyes lingered on you much longer than needed. could you blame them? you were the infamous woman that had managed to lock down the one man that seemed disinterested in everything, so much so that you had him laughing and flushing pink every time you so much as looked at him. the divorced couple that looked anything but divorced.

oh, they were staring indeed, with hushed whispers and even quieter questions.

your attention drifted lazily over the displayed pieces, politely but nothing quite caught your interest, your eyebrows pulling up at some of the art pieces named. it wasn’t until you reached the very end that you found yourself stopped in your tracks.

jungkook noticed, he too coming to a stop to glance over at you only for his gaze to follow yours. he immediately understood.

beneath warm lighting sat a painting, inconspicuous to most considering it was much smaller than the grand pieces to the left, but it had your eyelashes fluttering

white gardenias.

your breath left you quietly.

it wasn’t just flowers - it was an oil painting, textured with strokes of green, ivory and creams whilst petals cascaded over one another so delicately your heart ached. the background dat moodier, darker compared to the softness of the flower leaving you in a state of utter awe for a few moments, all whilst holding the hand of your ex-husband who watched you with bated breath.

it was beautiful.

you stepped closer unconsciously, hardly aware of yourself.

jungkook didn’t think he’d ever seen you look at something with this much wonder, in all of the years he had known you. it did something to him, to watch you genuinely in awe at something he could so easily give you - it made him realise he needed provide it for you just to see that look again and again and again and again and again.

he felt this throat tighten, a harsh lump forming the longer he watched you admire it. the way your glossy lips parted, eyes widened and fingers tracing the air in front of it - donned in the same diamond necklace he had gotten you years prior. the same necklace he’d bought you after you murmured something about diamonds resembling stars late one night as you curled into him in your shared bed.

and here you were, wearing it, all whilst your hand curled inside his as though you had never been more at peace. that did something to him. something he couldn’t quite describe.

your fingers moved to brush over the small description plaque underneath, reading the inspiration for the piece with a small, choked huff - devotion. enduring, eternal love through trial and tribulation through each season of life.

your own throat tightened then. of course.

“gardenias are difficult flowers..they die so easily if you don’t take care of them.” you found yourself whispering; straightening your back and avoiding his gaze to bite back any tears that wanted to appear.

his chest tightened violently.

all he could think about was the little apartment you had both shared when you were younger, when he barely had any money to get you by each month. the one with the poor lighting and the janky sink - you used to sit by the window each morning whilst he got ready for work, whispering sweet things down at them because you believed it would help them grow.

he remembered every single detail.

“you kept yours alive for months.” he whispered back, the hand that was clasped in yours now intertwining your fingers, as though he could project his memories back to you.

you blinked back at him, eyes glassy, surprised slightly. you hadn’t expected him to remember something so small and insignificant.

how could jungkook could ever forget a single thing about you?

a small smile pulled at your lips. “i used to get upset whenever they’d lose petals.”

“you cried once.” he corrected.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up!”

he only shrugged, lips twitching. “had to console you all night.”

“i thought i killed it!”

his quiet laugh nearly knocked the air from your lungs, all whilst he pulled you back into him, breathing in the scent from your hair before taking you to your shared table, where the auction was about to begin. your fingers remained curled around his own, all whilst he helped you sit down, fixing your dress for you.

he physically couldn’t pull away from you, couldn’t stop touching you even as you began conversing to the woman beside you, who jungkook recognised as one of his shareholders. his thigh was pressed against yours, all whilst his hand sat heavy in your lap, both of your hands playing with his fingers absentmindedly.

the different items came on stage as you watched people bid, raising their panels whilst some shouted out their numbers for more exclusive pieces. you couldn’t help your giggles, leaning over to whisper in jungkook’s ear whenever you’d see more excited people, all for him to lean into you with an equal smile. the two of you were being silly, and it felt fun for once.

by the time the gardenia painting finally appeared, your posture straightened as you tapped on his hand with a wiggle of your eyebrows. jungkook watched you with a lazy grin, eyes flicking over your face.

cute.

the bidding started much lower than you expected, causing you to frown. “that’s it?”

he nearly laughed, seeing your passion for your flowers. “art’s subjective, baby.”

“yeah, well everyone is wrong..so.”

fuck. he loved you so much.

you watched as someone raised their paddle, and then another, and another. a bidding war began as your head bounced between people, watching in utter curiosity though a part of you wondered what it would be like to bid yourself. ironically for you, you were completely unaware of the man beside you staring at your profile like he wanted to devote the rest of his life to you.

“two million.”

your eyebrows raised.

“two and a half!” someone else shouted, causing you to play with his fingers a little faster almost out of excitement.

“hope someone who actually appreciates it gets it.” you leaned over to whisper into his ear, lips brushing against his cheek in the process.

his jaw ticked.

game on.

just as someone shouted out, claiming three million, jungkook ran a hand through his hair before raising his panel, dark eyes trained on the auctioneer.

“five million.”

your head snapped sideways so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, all whilst jungkook sat completely calm, hand raised lazily as though this was easy. like he hadn’t just dropped five million as though it was nothing.

“jungkook!” you whispered, eyes wide. he merely hummed back at you, hand still intertwined with yours. “hm?”

“what are you doing?!”

“getting you your painting.”

you stared at him in disbelief.

across the room, multiple people were openly whispering now, glancing between you because everyone could recognise what was exactly happening. this wasn’t ego - this was love.

obsessive, and terrifying love.

another bidder raised their paddle almost nervously, calling out a measly “five and a half” after a moment of hesitation.

“seven million.”

an audible murmur fluttered through the room just as you grabbed onto his arm with a large gasp, eyes widening as though he was batshit insane. “jungkook, stop!”

he finally looked at you, small smile playing on his lips at the sight of you so shocked. it was so cute the way you were practically toppling over your seat, a reminder that despite being with him, you had never really dabbled in his wealth whatsoever despite it all belonging to you.

a large shout of ‘sold’ was heard by all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. his eyes admired you, from your lips to your eyes, your shaking hands that were both clinging to his thigh, your cleavage that had dipped even further than earlier. fuck. you were the epitome of everything he had ever wanted.

“you wanted it.” he whispered to you, as though that was all he needed, as though it was enough of a reason to spend seven million in one night with a flick of his wrist.

your eyes near enough watered at his words, knowing that nothing had ever described jungkook better.

—

things between you and jungkook had settled into something dangerous.

not enough to call yourselves fixed, or enough to place a label onto whatever fragile thing had formed between you, but enough that your days seemed lighter. having him back in your life meant you were happy again, and actually excited - finally feeling whole in ways that no one else quite understood.

he called more often now.

what started off as phone calls sometimes briefly between meetings, something about using your voice to destress before important gatherings. they quickly turned to late night facetimes where both of you laid in bed, half naked, chatting until either of you would fall asleep. some nights they turned into something darker, dirtier, with a slip of your night dress to show him more all whilst he’d grunt and hiss at the sight, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to you.

it was beginning to feel domestic, familiar even. so terrifyingly easy.

you realised pretty quickly that somewhere along the way, between late night conversations and soft laughs exchanged, you had began falling deeply in love again.

hard.

he had been away on business ever since the gala a few weeks ago, with him currently stationed in hong kong over some important stakeholder meetings. you knew he was incredibly stressed over it, given the frequency of his calls - always at odd times during the day and night, sometimes with the intention of just looking at your face as though it was the only motivator he needed.

the time difference was more irritating than you had expected, and yet he still managed to find a way to accommodate to your schedule as opposed to his.

your favourite so far had been a simple picture of the skyline view from his hotel, taken at three am with a caption of ‘wish you were here.’

you hated how much those four words affected you.

pathetic, really. how even now, you’d kick your feet in excitement over any message sent from your ex husband.

it had become routine now, to expect messages from him with each waking moment, calls when the workload was heavier. perhaps that was exactly why the silence that afternoon felt so particularly loud.

you were curled into your couch, opting to work from home as you were in his jumper and a pair of flimsy shorts. you hummed quietly as you balanced your laptop on your thighs, all whilst a random entertainment news channel played in the back to offer some noise in your otherwise quiet apartment.

your ears perked up once you heard jungkook’s name somewhere in the background.

your attention barely lifted at first, no doubt another gossip sesh on how attractive he was which often made you giggle, but this felt different.

“ceo jeon jungkook spotted in hong kong alongside mystery woman-“

your stomach dropped.

the laptop slipped from your thighs and onto the couch cushion, all whilst your head snapped towards the television, reaching for the remote to turn it up. the image splashed across the screen, all whilst you sat there, smaller than anything, watching.

jungkook.

beside him, an undeniably beautiful woman.

she was tall, elegant, dressed sharply in a suit practically created for her whilst cameras flashed at them harshly, exiting a building together. the headline underneath made your chest cave in further.

‘global heartthrob ceo finally moving on after the divorce?’

you stared. and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared until your knees had slowly slid to the ground, your back touching the couch whilst the entertainment show droned on and on about the details of your relationship with jungkook, about how smitten you had both seen at the gala, how they were the first to break this exclusive news.

your brain knew better. you knew jungkook like the back of your hand and logically, you fucking knew better. jungkook was so many things, but he had always placed you and your emotions first, your priorities, your necessities, your life - your wants and needs transcended everything else. you had never asked for it to be this way, it was just the way he was.

even during your separation, he had never looked at a woman twice. you knew that.

but logic had never been able to defeat insecurity.

all you could think, all you could see, based off of a single image was how she fit beside him. how effortless it looked, how beautiful she was, how successful. so poised and polished - she was everything a woman who stood beside jungkook ought to have been and it was killing you in real time.

the worst thing of all was the realisation that he didn’t belong to you.

all of this emotion, this horrible feeling inside your chest and soul - you were the one to divorce him. you had been the one that demanded it end back then, no matter how much he had begged you to see reason, believing that it was the correct step forward for the both of you. he had every right to move onto someone else, had every right to actually step forward towards something new.

and yet the thought of him belonging to someone else felt the closest to grief you had ever felt in your life.

your phone rang violently loud beside you, droning out the words of the presenter and making you jump slightly.

jungkook.

your eyes burned instantly.

the phone continued to ring and ring across the sofa cushion as you stared at his contact picture, a photo taken on your anniversary a few years ago that you could never bring yourself to change. your chest rose unevenly as another harsh wave of emotion hit you.

you couldn’t do this.

not after you had spent the past few months trying not to think about him, only for him to come back into your life.

the call rang out.

then another came. and another. and another.

your phone was blowing up with a mixture of calls and messages, each vibration making your heart ache so much worse as the topic changed on the tv, talking about some other celebrity gossip all whilst you felt your entire life collapse before your very eyes.

with shaking hands and teary orbs, you turned your phone off.

you burst into tears.

the rest of the day was spent being utterly miserable. you had never felt so pathetic in all of your life, with pain running up and down your veins in a way that genuinely left you almost debilitated. the last time you were this heartbroken, you were a fresh divorcee.

the curtains remained shut despite the afternoon sun outside, your apartment dim besides the soft flicker of the television that continued playing mindlessly in the background. at some point, you had dragged yourself towards your bed with tears still streaming down your face, his oversized jumper now heavy on your frame.

you hated this version of yourself.

hated how deeply this had affected you despite knowing better. you knew him better than this, had enough trust in him and yet you couldn’t barter with what was directly in front of you - months after rebuilding a sense of confidence all for it to shatter over one measly, gossip channel.

you closed your eyes, images of the beautiful woman stood beside him flooding your mind causing you to open them up again with a quiet whimper. so composed and effortless. untouched by the devastation eating you alive.

by morning, your chest was in genuine pain.

you looked awful too.

your eyes were swollen, red with the continuous tears all night whilst your skin felt sunken and dull, the early morning sun hitting your skin from glimpses through your blinds. you forced yourself out of your bed and into your shower, trying to rid the plaguing thoughts out of your body. you failed, spending the majority of it quietly crying.

by the time you were in the living room again, your nose was just as pink as your eyes, hands shaky and body adorned in an old t-shirt you had secretly stolen from his wardrobe back when you were packing to leave. you curled weakly into the couch, blanket curled onto your legs as you begged your body to rid the horrible stomach ache that had now found home inside you.

your phone remained switched off, somewhere under the blanket, still left there from yesterday. you reached for the remote.

you just wanted mindless noise.

instead, the television flickered to life and you found your breath catching harshly for the umpteenth time within 24 hours.

breaking news banners on every channel you came across.

jeon jungkook.

a whimper pulled up out of your throat at the sight of his images everywhere, your fingers tightening around the blanket before you turned the volume up.

“the ceo has officially filed legal proceedings against multiple media outlets this morning following yesterday’s false dating allegations-“

your heartbeat began thundering. you sat up immediately.

another clip appeared instantly, reporters practically tripping over one another in front of jungkook’s main company building, cameras flashing in hopes of getting a picture of anyone who could answer for anything.

“the statement released by jeon jungkook’s legal team less than half an hour ago reads as follows-“

the screen shifted, and suddenly, there it was. cold white text against a black background that had your breathing stopping completely.

“the allegations regarding ceo jeon jungkook are entirely false. the individual photographed was present for a scheduled business meeting attended by multiple executives and investors. legal action will be taken against all parties responsible for the deliberate spread of false information and invasion of privacy.”

your throat tightened harshly.

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the presenter stop, looking at the camera momentarily, before her voice completely softened.

“as for the final portion of the statement, many online are expressing surprise regarding the unusually personal nature of his response as he personally commented-“

more text appeared.

you scanned it once. twice.

over and over and over until a harsh sob was ripped from your lips.

“i have never entertained nor pursued any romantic involvement with anyone.

there has only ever been one woman.”

a broken sound tore from your throat as your hand flew to your mouth, fresh tears spilling from eyes so fast that you couldn’t see the tv. your heart felt like it had been picked up from the ground, cradled and cherished after being pierced over and over all night, attacked without any reprise.

you couldn’t believe what you were reading.

jungkook, your jungkook? so private and reserved, not willing to give one inch of himself to anyone other than you and yet here he was, making himself as clear as possible. he was telling everyone with ears that you were his but more importantly, he belonged to you and you alone.

he despised media attention, it truly was the one thing he hated more than anything and the both of you would often laugh at rumours and random things stated in the tabloids because they were all bullshit.

and yet he has made a statement publicly.

for you.

your chest cracked at the thought as you covered your face with both hands, sobbing harder and harder.

before you could wallow further, a loud banging erupted from the front door.

the sound tore so violently through the apartment, you jumped - startled on the couch whilst your heart leapt to your throat. the slight fear had your tears stopping immediately, allowing for enough of a shock to regulate your mind for a few moments.

another knock came before you could even process it. louder, and louder, and louder.

“baby!”

your breath hitched painfully.

jungkook?

his voice sounded wrecked. not the calm, controlled man the world knew, nor the eerie ceo who often stood emotionless in front of the cameras whilst deals worth billions sat heavy on his shoulders. this was your jungkook - the one who loved you much too hard, half unravelled whenever the conversation pertained to you.

“open the door.” he shouted again, along another collective banging. his voice cracked slightly. “please..”

you stared into space for just a moment, your mind unable to comprehend what was happening before your legs carried you to the door, through the hallway. you slipped on your blanket slightly, already shaking body weaker than usual given the past twenty four hours, all whilst hot, heavy tears burned in your eyes once more.

another knock.

“baby, c’mon..”

the second your shaking hands unlocked the door, it swung open hard enough to hit the wall behind it, as though jungkook couldn’t believe you had actually heard him.

he looked utterly destroyed.

he stood, still in a suit that now sat disheveled on his frame, black tie loosened around his throat, white shirt wrinkled as though he had been in it for hours. his usually pushed back hair was messy, pulled at and tugged through large hands any time he had realised the depths of emotion you were no doubt feeling looking at the news - if the shoe was on the other foot, and jungkook had seen news of you and another man; he would’ve happily burnt the world to a crisp.

the second he saw you, his entire face fell apart, anger long dissipating.

“fuck.” he whispered, heaving out a breath.

his oversized shirt sat on your body, engulfing your smaller frame, swallowing you whole in a way that had his breath taken away. it was your eyes that broke him, however, as they looked so swollen, no doubt from crying so hard, your cheeks still damp and lips still quivering enough that he watched you bite down on them.

you watched his throat bob harshly, watched his eyes flicker over yourself frantically like he was trying to assess how badly you had been hurting without him here to comfort you. the thought terrified him.

that was all it took for a sob to rip out of your chest so painfully your knees almost buckled. your hands flew up to your face.

immediately, his arms shot out, cradling you almost harshly to him with one large arm completely covering you whilst his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you close to him as though this was the only remedy for a situation like this. his sweet girl. his sweet, sweet girl.

“i called you for nineteen fucking hours.” he said, eyes darting down at you desperately.

you couldn’t stop crying. “i know.”

“your phone was off.” his voice broke slightly, as though the situation had hurt him beyond words. “that scared me, y/n.” he admitted, chest heaving a little.

your crying only worsened immediately because of course it scared him - jeon jungkook, a man who’s entire identity was you and you alone. the prospect of losing you for the second time would surely be enough to kill him, and yet answering his calls felt like the last thing you could bring yourself to do.

“i tried not to think like that,” you choked out through hiccups. “i know you wouldn’t, logically i know but just kept seeing the pictures of you beside her and..”

your chest was heaving.

“stop talking about her.”

the words came out sharp, almost harsh.

his hand slipped to cup your face, holding your jaw in place whilst his arm slipped down, cupping your body to him so you could rest, his own strength supporting you up. his eyes were wild.

“don’t,” he repeated quieter, chest rising and falling. “don’t..stand here and..fuck, don’t compare yourself to someone else for even a second over some shitty tabloid.”

you couldn’t stop crying. it was as though that was all you could do.

“jungkook..”

“no.” he cut in immediately, voice cracking at the edges. “you don’t get it.”

he stood before you, a cocktail mix of utter despair and devotion, all whilst anger and fear simmered on the surface, every emotion open on his face to the point he almost felt unrecognisable. you knew he loved you, could see it painted on his features for the world to see but you weren’t sure when his feelings for you had become his very destruction. it scared you.

his hand shook around your face.

“you think i flew half a day because of a fucking dating rumour?” his eyes glazed over. “i don’t give a fuck about the tabloids, baby, you know that. i was scared because i know what this would do to you. i know your brain.”

your breath hitched.

“i know you.” he repeated, hands continuing to shake against you. “know how your mind gets. i know you’d sit here and cry over this shit when you know i would never touch another woman.”

another harsh sob clawed up your throat, and jungkook heaved at the sight as though it was the worst sound he had ever heard.

“look at me.” he pleaded suddenly.

his hands dropping from your body as he suddenly dropped to his knees - a man of his stature rendered completely broken by the woman he loved. the amount of people who looked up to him, feared him; the amount of people he dictated on a daily basis and yet here he was, on his knees for you. only you.

“there has never been anyone else.” his voice cracked completely. “not before you, not after you. not after this, no matter what happens, you hear me? it’s you, and it’s always going to be just you.”

your own knees were begging to give out, as you leaned against him, only for him to rest his face against your stomach, breathing you in like a man desperate for your understanding. he wanted you to see, needed you to comprehend the situation at hand. there was no him without you, the concept didn’t exist.

“you’re the only woman i’ve ever loved and there is nothing after you, y/n, because you’re my wife. divorce or not, i don’t give a fuck, i belong to you forever whether you want me or not and i won’t..i can’t have you thinking otherwise.”

your entire body gave in at the admission as you collapsed into him with another heart breaking sob, jungkook holding you like a man terrified he had said too much and truly not enough. for the first time since the divorce, neither of you tried to pretend this wasn’t exactly what it was.

—

the rest of the evening softened after that.

somewhere between the tears and the endless kisses planted to your cheeks, nose, head, hands and stomach came an ease to the panic that had long settled into your bones for the past few months. he refused to let you go, grunting almost childishly whenever you’d move out of his arms to do anything until you found yourself snuggled back into his arms, as though the thought of distance after such a clear cut declaration of love physically pained him.

he looked exhausted now that the adrenaline of the situation had worn off, his under eyes sunken from the exhaustion that had now settled deep into his body. to think he had flown all the way across the world simply because of the thought of you crying all alone over a situation that was so completely false upset him - it made you want to sob all over again.

how could you have ever let him go? how could you proceed forward without him, without him so deeply intertwined in your life once more?

eventually you found an old pair of black shorts mixed in with your clothes from when you had packed your things all those months ago. jungkook had stared at them for a few moments after his shower, towel low on his hips as water droplets slipped down his chest. it had his heart pounding faster than anything yet.

“you kept these?” he murmured down at you, watching the way your eyes flickered up from his physique, small gasp leaving your lips at being caught. “oh! um..must’ve slipped them in by accident.”

he didn’t comment on the fact you were wearing his t-shirt either, despite it hardening his cock.

still, he pulled them on as you settled into bed, your hair still scented from your earlier shower too. you, in his too big top, whilst he grabbed you immediately, shirtless and hands still desperate to hold you in a way he had held back on for so long.

you hummed as your body pressed against his, his figure snaking around your body as a heavy arm curled under your ass as a means to prop you up higher in his arms, causing you to giggle into his neck. your arms wrapped around him too, humming a little under your breath as he breathed in your scent openly.

you both laid there in silence for a long while, breathing. healing.

the room was dark now, with the city lights from afar shining through the slips of your blinds, illuminating slivers of his bare chest beside where your hands sat. you could feel his heartbeat, the way it calmed your already heightened senses as though your body recognised it was finally home.

“missed this.” you whispered into his ear, only snuggling closer to him.

jungkook’s grip, once on your waist, slid down to your ass once more. this time, his palm sat on your ass cheek, fingers digging into your skin whilst breathing you in.

“don’t say shit like that to me when i’m hard.” he grunted, a small smile forming across your lips. you hadn’t even done anything, not that you needed to to get jungkook bothered.

when you pulled him from your neck, his eyes were already glazed over, both of you taking a second to simply stare at one another in the exact way you had wanted for so long. his mouth parted, as his hooded eyes took you in, holding you closer, tighter.

within seconds, his lips touched yours.

slowly, at first, as though he was trying to relearn you after years of you being his. he savoured every moment of your lips against his, especially once you started to kiss him back, both of you uncertain in the beginning but once your hands began to find home in his hair, it was then that jungkook’s touch began to grow in confidence.

he kissed like a man starved, one hand buried in your hair too whilst the other continued to grip your ass possessively, as though physically feeling you was enough to have his mind go into overdrive. every small sound you made went straight to his cock as he swallowed your little sighs and whimpers, only pushing him to kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.

he was growing desperate, pushing you down against the bed, half hovering over you as he rested on one arm, hand cupping at your thighs, your stomach, your knee. anything he could get his hands on all whilst his tongue explored your mouth as though he had every right.

perhaps he did because despite everything, the divorce and distance, the heartbreak - he still reacted to you like you were the only thing capable of fucking him up.

his lips eventually drifted from your mouth, pressing against your chin, your jaw and finally your neck. oh, this sweet, pretty little neck, he had dreams of marking it up and down every other night and the fact he had you in his arms now, in a bed far too small for the things he so desperately wanted to do to you was everything and more.

jungkook moved, properly hovering over you now just as you moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, pushing your top down your thighs and revealing your lace panties you had conveniently put on. just in case, of course.

he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths as you watched it break apart the further he pulled his head back. just staring at you hurt, with the way your cheeks had flushed and your hair was spread all across the pillow, and your thighs. fuck. the sight of what was between them had him openly groaning down at you.

“need you to tell me to stop baby, or i won’t be able to hold back.” he hissed down at you, feeling your legs tighten around him before he could finish his sentence.

your hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, eyes never leaving his as you tugged on it just slightly. jungkook, who’s two hands were on either side of your head, blinked down at you half in awe and other agony, the prospect of you teasing him in a moment like this his literal worst nightmare. you always knew how to make him impatient, said it was the best version of him.

he watched with bated breath as you grabbed one of his arms until his hand was in your own, slowly pushing it under your top to rest on your stomach. it felt heavy on your frame, large palm heating your already hot skin before you pulled him down, other arm wrapping around his neck.

“wanna feel you here, kookie.” you whispered into his ear.

jungkook nearly took you then and there.

his jaw flexed, a heavy leaving his lips as he chased your lips, planting another kiss. “yeah? want kookie deep inside?”

“mhm.” you hummed against him, placing your hand over his on your stomach.

“but haven’t taken me for so long, baby. might be too much.”

you closed your eyes at that - the way he cooed down at you despite telling you how easily he could ruin you, break you. it all felt like too much and yet the empty ache inside of you reminded you it wasn’t enough, causing you to merely nod.

“i don’t care. want it.”

the pout on your lips. fuck. jungkook thanked the gods he was a better man, more patient, especially knowing you were doing this on purpose.

“always used to struggle to take me, hm? fucked you open every night and you’d still cry.”

jungkook reached forward, lips on your neck once more but this time, his hips began chasing yours, grinding down almost harshly, causing you to feel every inch, every vein against the flimsy material you called panties. it was heavenly

your hands grabbed him by his biceps, smaller hands unable to wrap around the circumference of his skin. how could you forget your nights of passion? he would spend hours between your legs, so mean, orgasm after orgasm and he still wouldn’t feel satisfied, an insatiable man to his core. even on nights you’d argue, it would somehow end in you fucking which meant the last eight months had been utter hell.

your poor fingers couldn’t reach far enough and nothing brought you to an orgasm unless you thought of him, imagining it was own digits instead of your own.

silly you - if only you realised how similar you and jungkook were. he couldn’t get off unless he was on your instagram, staring at your pretty eyes and lips as he tugged on his cock with all of his energy, round after round after round only to be constantly dissatisfied. having you below him, so ready to be his again? it fucked with his head.

“you'll make it fit.” you whispered.

within mere moments, neither of you could wait. his shorts, alongside the large tshirt that originally belonged to him were on the floor, leaving you in your lacy panties alone. his boxers strained against his hardened length which oozed precum at the mere sight of you, hips bucking a little as you watched him groan out loud at the wet patch forming against the flimsy material.

“my pretty pussy.” he whispered, just as he parted your legs. his fingers pushed your panties to the side, almost hissing from how damp they were, knowing you must have been needy for a while. “missed her. you’ve been holding out on me, baby.”

your eyelashes fluttered up at him at the first touch of his fingers running up and down your slit. you let out an airy moan, barely audible, your body immediately easing back into the covers now that you could finally feel him on you.

he suckled on your neck whilst he circled your clit, knowing your body better than anyone. you were both so in tune with each other’s wants and needs that an eight month break between you both meant nothing when he bit against the sweet spot on your neck all whilst applying more pressure.

you squeaked, nails digging into his biceps at the harshness of his fingers.

“fuck, you’re so needy.” he grunted, pulling away from your neck after leaving a hefty purple bruise. “not been touching your pussy the way it needs.”

“doesn’t feel..” you moaned louder. “doesn’t feel good if you don’t do it.”

his eyes almost rolled back at that. “yeah? need kookie to be the one to touch you?”

“mhm.”

at that, he pulled his hand away only resulting in a loud whine from you. so cruel, to have been given a taste, only to have it pulled away from you.

your positions, however, suddenly changed as jungkook realised the space on the bed was much smaller compared to the bed you had once shared. he rested his back on your wooden bed frame before grabbing you properly, resting you in his lap against his too hard cock, spreading your legs wide.

your back was against his chest, all whilst he caged you in, his fingers returning to your cunt immediately.

this new position had you so much more exposed, as he pushed your thighs apart, index finger circling your hole before slowly pushing inside. your eyebrows furrowed, watching him with a shake to your breath as he took his time, knowing a single one of his was the equivalent of two or three of your own - a though that had him wanting to fuck into you already.

the loud moan that left your lips once he fully inserted it was enough to have him kissing at your temple, cooing.

“like that?”

“feels big.” you whispered back with a shake, feeling him pump in and out.

at that, jungkook thought he was ready to fucking cum. even your pussy was as sweet as you were - too big? one finger and you were already fucked out, but he knew he had to stretch you to accommodate him, a thought that brought a nasty little smirk on his face.

“gotta fuck you open, baby. always so tight.” he continued to coo at you, all as you looked up at him, his finger being joined with another.

soon enough, he was roughly fingering you, all whilst you both maintained eye contact, often breaking it just to share a kiss as though neither of you could get closer to the other. the feeling of him inside you, just like you had become used to for so many years after months apart was the definition of pleasure, your eyes hooded with each pump.

“feels s’good.” you slurred slightly, chest heaving.

he watched your breasts, your bed squeaking with each passing movement and he fucking loved it. loved having your eyes on him, loved having your tits bounced everytime he’d fuck you open a little harder, your sweet moans filling the space.

you could feel how hard he was, but everytime you tried to turn to pleasure him too, he’d merely hold you tighter, as though your orgasm was the only objective on his mind. he wanted to eat you out, fuck - the thought had him all but growling at you but he knew he’d never last, promising himself he’d save that for later tonight.

“wish you knew how many times i’ve dreamt about this.” he grunted down at you, as he watched your thighs try to close from the onslaught of pleasure, only for him to widen them immediately. “i’m constantly fisting my cock thinking about you. at work, at home, in the fucking car.”

“what do you think about?” you pressed desperately, needing to hear it.

jungkook bared his teeth at you slightly, all whilst his pace quickened. “think about breeding you, pumping you full of cum till you’re begging me to stop. every morning, every night until you’re pregnant with our baby. you’d like that, hm?”

you could have sobbed. like was an understatement, your legs widening with each passing word as you nodded almost desperately at him, looking up and above where his head tilted down to watch you.

your eyes then fluttered shut at the image of him touching himself, almost shuddering out of relief at the thought of him so infatuated that he had to cum just to get you off of his mind. especially at work - the whole reason of your divorce being his dedication to his occupation and now knowing you had your affect on him there too? it was euphoric.

“think about you all the time.” you whimpered back at him, pout so cute he wanted to scream. “tried..fuck..tried to touch myself after the gala..but wasn’t enough.”

he watched as you shook your head up at him, one of your hands on his wrist as the same hand pumped faster inside of you at the admission. he cursed under his breath, letting out a deep exhale.

“should’ve told me. fuck, y/n. would’ve ruined you then, baby, you know that right?” he nuzzled into your cheek. “would’ve let you use me as much as you want.”

it was your turn to whimper under your breath, as your eyes shut tight at the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to creep up. it was shocking, how slowly it managed to creep on you, and yet you could feel every inch of its intensity, the first in a long time where you know you’d feel satisfied.

jungkook could feel you clenching, your too tight hole sucking him in desperately as a bid to have him go meaner on you, to which he was more than happy to oblige with. he grabbed your chin with his other hand, forcing your head back so you’d open your eyes again. he wanted to watch.

“eyes on me, pretty girl.”

you weren’t sure if it was the sweet way he cooed at you, or the brutal pace he was now forcing you to take but your orgasm hit you like a freight train. you let out a loud squeak as electricity fluttered through from your head to your toes, your hips rising whilst he continued to finger you through your high, hissing at how sexy you looked maintaining eye contact.

his pace didn’t lessen, devoted to longing out every hit of pleasure for as long as possible, your legs shaking as you pawed at his wrist, but he refused to stop. your body began falling into overstimulation, whining loudly as your weakened hands grabbed onto his, feeling him finally slow whilst he remained two fingers deep, pushed inside of you all the way to his knuckles.

he curled them one last time, causing a shaky breath to leave you before slowly removing them inch by inch.

the emptiness inside of you was horrible, a reminder of what else you wanted and how badly. your big eyes met his, only to watch him take his fingers press them against your pouted lips until they parted, your tongue wrapping around. you tasted yourself, a sweet sigh leaving his lips at the sight of you sucking so eagerly, his cock jolting harshly in his boxers.

“still don’t think you can take me right now.” he whispered down at you, other hand moved so it was openly cupping your pussy as a whole, palm brushing against your hypersensitive clit.

you jolted which each passing touch, breathing shaky before you took his fingers out of your mouth, saliva coating them where your slick once was.

“don’t care, kookie. i want it anyway.” you grumbled slightly, and he swore he had never loved you more.

it was your turn to move as you pulled away from his grasp, giggling a little to yourself at the look on his face once you put space between you, only to turn around, so you were laying on your stomach. he remained in his position, legs on either side of you allowing you to press your hand against his massive bulge.

oh, how you’d missed his cock.

you were as impatient as ever as you pulled his boxers down enough so that his fat cock could finally spring free, watching the way it tilted upwards at first, but its weight forced it down lower and lower until it was resting almost gently on your face.

he wanted to take a picture. wanted to make it his screen saver, your contact picture in his phone - he wanted it in his fucking wallet. his girl, eyes all hooded after being bratty for his cock? you were a minx and you didn’t even know it.

“don’t have a condom.” he found himself whispering at you, just as you began to pump him.

you tilted your head at him, hand unable to wrap around his length as you slowly teased his slit, fingers brushing against it just to him shudder. you watched his face, watched his very composure crumble before your very eyes all whilst he muttered something about a condom? your mind was barely working, still sensitive from the way he had made you cum and the horniness still in your stomach.

“why would i want you to wear a condom?” you whispered up at him, as though it was a little secret between you.

you watched his eyes darken in real time, narrowing down at you as both of his large hands grabbed the back of your head. you giggled, resting your cheek on his thigh whilst you continued to pump his cock, focusing on the tip just the way he liked it. the heaviness in your hand was what you missed the most, causing you to leave a little kiss to it on the mushroom tip, your fluttering eyes only driving him more and more insane.

he wouldn’t last like this. not with you staring up at him like that.

and so, he pulled your hair. you whimpered, pussy clenching as he pulled you up by your locks, your large eyes completely taken over by how rough he was being with you, no doubt being fuelled by the heightened emotions of the past two days. this was your favourite jungkook, secretly of course.

within seconds, you were on your back once more, all whilst he grabbed your hips and yanked you close to him. he dropped down to give you a kiss on your lips, savouring the taste and feel of you before beginning to rub his cock up and down your tight hole.

“my girl.” he whispered against your mouth. “no going back after this.”

your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of him teasing you, pushing the tip against your hole only to pull back the second it began inserting, rubbing it up and down and over your clit once more. he was a tease through and through, but you were too needy to see reason.

“don’t wanna go back, want it all.” you simply whimpered back.

your words were enough to finally have him pushing inside of you.

first, the tip. your face contorted to the familiar feel of his cock slowly inserting inside of you, your breath catching slightly at the sheer size of him - you struggled to take him even when your sex life was incredibly active, so you knew now that you hadn’t been touched for eight months, this was going to be hard.

you watched his face harden, all whilst your eyes slipped downwards to see him pushing further in, inch by inch, until your fingernails were puncturing the skin of his outer arms. he watched your face instead, willing himself not to cum at the way your jaw grew slack, big eyes only widening further at the too large cock settling in inside of you.

it was too much, too big, too at once. you couldn’t think, could barely see and yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from watching him bottom out even if you wanted to, a slight bulge evident where he sat deep inside of you. his large hand took a hold of yours and kissed it before pressing it against the bulge, only to rest his own right on top. applying pressure, he hissed at the way you let out a loud whimper, your cute thighs trembling around him.

“feel that?” he whispered down at you, nuzzling your nose to force you to look at him. “thats where i fucking belong. this pussy stretches so good for me every time.”

your lip was already trembling, a sight that had his cock throbbing deep inside of you as you clenched down on him hard. his cry baby - he loved seeing you teary during sex.

you were still adjusting as he began to move, causing you to squeal, but jungkook couldn’t wait anymore, not when he’d been dealt with blue balls for close to a year. you were the only option, pledging to live a life of fucking celibacy if you’d have chosen to never let him inbetween your legs again though the thought killed him inside. live a life without a taste of your sweet pussy? he’d sooner die.

“jungkook!” you slapped the tops of his biceps, as he continued his thrusting inside of you, nipping at your jaw, feeling his smirk against your skin.

the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was intense, something you had been craving for so long now and yet now it was happening, you wanted more, and more and more and more and more. he loved this shy game you’d always play, always pretending like you couldn’t take it despite the fact your legs were widening further and you were moaning like a bitch in heat - it turned him on beyond words to know underneath the sweet persona, you were the filthiest slut he had ever known.

his pace was deep, mean but slow and it wasn’t enough, purposefully done to tease you for as long as he could, to ensure you’d stay needy. it was clearly working with the way your moans, whines and gasps filled the air only to be followed with a long drawl of his name, face scrunched up so cute he wanted to fucking scream.

“c’mon, baby, you’re so good to me.” he cooed, continuing his slow thrusts. “just gotta ask if you want something.”

your eyes scrunched shut, whimpering at his words knowing he wanted you in ways that you had reminisced on for months, the feeling of him kissing the gummy part of your cunt something you had missed so much.

“want it properly, kookie.” you begged him, though you couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes flickering down to his neck as he continued his pace. “yeah? tell kookie how you want it.”

your fingers clung to his shoulders as he came down, arms now pressed on either side of your head as he nuzzled your nose with his own, actions too sweet given the sinful position he had you in.

your breathing was ragged, the feel of him inside you too much for your poor little mind to handle without breaking and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. you craved something harsher, meaner, more jungkook. neither of you had ever been ones for soft sex, always preferring it as needy as possible which only heightened considering the fact you were both so utterly obsessive when it came to the other.

you whined loudly as his actions came to a stop completely, now grinding against you whilst still being inside.

“just want you to fuck me properly.” you whimpered, lip quivering so much faster, hips lifting to meet his as a means to relieve yourself.

god. you were killing him.

“good girl.”

jungkook planted a single kiss to your lips, oddly sweet before pulling back, planting two more to your forehead and nose. you were ready to whine once more until you felt his hips pull back, only to thrust into you harshly.

you squealed as jungkook began his pace exactly how you craved it, exactly how you used to picture with your own fingers in your cunt, desperately trying and failing to replicate the feel. hard. fast. mean. rough.

your neighbours would no doubt complain tomorrow with the way your bed frame began pounding into the wall, his head pressed against yours as his thrusts began kissing your cervix. your legs shook around him, much to his enjoyment, all whilst he forced you to maintain eye contact, wanting so badly to see the affect he was having on you after he had been deprived of you for so long.

“fuck..there she is. that’s my girl.” he hissed down at you, not holding back, the sound of skin slapping against skin heavy in the room. “you don’t know how badly i missed you.”

“m-missed..ugh! missed you..too..” you managed to string together, salted tears now escaping your eyes as they streamed on either side of the pillow.

“pretty girl like you needs to be fucked mean. no good to be nice to you, huh?” he growled down at you, only causing your lip to quiver that much faster as you nodded. “can’t think unless it’s me bullying your pussy into an orgasm.”

your nods were paired with soft sobs as he pounded, ruining your soppy core just like you had wanted. you had dreamt of this, dreamt of him, genuinely believing you’d never reach this state of pleasure ever again in your life and yet here he was, coaxing it out of you to remind you that he’d never leave you again.

his thrusts were sloppier than usual, no doubt due to the extensive length between your last fuck but it only had you moaning and crying louder. the thought of the usually composed jeon jungkook a whining mess for you and you alone had you clamping down hard on his cock.

“can’t believe i let you leave me.” he grunted hard at the feel of you getting so tight, gritting his teeth as he pounded you further. “never again. you fucking hear me, y/n? you’re my wife forever.”

“promise?” you sobbed back, arms now wrapping around his neck as you tried to bring him impossibly closer, as though you could in any capacity.

he nipped at your bottom lip, moaning into your mouth at the way you all but begged him to make it a reality.

“gonna take you to the courthouse tomorrow, get you a nice dress and we do..fuck..we do this again, understand?” he closed his eyes the more you whined and whined. “gonna let me put that ring back on your fucking finger, baby?”

you nodded wildly, just as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach again, whining loudly up at him in a way he recognised immediately. fuck, he had missed this so much - his angel girl, all needy, begging for it even though she could barely take it. he could feel his own coming on fast, causing him to pull his hand down and rub at your clit, hissing at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock harshly.

“c’mon baby. want you to cum on your husband’s cock, hm? gonna get you nice and round like you deserve.” his thrusts only got meaner. “move you back in. fuck this pussy every single day, just like you need.”

your high rushed through you at the exact point his did, your legs wrapping around his waist as a means to keep him inside. you could feel it all through your body, the way it seized up and bucked into him all whilst he continued his thrusts, fucking you through both of your orgasms.

your vision started growing dark, the intensity of it overwhelming as he rode out your highs whilst whispering soft i love you’s in your ear, cradling you to his chest, holding you closer than you’d ever felt him before.

everything after that completely blurred together.

you remembered jungkook taking care of you, tenderness laced into his very being as he held you like you were akin to a porcelain doll - sweet, so soft, so delicate. somewhere between the damp kisses pressed to your skin underneath the bubbling bath he had drawn for you both, to the continuous declarations of love muttered down at you; you realised that this was inevitable. he was inevitable.

there didn’t exist a reality where you both could live without one another - you knew that now.

even after the heartbreak, the divorce, the loneliness and the debilitating grief, you still found yourself exactly where you belonged. your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat soothing you into a dreamlike state which paled in comparison to the reality that was now yours. his love had you wrapped so tightly you knew you’d never live without it again.

you were finally home.

—

this beast of a fic is finally done yay!!! i hope you guys love ex husband jungkook just as much as i do!

tried to make him less yandere in this one and more pathetic yearner lol but i may have slipped here and there 💔

i’d love to hear your thoughts on this - love hearing you guys after a fic drops so i’m excited to see what you all think!!!!

if you wanna help support me pay my disgusting, awful, horrific london rent, my kofi is linked <3

But down here, it’s dark. The long and steep descending stairs start out gray, green moss that matches the surrounding flora creeping into every crack of the steps under you and the stone walls around you. All of it is hidden from humans and anyone unauthorized; you wouldn't know of the steps behind the thick slab of rock unless you knew the command to move it.

With every step down, the gray turns darker, colder, as if the stone is more charred the lower you get. Fitting, you guess. The very last steps and the other huge slab of rock posing as a door are nearly black. On either side of the door, someone has mounted a torch, its fire burning with the eternal flame. It's the only light source present beside the remaining daylight reaching its last, thin rays down from the top of the stairs.

It’s admirable, really, how his effort to remain ‘dark’ trumps his living standards and convenience. But you haven't been sent here to judge someone’s sense of style. A moment after knocking on the obscenely large door and wondering how on earth anyone is supposed to hear it, the rock slides slowly against the ground underneath, a deep, grinding sound filling your ears.

A red-horned lady dressed in black leather appears. A demon. “You have an appointment?” she asks casually, one hand on the rock beside her head.

“Uh… no?” you answer, confused rather than arrogant. “But it’s important.”

She purses her lips, glancing back behind the door. If she’s considering letting you in or awaiting someone’s approval, you can’t tell.

Finally, she turns back to you, and with a nod, she opens the door wider to let you through. The first rock at the top of the stairs glides shut behind you, cutting off the last of the daylight as you step through the gap in front of you.

Despite the descent down feeling like walking into a literal darkness, this feels even more so. Do they really keep it pitch black inside?

The woman leads you through a tunnel, the stone walls fortunately decorated with a few more eternal flame torches. Your white strappy sandals—almost luminescent in the warm, dim light—echo against the ground, and your eyes land on the woman’s braided hair and her long, thin tail as she walks in front of you.

She definitely fits the vibe; your flowy, layered white chiffon dress with the lightest of blue details sticks out like a sore thumb.

Soon enough, the tunnel opens up into a large room, the woman gesturing past her and forward. As you walk, you feel eyes on you, but you keep your head held high. It’s the demons loitering, comfortably yet fashionably positioned on wine red furniture like couches and loveseats, black stone pedestals, or even on the floor. The men and women are dressed in either black or red; most of it leather. You won’t deny that they have a certain… pull, their colorful eyes either sultry or glaring as they follow your shape.

At least there’s a gigantic live chandelier illuminating the space.

Two seconds later, you reach the… throne. You’ve heard about this place and what it looks like, but actually being here is another thing. More than anything, you thought the man himself would be present, maybe draped confidently and lazily over that very throne. But it’s vacant?

Peering to your left and then right, your gaze catches on the wall of mirrors opposite the throne, some large and others huge, but all framed with intricate gold.

“An angel?” a low voice suddenly muses from inches behind you, its owner’s breath stirring your hair. “What brings you here?”

Startled, you turn, only to see the devil himself, an amused smirk playing on his lips as his black eyes peer down at you. Goosebumps line your arms.

“I think you know why, sir,” you answer politely, watching as he rounds you.

Of course, you’ve heard a few things about him as well, but you’ve never met anyone who’s met him. As far as you know, the contact between the devil and the upper levels has been minimal for quite some time now.

What you have heard about him, however, includes how handsome he is. Tempting, even. And that’s definitely correct. He’s dark-haired, tall, and dressed in all black as he backs up toward his stone throne, still watching you. The expensive dress shirt is fitted perfectly, accentuating his thick, muscular arms and the impressive build of his chest, a few open buttons exposing a naked strip of it. At the same time, he’s got a surprisingly slender waist.

“Like what you see?” he asks, rolling the sleeves up his thick forearms as your eyes travel down his pants and clearly muscular thighs. 

When you lift your eyes, however, you see that he’s definitely checking you out too, your white, partly sheer dress a real rarity down here, you assume. 

“Let him go,” you instruct softly, not letting his words get to you. “Do that and we’ll be out of your way.”

“No,” he smiles, for some reason having changed his mind about taking the throne and instead taking step after slow step toward you again.

You see it in his dark, sultry eyes, and you feel it—no, you smell it—in the air.

“That doesn’t affect me, you know that. I’m a pure being.”

He comes to stand before you, looking down at you as if trying to figure you out is his new favorite hobby. “Exactly how pure are you? I guess I can try to make you… un-pure.”

“Pure as in you can’t influence me with your lust pheromones. So, will you let him go?”

“No.”

“Please?”

He tilts his head, surprised but still smirking. “I have never heard an angel say ‘please.’”

“Some of us are rather nice, you know. Most of us, actually. Being respectful increases your chances of success, I find.”

“Hm. I like it.” He licks his lips, his gaze dipping down to your mouth. “What do I get in return?”

“In return? Why not just be nice in return?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You find his eyes, asking genuinely. “What do you want then?”

“Hmm,” he hums again, briefly looking away as he considers. A second later, his intense gaze warms your face. “What if I say ‘you?’”

“Why would you?”

You can still feel his demons' eyes on you. Half of the fifteen or so present are women—all quite pretty, even if the intense stares fill you with unease—and you've heard about how he fucks them. But while you're sure you're not the first angel to venture into his home, you're still a rarity. You'd be a challenge, or at least a change.

“I don’t usually like angels; I find you stuck up and uptight. But it’s been a while since I saw an angel, even more so a female angel.”

Right.

“Maybe for a reason?”

He tilts his head again, this time the other way. “Are you implying I force myself on women?”

“No, but you’re definitely bordering on harassing me right now.”

He takes a big step backward, bowing slowly and theatrically, but not necessarily mockingly. 

“I apologize,” he says, straightening up and smiling down at you. This time, it's less arrogant and more… happy? “I have a thing for pretty women. More so when they come here, looking all innocent and pure. But even though I might be the devil, I would never force myself on anyone.”

It is, however, an easy decision to hold off on wholeheartedly trusting his words because, like he said, he is the devil. And technically, he’s a lot more powerful than you. You, an angel, are nothing more than the equivalent of one of his demons. While you don't think he's interested in hurting you, he's not supposed or allowed to, and that's the closest thing to a guarantee regarding your safety that you'll have.

“Apology accepted,” you state, believing that staying in his good graces truly is the best choice. Still, you allow yourself to politely and softly correct him. “You have an outdated worldview, you know? Wearing white doesn’t mean innocent or uptight.”

He raises his eyebrows curiously. “It doesn’t? But you all wear white? And you are innocent and uptight?”

“Technically, correlation doesn’t mean causation, even though I’d argue that we are innocent, maybe not per the same definition you consider. I don’t know who you’ve met, but I wouldn’t call all of us ‘uptight' either.”

“Really? But something like… sex… is a sin, is it not?” he questions, speaking slowly. The way he pronounces the word 'sex' has something stirring inside you, his voice dripping with something you can't precisely name.

“Sex is not a sin, no,” you explain, looking at him. 

You can’t tell to what degree he’s seriously wondering versus how much he’s just steering the conversation where he wants it. But he does look at you, clearly curious and trying to figure you out. 

Taking a step closer, you lift your hand before pausing and letting it hang mid-air. “Do I have your permission to touch you?”

Perhaps even more surprised, he quirks an eyebrow to go with the smile he's still wearing before he nods his permission.

Slowly, you close the distance, and with gentle fingers, brush his black hair away from his face, softly tracing his cheek. He’s incredibly handsome, quietly watching you.

“Pleasure is what you want?” you ask, searching his face for clues. You know roughly what he wants but not necessarily why.

He nods. “I thought it was a sin, though?”

You shake your head. “As long as you’re respectful, pleasure is not a sin.”

His apparent curiosity puzzles you. Everything can become a sin if you hurt others by doing it; shouldn’t he know that? Or is he still stuck in the old ways of looking at things, where anything good is a sin?

Realizing that it’s the easiest way to hopefully get what you want, you let your fingers follow the curve of his sharp jaw and then his neck, until they reach the collar of his black shirt.

“Can I undress you?”

“Go ahead,” he answers, entertained.

You lower your hand to his chest, adding your other to undo the buttons. It’s silent as you work, though you know he’s still looking down at you, watching with amusement as you open button after button and pull the shirt out from where he kept it tucked inside his pants. Not to mention the audience of demons you still have, their previously quiet voices having gone entirely silent.

You breathe slowly as more and more of him is revealed to your eyes. You knew he was muscular, but to this extent? His golden skin is warm and inviting, and he’s all bulging muscles and prominent veins. If virility had a face…

He lets you step closer to pull the shirt down his shoulders. A second later, you have it in your hands, making a conscious effort to handle it with care. The fabric, which you guess is fine Egyptian cotton, is incredibly soft against your skin, sleek almost like silk, and a result of perfect craftsmanship.

Reluctantly, you let it carefully fall to the floor, your eyes returning to the man in front of you. If the shirt was perfect craftsmanship, you don’t have words for what he is.

“So you do like what you see?” he asks, clearly very amused.

It has you chuckling because anyone, no matter species or orientation, can tell that he’s one of a kind.

“I do. You're gorgeous.”

It’s like he almost… beams at the compliment, which you’d argue is even endearing.

Carefully, you put your palm back on his warm chest, letting it slowly slide down his skin before it stops right above his belt.

“You’ll tell them to leave?” you ask as you glance around, at least ten or so demons currently watching intently, their focused eyes ranging from yellow to black.

With a wave of his hand, they disappear, one by one dissolving into black smoke. But when you’re alone—the new silence a different kind—and your fingers reach for his belt, the devil puts his big hand over yours, holding it in place.

You look up at him.

“You don’t have to.”

He has the darkest eyes you think you’ve ever seen. Deep, deep pools of pitch black, yet they’re surprisingly gentle when he offers you an out. 

“Are you going to let him go if I don’t?”

He’s quiet, appears to be thinking. It’s a bit of a surprise to see the devil look even the slightest bit conflicted. He clearly doesn’t want to give you what you want without a fight, but… persuading you into doing something you really don’t want to would maybe… make him feel bad? It’s not something you expected from the devil.

You think about it, assuming his non-answer gives you a bit of wiggle room. You could probably convince him to release his prisoner without having to touch him further, but… you kinda wouldn’t mind.

“If you are nice to me… I want to.”

For a long moment, he watches you, serious yet… curious. Then, he nods his promise, and while you wouldn’t put it past the devil to be a liar, he appears genuine.

“Okay then. Will you get naked for me?” you ask softly, walking slowly toward his throne. It's big, most of it sculpted from stone except the insides, which are made of soft, padded, black leather.

The devil's belt clangs behind you, but when you turn, pointing to his throne to wordlessly ask for permission, he's just standing there, watching you with that same confident smile you saw earlier. Your request is answered with a casual nod, and so you take a seat.

“How do I look? Does it suit me?” you ask, placing your arms on the armrests and crossing your legs.

“No,” he grins, “you’re too pretty.”

“Oh?” you say, smiling. It’s always nice to receive compliments, after all. 

“Tell me, then, devil, what brings you pleasure?” you continue, leaning back to the side and lifting one leg over the armrest. Your long white skirt still keeps you decent, its rather high slits—practically invisible when standing—granting you freedom to move.

“All sorts of things,” he says, his eyes glued to the way you slowly but surely pull the white fabric hanging between your legs higher, revealing more and more of you.

“Do you know what an angel tastes like?” you ask. His gaze, entirely focused on what you’re doing, brings you immense satisfaction. Especially paired with the way he licks his lips.

“No.”

“No?" You definitely thought he would've done it with an angel at some point. "Would you like to?”

Transfixed, he watches you reveal your bare core to him. Seemingly forgetting about his promise of getting naked, he instead closes the distance and drops to his knees. His hands are warm when he grabs your knees, spreading you wider and taking in the sight of your offer with what you interpret as enthusiasm. But then he closes his eyes.

“Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts…”

You chuckle in surprise. “A—are you… saying grace?”

Opening his eyes, he smirks at you. “...Amen.”

And barely half a second later, you feel his mouth on you as he begins to eat you out as if he’s a starved man, and you’re an all you can eat buffet, only open for five more minutes. His warm, wet tongue works your pussy hard, making your breath hitch as your poor nerve endings are jolted.

Gasping, and with your legs nearly automatically closing around his head, you pull on his hair. “Careful,” you scold him gently.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against you, returning to eat you out, still sloppily but calmer.

Groaning deeply, he sends vibrations throughout your entire body. “Is there some kind of magic potion in here?”

“No,” you say, your voice breathy as you try to deal with the intense sensation of his mouth on you. If you weren’t so preoccupied, you might’ve laughed. “I can control you just as little as you can control me.”

You keep your fingers in his raven hair, tugging a little and finding it incredibly soft. The devil doesn't seem to mind.

“You sure? 'Cause your pussy’s calling for me in a way I’ve never felt before.”

“Y—yes,” you breathe, your back arching when you feel him flick your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“What if I just keep you here? Fuck you as often as I’d like?”

“And you think I'd—I’d put up with that?” you groan, breath uneven.

He hums, eagerly licking up your cunt before he tears away again. “Wait until I'm done with you. I'll make you want to stay here forever. You’ll be begging for me, I promise.”

As if to show you how serious he is, he pulls you closer to the edge of his throne by your thighs, spreading you wider. Your hips move on their own, unsure how to handle the sensation of his lewd mouth.

“Show me your tits.” 

You’d think someone eating you out would be a quiet ordeal.

“Show me your tits, what?” you repeat, looking down at him and meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches again when he moves his fingers to rub your slick clit.

“Show me your tits, please.”

“I don’t know,” you tease, chest heaving embarrassingly heavy.

“Please,” he begs, and you nearly laugh when the devil leans his head against your thigh—still hanging over the arm rest—and gives you what you can only describe as puppy eyes. He’s not innocent; there’s a mischievousness blended into his black eyes, and he’s still very much rubbing your clit in slow circles, but you can appreciate the gesture for what it is.

“Fine,” you say, the amused smile impossible to hide.

Using one hand, you move it up your dress, gripping the milkmaid top and pulling it down, letting your tits spill out.

The devil rises to his knees, keeping one hand on your cunt while taking a nipple into his warm, wet mouth. The lazy circles on your clit, an even and bearable kind of stimulation, he mirrors with his tongue around your nipple. Sighing, you return your hand to his hair.

But only a second later, he lets go of your nipple, keeping his face a mere inch from yours. “Can I put one in?”

You nod, his husky voice really doing things to you, and your hands drop to his wide, muscular shoulders.

Like the devil he truly is, he holds eye contact, his dark eyes seeing what feels like every corner of your soul as he sinks a finger inside you.

“Sucking me in, huh?”

You focus on his pretty face as he moves one long finger slowly in and out of you. Knowing exactly what he's doing, he curls it to rub your sweet spot.

“Kiss me.”

For half a second, his movement inside you stops. It’s not the only sign of his surprise, his face shows it too.

“You don’t kiss?” you ask, embarrassingly out of breath.

“Not very often, no,” he smiles. “Can I add another?”

You nod, biting your lip when he works another finger inside you. It’s not a struggle; you’re soaked and relaxed, but it still elicits something like a whimper from you. There’s something in his gaze as he watches you, and then he leans in. It’s slow, even more so in comparison to the fingers he fucks in and out of you at a medium pace, setting your insides on fire.

His lips graze your open ones. He keeps them there, barely touching yours, for a while.

“Devil,” you breathe against him, a quiet scolding for not giving you what you want.

He laughs but a second later finally grants you your wish. His lips are soft, and he kisses you with experience even though claiming not to do it often. But it’s surprisingly innocent. No tongue, no sloppily mixing of saliva, just lips.

In contrast, he pulls back a few inches—and you follow, still holding onto his shoulders—so that he can use both his hands on your cunt and try to make you come. And make you, he does.

His left hand, already pushing two of his thick, long fingers in and out of you, speeds up, the sounds of it almost vulgar. The new addition—the other hand—he uses to rub your clit in determined circles. In response, your thighs try to close around him, and you both hear and feel him chuckle as he kisses you again. There’s not much you can do but grip his shoulders tighter and whimper against his mouth.

When you can barely breathe, the onslaught of sensation rapidly bringing you closer to the edge, you throw your head back.

“Devil,” you plead quietly.

“Mhm?”

But you don’t really have anything to say, and you guess he very well already knows you’re close, seeing as even your thighs start to shake and your breaths lose even more depth.

You feel him kiss your jaw, and a moment later, you’re closing your eyes and biting your lip to stay quiet, but the gasp comes anyway. Stars shoot across your eyelids and the warm pleasure washes over you and your entire body.

He lets you hold onto him, continuing his actions until your whimpers turn into those of overstimulation. At that point, he stops and removes his hands from you.

Chest heaving, tits out, you open your eyes to see him a few inches away, his hands now on the armrests as he cages you in. He grins proudly, looking down at you, and you’re a breathy, shaky mess under him.

“So, what do you think?” you ask, smiling coyly.

His eyebrows rise. “Huh?”

“About tasting an angel?”

“Oh. Ten out of ten.”

It makes you laugh, and you find yourself thinking that… he’s kinda sweet.

“What about you? Did I make you see heaven?”

Rolling your eyes, another chuckle escapes you. 

“So, is that enough for you?” he asks, and while his dark eyes are warm, you can tell even through the relative darkness that his pupils are blown, and it's clear that he's hoping for a certain answer. And even if you’re not technically providing sexual favors as a way of payment (anymore), the original purpose of all of this was to provide him pleasure.

“What do you want?” 

He looks at you with a smile you can’t describe as anything but handsome. 

“While merely eating you out has been the highlight of the century, I'd love to continue. But again, I don’t force myself on anyone,” he reminds you, his voice smooth as he rests all his weight on one arm, using the other to gently tuck your hair behind your ear and then trace your jaw. “If it were up to me, though, I’d already have you bouncing on my cock.”

You gasp at the dirty words coming from the sweet smile.

“You have a filthy mouth, you know that?”

“Too filthy? Want me to rephrase that in a… pure way?”

“Depends. Can you?” you ask, amused.

“Of course,” he says, “If it were up to me, I’d already…”

His voice trails off as he struggles to think of something, and every second makes it funnier to you.

“Too difficult?”

“You know what? Respectfully, I’d love to make you come on my cock.”

His words elicit another laugh from you, something that has him grinning widely.

“Good enough?”

“Sure.”

“Great. So we’re on the same page?”

“Mhm.”

“Perfect."

Effortlessly, he grabs you by your armpits and lifts you onto the armrest, turning you outward. You watch him come to stand between your legs, your fingers itching to touch him.

“Oh?” He pauses whatever he was going to do, looking down at your hand on his stomach. 

You observe it together, how it glides over his warm, smooth skin as it travels south. He’s so impressive; so thick and built. Literally all thick muscle under warm skin. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t complain about what could be considered teasing, so you continue, loving the sound of his breaths becoming just a bit less even.

Your hand moves over the opened belt and the soft fabric of his dress pants. There’s an evident bulge there; it's big, and you swear you see it throb.

“Can I?” you whisper, biting your lip.

“Please.”

He’s thick under your touch. Hard, thick, and warm, even through the pants.

“Oh, you’re a monster,” you say, clearly impressed with what you feel as you rub your hand over the bulge.

“Not unless you want me to.”

It’s something about the way he says that that’s… sweet? Something about it, about him that makes your heart race and your nerves light up and… your heart also skip a beat. Slowly, you unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down. He helps you by pulling his pants and black underwear down his legs, stepping out of them and his socks and shoes.

“Are you really supposed to be this pretty?” you wonder, gazing up at him. “'Cause you’re… beating the male angels by a long shot.”

It’s true. As he stands proud before you, you take a second to really marvel at him, top to bottom. The black, luscious hair, the dark eyes, strong jaw and eyebrows, the masculine nose. His muscular shoulders—there’s even a vein there, at the front—and his bulging biceps and abs. The defined v-line and waist, his thick, throbbing cock, precome glistening at the tip, and his muscular thighs. Everything.

“You know this isn’t entirely me, right? Just as I assume you have actual wings?”

Eyes on the prize and hands quick to follow, you grip him, enjoying the tiny little gasp he lets out. Even getting to stroke him satisfies something in you, although it makes you crave him more too.

“No, I didn’t know that. I’ve only ever heard that you’re handsome.”

“Yeah. Not all of me adheres to whatever standards of beauty you have,” he says, and while he’s still smiling confidently, you wonder if he keeps some things hidden because he might not like whatever they are. In comparison, you keep your wings hidden because they’re big and rather clumsy to walk around with.

“What are you gonna do with that?” he asks, curiously looking down at your hand slowly stroking his cock.

It’s a marvelous sight already, his hard cock flushed a pretty pink. His breaths are even—his stomach tensing deliciously with every single one—but there’s… an inherent sigh to them? Smiling, you use your grip on him to carefully guide him closer, lifting the hem of your dress that’s fallen down your legs up and out of the way. 

He watches you adjust, and there’s a collective groan when you guide him to your cunt. Despite licking you very clean not long ago, you’re of course drenched again, and you see how he takes in a few shorter breaths when you coat him in your wetness.

But when you place his thick head at your entrance, intending on teasing him just a little before letting him in, he’s already pushing inside.

“Fuck,” you gasp, throwing your arms around his neck to hold onto him. He leans forward, his face just an inch away and his eyes locked onto yours.

"What does my little angel like?" he grunts, gripping your thigh with one large, warm hand and pressing the other against your back as he rolls his hips into you.

"Whatever you want, devil," you say, your reminder breathy. "As long as you're nice to me."

"Of course, but I live to please."

You lean your head back, shutting your eyes as you feel him slide in and out of you, filling you to the brim every time. "I thought you were supposed—supposed to be selfish."

"Who says I'm not?" he asks, ghosting his lips over your throat.

You don't answer him, your mind too busy processing the slow kisses he places against the skin of your neck. "I feel you everywhere," you mumble instead, words more air than voice.

"Good."

"Am I right to assume that… fuck… you've never… fucked an angel before, either?"

"You are, yeah," he answers against your skin.

"And I've—never fucked a devil before."

"Well, there's only one devil, so.."

You chuckle, desperately hugging him closer when he suddenly ups the gear, the force punching the air out of your lungs. "Oh, my…!"

"You okay?" he asks, and his voice carries traces of… worry as his hips slow down momentarily and he leans back to look at you.

But the change of pace was surprising rather than too much, and so you nod. "It's okay, I'm good."

Relief spreads through his round eyes, and you laugh.

"Why are you cute?"

"Cute?"

"Yeah? I didn't expect you to be either kind or cute, but you are?"

"Sure about that?" he asks, putting more force behind his thrusts again. But he only proves your point, intentionally increasing the force and pace gradually this time.

You gasp, small whimpers pushed out of you with every hit against your insides. But then you make eye contact again, and while he's so incredibly sexy, he also happens to give you another glimpse of his big, round eyes.

"You might be the devil, but you have the kindest eyes I've ever seen," you laugh, clinging onto him.

"I guess I'll have to be less kind, then," he says, moving one of his hands in between your legs, the pressure of his skilled fingers straight on your clit making you gasp once again.

"Why?" you breathe, words barely able to leave your mouth as more than a whisper. "I like kind."

His lack of reply goes practically unnoticed when he instead chooses to fuck you even harder, your sounds increasing in both volume and frequency and your nails surely leaving marks on his warm, wide back.

"Oh, God," you groan when he taps your clit determinedly.

"Taking her name in vain, huh?" he teases, but at this point, his voice is strained too, and his breaths are definitely labored.

"It's a habit."

"Still a sin."

You chuckle, out of breath. "I thought you complained that angels were too innocent? But sudd—suddenly, I'm not innocent enough?"

"Angel…" he starts, tone teasing. "You're being fucked by, literally impaled on, the devil's cock. You're obviously not that innocent."

"This is far from sin, though," you defend against his neck. "We're both… doing this will—willingly; no one is hurt in any way by this. Quite the… opposite, really."

"Really?"

"Yes. In a surprising… turn of events, you're actually much more… pleasant than I thought you'd be."

"Pleasant?"

"Yeah? And kinda endearing."

"While I fuck you like this?" he wonders, making a point of rolling his hips into you with extra precision, expertly hitting the sweet spot inside you with every thrust.

You lean your head back, shutting your eyes. "Yes. Mhm, just like that. Fuck."

"Like what? This?" he repeats his actions, earning another set of moans from you.

"Yeah. God, you're so good. I feel you everywhere."

"Good."

"Mhm." You bite your lip, barely able to think. "You're so good. Fuck, I'm close."

Clinging to him, you let the shallow breaths he fucks out of you warm his ear and the side of his neck.

"You feel like heaven, little angel," he leans down to mumble against your neck. He doesn't say anything else besides that, just keeps going at the same pace, drinking up your reactions as you near the edge.

You tense up, your entire body pulsing when you finally come, and the moan that slips out of you is quiet and breathy.

The devil fucks you through it, although slower for a while. All until you notice that he speeds up, evidently starting to chase his own high.

"Wait," you beg, still out of breath.

The devil, definitely not as evil as you would've guessed, slows down and even stops entirely. Still inside you, he looks down at you. It's those big eyes of his; they're not good for you.

He doesn't voice his confusion, just waits for your words.

"Do something for me?"

"What?" he's quick to ask, in no way beating the kind allegations.

You move, feeling his very much still hard cock slide out of you. The only sounds in the room are your breaths; his more strained and therefore louder than yours, and even if you don't watch him as you slide down to position yourself properly on the throne again, you feel his eyes on you.

"These are your mirrors? That you watch people through?" you ask, gesturing to the wall of five or so large mirrors, hanging on black stone wall as you adjust your dress. The reflected you looks alive but definitely more put together than you feel. Your hair is a little messy and your face flushed, but that's mostly it.

He stands confused in front of you, wondering what you're up to and why you seemingly wanted to stop. "Yes."

But you didn't. Instead, you pat the spot between your legs. "Sit."

The devil watches you with a confused and maybe even hesitant look, still catching his breath.

Your eyes turn even more hopeful. "Please?"

As if going 'fuck it,' he turns around, sitting down. You lean to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of his face as you wrap your arms around him, splaying your hands across his sweaty chest. He's so warm and firm under your touch, so large and muscular, and he even smells like nothing you've ever experienced.

"Do you usually have sex here? On your throne?"

"Sometimes, but I prefer the bed. More comfortable."

"When you do, though… Do you watch? The mirrors?" you say, nodding toward the large mirrors twenty feet away.

"Mhm. If they ride me then I watch."

"You watch them?"

"Yeah, I don't typically watch myself," he smiles.

"I want you to," you reveal, your voice quieter, more hopeful. A little mischievous, even.

At your words, you watch him lift his head, finding your eyes already observing him through the largest mirror, its intricate golden frame nothing compared to the vision reflected within.

Your gaze travels over his body; his golden skin, the bulges of his muscles, and the paths of his veins. Besides handsome, you've only ever heard him described as difficult and evil, but can something this beautiful really be evil? Sure, there's a darkness in his eyes that's probably not only due to their color, but… You don't know, you're just not sure.

"How many times do you usually come?" you ask, feeling him momentarily tense up when your hand slowly trails his stomach on its way down.

"In a week? A month?"

"In a row."

He looks at you through the mirror, eyebrows raised slightly. "Once?"

"Can you come more times, though?"

"Don't know," he answers. "Haven't tried. I usually just give the ladies what they want and however much they want first. By the time I come, everyone's spent."

You smile warmly at him. "Well, would you like to…? Try?"

"Sure."

Your heart beats with excitement as you move your hands to the armrests, pushing yourself up and folding your legs under you, just to gain some height against him.

"What are you up to?"

"Do you trust me?" you ask, gently pulling his torso back toward you.

"Do I trust you? An angel who I've just met?" he asks, and although his choice of words are skeptical, his voice isn't, and he leans back against you just like you wanted.

You understand, of course, you do, but… you'd say you'd trust him if the roles were reversed. And after all, you're an angel, and he's the devil.

"Keep your hands here, on the armrests," you instruct.

Obeying, he places his large, veiny forearms on the armrests, letting his hands hang off the edges. Satisfied, you wrap your arms around his chest, stroking his warm skin. You were told he can't affect you, can't make you abandon your logic in favor of his own agenda, but maybe they were wrong because he feels a little too right.

Slowly, you let your right hand descend again, finally gripping his hard cock, still coated in your wetness.

"I want to see how many times you can come. Is that okay with you?" you ask, nothing more than a whisper in his ear. To your delight, you glance down, seeing goosebumps erupt on his arms.

He doesn't answer you verbally, just nods.

"Okay. And if you don't like it, I will stop. But I hope you do."

He's thick and hard in your grasp, and you waste no time, moving your hand up and down, up and down. He's not the loudest, even though you don't think he purposely keeps the sounds from you. But the sound of his breaths, growing more and more shallow, and the way he seems to grip the armrests, tell you he's enjoying it when you pick up the pace. It brings what you'd consider a little too much satisfaction your way.

"I'm going to edge you, that okay?"

"Mean," he huffs, to which you laugh.

"I'll try to stop right before you ejaculate. That way, if I succeed, you can experience more orgasms."

"How does one make 'ejaculate' sound hot?" he comments, and while he's trying to remain his cheeky self, you see how his hand fidgets as you keep stroking him at a fast pace.

Somewhat… flattered?, you don't even think before you press a small kiss to his cheek.

Not long after you started, his big, muscular body starts to tense, and you notice his grip on the armrests tighten again, the veins on his hands and forearms popping.

You stop, carefully pinching his cock, hoping it was right before the edge. He lets out a groan, still tense and fidgeting.

"How does it feel?" you ask, sincerely hoping you're doing it right. It's not the easiest when you don't really know him or his body and preferences.

"It feels… good."

"Good. Look at yourself, please."

He does, biting his lip. You know, because you're also looking at him through the mirror in front of you. He's so beautiful, so intimidating yet inviting, splayed out in a way you'd still very much describe as confidently. His legs are spread, and his cock, hard and flushed an angry red, looks even bigger in your small hand. You see him look at the image of himself, hooded eyes showing no discernible emotion as his gaze travels up and down.

"I'll continue now," you warn, resuming the motion of your hand but at a slower pace.

He sighs, licking his lips, and you can tell that he tries to keep still.

"You're doing so well," you tell him, meeting his focused eyes in the mirror. His jaw is tense, and his eyebrows furrowed.

He groans in response, either to your words or your tightening grip on his slippery cock.

"You're so good. So good for me."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah. Gorgeous and handsome and kind and respectful, trying so hard to please."

You hope he doesn't interpret your words of encouragement as insulting or belittling in any way because they're not meant to be. But you think your calm, soft voice gets the point across. There's a faint hint of something in his posture, as if he's dropped a little of his arrogance.

You move your other hand, softly circling his left nipple. It hardens under your ghosting touch, and to your delight, you hear him inhale forcefully and feel him lean back further against you.

Jerking faster, you work him until you notice the signs again. The hardening grip of his hands on the armrests, the tensing of his stomach, and the increase in breaths. You see another pearl of precome appear, and so you stop, fingers pinching.

"Okay?" you check in on him.

He licks his lips. "Yeah."

While you wait for the orgasm to subside again, you move your hand from his nipple to slowly stroke his chest.

"You might be a more adept devil than I am," he laughs, out of breath.

You smile, trying to take it as a compliment. "But do you like it?"

"I do. It's frustrating, but it feels… amazing."

"Good, that's the point. Work up to it but postpone ejaculation. Works for most but not all enjoy it. Or they're just too impatient."

"Unless they have no choice?" he teases, turning his head as if to look back at you as much as he can.

"Oh, you have a choice, mister. Just say the word, and I'll stop."

Demonstrating, you let go of him, both hands hovering above his skin.

"No. Don't want you to."

"Don't want me to what?"

"To stop. Continue," he orders, grabbing your hands and putting them back on him, one on his cock and the other on his chest.

"Sure?" you ask, but you don't doubt that he's truthful. In fact, you don't think he would've let you even try what you're doing if he wasn't feeling it.

"Yes," he nods. "Please."

The added 'please' definitely does something to you, and you go back to stroking his chest comfortingly, smiling warmly at him even if he doesn't see it.

This time when you resume, you not only jerk him at a moderate pace and pinch and roll his nipple, but you nibble on his ear as well. It makes him grip your thigh and arch his back briefly.

"You're doing so well," you let go of his ear to whisper.

It takes less and less time to get him right to the edge with every turn, and this time—when his chest is heaving, and he's worked up a new sheen of sweat—you decide that it's the last.

With your fingers pinching his cock again, you kiss his neck and stroke his black hair. "Hold it," you encourage, noticing that he struggles more than before. He's so tense, his breathing so quick and labored, and he can't keep still. After a few seconds, he relaxes, breathing heavily and deeper.

"Good boy. I'll let you come for real this time, alright?"

He nods, but you can tell by the mirror that his eyes are closed.

For the last time, you reposition your hand around him, swiping your thumb over the head to collect the few pearls of precome that have oozed out to aid the glide. He jolts, clearly sensitive. You don't think you've ever felt a cock this hard in your hand, and it has you licking your lips as you admire it. He really is so, so pretty.

You begin again. Slow at first, up and down, thumb gliding over the head and the ridge below it. The devil leans his head back further, resting it on your shoulder. Of course, you don't pass up on the chance to kiss him where you can; his cheek, his jaw, and a little bit of his neck and ear.

His grip on your thigh tightens further when you pick up the pace, also stroking his chest all the way from his neck to his very defined abs. When you focus on his nipple again, he lets out a loud moan.

It doesn't take long until the signs reappear, but this time, you stroke him through it, mumbling praise in his ear and watching when he tenses up. His eyes are shut tight, and he lets out the most divine whimper you've ever heard a man make. Vulnerable but not quite pathetic. He comes a lot, his muscular stomach painted in white, some of it getting onto your hand as well.

You continue.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," you remind, not even giving him a break but stroking him into oversensitivity. You know some find it painful, but you hope it's not for him. "I think that you can come again."

He tenses and fidgets, his hand squeezing your thigh, but he doesn't say anything, so you take it as permission to keep going.

"You're such a good boy for me, Jeongguk. So, so good."

To your satisfaction, he remains hard and only a few moments later, he's coming again. His bottom lip bitten, a small whine slips past anyway as his cock throbs in your hand. It's only a small rope of come this time.

Breathing hard, he keeps his eyes shut, and his hands alternate between gripping your thighs and the armrests. His skin glistens with sweat.

"One more; we'll try for one more," you encourage, letting up the pressure and only stroking him with your thumb and index finger.

So obediently, he allows you to keep going, his stomach more flexed than relaxed and his head thrown back, eyes shut tight and lip still harshly bitten. Waiting for him to tell you to stop—or to go soft—you're pleasantly surprised when he groans deeply, and there's yet another small spurt of come painting your hand.

This time, you stop when the orgasm dwindles, letting go of him carefully. You wipe your hand on your dress where it won't be visible either way, and then you stroke his chest slowly, comfortingly.

"You okay?"

Keeping his eyes closed, he doesn't sound to be more than barely conscious when he mumbles a "yeah."

You smile, pecking his cheek again and stroking his hair. He hasn't said anything about it nor showed any discomfort, so you assume he's fine with your perhaps unusual show of affection.

For maybe five minutes, you caress him, the room comfortably silent. With every minute, his breathing calms and his body relaxes. Lightly, you trace the lines and ridges of his chest with your nails, smiling at the goosebumps on his arms.

Then, a black cloud of smoke appears. And another. And two more. They solidify into wide-eyed demons, staring at you, understandably surprised and worried as they spot their master basically unconscious, naked, and coated in his own release. Two of them look at each other, but no one seems to find their words.

"He's fine," you assure, tracing his jaw with featherlight fingers as his forehead slowly drops to lean against your neck. "He agreed to release the trickster, so I'd be grateful if one of you went and got him."

One of the demons nods, dissolving into black smoke again.

While you wait, you point to the devil's shirt on the ground, nodding gratefully when one of the other demons steps forward to pick it up and hand it to you. You don't know how much he cares, but as more and more demons appear, you make sure to cover the devil's soft cock with the shirt, just in case. You have no intention or desire to humiliate him in any way.

Wiggling out from behind him isn't the easiest, but you manage, adjusting your dress and your hair in front of one the mirrors just as the first demon appears with Jin in tow.

The trickster adjusts his purple linen shirt, tucked into black pants, as he peers over to the practically knocked-out devil.

"What happened here?" He shares the demons' wide-eyed expression, peering between you and the devil, and while you definitely look clean and put-together enough to not be involved, you know Jin knows.

"Nothing. Now come on. This is the last time we're getting you out of here. Next time, we'll let him keep you."

Jin nods, but by the growing smirk on his face, you can tell he's not about to stop his tricks.

You gesture toward the dark tunnel, walking a few steps behind Jin. The demons are all back now, most of them quietly watching you as you leave. One of them walks you, quietly opening the door for you as well, and you slip past it, faced with the steep stairs up to the earth plane. The slab of rock up there is ajar again, golden rays hitting the top part of the stone stairs.

You make it halfway up, fifty of the hundred or so steps, when you hear the grinding of the door reopening behind you. Halting, you look back to see the devil stand at the bottom, shirtless but wearing his unbuttoned pants and with his black hair messy.

The muscular build, so clear when he's holding onto the door, is such a contrast to his dark eyes. You're not sure if it's mostly the angle as you're looking down at him, but they look rounder than before. More innocent. Although he still looks rather confident, there's no trace of the cocky devil you first met.

"What can I say to make you come back?"

And just like that, it becomes real, and you fill with something heavy and unpleasant, watching him with somber eyes.

"It's not a good idea."

More like, it's a terrible idea. You're not allowed to, and it would be so incredibly risky.

"Please?"

You're not sure whether you enjoy having been right about him or not. But all you can do as you back up the stairs is to give him a shake of your head and a sad smile. He doesn't say anything else, and you turn, climbing the rest of the steps, Jin already nearing the top. He waits for you there, and when you're one step away, you glance back.

Having just turned his head, the devil doesn't notice that you've halted to watch him one last time. He's clearly stayed, quietly watching you climb all the way up. Defeated, he heads back inside, his head lowered, and the door shuts behind him.

You feel torn. Of course, you knew that you'd only visit him once and leave, either successful and with Jin in tow or alone. But you'd leave. And Jeongguk, the devil, would stay, doomed to sit at his throne in the underworld for eternity, never able to take even a step outside.

<previous | next>

It was a Friday afternoon, and while most would have fun plans, you were actually going to be locked away in the campus library with your study group. Your plan was to study for an upcoming anatomy exam, and then meet up with four of your group members to finish a psychology project due next week. 

You were about to spend the whole night in the library with people you weren’t even that familiar with. Even though they weren’t happy when you told them you were only available on Friday nights, everything worked out in the end. You offered to buy everyone coffee and pastries from the cafe where you work part-time.

You check your phone for the time, and your eyes glance at the notification bar: 9 unread messages from Jeon Jungkook. 

It’s not like you were intentionally not answering his texts; you were just…a little busy. Besides, he texted you unimportant things all week, like sending silly TikToks and asking how you were doing. 

Nothing important.

What was he thinking? On the very first night, you told him that if he wanted to keep doing this, it would be just him blowing your back out, nothing more, nothing less. There was no reason to talk outside of that when you made it abundantly clear you did not want a boyfriend and that wasn’t about to change for anyone.

Either way you should have known Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t listen, he made it blatantly obvious he liked you, always wanting to see you, stopping to greet you in the hallways, buying you snacks whenever he could. 

Sure it was cute, but you were almost positive you didn’t want that; you wanted to keep things on the low with him, and when you brought it up, he mumbled against your chest, ‘No one knows we fuck. They all know we’re just friends.’ 

Jungkook was popular, like really popular, so popular you’re pretty sure that at least half the girls on campus have seen his dick by now. Which made things a little more complicated because suddenly he only wants to see you more and more often. 

To keep things under control, you never let guys get too close, or you drew them in close enough only to pull away.

It kept you safe from heartbreak but also satisfied your need to be loved and wanted, and of course you made sure Jungkook knew he wasn’t the only guy you were seeing. You’ve been in a situation like this with another man, and you weren’t about to go through it again. 

You grab your bag filled with all your essentials, and the binder you carried around like it was a baby. Checking the time again you realize you had just enough time to pay a certain someone a little visit. 

Before stopping by the café, you stepped through the shortcut across the field—right where students passed to avoid going around.

The plan was just to walk by and see if he was there…

Jungkook stood by the dugout, helmet tucked under his arm, sweat glistening on his forehead. It’s been a week since he last saw you.

That means it’s been a week of stolen glances across the halls, small moments of eye contact that didn’t last very long. He tried to play it cool and told himself that you’re just as busy as he is. Maybe you had a bad week, a hectic schedule, or you were just working longer hours. 

He texted you…multiple times… 

On Monday morning he sent a simple “Morning,” with a couple more texts throughout the day, then again on Tuesday, “Studying late again? Want me to bring coffee?” No answer.

Wednesday night he asked if you had dinner already, and yesterday he sent a silly cat meme because…well, he thought of you when he saw it. 

He wasn’t needy, and never bothered you. You both agreed that there would be no labels, just sex, so technically, no one owed anyone texts or explanations. 

Then why did he feel this way?

He didn’t want to look desperate, but a voice in the back of his mind that kept saying, “What if she’s avoiding you?” Made him overthink everything. Was he being too much? Did he say something stupid the last time you saw each other?

Jungkook hasn’t really done this kind of thing with other girls, like sneaking into your dorm when the RA wasn’t around, stealing kisses in between classes, or spending quiet mornings tangled in blankets after a late-night “study” session. 

He pushed his feelings aside and tried to concentrate on his own things.

“Jungkook! You’re up!”

Coach Park's voice snapped him out of his daze. Jungkook straightened, grabbing a bat from the rack, rolling his shoulders back before stepping on to the plate. He squared his stance, knees slightly bent, bat raised, eyes locked onto the pitcher, Kim Mingyu. 

Mingyu was a show-off, with that stupid cocky smirk after every strikeout, loud trash talk that got on Jungkook’s nerves. They weren’t exactly friends, more like rivals who only tolerated each other because of baseball. 

The whistle blew, and Jungkook tightened his grip on the bat. Across the diamond, Mingyu turned and threw a fastball straight at him, Jungkook swung too early and the ball went flying past his face in a blur. 

Coach Park frowned, arms crossed. “Try that again,” he barked. 

Keeping his eyes on the ball, Jungkook quickly changed his stance and let out a sharp breath. The second pitch seemed to come in faster; it was a curveball. Jungkook took a swing and missed again, but this time he swung too late.

Jungkook didn’t even bother hiding his frustration, he dropped the bat with a quiet thud, shoulders slumping. Coach Park stepped forward, face stern as he raised a hand. “Mingyu! Change the pitch. Just throw it straight!” 

With a huff, Mingyu grabbed another ball. Coach Park patted Jungkook on the shoulder “Focus,” he said simply. “Breathe. You’re better than this.”

When Coach Park blew the whistle, the team groaned in unison. “Take ten, everyone,” the players scattered, grabbing water bottles and towels as they headed to the benches. 

Jungkook dropped his bat on the rack, still breathing hard. His jersey clung to his back from sweat. He grabbed a water bottle but didn’t drink yet– coach Park sat beside him. 

“Listen,” he said quietly, “you’re one of my best hitters…but you’re not in it today.” 

He crossed his arms. “Saturday’s game against Riverside? That’s your chance to shine.”

Jungkook twisted the cap off his water bottle and took a long swig, the cool liquid making him feel better. He avoided Coach Park’s gaze, staring across the field. 

“Yeah,” he said finally, “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Jungkook fiddled with the cap, he hadn’t slept well…beacause he kept thinking about you. A thousand scenarios played in his head, What were you up to that you didn’t even have a chance to answer his texts? Maybe something happened? A medical emergency? A family issue? 

He didn’t know anything, and that’s what bothered him. 

He knew he wasn’t the only guy in your life, he knew you had friends, other classmates you studied with, guys in your pre-med group you’d grab coffee with after lectures. 

But Jungkook was…something more than that, right? 

You kissed almost every time you saw each other. He memorized how you took your coffee, knew what your favourite movie was. He would like to think he was one of the important guys in your life that you would at least text back. 

The sound of one of the bats hitting the ground snapped Jungkook out of his daze. He bent down to pick it up, but something else caught his eye. 

He looked toward the path near the bleachers and saw you.

You walked through the shortcut behind a group of students, your skirt swaying with each step. The late afternoon sun made you glow, and your hair was blowing in the breeze like it was some sort of dream. 

When he catches sight of you, his pulse quickens, his hands feel clammy and his throat goes dry. Without realizing it, he straightens up quickly. 

You spot him as quickly as he spots you, and your hand rises out of instinct, waving at him with that sweet smile. He does the same, a goofy grin appearing on his face.

“Wait up!” He calls out, his voice a bit rougher than he intends.

Stopping in your tracks, you watch as he walks up to you by the short chain-link fence next to the field, brushing the dust off his uniform, trying to look somewhat presentable for you.

“Hey,” you said softly, as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You felt guilty as soon as you saw his face. You didn’t mean to ghost him; you were just busy this week.

Maybe you should have sent answered his texts.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, trying to act nonchalant, even though his heart is already pounding. Seeing you and actually getting to talk to you properly for the first time this week makes him a little nervous. 

He suddenly felt embarrassed over how many texts he sent that went without an answer, he wonders if you even saw them.

“Are you here to watch practice today?" He asks as leans against the fence. 

Every now and then, you would come to watch Jungkook during practice — well, not really watch, more like read by the bleachers while pretending like you weren’t staring whenever he turned away.

You look around the field behind him, his teammates stretching, some chatting before catching his gaze again. “I was just passing by,” you say, holding your binder close to your chest, your favourite bag hanging from your shoulder.

Jungkook could tell you were on your way somewhere, that’s for sure. The sight makes him curious, but he pushes the question aside for now, focusing on keeping this conversation going.

He pushes off the fence, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, then there’s a slight smirk on his face. 

“Just passing by, huh? Sure it’s not an excuse to come check me out?”

You laugh at the absurdity of his question, “Why would I come all the way here to check you out?” You both knew it was the other way around, Jungkook usually came to you. 

A chuckle escapes him at your comment, his smirk only growing wider, turning into a cocky grin. He leans on the fence again, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Are you sure about that?” He asks and you raise an eyebrow. 

“Well, it looks like you were headed to the library, and walking through here is taking the longer way around,”

It was technically a shortcut to the other side of campus, but not to the library. Your eyes widen a little,you try to think of a reason other than wanting to see him, but the way you reacted showed him he was right.

“It’s okay if you want to see me…I know I look good out here,” he says, voice low and confident. 

Then, you squint at him, acting nonchalant. “How can you be so sure?” 

He gives you a quick once-over, taking in your form. That skirt looked so good on you, and it was a little short for the library…or at least he thought so. 

He snaps out of his trance, “You seem like the type who’s into athletes.”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your smile. “You think so?” You glance over his shoulder at his friends, huddling up checking the two of you out. 

He follows your gaze and notices his teammates watching, grinning like idiots. “Hey!” He shouts at them, waving a hand, “Stop staring!” 

They laugh and turn away, but Jungkook is already back to looking at you, the sight of you biting your lip doing things to him that it really shouldn't be doing in the middle of practice. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, stepping closer to the fence, “I know so and if you keep looking at me like that…I’ll make you admit it later.”

Your eyebrow twitches, contemplating his words, and your binder almost slips out of your hands, but you catch it before it does.

“I can’t tonight.” 

His grin falters for a moment. It's been a week. Running a hand through his hair again, trying to shake off his disappointment. 

“Right, you’re busy.” He tries not to let his voice give away his real feelings. 

“What, you got a hot date or something?” He’s joking and trying to sound casual, but he really wants you to say that you’re free. 

“I wish,” you tease back, “I have this group project thing,” holding up the binder a bit as if saying, isn’t it obvious? 

He lets out a sigh of relief. Of course you’d spend a Friday night at the library, it’s just a group project, not a date.

That’s good… yeah.

He folds his arms over his chest. “A group project, huh?” He eyes the binder. “That explains the nerd energy coming off of you.”

You roll your eyes and give him that sarcastic ‘ha ha’ very funny look. He grins, eyes never leaving your face. “So, who’re you working with for the project? Anyone I know?” 

You don’t even notice his snooping, getting at the question in a discreet kind of way, trying to see if another guy’s name comes up.

As if he already doesn’t feel jealous at the thought of you working on a stupid project with some other guy on a Friday night. 

“Mmm, I don’t think so…” Your voice trails, trying to remember faces and names of the members in your group and see if they’re tied to Jungkook in any way.

“Mmm” he repeats, that wasn’t very reassuring. 

Though, he shouldn’t overthink it. 

He just hums in acknowledgement, gaze still fixed on you. “Alright then,” he pauses, thinking about something to say…should he ask if you were free tomorrow?

“Before you go, can you do me a favour?” 

You couldn’t help but be intrigued “Depends on the favour,” you lean in closer to the fence to hear what he has to say,

His eyes darken just a bit as you lean in, he lowers his voice, the smirk on his face only growing. “For being such a smartass you’re awfully compliant all of a sudden.” And you roll your eyes playfully with a huff. 

Jungkook looks around for a moment, at the field, his friends and the passers-by making sure no one is looking, “Come closer,” he tells you.

You do as he says, stepping closer, hands grabbing onto the fence, he reaches for you over the fence, his hand closing around your wrist and gently tugging you even closer toward him, your body just inches away from the metal. 

“I think this is as close as I can get,” you mutter nervously. 

He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper so only you can hear.

“Want to know what the favour is?”

“I do,” you whisper back, fingers grabbing onto his sleeve, looking at him in the eyes with a defiant glare, hoping he wasn’t about to say something stupid.

He glances around one last time, making sure you’re not being watched. When he’s sure no one is paying attention, his gaze lowers to your lips.

Jungkook leans in close, his breath ghosting your lips, his voice is soft, “Open your mouth,” he purrs full of challenge, a tease just to see if you’ll listen. 

You pause, taken aback, you were expecting him to kiss you and say something like, ‘Call me later.’

If you open your mouth, what was he going to do? Spit in it? In front of everyone? People were sure to see and talk about that. It’s disgusting, yet that doesn’t stop the shiver that crawls down your spine at the thought.

Curiosity killed the cat, you think. You're not sure what’s gotten into you, without thinking about it twice, you’re opening your mouth for him just like that. 

The sight of you obeying his command makes his breath catch in his throat. He watched you open your mouth, gaze hot and intense, and a low groan of satisfaction escapes him.

“Wider.” He challenges just to see how far you’re willing to go. 

‘Aaa' you let out, opening your mouth wider, his pupils dilated at the sight, your lips parted, completely under his command. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice soft like velvet. “I wish this fence wasn’t here so I could kiss you properly.” he hooks his thumb on your bottom lip before you could respond. 

Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a strawberry candy, the red wrapper crinkled as he peeled it open with his free hand.

Then he gently places the candy on your tongue, he knew strawberry was your favourite, he always bought some when he saw them at the convenience store near campus just because he thought you’d like that. 

You closed your lips around the candy, savouring the flavour, a shy smile on your face, it was gross but kind of sweet…

“Stay sweet for me, yeah?” he smirks and lets go.

Oh, Jungkook knew the effect he had on you, he did all of this on purpose! He was going to have you thinking about this allllllll night. 

He pauses and looks away. "Just...text me back," he says softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Even if it's just a 'hey' or 'I'm busy' or anything," you can tell him that he feels awkward saying this to you.

This was that shy side of Jungkook that you didn't see often but adored, “I just want to know that you’re okay.” he finally admits out loud. 

He looks over your face and notices that shy expression on your face, then smiles before turning back to the field and letting go of the fence. His honesty makes your face feel warm, and you turn away as well. Since when does this man have such an effect on you?

“See you around, sweets.” 

Jungkook always had a talent for worming himself into your brain without even trying. He was a no good parasite to your psyche, bringing himself to the forefront of your mind day after day, like the inconsiderate asshole he is.

You never could stand him, not understanding why Namjoon thought he'd be a good addition to the friend group. Sure, he obviously got along with Namjoon well, and Taehyung. But those two got along with anything that breathed, they were easy going like that. What surprised you was that Momo and Nayeon seemed to actually like him too, fond of him, not even indifferent the way you had hoped. You were the only one who didn't seem smitten by him, so clearly you were the problem.

But you weren't.

Jungkook may be charming, welcoming, maybe even a little handsome, but you weren't going to fall for his tricks. No, you were immune to his spell, refusing to fall for the facade he put up. It wasn't that he had done something in particular to set you off at first, some catalyst that sent you both over the edge towards a general disdain. Hell, part of you was admittedly a little curious about him when Namjoon first introduced him.

But there was something about him that made you not trust him, like he was hiding something.

He was always the first to leave the function, heading out way earlier than everybody else. Good luck trying to get him to go out on a Friday night, he always said he was "busy". You guys would have to twist his arm behind his back to convince him to go out for even an hour. 

"Maybe he has a girlfriend," Momo suggested when you first brought it up.

"Really? With how I hear him and the other guys talking about sex and such, I wouldn't think so. I mean wouldn't that have come up in conversation by now?" Nayeon questioned.

"Maybe he wants to keep her a secret. With a face like that I'm sure he's got options." Momo thought about it for a moment. "I at least doubt he's completely single, looking like that."

Ah, so that's the kind of man Jeon Jungkook was. You could definitely see it. Every time the others were able to snag him for drinks or some event, he never failed to have at least one girl approach him that night. Sure, Taehyung and Namjoon were immensely attractive as well, but there was always something about Jungkook. He had this inexplicable way of drawing people in, making them want to know more. Whereas others were intrigued by his air of mystery, you were perturbed.

At least, you tried to be. Admittedly you were always paying attention to him, aware of his presence in a room, tuned in when you heard his voice, watching when no one else was.

You noticed more things to dislike, things that others would easily dismiss.

He always had to have the picture retaken a million times if he didn't look good in it by his standards, which is ridiculous, because he looks good all the time. He'll slow you guys down when you passed by something reflective, like a mirror or window, just to fix his hair. He'd do the same to stop and take a photo of something, not even alerting anyone until you noticed a few yards ahead. You later found out he was a photography major, which you supposed made sense, given all the fancy cameras he had despite the fact he was just a college student.

In fact, he always seemed to have really, really nice things. Stuff that no one else your age could afford. A wide variety of cameras that took photos in better quality than your eyesight, Tiffany rings he sported that emphasized how long his fingers were, a Louis Vuitton backpack you were sure cost upward of a thousand dollars. You supposed he must come from a wealthy family, but Namjoon told you his parents were high school teachers.

The more you found out about Jungkook the less made sense. He was an anomaly, a conundrum that drove you insane every time you were near.

You must've been too obvious with your distaste, however, as it even caught Jungkook’s attention. 

"You don't really like me, do you?"

You had stepped out during dinner to take a breather, hitting Momo’s THC pen as you took in the quiet. You were having a bit of sensory overload in there, one of the nearby tables having a group of rambunctious kids running around, their parents refusing to actually parent. The food you had been given was wrong and you tried to eat it anyway, just to avoid embarrassing the waiter, but it was a bit too spicy for your palate. The real kicker, however, was that you happened to be sitting next to Jungkook, and suddenly everything else was inconsequential.

He was what was overwhelming.

You could smell his cologne, the scent so alluring you wanted to press your nose against his hoodie to get a better whiff. His profile was perfect in your periphery, but you couldn't risk turning your head to blatantly admire it. The way his fingers wrapped around the utensils, the small clink of his rings against the silverware, like he was daring you to look at his hands— it was tempting you to sin.

All you could do was sit quietly while everyone else participated in lively conversation, ignorant to your dilemma. You tried to breathe in and focus on the sound of the kids squawking a few feet away, but you only manage to breathe in more of his perfume.

You hadn't spoken a word to him, or even looked at him this entire dinner, and already it was too much.

You turned to Momo, nudging her arm. "I need to step outside for a second. Can I hit your pen?"

She nodded, handing it to you from her purse without a thought as you slipped out of the restaurant. You took a few hits, watching the smoke blow out, wondering if it looked that way mainly because of the pen or how cold it was outside. The faint heaviness beginning to form in the back of your eyes brought you some sense of comfort. You hated the cold, shoving your free hand in your pocket, but it was preferable to what was inside.

You thought you had gotten reprieve from the situation at hand; that is, until the situation followed after you.

Which brought you to now.

You stared at Jungkook, almost in disbelief. It wasn't like he had really made much of an effort with you, either. You've never had a real conversation with him, not once. You can't recall him really making any attempts, or you dismissing it. You just assumed he didn't think you were really worth the time, perhaps the least interesting friend in the group. Not that you'd consider him your friend by any means.

Why did he follow you out here?

You take in a deep inhale with the pen, feeling the smoke fill your lungs before blowing it out. "What gives you that impression?"

"We've been sitting next to each other for an hour now and you haven't even looked at me."

You probably would've looked if he were somewhere more convenient, like at the end of the table or right across from you. It felt too obvious to do so when he was directly to your left. You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the fact he had come outside with you just for this conversation. "I was occupied."

"How? You've barely talked the entire dinner." Clearly Jungkook wasn't going to let you get off that easy.

"What about you? It's not like you were making an attempt to chat me up," you pointed out. "You never have."

"Did you want me to?"

You blinked at him, now able to take in how he looked. He was wearing his usual oversized hoodie and jeans, hood draping over his head right above his bangs. His flushed cheeks seemed to be tinged with pink from the cold already. His eyes seemed so dark, almost intense. Perhaps you never noticed because it was never directed at you.

"Why would I?" You're filibustering your bravado now, mind scrambling to make sense of the situation.

"I don't know. We're in the same friend group. We should be friends."

Funny. You didn't think he actually cared about stuff like that.

"We aren't friends," you pointed out.

"We aren't," Jungkook agreed. There's a pause. "Why aren't we?"

"I don't know. You never really tried to get to know me, I figured you didn't care."

"You didn't seem like you wanted me to. You put me at much more of a distance than you do the others," he countered.

"I've known them longer." You tapped your fingers against the pen, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. Why did you feel the need to explain yourself to him? Should you have at least given him a chance? Why didn't you? Because you were afraid of him seeing right through you? Were you just afraid of rejection?

"So you were like this with them when you first met them?" Jungkook questioned.

Shit. "No..." you admitted.

"Then what's the deal?" 

"I..." Your mouth opened and closed, searching for some answer.

"Well?" Jungkook said sharply with widened his eyes, agitated by your lack of words.

"I just..." You sucked in a breath, bolstering. "I don't trust you, I guess."

Jungkook seemed genuinely taken aback by your words. He blinked at you, furrowing his thick brows, flabbergasted. "Excuse me?"

Finally he was the one caught off guard. You felt a strange rush of pride at the new sensation. The moment you saw the look on his face you couldn't get enough, all of his incredulous disbelief solely aimed at you. "I mean, yeah. You're practically just a stranger to me who was shoved into my life. It's not like you really seem all that committed, either. I mean, you barely respond to the group chat, you always leave early, Namjoon has to practically threaten your life for you to go out." You looked him in the eye, face unreadable. "Why are you here?"

His lashes fluttered as he took in your assessment, the gobsmacked expression he wore morphing into something darker. 

"Fuck you," he hissed.

"Excuse you?" You blanch at his vulgarity.

"Yeah, because I've done absolutely nothing to you, and you apparently had this whole judgement already made without even getting to know me," he huffed. "You make all of these assumptions, say you don't trust me, and act like it's my fault. You never made any effort to get to know me, but apparently you do just from, what, observing me?"

"I've seen enough." You crossed your arms, "Everything I just pointed out was true."

"What? You've been watching my every move, princess?"

Your nose wrinkled in disgust, Jungkook digging under your skin with the sudden, demeaning title. "Don't call me that."

"No?" Jungkook smiled, his fang-like teeth almost blinding you. It was the first time you’d seen him do that to you, but for some reason all you feel is ice. "It's fitting though. Prissy princess who judges people without even trying to get to know them."

The audacity of the man. You were about to sound belligerent if he kept pushing.

"Since when did you care? You've never even tried with me. Like you even give a shit."

"I tried when I followed you out here. Turns out you're just getting high because you can't stand to sit next to me." Jungkook’s eyes darted to Nayeon’s pen in your hand. He didn't seem to be a stoner the way the rest of the group was, always passing the bowl along as your group got high in Joon’s "freak shack". It was just a shed where he kept his motorcycle and some lawn chairs, but it's where you guys typically hung out if you weren't out on the town. You were starting to suspect Jungkook had a general disdain for THC, with you now joining the list of dislikes.

"You're right." You took a big hit of the pen, sucking in harshly and holding it in, just to piss him off further. Smoke tendrils curled around your lips. "I can't fucking stand you."

Jungkook scowled, waving his hand in the air to dissipate the smoke, glaring at you hard. "Feeling's mutual."

You couldn’t help but smirk a bit at that, and it felt like something clicked into place. Maybe this was inevitable, since the very first moment you saw him. Perhaps it was fate. You two never had a chance at getting along, and now you didn't have to pretend any more. You shoved the pen into your purse, turning away from him. "I'm going inside."

Jungkook didn't say anything after that, just following you inside as you both took your seats. You turn to your right, completely away from him, like if he was out of your line of vision he'd cease to exist. You're more animated in your conversation with Nayeon now, almost to make a point. You weren't the problem, he was.

You were unsure if the rest can sense the icy tension between you two, but if they did, they didn’t bring it up. You spent the rest of the dinner talking to everyone but Jungkook, pointedly ignoring him despite the fact he was right next to you.

Maybe you were a little prissy.

—

You had assumed that you and Jungkook would go back to being indifferent towards each other after that conversation.

Boy, were you were wrong.

Now, you two seemed to have formed some sort of relationship, and an unhealthy one at that. 

You walked into Namjoon’s freak-shack, having hitched a ride with Momo to get here. The group was sitting in a circle, some in lawn chairs, some in beanbags, others on the floor, right next to the heater. Taehyung was taking a huge rip from the bong, hacking his lungs out as soon as he pops off the top of the tube.

Jungkook was the first to notice your arrival, eyes sliding to you. He looked ridiculously good, spreading his legs from where he sat in Namjoon’s shitty chair, arms crossed. It made you infuriated.

"The princess is here," Jungkook said, not even greeting you directly.

You scowled, stomping in, Momo trailing behind shortly after. Namjoon smiled at you both, slapping Taehyung’s back repeatedly as he tried to recover. "Dude! You guys are going to lose your mind when you try out this strain! My plug really hooked us up," he boasted.

"That's some good shit right there," Taehyung coughed, voice somewhere between a wheeze and a rasp.

You reached for the bong, completely skipping over Jungkook.

Jungkook raised a brow. "Aren't you considerate."

You rolled your eyes, "Like you were going to take a hit anyways."

"Maybe I was," he argued.

"Oh yeah? Come here, take it from me then. See what happens."

Nayeon groaned, shaking her head. "Can you guys not fight right now? You're ruining my buzz."

Ever since that conversation, your interactions with Jungkook were always negative. He was always picking a fight with you now, calling you that nickname he knew drove you crazy, always making some snide comment. You didn’t remember him being this talkative before. You almost missed the days of you two being practically silent around one another.

And yet... there was some strange thrill that came out of arguing with him. It was like a dance, a battle, some back and forth where one would win, but it was never truly over. Sometimes you looked forward to the hangouts just because you knew this was coming. Sure, you couldn't stand Jungkook but... Maybe you just needed to let off steam, and it was easier when you didn't care about the other's feelings.

Jungkook never held back from your sharp tongue, delivering his own blows as well. Hell, sometimes he'd find you alone just to make some snide remark. 

"Just like you to assume, huh?"

"What, not good enough for you, princess?"

"I guess that's your call to make, since you know everything and all that."

At first you didn't know what to do with all of the attention Jungkook was now giving you, but there was something addictive about it. Sure, it wasn't positive attention, but it was attention, and it was from him. For some reason it made a world of difference, like in some sick, twisted way you were special, because as far as you were aware, you were the only person he treated like that.

The others might've been annoyed with your constant bickering, but you knew you and Jungkook saw it differently. It was like your way of getting along, the constant jabs leading to... you didn't know what. You wouldn't be surprised if you and Jungkook got in a physical altercation one day, so maybe that. You'd probably be the one to throw in the first punch, anyway.

—

"He's absolutely infuriating! He thinks he's soooo princely, with the quiet, goody two shoes act," you huffed, digging the strap of your bag deeper into your shoulder. "It doesn't help that he's freakishly hot, either. Bastard was never told no in his life, and now all of us have to suffer the consequences."

Here you were again, complaining about Jungkook to your best gal pals. God, they must be sick of hearing about this. Still, you had a pretty good reason for being pissed this time. Mainly that Jungkook happened to run into his friend at your favorite coffee shop, said friend being the man who stood in front of you in line. Charming Jungkook had managed to cut ahead of you to join him, turning back once to give you a cocky grin that confirmed this was absolutely a slight against you.

"You know, you're more alike than you'd think. You're both stubborn, hot heads—" Nayeon began.

"Not good qualities to share," you reminded.

"Both of you enjoy that disgusting Cheerwine soda, are on weird sides of TikTok, and somehow find a way to be cold in 70 degree weather, " Momo interjected. "And you collect physical media!"

"Woo, capitalism?" you fake cheered. "Not my point. He's too infuriating to even think of that way."

"I think you're just too pent up lately. Stressed. You should probably get laid," Momo laughed. "It's been a while for you. I know I wouldn't have lasted as long as you have. I'd be feeling like I could explode any minute."

"Trust me! Accurate assessment. The problem is I haven't met anyone I want to fuck," you sighed.

"You admitted Jungkook was attractive," Nayeon pointed out.

"Yeah, I mean sure, he is. I'd probably fuck him if I didn't know him." You rolled your eyes. As much as you couldn’t stand his guts, you had reckoned that the very first thing you thought when you saw him was lustful. lustful, like, if Jungkook ever found out today you thought it, he’d get a restraining order. "Very unfortunately for me, I do know him. And I also know that I can never even entertain the idea of letting that two eyed cretin get the better of me."

"I suggest you just wack off in the mean time," Momo shrugged. "I know my right hand has done more for me than any man ever has."

"Same," Nayeon agreed.

"Trust me ladies, I've got gooning down to a science. Lately though nothing's hitting the spot." It was incredibly common for the three of you guys to be way too comfortable with each other. Oftentimes you guys were providing TMI on your hookups, sending each other twitter links, sharing kinks, or straight up watching porn together just to give commentary. They were more than familiar with your masturbation-addiction, given the fact that you hadn't been touched by another in literal years. 

"I thought those audios you found were helping?" Momo inquired.

"Yeah, but there's only one creator I like, and he's been on hiatus lately. I've got all of the materials he's released so far memorized at this point." You shook your head. "I need to find a new field to discover."

"What've you covered so far?"

"The basics. Pornhub, twitter, manga, hentai, audios, Reddit, GIFs, Rule34, tumblr, AO3, pretty much any fanfiction site actually." You counted out the different websites with your fingers, emphasizing your efforts. "I probably have a problem at this point, actually."

"Have you ever tried like, live stuff?" Nayeon questioned. 

"What do you mean?"

"Like people who film themselves in real time getting fucked or jacking off. Cam-people," she clarified.

"You mean like OnlyFans?" You pursed your lips. "I see the bots all the time under posts on Twitter. They've never really intrigued me. I’d feel little pathetic with the idea of paying for porn when there's so much of it that's free on the internet."

"Some of it’s free. Frankly most of it unless you get into someone specific. There’s camming websites too. I go to one particular site, it's pretty niche. It's none of that corny, bad acting, fluorescent lighting, bullshit. Granted, I'm mainly looking for the girl ones, but I know there's a guys section as well." Nayeon shimmied her shoulders for encouragement. "Who knows? Might fix the lone-rut you’re in, at least, until you fix your actual rut."

"Fuck it, send me the link," you shrugged. "It can't hurt to try."

—

You scrolled through the website Nayeon had shown you with little preamble, the array of cock and pussy on your screen barely disconcerting. You looked at so much porn nowadays that you were quite literally desensitized. It was hard to find anything that particularly peaked your interest, the flesh tones in each individual box blurring together as you rolled the wheel on your mouse on and on into the abyss. 

Finding no luck through the explore page, you head over to the Top Trending section; perhaps what was currently most popular would give you some idea where to start.

Watching people jerk off never had much appeal to you. How much could a person do on their own, anyways? Part of what was typically so exciting about porn was seeing two or more people come together, seeing their desires mix and fight with the others, almost in battle.

But hey, maybe there was something you were missing. There had to be a reason this particular field was so popular.

You go to the top videos on the camboy section of the website, eyes barely registering the tan, muscled figure in the thumbnail. Your eyes briefly skim over the username and attached description. Goldenboy. I like it messy. Nice hook. That was enough for you. Clicking on the top trending video without much fanfare, and instantly it's like the wind had been knocked out of you.

It wasn't because of the toned abs and big dick, which you had come to expect already. It wasn't even the pretty lips and sharp jawline that hovered at the top of the screen, perfectly parted and letting out drawn out, breathy moans.

No, it was because of how wet the cock on your screen was, standing tall, pre-cum oozing from the tip and down over delicate fingers, trickling along his balls to pool into the seat of his gaming chair, lone drops spilling from the edge. The camboy jerking off on your computer was so obscenely wet, the sounds of his hand playing with his cock filling your headphones. He wouldn't even need lube, you suspected, probably ready to go always if this is how wet he already was. It looked like he had cum all over himself already, and he was still hard, cock twitching in his hand as it slammed down to his balls repeatedly, spreading the mess everywhere.

Goldenboy moaned, a long, drawn out sound that made your toes automatically curl.

"Fuck, baby..." The deep bass of his voice itched a sweet spot in your brain, making you fully tune in to him. "Gonna make me cum so hard..."

You shifted in your seat, rubbing your thighs together as you watched him lean over, spitting on his cock with a thick wad that dangled from his lips for a moment, hovering over the head before dripping all the way down.

He smiled, a small smirk caught on screen as he smeared his spit along with the cum, making his lap even messier. 

"Think a slut like you deserves it?"

You found your mouth automatically watering, drool pooling inside as you imagined running your tongue up from the man's balls to his tip, collecting his cum as you go until you had enough to swallow and do it all over again. You knew instantly that if you ever had the chance to get with a guy like him, you wouldn’t waste the opportunity.

You clicked on Goldenboy’s profile and looked at what else he had. A plethora of old videos appeared, but each slightly grey and with a lock symbol on the thumbnail. The time stamps on the videos taunted you, some quick enough for an addicting loop, some long enough for you to edge along with him.

Subscribe for access to Goldenboy’s additional content.

Your eyes slid between the profile picture and the different thumbnails, and you bit your lip at the realization.

"Shit."

—

Some might think it's silly to pay $10 a month to jerk off, but clearly they hadn't been introduced to the wonderful world of Goldenboy the way you were. 

Oh, how little they know.

Quickly the cam-site had become your favorite streaming service, the link automatically filling into the search engine when you began to type the first few letters.

Goldenboy was addicting , to say the least. 

He had variety. Different themes or costumes he would wear for special occasions. The rings he used the decorate the hands he fucked his cock with, the string of curses he let out every time he came, the dirty words he said to his followers. The man was a treat in every facet of the word. He had an aura permeable even through the screen, and even though you couldn't see his face you knew he was attractive. He had that cocky, smug attitude of someone who knew they were hot. 

He was definitely just as big as he appeared. It was harder to garner the size in comparison to his hand, needing two wrapped around to cover the entirety of the shaft alone. On one stream he was requested to compare it to something, and your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets as he held it next to Dasani water bottle. 

He smirked, watching the chat come to life, losing their minds at his gargantuan size. Commenting about how good he'd make it hurt, how deep he could go, how full they'd feel.

"Aw, don't be like that. I'd make it fit, don't worry," he assured, his voice sweet in a mocking way. "I'll make you take it."

Sometimes, for the first few minutes of the streams, when viewers were entering the chat and buzzing with their comments, he'd tilt his head and smile. Like something someone said really amused him, and somehow he was able to make someone feel special from who knows how far away.

"That's cute baby. Real cute." He let out an ominous chuckle, one that said you didn't even know what was coming. "Want me to show you how cute I find it?"

He knew how to switch up the vibes, drive people crazy with his teasing. He could edge himself for the entire hour, until his cock was a pathetic, dripping mess, flushed red and aching to cum, just like the rest of you were. Still, he'd refuse to finish himself off yet, wanting to push everyone else to the brink with him only until he allowed it. 

"Impatient little sluts," he hissed, squeezing his balls, neglecting his cock as it dangled in the air untouched. "You're not in control. I am. You sit there and edge like a good girl until I say, that's how this works."

Other times he'd waste no pretense, mean from the get go, spewing filth as his followers went wild in the chat.

"No," he spat, a sneer on his lips as fisted his cock, using a pocket pussy a viewer had purchased from his wishlist, finally breaking it in. "I wouldn't give you it. Just another brat who needs to learn her lesson, I bet. I'd slap your cunt raw and cum on it after for good measure. I wouldn't even fuck you."

You've begun commenting as well, joining the influx of subscribers vying for his attention, many of your additions being lost in a sea of desperation. You were just another faceless user, starving for another stranger on the screen.

There was one time you were able to catch his eye, though. 

prettyprissy02: wonder if that big cock's actually good for something

You had commented at the perfect time, right when there was a slight lull in the chat.

Goldenboy mouthed along to your words, reading it, a breathless smile on his face at your audacity.

"Good for something, huh?" He shook his head as if in disbelief. "Real brat we have in the chat, huh? I can think of something it'd be useful for."

He licked his lips, another bead of pre-cum sliding down and over his hand, taunting you.

Your hands flew to the keyboard, heart racing at having him reply to your comment.

prettyprissy02: yeah? like what

He hummed, as though he were deep in thought. He tilted his head to the side, his voice a sweet caress. "Shutting that whore mouth."

His words rang in your ears, and you swore you never came as hard in your life as you did that night.

Safe to say, you were perhaps a bit more calm now with the help of Goldenboy. He had so many videos, endless content for you to spend nights obsessing over. You practically had the sound of his moans etched into your brain, and you now had something to look forward to every Friday night, when his weekly shows were. The amount of orgasms the man had helped you through by now was almost enough for you to entirely forget what anger brought you to him in the first place.

Almost.

—

You had begged Momo and Nayeon to leave you be and skip out on the group's Saturday game night. As much as you're typically jumping to beat everyone in a round of Catan off of 3 glasses of wine, you admitted to them you'd much rather goon at home and get your daily does of 5 nuts.

Unfortunately, your friends didn't see that as a good enough excuse.

Normally you were especially excited about game nights, always looking forward to rubbing your victory in Jungkook’s face. Tonight, however, your mind was focused on the thought of rubbing something else in Goldenboy’s face, and your lack of concentration showed in your performance.

While Tae and Momo played a round of MarioCart on Joon’s only Wii controls, the rest of you played Catan, your favorite board game on a usual night.

It seemed, however, that the familiar hexagons would do little to distract you from the constant need you felt nowadays. Your strategy was unpolished, your moves predictable. Today the dice weren't on your side, and every time your mind drifted to a certain camboy you took a sip of wine, which ended up resulting in you getting more fucked up than intended. And horny, super-shockingly enough.

Jungkook had even managed to take you off your game, today, managing to beat you in a round of Catan despite the fact you had been the reigning champion. Usually you could strategize against him with ease, with your petty moves of cutting off his routes and stealing his resources. Today, though, you were off the ball, mind too preoccupied with the thought of a wet cock and the wine in your system only encouraging it.

The anger that you felt after you lost, being the sore loser that you are, only ignited your frustration further.

Jungkook was so smug about it, too, no doubt soaking in the feeling of revenge, every time you gloated about beating him now coming to the forefront. "Not in it today, princess?" He teased, watching you quietly stew in rage. "Clearly your mind must be somewhere else for you to play this terribly. You must be losing your touch."

You felt your blood boiling at his words, mainly because he was right. You had spent so long with your turns today, too, your mind drifting to Goldenboy and what he was doing right now, clips of his videos running in your mind like a movie.

"Shut up, Jeon. You got lucky once, big deal. Doesn't change the fact I beat you every other time," you scowled, quickly grabbing your pieces to pack the game away, flicking one of his houses back to him.

"Sore loser," he taunted, pesky grin on his face. 

That required you to down another glass to wipe the disgusting image from your head.

You later stumbled into the kitchen, instinctively opening up the app (because yes, you were so down bad you decided to download an app to a porn site) and open Goldenboy’s page.

You don't see any new videos, and the thumbnail from last night's stream glares at you with familiarity. All you see is a new community note.

It's a picture of his veiny hand over the bulge in his jeans, the tan skin contrasting nicely with the denim, his grip teasing and firm. The picture was taken too closely for you to see anything in the background, forced to focus only on his long fingers and tight fabric. The caption was enough to make your mouth water.

Want a taste?

You groaned, refilling your empty glass with another round of Chardonnay. You have only two things on your mind right now: your hatred for Jungkook, and your lust for Goldenboy. Unfortunately the white wine in your system only makes you more vulnerable to your inhibitions.

You heard a noise from the pantry, the shadow inside dancing with the light, and in your drunken stupor you swung the door open.

Jungkook stared at you, wide-eyed, shocked. You didn't even think to ask what he was doing inside of a closed pantry, instead scowling at him and marching over.

"You!" You pointed your finger at him, crowding into his space until his back was pressed against the shelves, and you were slamming the door behind you.

Jungkook seemed equally bewildered that you trapped him in a pantry, his eyes giving a faux innocent look that would've made a more naive you swoon. He didn’t seem that drunk, at least, not as drunk as you.

"What's your deal, huh?" You pressed your manicured finger to his chest, as though trying to push him further back when there was no space for him to go. "You just get under my skin and walk away, over and over again."

"I do," Jungkook admitted.

Your brows furrowed, eyes narrowing at him as you pressed your hand against him, trying to steady yourself. "Why? Do you just like riling me up, is that it?"

"Please, don't act like you're so innocent." Jungkook’s long fingers wrapped around your wrist, securing your hand against his chest as he glared back at you, yanking you closer. His large hand completely dwarfed yours, reminding you of who was bigger, stronger, just how much smaller you were in comparison. Whereas you looked more flushed after drinking, he just looked brighter, his face glowing like moonlight inches away from yours. You knew he had to be somewhat drunk as well, having watched these same fingers curl around the stem of a wine glass repeatedly throughout the night, his Adam's apple bobbing along the column of his throat as he drank, mocking you. It kept reminding you of Goldenboy, and how the muscles in his neck moved as he gulped down the saliva pooling in his mouth when he started to reach the edge, sometimes failing to swallow enough and allowing the drool to slip down the corner of his lips, begging for someone to lick it up. "You're just as guilty as me."

"And how is that, huh?" Your hand curled into his hoodie. You briefly wondered what he looked like beneath clothes. Would he have the same broad shoulders, toned abs, and rock hard, perfect biceps that Goldenboy did? He usually dressed in hoodies and sweats, letting them swallow his taller frame. You've never even seen him shirtless, the goddamn vampire always stepping out in a swim shirt on pool days to protect his ivory skin. Your gaze couldn't help but rake down his form, taking in the oversized hoodie and the denim jeans that reminded you of the photo you just saw.

"You enjoy pissing me off, too. Don't deny it." He leaned in a bit closer, as though to say he weren't intimidated by you trapping him in here. "You wouldn't be in here picking a fight if you didn't like it."

Your mind spun from both the alcohol and the accusation, and you didn’t want to confront the feeling bubbling in your gut either way.

"I think you're just projecting. You want attention from be so bad, you don't care how you get it," you shot back.

"Me?" he questioned incredulously, brows raised. "Wanting attention from you? When you were the one who followed me in here? You just can't leave me alone, can you? I'm always in that pretty head of yours, huh?” He tilted his head, patronizingly, like you were something to be pitied. “I don't even have to try, you're just that easy."

"Eat shit." The words sounded half-assed even to you.

"You know what I think?" Jungkook asked, inching closer, making you feel crowded even though you were the one who cornered him in the first place.

"Fun fact: I don't care to," you snarled, crossing your arms.

Jungkook didn't listen, though. He continued as if your defensiveness was meaningless.

"I think you act like a brat because you're just fucking needy. You want someone to touch you so bad you don't even know how to act anymore." His eyes burned into yours as he said it, words low to let them sink into your skin and read you for filth.

Your mouth went dry, and suddenly you're at a loss. Jungkook’s gaze grazed over your face, so heavy you could almost physically feel when it dragged over your lips.

"Why the fuck are you even in a pantry?" You attempted to switch subjects, gain footing, as though finally registering the spices to your right and ramen packets to your left. 

"Wanted to be alone for a second, and Joon’s hogging the bathroom," Jungkook excused quickly, his words easy. "The real question is, why are you in here with me?"

You opened your mouth to answer, his question rendering you silent. He looked at you, waiting on a response, that infuriating smirk gracing his lips again as he realizes you're scrambling for a response.

The alcohol was making your thoughts all fuzzy, and you curled your fist tighter around the collar of his hoodie, gripping onto him.

"Oh? No snarky remark?" Jungkook chuckled, finger lightly tapping against your hand from where it was still wrapped around your wrist. "That's not like you."

"Shut up," you gritted, trying to press him further against the shelves. He was too strong though, pushing against you, leaning in despite your grip on his clothes.

"Were you that desperate to be alone with me, that it?"

The question made you freeze, stunned by his words. You weren’t even able to give a proper response before the pantry door was suddenly yanked open, and the two of you were forced to look at a very confused Namjoon.

He blinked at the two of you, processing the scene, Jungkook’s back pressed against his soup cans and your hand curled into a fist at the base of his throat. Both of you stared at him with wide eyes, caught in a moment that almost seemed intimate.

"Uh... is everything good here?" Namjoon asked, eyes darting between you.

You quickly let go of Jungkook, stepping back and pushing your way past Namjoon, shaking your head of the many thoughts that flooded your mind the second before he showed up. "Peachy," you grumbled, slipping away.

You took a deep breath, wiping down the hand that was on Jungkook, like that alone would erase the feeling of the texture of the fabric. You couldn't believe, drunk or not, that you had let yourself lose to Jungkook not just once, but twice in one night.

What shocked you more was the tension you felt in the small, cramped space. His body close to yours, the alcohol making you bold and reckless.

For some reason, it felt less like a fight and more like foreplay. 

—

You were half-determined to cancel plans with your friends for the upcoming party. Truth be told, you would've rather spent your Friday night tuned into an Goldenboy livestream, happily gooning away with him for the umpteenth time.

Unfortunately for your plans, he shied away from his loyalty to his schedule, announcing in a community post that he would be opting out of this week's broadcast, and would instead post a prerecorded video on the following Saturday. Sure, you were excited about that, but still. Something about the thrill of seeing him in real time, having him read your comments, the command he had on your body from who knows how many hundreds of miles away— it was impossible to beat.

Still, you supposed it'd be better to distract yourself from the disappointment. That was really your only other plan anyways. You might have to seek therapy if you started to let your addiction to touching yourself control your social life, too. 

Still, Nayeon could be very persuasive, and despite the fact that you almost fought Jungkook in a pantry last time you were all together, she insisted you had to join them tonight, and even though you didn't want to be out in the first place, there were conditions.

"Can you at least try getting along with Jungkook tonight?" Nayeon begged, cute pout on her lips. "At least apologize to him for trying to fight him last week, at the very least."

You crossed your arms, hating how often it was now being brought up against you. "I was drunk. I barely remember how we even got there in the first place."

"It looked like you were going to either kiss him or punch him, according to Namjoon."

"Namjoon doesn’t know shit about shit," you huffed, exhausted with the topic at hand already."Can we please stop talking about it? I want to put it behind me.”

"Promise me you'll at least try to apologize."

You rolled your eyes, giving a reluctant nod. "I'll try."

You and the girls ended up showing up late, mainly due to Momo spending what felt like forever to do her makeup. The boys were already inside, apparently, and Nayeon had disappeared from your side in search of them. Momo, on the other hand, searched for a drink, offering to get you one.

You declined, still embarrassed by the events from last time you drank. If you were going to make some form of amends with Jungkook, it'd be best to do it without the help of tequila.

You yourself walked through the crowds, trying to see if you could spot the guys, or perhaps anyone you knew and wanted to avoid. Maybe if you avoided Jungkook all night you could lie to Nayeon and say you got the job done. Maybe Jungkook had already forgotten about the incident, and chalked it up to be another typical fight that transpired between you.

You doubted it, though. You knew Jungkook well enough at this point that you suspected he would hold it over your head, taunting you with it.

For what part, exactly, you were nervous to find out.

Finding no luck inside, and irritated from constantly bumping into others in general, you decided you needed a place to properly breathe.

You stepped out on the porch, welcoming the autumn air, surprised to run into Jungkook of all people.

Shocked to see him with a joint between his lips, mainly.

"I didn't know you smoked," you couldn't help but quip, mind racing back to the last time you were together, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the memory. You wondered for a moment if it bothered him the way it bothered you. You thank your lucky stars you weren't fucked up right now the way you were last time you saw him. Otherwise you'd probably be leaning him against the railing, threatening to fight him then and there. Or worse, you might kiss him just to shut him up, maybe bite on his tongue for both good measure and punishment.

Jungkook turned his head to you, and for once it wasn't with a mocking sneer or look of general disdain. No, he looked a lot like how he did those last few seconds at Namjoon’s house. More smug, more knowing, like he had a secret you wanted to know. You couldn't help but feel yourself be drawn in. He stared at you, face morphing to one of guard and caution. He blew out smoke, eyes intense, his expression barely illuminated from the light inside and the moonlight overhead. "Gonna tell on me?"

You shook your head, stepping forward. "Snitches and stitches, however it goes."

You leaned against the railing with him, and he offered you the joint, your fingers barely brushing with his as he passed it. You're surprised he's even offering, half expecting him to tell you to fuck off for the pantry-stunt you had pulled. Perhaps this strain made him a bit more tolerable. You inhaled deeply, watching the tip of the joint glow orange again, holding the smoke in your lungs before letting it billow out of your lips. Jungkook watched you intently, eyes never leaving your face, quiet.

You eyed him, wondering why he was suddenly acting so nice to you. Was it the weed? If this was high-Jungkook, you could certainly get used to him.

"What brings you up here?" Jungkook asked, taking the joint from you. "I hope not to threaten my life again. Should I step away from the ledge?"

You rolled your eyes at his over-exaggeration. "I don't recall ever threatening your life, Jungkook."

"Really? I remember differently," he hummed. "Like you shutting the door behind you and shoving your fist by my neck."

You felt your face burn at the memory. "You're so overdramatic."

"Look who's talking."

There's a beat of silence, both of you staring at each other in the dark, the smell of weed in the air.

"Wasn't in the mood to party, I guess," you said honestly, a small shrug in your shoulders. "I wasn't even planning to be here, tonight, actually. Kept thinking about what I would've rather been doing tonight, instead."

"Which is?"

Oh, fucking myself to some stranger on the Internet, like scheduled.

"Being at home." You're struck with how much eye contact he makes with you now, gaze never leaving yours as he breathes in deeply and lets the smoke escape his lips Were his eyes always as captivating as this? You supposed you never thought about it much when you were arguing. "Plans got in the way."

"You mean this party? Why even go?"

"It's not the party." You sighed, thinking about the best PG way to word it. While you had no problem telling Momo and Nayeon the problem bluntly, you knew better than to give your worst enemy the knowledge that you have nothing better to look forward to than gooning at home. "I have this show I watch every Friday, but there's no new episode this week. I went to this because that was really my entire plan for tonight."

"I get what you mean." Jungkook passed the joint back to you.

"What about you?" You accepted the offering, taking in a deep breath. It must've been too much, though, because you're coughing out when you finish the question, barely managing to hack it out. "I thought this wasn't your scene?"

Jungkook surprisingly reached for your back, patting it as you continuously cough. The way he rubbed your back soothingly was enough to jar you, and you quickly glared up at him when your heart skipped a beat. You prayed the fabric of your clothes and the combination of weed is enough for him to not feel it. He only gives you a small smile, one you're unable to discern in the dim lighting. 

"It's not so much that." He removed his hand once you straightened your back and quit your hacking, and oddly enough you missed his warm touch in the cold already. "Let's just say my plans fell through, too."

"I gotcha." You passed him the joint again, eyes raking over his outfit. The all black fit of dark jeans, a black shirt, and black and blue jacket on top, was enough to shroud him in the shadows that surrounded you two. The dulled music from inside and the sound of the night around you felt intimate, almost in another time entirely. Was this the weed? "I'm, uh, sorry for last time, by the way."

"Oh? What for?"

"For being so... aggressive, I guess." You didn't know how to properly word it. Sorry for almost choking you out? Sorry for thinking about kissing you while I did it?

"I think I'm used to it from you at this point," he shrugged, taking in a deep inhale of the joint. 

You nodded quietly, subtly shivering from the quiet cold of the night sky.

In comparison to his warmer fit, you're dressed quite immodestly. Luckily it's not freezing outside, but it's not exactly hot either. With the help of a liquor coat it would've been pleasant,  but tonight it would just have to be tolerable.

"Do you want to wear my jacket?"

You felt as though you were pulled out of a trance, barely registering his question. "Huh?"

He's already shrugging the black and blue outerwear off, slinging it around your shoulders. The weight of the leather is comforting, the oversized fit of it covering most of your outfit. "Here. You can wear it until we go back in."

You breathed in deeply, no weed this time, Jungkook’s cologne now filling your senses. "Er—Thank you."

He whipped out the last of the joint, now close to a nub. He relit it, the fire from the lighter highlighting his handsome features in the night. He breathed it in again, sliding the lit joint to you, tendrils of smoke escaping from his lips. "Last hit. Want it?"

You accepted, taking the roach and sucking in until the embers ate away to the filter. You eyed Jungkook suspiciously, cocking your head to the side. "Why're you being so nice to me?"

Jungkook looked almost taken aback at your question. "I dunno," he said. "You're not acting bratty for once."

Your blood ran cold the second you hear the word brat, like you were some sort of sleeper agent or something. Suddenly it was like something else was taking over you, making your mind drift to dangerous territory when it came to him. For a moment you thought about actually flirting with Jungkook, a small secret in the quiet of the night. You forgot that you're you, and he's him, and this shouldn't even be happening right now. Had his tune changed after you practically threatened him in a pantry? Had the ambiance of produce made it where he could suddenly tolerate your presence?

You swallowed, trying not to think about what could've happened if you let yourself forget for a moment that Jeon Jungkook was practically the bane of your existence. If you had never known him at all, if you were just two strangers, sharing a joint in the night, having a rare moment alone from all of the chaos inside? Would you flirt? Would you be able to bring him home with you? Perhaps go to his? Would he treat you like the brat he accused you of being?

You let yourself think for a second about what it'd be like to be Jungkook’s for a night, and wondered in the back of your mind if his mind was reeling just as yours was. If this moment felt a little more loaded than it should for him, too. No words in particular, no action, just the quiet knowledge that this wasn't casual for either of you.

Would Jungkook be like Goldenboy? You wondered. Would Jungkook speak that nasty? Give filthy words and lewd promises? Just hearing the word brat leave his lips... He sounded so much like your favorite pornstar that your body immediately tuned into it. 

No, you couldn't think like that. You couldn't think of that. You had to snap back into reality.

Instead, you leaned into the feeling of the heaviness in your eyes, the effects of the weed. You couldn’t stop looking at him, tracing the features on his face, the half-lidded look in his eye from the weed, the way the breeze floated his bangs oh so gently over his brows, all accompanied with the husky, Jungkook aroma you were breathing in now. It was like you were being completely consumed by him, and he hadn't so much as touched you. Your eyes raked up and down his form, scanning his outfit, recognizing the logo on the shirt.

"You like The Weeknd?" You rose a quizzical brow, recognizing the t-shirt from the merch lines that spend what felt like forever standing in. 

"Yeah. Saw him when he was in the area in August."

"You're kidding! I was at that concert, too." You're surprised Jungkook liked that artist. He didn't seem like the type.

Now it was his turn to raise his dark brow at you. "You like The Weekend?"

"Yeah, I love his music. I hate his acting stuff, though. Don't get me started on The Idol, that shit was so ass. But separate the art from the artist I guess, his music's still good. I have, like, all of his records on vinyl," you boasted. You thought back to Nayeon’s request of you, and how nice Jungkook had been to you so far. "You could... um... borrow one, if you want."

Jungkook looked as though he were genuinely off guard, shocked by your offer. "Really?"

"I mean, I guess. I prefer listening on vinyl, personally. I don't know if you have a record player, though."

"I do."

You were becoming more and more perturbed with how much you and Jungkook seemed to have in common. "Oh, um, cool. I guess I'll give you one after class then. Any requests?"

"None in particular."

"Cool. Guess it'll be a surprise, then."

—

You twiddled with the straps of your tote bag, occasionally glancing inside it to make sure all of the contents were inside, as though someone managed to pickpocket you in this empty hallway within the last five minutes. For some reason you felt a bit nervous, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for Jungkook’s photography class to end. You only knew he had this class because both of yours were in the same building and ended at the same time, and you had the displeasure of bumping into him on numerous occasions this semester.

You glanced down at the blue SOS album cover, internally cursing yourself that you didn't bring The Weeknd's Trilogy, but you tend to overthink. Surprise me, he said. And silly little you, you wanted to obey. He would've probably suspected you'd bring something from the completed collection you bragged about; so, you thought about what else he might enjoy. You, thinking about Jungkook’s preferences, baffling!

He seemed to like R&B, and one of your favorite albums was by SZA. It was one you found yourself always coming back to, especially lately. Perhaps you were curious as to what his thoughts were.

You only left your class 5 minutes early because you completed the professor's survey already. It wasn't like you were anxious to see him or anything.

 The door opened and students came flooding out, the class having been dismissed. Your eyes parry through the faces, searching for Jungkook’s, but as the current of students slowed to a trickle, you didn't see him.

Was he the type to skip often? You wondered. He didn't seem like the type. Then again, you barely knew him at all, really. He was just some stranger you were forced to hang out with constantly, who drove you up a wall and made you want to pull out your hair. 

You peeked inside, spotting a few students dotting along the rows of seats, putting away their remaining supplies, talking to the professor or other students. You spotted Jungkook speaking with another guy, unaware of your presence. You debated waiting for them to go into the hall, but your anxiety was getting to the point where you knew you should get it over with before you psyche yourself out.

You hesitantly approached, getting in Jungkook eyesight. He looked up, furrowing his brows, confused by your appearance. "Y/N?"

You don't even get the chance to respond before the other friend turned as well, spotting you. "Y/N? As in pantry-girl?"

He slapped his hand over his mouth, realizing what he just blurted out. His eyes were wide, apologetic, darting between you and Jungkook.

Jungkook sighed while your face burned, and he nudged his friend in annoyance. "Thanks, Jimin."

Jimin grimaced, bowing his head down and grabbing onto his backpack. "I'll just... go. Sorry." He headed toward the back of the class, the wince still evident on his face. "It was nice meeting you."

The two of you watched him as he ran away from the awkward situation, and you glared back at Jungkook once his friend disappeared. Without the help of being under the influence, you were finding your confidence around him to be deteriorating. "Telling everyone that, are we?"

"You did have me trapped in there, you know."

"Oh please! You could've easily yanked the door open or shoved me to the wall too, if you wanted to."

"Believe it or not, I'm too much of a gentleman."

"Bullshit. I wouldn't want your gentleman act anyway, even if it was real." You shook your head, irritated. "Clearly you aren't one to be completely honest. I guess my gut was right."

"Please, when someone asks what you were up to over the weekend, why wouldn't you mentioned being shoved into a pantry?"

"One you were already in, for some reason!" You cocked your head at him, narrowing your eyes. "Which you still haven't given a proper explanation for, actually."

"Maybe I was hungry."

"Or maybe you're just lying again." You rose your brows expectantly. 

Jungkook sighed, agitated. "Why're you here, anyway? To argue with me? What, are you that needy for attention?"

You suddenly remembered what he had snarled in your ear that night, and how it made you feel, and now you're tempted to forget your gift entirely. But what would you say? That you really did just barge in here to pick a fight with him, just like he accused you of?

You reached into your tote bag, pulling out the vinyl, and shoved it to his chest, averting your gaze to avoid eye contact. 

"Surprise, asshat," you muttered, stepping back to let him hold it and turning away, stomping out of the classroom.

Thank goodness it's Friday.

—

You tuned into Goldenboy’s scheduled live stream, desperate to blow off some steam and get rid of the pent up frustration Jungkook built within you. While you knew very well the saying of don’t let 5 minutes waste your whole day, you couldn’t help it. Hours later and your blood was still boiling finding out Jungkook was talking about you with what’s-his-face.

As usual, Goldenboy started it in an unfairly flattering fit, light blue button down and black slacks complimenting his figure nicely. You wondered if he was going to do role play today. Perhaps act like the chat was his employee, and he their boss, punishing them for terrible work? Fuck, you still couldn't get over the boyfriend roleplay he did one stream.

"Hi, subs," Goldenboy started out, like always. "You brats miss me?"

You felt the urge to nod your head violently. Yes, so much. Even though you rewatched his past videos like a favorite show, you missed him. Missed seeing him live, watching his brain melt away at the same time as yours.

The chat flooded with greetings. He answered a few about his day. Surprising. How was school? Exhausting. Fuck anyone you could show us? Funny.

An R&B song you recognize plays in the background, a song you had practically memorized by now.

After two or three minutes, though, there were plenty of viewers, and it was time for the show to begin.

royalty._.queen: show us ur dick already

"Oh? Is that how we ask for things?" You imagined he rose a brow. "Needy today, aren't we? But brats don't get what they want."

royalty._.queen: plz

Goldenboy chuckled, breathless. "Good girl," he purred, the words caressing your ears as if it were meant for you.

He finally pulled down his slacks, wasting no time shoving his boxers down along with it, revealing the big cock that got him so many subscribers.

Goldenboy sat back down in the gaming chair, rolling forward more and gripping his cock, which wasn't even fully hard yet. Still, the size was intimidating, and your thighs did their automatic clench whenever you saw it.

"This what you were so desperate to see?" You could hear the patronizing smirk in his tone.

His half-hard cock slowly began to harden, the large appendage rising to be more upright as more blood rushed to it. Goldenboy groaned, biting his lip, still teasing the head as he gently bucked his hips, only letting himself touch the tip.

"Fuck," he breathily moaned, hips circling more. He muttered to himself, perhaps delirious. “That’s it. Make it hard for me.”

Suddenly he was squeezing his hand harder around the head, evidently in the mood to be rough at the moment. "Needy fucking slut... hate you so much..."

He exhaled hard from his nose, getting worked up.

"Need to fuck you so bad, though..."

Your ears tuned in for a moment, and you noticed the song shift to a following track. A SZA track. He must be playing an album in order. Good taste. You'd bet he'd appreciate it more than Jungkook.

goongirl34140: what are you thinking about?

A sly smile appeared on Goldenboy’s face, tilting his head as though he were half in this world, half in the fantasy he had already started conjuring up.

"This girl I know," he tsked, lip twitching at the thought. "A needy little brat who drives me insane."

Heat began to pool between your legs as you continued rubbing yourself, your now slippery clit easily gliding against your two fingers.

"Shit. She doesn't even know. She doesn't even know what I'd..."

He trailed off, squeezing the base of his cock tightly and keeping his grip as he slid it all the way up to the head, precum sliding out, dribbling down his girth. 

goongirl34140: what would you do?

You leaned in, wanting to ask the same question.

Goldenboy huffed out a laugh, squeezing his wet cock harder. "Fuck, what wouldn't I do," he hissed, as though the very thought got his blood pumping faster. "I'd fucking ruin her for anyone. Maybe edge or overstimulate the brat until she finally breaks for me. Maybe breed— fuck, just like that.”

Your breath hitched at the thought, getting wetter, now sliding your fingers down to your entrance and easily slipping them in.

"I'd make her cum over and over again until she said she couldn't take anymore, and then I'd still keep going," Goldenboy grunted, large hand sliding over the head of his cock, smearing the precum along the shaft. "I'd make her cum one more time for good measure."

He started pumping at a steady pace now, in time with the music. You could already hear the wet fapping noises picked up on the microphone.

"I know her—fuck—bratty face would look so pretty covered in my cum," he gasped, bucking his hips up. "Think that every time I look at her."

He licked his lips, the action barely caught at the top of your screen. You see his red flushed cock, straining in his tan hand as he furiously fisted it.

"Think of shutting her up on my cock. Kissing her so she can shut the fuck up for once. Maybe slap my hand over her mouth as I drill her from behind the next time I see her on campus," he groaned, pace picking up. "Wanna make her take every inch. Wanna make her as crazy as she makes me."

The chat flooded with comments.

zZ_kittenz_Zz: fuck I'm so jealous

goongirl314: new girlfriend here???

hseofcrds333: she's so lucky

incredibleyfoxee: boo should be me

royalty._.queen: have you fucked her yet

omegaverseenjoyer2: breedbreedbreedbreed

"Can't fucking stand her," Goldenboy rambled on. "She can't either."

He let out a low, filthy moan. Fuck, you're embarrassingly close already. And there was still a whole 50 minutes left to go.

"Only makes me want to fuck her harder."

You listened to the song switch again, and instead of your eyes constantly shifting between his cock and face, you found your eyes wholly trained on the tippy top of your screen.

“Someone’s got to put that princess back in her place.”

You swore to God, in that bedroom that night, that time froze.

What he was saying... seemed eerily familiar.

You squinted harder, trying to gaze at whenever his jaw or his chin entered the frame, even his lips on occasion. Suddenly you were more tuned in with the background music than Goldenboy’s moans, SZA’s Low now echoing in your mind. You tried to see if there were any extra pixels you had missed, perhaps an extra dot that could clue in to your suspicions. Maybe accidentally bending too low and revealing the tip of his nose.

The song... his words...

No. There was absolutely no way in hell.

Your eyes glazed over the background for once. Before you had been too preoccupied with the view front and center. But now...

You looked towards the open closet, a neat array of jackets inside.

The sleeve of a black and blue jacket caught your eye.

Suddenly your ears were ringing, and it was like everything went quiet.

No. 

This had to be some sort of coincidence.

Your mind spun, connecting the possible dots that Goldenboy, the stranger you've been dedicating orgasms at least once a day to, was the same obnoxious Jungkook who tormented every other corner of your brain not currently occupied by his alternate persona.

You felt the blood rush back to your ears, your hearing slowly fading back to existence, Goldenboy’s moans vibrating against your eardrums.

Your eyes studied the figure on screen, his tan, glowing skin. His chiseled, cut abs. His large, wet cock, currently being fucked by his also large, veiny hand.

Fuck...

He was speeding up, tilting his head back, the column of his pretty neck bared for the camera,  the overwhelming urge to sink your teeth in taking over logic.

Fuck it.

You reached for your vibrator, roaring it to life, entirely too focused for the next 48 minutes.

—

You couldn't stop. Every time you watched a Goldenboy video, your mind would fill in the gaps, seeing Jungkook’s face instead. Every time he bit his lip, all you could envision were the same eyes that glared at you with contempt. It didn't help that their lips and jaws were so similar. The same plush lips you watched moan out obscenities could be the very same one that got on your very last nerve.

You were being driven crazy. You couldn't stop touching yourself to the videos now, somehow even more than you had before. You couldn't stop watching; it was practically addicting. You knew how wrong it was, to pretend, maybe even know, this was Jungkook. You couldn't help but cum even harder than before, though.

Still, you had to deal with the horror of the aftermath.

Your mind spun with unanswered questions, consumed with guilt, lust, and curiosity. 

Eventually you decided you had to know, once and for all.

You tapped Jungkook’s number on the group chat, having never saved it in all your years of knowing him, sending your first text.

You: need to get vinyl back. can i swing by urs tn and pick it up?

Unknown: Mine?

You're surprised he doesn't automatically ask who you are or how you got his number. You'd be very surprised if he actually had your number saved prior to today. 

You: ya. will b quick. 

Unknown: And you need this by tonight?

You: ya

Unknown: I'm free now if you want to come over

You pumped your fist in the air when he sent his address, half disbelieving that he actually did it. 

Your blood was pumping wildly when you get to his apartment, heart hammering against your ribcage as you knocked on the door. A few seconds later and he wa opening the door, looking down at you. He looked so fucking good, a tight, black compression shirt hugging his chest and massive biceps, along with grey sweatpants that made your mouth practically water.

Had someone told you a month ago that you'd be drooling at Jeon Jungkook like a dog, you'd punch them in the face.

"Take your shoes off," Jungkook immediately ordered.

You automatically slipped off your sneakers, pushing them next to his other ones along the wall. Your eyes scoured the place as you stepped in with him, trying to find any sign of his alternate persona. His room. You had to see his room. With how often you watched the camboy's videos, now having studied the scenery in the back, you were confident you'd recognize it instantly.

"So... you collect vinyl?" You recalled a Metallica album music playing in Goldenboy’s recent video. If he were Jungkook, that would mean the player was most likely in the same room he filmed in.

"Yeah, some. Mainly 70's rock."

"Can I see?"

Jungkook gave you an odd look, clearly a bit surprised by your sudden keen interest. "Sure. It's the same place where SOS is."

Your heartbeat was pounding in your eardrums as he directed you to his room, and the moment you see it, your mind was static. Quiet, but full and loud and all at once.

Those were the same posters. The same clean, minimal aesthetic. The meticulous bedspread corners, the closet in the back, the gaming chair you watched him cum in night after night after night. 

Off on another wall, far enough where his camera wouldn't see, was a tiny table with Jungkook’s record player. There was also a box with his collection in it, which he squatted down in front of and shuffled through to find yours.

He was saying stuff about the album, certain songs, questioning why you seemed to need it so urgently, but you weren’t listening. No, you’re looking at the bedspread you'd watch him grip on tight to, you're locked in on the chair he'd always start the videos in, you're seeing the nightstand drawer where his variety of sex toys were. His handcuffs, vibrators, lube, all of it in the bottom left drawer next to his bed. And you were standing here, knowing.

All this time. All this time you've been cumming to the voice of the man you hated. You had seen practically all of him, and not only did you like it, you craved it.

Your eyes locked onto his broad back, the muscles in his arms as he was turned away from you. You've seen him naked. You've seen his chiseled abs and those biceps at work. Oh my God, you've seen his dick! You know he's the type who can edge himself for what feels like forever, never stops after one round, has a wet ass cock that leaves a mess to be cleaned up. You've heard his moans when he does so, and now you trained yourself to be in tune with it.

Jungkook turned around, confused by how quiet you were. "Are you all good?"

"Just..." Your eyes scanned the room again, landing on the records. "Just can't believe you've got so much Chase Atlantic."

"Right, well, here's the album. Thanks for letting me listen to it." He passed it to you, studying your expression, the way you seemed so on edge and not in the way he was used to. "Why'd you need it tonight?"

"Oh, stuff." Your mind was scrambled, and it was like you couldn't even come up with a decent lie even if you tried. "I should... I should probably go now."

Your heart felt  like it was racing a million beats a minute now with the quiet confirmation flooding your brain.

You turned to leave Goldenboy’s room when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you back until you're landing in the gaming chair. It doesn't help your existential predicament, however, and all you can think about is how many times you've watched Jungkook jerk his cock in this exact chair.

You warily look up at Jungkook, his eyes much more intense than before, laser focused on your expression. You tried not to let the guilt show, the shock, how you were frazzled and overwhelmed, the lust, like your body had been triggered just from the sight of his room. You were no better than Pavlov’s dogs.

He leaned in, hands on either side of the gaming chair, staring you in the eye.

"You know," he said quietly.

Your reaction was telling enough, looking as though you had been caught when you blinked up at him, holding your breath. You felt all of the blood drain from your face, pooling down past your neck. Your heart rate skyrocketed as you were forced to endure the nightmare you stumbled upon.

"Fuck." He straightened back up, running his hands through his hair. "How long have you known?"

"N-Not long!" You felt jumpy, cornered, no way out, forced to admit the truth to Jungkook. "I only found out it was you for like, a week, or something."

There was a pause as he registered your words.

"Yeah?" One of his hands slides down his face, and his eye peeked between his fingers, stare heated. "How long were you watching?"

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn't help but feel the need to cower beneath his gaze. It didn't help that you were sitting down when he was sitting up, making the feeling of him towering over you more intimidating than ever. "A while."

"A while?" Jungkook echoed. "How much did you see?"

You were unable to come up with a decent response, mouth parting open with nothing to say. Your silence said it all, guilt permeating in the air. The answer was obvious. 

All of it.

Unexpectedly, Jungkook smiled.

"Wow. Obsessed were you?"

"As if!" You feel the need to defend yourself, as though you had a valid case.

"Can't believe you now, princess. Not with that guilty look on your face. C'mon, look at me. Don't be shy now." He grabbed your jaw when you tried to look away, forcing you to look up at him with those sweet, pleading eyes.

You attempted a snarl, but the noise you made out was embarrassingly close to a whimper. You looked up at him, that smug, handsome face staring down at you with so much pride, so much satisfaction. It was the grin of the winner, and now he wanted to enjoy the prize.

"Can't believe you were getting off to me," Jungkook purred, cocking his head to the side. "How many times, huh? Or is it too many to count?"

"You're such a fucking dick," you seethed, shoving yourself off the chair, letting it spin mindlessly away. His touch lingered on your skin like a brand, and you could still feel the brush of his hand against your face.

"Speaking of—"

You stomped back towards the door, your face burning. "Fuck off, Jungkook!"

"Hey, I think it's kind of cute." He's so mocking with it, shit eating grin spreading across his face, amused by how you seemed to be falling apart in front of him. He should be the embarrassed one. Everyone watches porn, but not everyone makes it.

Then why does it feel like he's the one whose seen you naked?

"I'm done talking about this!" You huffed, shaking your head, doing your best to shake away thoughts of Jungkook and his large, wet cock out as well.

"Yeah?" You're being yanked backwards again, body practically weightless under his spell until you found yourself against a wall. You were breathless, mind spinning as Jungkook pressed his body against yours, hands trapping your wrists beside you to prevent you from leaving. His breath fanned against you, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. "Too bad. I'm not."

You tried to push against him but realize he's much, much stronger than you had anticipated. All that time you spent staring at his biceps when he was pumping his cock, and this is where it gets you. 

"Fucking let me— ugh!"

"Where do you think you're going? We were just having so much fun." The scent of his cologne invaded your senses again, just like that night. Once again, Jungkook was easily forcing you to become enraptured by him, until you couldn't sense anything else. He was all-consuming, and he did it all with embarrassingly little effort.

"Fun for you, asshole." You rolled your eyes, yanking at your hands again, doing some damage to your joints in the effort.

Jungkook grinned smugly, delighted by your mix of rage and humiliation. "You're right. For me, then."

"I could always tell the others, you know," you bluffed, unable to sound anything other than unsure of yourself. "I could let everyone know that Jeon Jungkook jerks off for strangers on the Internet."

"Oh yeah?" Jungkook gripped your wrists tighter, keeping them glued to the wall. He leaned in closer, tip of his nose brushing yours now, eyes daring you to look away. You sucked in a breath at his proximity, like you were prey that had fallen into a predator's trap. "And I could tell everyone that you were one of them. That you watched every single one of my videos and came to my voice like a good girl—"

"I didn't know it was you at first!" you insisted, face burning as though it were on fire. You twisted in his grip against the wall, but he didn't budge, fingers flexing around your wrists.

"Yeah?" Jungkook’s sly grin stretched, eyes full of twisted satisfaction seeing you fall apart so easily for him. "And what about after?"

"What... What about it?" You stammered out the words, suddenly realizing how out of breath your sounded. 

"Did you keep watching after you knew it was me?"

You're silent, only staring up at him with that same deer in headlights look, like you knew you were already dead.

Jungkook expression was a mix of shock and awe, jaw dropping open at your silent confession.

"You sick fuck, you have, haven't you?"

"N-No!" You defended yourself too late, however, only now hiding your expression by ducking your chin down, ashamed.

"You little liar." Jungkook moved your wrists to one hand, snatching your jaw and forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. "Did you have fun? Touch that aching, wet little pussy to me, huh? Did you cum to the sight of me—"

"You're delusional!" You wrenched your hands back to your chest, trying to hold on to whatever scraps of dignity you had left.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," Jungkook chuckled.

Your mind desperately tried to find a way out of the situation, to cling onto your pride and find a way to turn the tables on him. "As if it means anything! There's probably a reason you only touch yourself, huh?" That caused Jungkook to freeze, and you smiled at the chance to come out on top. "What's wrong, Kookie?" you purred. "Hit a sore spot? Is your big dick too useless to actually please a woman?"

He bore his fangs, snarling at you now. "Choosing to be a brat now, are you?"

"Unlike you, I don't pretend to be more than I am."

"Yeah? You mean a mouthy little bitch who's desperate for someone to fuck her like he hates her?"

Your cheeks burned at the accurate assessment, and it made your head spin that he could see right through you.

"You drive me up a fucking wall, you know that?" You breathed heavily through your nose, chest heaving as you tried not to look away in shame, making any attempt to stand your ground or otherwise succumb to the humiliation.

"Yeah?" Jungkook grinned cockily. "Would you rather I pin you to it, instead?"

You slapped at his chest, panicked. You weren't used to this sort of Jungkook, and frankly, you didn't know how to react. You should’ve expected it, though. Right now he was every bit the camboy you had idolized in your head.

"C'mon, say it and I'll give it to you. Say you want the dick you've been so fucking obsessed with deep in your guts." His voice was a cruel taunt, eyes practically glowing. He brought his lips up to your ear to whisper, "I'll do anything for my number one fan."

"I'm not your fan," you hissed.

"Are you a subscriber?"

Your face paled in answer, and he only laughed at your misery.

"Wow. Not a fan, but you pay 10 bucks a month to watch me jerk off?" He shook his head at you patronizingly, basking in the humiliation you felt beneath him. "What are you, desperate then? Any cock will do?"

"No," you pushed back, trying not to give in to the pressure.

"Oh? So just my cock, then?" He locked eyes with you, refusing to let you look away.

You tried to muster courage, staring back despite your instincts screaming at you to get out of the jaws of a lion. Jungkook leaned in close, lips mere centimeters from yours. "You want to know what it's like to be fucked by me, don't you? That's why you kept watching."

You gulped, guilty of his accusations, stunned at how he was able to read you like a book.

"Nasty little perv," he whispered in your ear, like it was a compliment, a secret for you to share. "You want to find out that bad?"

You didn’t get the chance to respond, because suddenly Jungkook’s leaning in, smashing his lips against yours. Your mind practically melted, instinct taking over as you automatically started to move with him. You couldn’t fucking believe you were kissing the man you absolutely despised, and found it more unbelievable that he was really fucking good at it. The way his hands squeezed harder against yours wrists as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, was enough for you to wonder why you two didn’t get along in the first place. 

Clearly you were able to get along just fine with your mouths occupied.

Jungkook broke off the kiss with deep breaths, staring at you to assess your reaction. You were flushed, panting helplessly, the look on your face screaming that you wanted more.

He let go of your wrists, stepping back and finally allowing you space to breathe. He tsked, looking at you expectantly when you stayed in place, no longer attempting to bolt. No, instead it was as though you really had been caught, and now you were just waiting to find out what he would do with you.

"Sit on the bed," he commanded, voice calm.

Your heart rate jumped, eyes sliding over to the bed you recognized better than your own at this point. Apprehensively, you did as you were told, sitting on the edge and planting your hands beside you, hands curling into the silk sheets.

Jungkook eyed you hungrily, eyes darker than before, drinking in the sight of you in his room.

He glared at the miniskirt you were wearing, reaching out to tug at the string that tied it up, twirling it around his finger with barely contained restraint. You couldn't help but keep your eyes locked on the sight of Goldenboy’s delicate fingers toying with your clothes, the vision something that you thought you could only dream of.

"C'mon. You show up in that tiny little fuck me skirt and expected me to do nothing about it?" His eyes darted back up to yours, sucking in a breath at your nervous expression. "Did you come here just to get fucked?"

You wanted to deny it. You came here for the truth, to set your mind at ease with all of the questions that flooded your mind, to quell your insatiable curiosity.

But if that really was all there was to it, why did you pick out such cute underwear beneath? Why were you still here?

Jungkook smirked, knowing the truth without you even having to say it.

"Spread your legs. That's right, just like that. Just like you did when you were watching me."

Your face burned as you slowly did as he said, cautiously spreading them .

Jungkook clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Lift the skirt, c'mon. You're not stupid. You know what I want to see."

You gulped, pushing your skirt up your thighs and revealing your underwear to him, the small damp patch at the bottom embarrassing you to no end.

Still, it didn't seem to be enough for Jungkook, who raised one thick, dark brow at you. You let out a breath, hooking the bottom of your panties to the side, letting him see your bare sex. You supposed to some degree it was only fair. You've seen all of him and then some. Still, you felt overly exposed, and you wondered for a second if Jungkook was really just teaching you a lesson about what if felt like.

Jungkook only bit his lip though, sucking in a breath as he took in the view. "You'd make a killing on streaming, you know," he said, voice teasing. "With a pretty pussy like that and all."

You blushed at his compliment, wanting to snap your legs shut again. You had felt the same way about him when you first stumbled on his streams, instantly understanding the appeal. "Thank you."

"Mm, look at you being so polite. Are you going to be good for me tonight?"

"What'll I get if I am?" You couldn't help but blurt out the question, almost out of genuine curiosity.

Jungkook smiled, letting out a small huff of laughter in amusement. "Oh? Bratty again, huh? Want a reward?"

He reached forward, tugging at your shirt, urging you to remove it.

"Take this off for me, will you? I'll show you what you'll get if you behave for me."

You deliberated over the idea in your mind before obediently sliding your shirt up your figure and over your head.

Jungkook started pawing at your skirt too, forcing you to get rid of it along with your bra. "C'mon. You've seen me naked hundreds of times at this point. It's only fair."

Those words echoed in your mind as your thumbs hooked into the sides of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You locked your knees together once they're off, looking up at Jungkook with a bit of nervousness. "You too."

He didn't protest, only giving you that same smug look on his face as he grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, yanking it over his head to reveal the very body you had been drooling over.  His abs were tight and hard against his abdomen, and you already knew they looked better with his cum smeared all over. His broad shoulders looked perfect to grab onto, and you couldn't help but feel your mouth water at the thought of one of his bulging biceps wrapped around your neck.

He stepped out of his sweatpants too, letting you see the chubbed up bulge behind his boxers, the fabric tight and revealing enough to let you know he was just as big in person as he seemed on screen.

You licked your lips, cautiously reaching out for him. He let you, grabbing your hand and tugging you closer so you could feel him. Your hand ran down his abs, feeling the hard muscle beneath your fingertips, sliding over every groove just the way you had dreamed.

"Your body's perfect," you accidentally whispered, the words escaping your lips automatically.

Jungkook smiled at your awe, finding your fascination absolutely adorable as you felt him up, hand roaming up and down the expanse of his chest. "Like what you see, baby?" 

You nodded dumbly, at a loss for words.

He interrupted your fun, however, hooking his hands under the pits of your knees and making you land on your back. He reached for your phone, opening your camera. "Should let you have your own private video then, huh? Since you're such a big fan and all."

You couldn't even deny the accusations anymore, accepting the phone when he shoved it your way.

"Better keep the camera straight, princess. You know I like my videos to be top quality."

He pushed your knees further up until they were almost up to your shoulders, your arms cramped as you tried to fit the scene in frame, your hands trembling with excitement as he settled himself above you.

Jungkook’s eyes were trained on your glistening cunt, and he let go of one of your legs to reach down, running the expanse of it up and down your sex, feeling how it coated him already. He licked his lips, bringing his wet fingers up to his mouth and groaning softly at the taste of you.

Your lips parted at his reaction, and he smirked at you, popping his fingers free. "You're not filming properly," he said, grabbing your hands and angling the phone at him. "Get everything."

You tried to keep it steady as he hovered over you, giving a broad lick up your pussy before focusing on your clit, twirling his tongue around the bud to feel your hips jump. You mewled, and he gripped onto your thighs tighter, hooking them over his shoulders to lock your pussy against his face. You angled the camera to capture the scene, his head between your thighs, his arms wrapped around each to keep you pinned.

His tongue was everywhere, moving fast to lick every inch of you, leaving nothing unexplored as he devoured you as deeply as he could. He groaned at the taste of the source, licking once again from your entrance to the hood of your clit. "Tastes so fucking good," he moaned. "You're so fucking wet for me."

You shivered at his words, hand curling in his hair as he mouthed at your clit again. His dirty words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, forcing you to soak his face even more.  "S-shit, Jungkook, you can't—"

He popped up for air, the shine on his lips looking like gloss. He panted against you, his breaths fanning over your naked sex and making you twitch with sensitivity.

"Shut up and let me eat your pussy, yeah?"

He spat on your cunt, rubbing his saliva into your clit before latching back on, like his mission was to make you as messy as possible. 

Jungkook’s eyes were closed, his long lashes kissing the apples of his cheeks, solely focused on running his tongue over your folds. He looked so pretty like this, so concentrated. You could admire the details on his face up close, study and map them out now from where he laid between your thighs.

Jungkook looked up, and you could feel him grin against your pussy. He let go of your clit with a wet pop, lifting his head to reveal the wet sheen that covered his lips and chin. "You're holding the camera crooked." He put your shaky hands back in place on your stomach, angling the phone so it was now straightened again. "Focus on me, make sure you get a good shot of me eating your pussy."

He was back on your clit, sucking hard and making you buck your hips up again. He pinned you down with one hand, letting go of you once again. "You're gonna get crooked again. Don't tell me you're so fucked out already that you can't do one simple thing?"

You wanted to protest, tell him the task was nearly impossible with how good he was eating you out. Part of you wanted to be obedient for him, though, and you were so desperate to cum all you could stammer out was, "I'm s-sorry."

"Sorry? Be good then, or I'm not letting you touch me when I finally fuck you." 

You tensed at his threat, the thrill that he was going to fuck you making you more excited, and the threat that you wouldn't get to rub your hands all over him enough to make you nod eagerly. Jungkook smirked at your reaction, diving back in, making out with your pussy as messy as he was before. You bit your lip, trying to stay focused on the phone screen in your hand, but it was so difficult. Staring at him through your tiny screen, his tousled hair between your thighs, his dark eyes peeking out from beneath his bangs, the drag of his pink tongue along your sex as he held eye-contact with the lens, it was too much.

"Do you like how I look when I eat this pussy? Make it cum with just my tongue?" he murmured into you.

You couldn't help but mewl at his dirty words, thighs twitching around his head. He smiled, corners of his mouth peaking out from between your legs, loving the small sounds of pleasure that escaped you. He sucked on your clit harder, hands gripping onto your thighs with a force that you're unsure is to stabilize you or him. 

"Answer me baby," he purred against your clit, the vibrations from his mouth sending jolts up your spine.

"Y-Yes, you, fuck—" You bit your lip, feeling yourself be pushed to the edge with the pixelated version of Goldenboy before you and the real version of Jungkook on you, making you cum with an ease that seemed almost embarrassing on your end. You've never been more turned on in your life. "You look so fucking good."

Jungkook let out a hum of approval, working his tongue more rigorously now, shoving it inside and pressing his nose deeply against you, as though trying to breathe you in. You squirmed in place, his big, strong hands helping to move you along and use him. 

"I-I'm close!" you warned, breathing faster as you felt your climax start to take over.

Jungkook groaned, lost in the feeling of you, not even focused on the camera as he helped you hump his face. "Fuck yes," he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut, angling his head the same way he did when he deepened a kiss. "Cum on my face. Let me taste it."

Your hand shot out and grabbed his hair, burying itself at the roots as you held him in place, rubbing your sex up and down his face as your orgasm took over. Jungkook continuously licked you as you did so, the loud slurping noises no doubt caught by the phone you were no longer paying attention to, the device now angled crooked against your body as you gripped it tightly, focused on chasing your high.

Your thighs shook as you came on Jungkook’s tongue, a loud moan parting your lips as he gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises, tongue lapping up your release with sickening greed. He moaned along with you, never stopping until your shaking ceased and you collapsed on the bed, feeling him working over you still.

Your hand fell loosely from his hair and to the side as you took in shallow breaths, twitching from oversensitivity. You attempted to squirm away, shifting into the sheets until Jungkook came back up. He looked unfairly beautiful like this, lips flushed the prettiest color and swollen from his efforts, cheeks and chin glistening with your arousal. His eyes were dark, like seeing you undone like this for him, because of him, was enough to make him lose his mind.

"You got the camera crooked again," he commented, reaching for your phone that was now limp in your hand. He grabbed the device and stopped the video. To your surprise, though, he didn't turn it off, instead choosing to flip it to the inside camera and set it against the footboard of his bed. "You know what that means."

He reached towards his nightstand, yanking open a drawer. Your eyes widened at what you saw inside, all items you recognized from previous streams. The vibrator he used on himself to tease his cock, letting out the prettiest moans as he let the toy buzz against his cockhead or the base of his balls, stood at the top of the heap. The blindfold Goldenboy sometimes wore, a sheer and black scarf, was just transparent enough for you to wonder what was beneath, knowing without a doubt that he was handsome, but not enough for you to discern his features. You internally cursed yourself for not reaching the conclusion about his identity sooner, but chalked it up to your mind choosing to ignore the obvious. Finally, the piece he dragged out, a pair of sleek, silver handcuffs, ones he used when he simply handcuffed himself to his chair, letting his wet cock pathetically weep all over itself. Your gaze locked on the chain in between that clicked and rattled each time he finally was able to jack off, using both big hands to wrap around his cock as they wrapped up and down, the same way you hoped you would tonight.

He dragged you further up the bed, yanking you into position to sit up for him as he brought both hands behind your back, locking your hands in place as he secured the cuffs behind your back. He brought his lips to your ear, tugging on your cuffs. "You're mine now."

He reached for your phone, pressing the record button, the red square witness to what Jungkook was about to do to you. 

He dragged you into his lap, kissing your neck as he rubbed his hands up and down your body, cupping your tits and pinching your nipples slightly. "You look so pretty on camera," he complimented, sliding his hands back down to your waist. "Can't wait to rewatch how I take you for the first time on film."

He hooked his hands under your knees and lifted, putting them on either side of his own legs before spreading them. Yours widened with his, your naked sex revealed to the camera.

"Fuck, will you look at that."

He reached a hand down to cup your heat, spreading your folds with two fingers to properly show the camera how pink you were inside. Your sex twitched against his digits, folds glistening and wet, begging to be taken. With his other hand he went back to toying with your nipple, pinching it between his digits before dragging the pointer finger over it tantalizingly. 

With the hand on your pussy he used his ring and pointer finger to keep you open, letting his middle finger drag up and down your sex, teasing your clit. "Were you always this wet for me?" Jungkook questioned, his voice an inescapable purr in your ear. "Every time you watched me on screen? Every time you picked a fight with me like a little brat?"

Your breathing quickened, not wanting to fully submit yet. "You started it."

"Yeah?" His finger gave a particularly tortuous glide up your cunt, and you twitched under his touch when he reached your clit. He circled it with one finger, teasing, face studying your reaction. "Let me finish it then."

He sunk his hand lower and let his middle finger breach your entrance, pushing past and sliding into you with ease. You keened, finally feeling something inside of you, though it was so much bigger than your own that you were gasping at the intrusion. Your hands twitched behind you, pressing against the metal, and Jungkook laughed at your resistance.

He curled it inside of you, repeating the motion as he got deeper, watching your eyes droop when he reached your sweet spot. "Enjoying yourself?" he questioned, voice mocking as he kept curling against your g-spot, watching you open your mouth in an attempt to answer and failing. He laughed at your efforts again.

"So cute," he crooned, pecking your cheek, slipping in a second finger along with his first. Both digits pressed against you, amplifying your pleasure, and you moaned under his touch. "Pussy's so fucking tiny for me. Gonna fill you up so much."

He spread out his fingers inside you, scissoring them as he tried to get you to stretch around him. "Open up for me. Don't you want to take the cock you've been dreaming of?"

"Yes, want it so bad," you panted, licking your lips as his fingers got more aggressive, pumping into you more insistently. "Want your cock, Jungkook. Please."

"Say 'Give it to me, Kookie'. C'mon. Say it pretty for the camera," he coos, his voice seductive as it practically curled around your eardrum. "Show me how desperate you are."

"Y-You're so fucking annoying," you instinctively gritted out, hands trying to break free of the cuffs despite knowing it's impossible. 

"Still all that attitude, huh?" Jungkook smiled against your ear, as though pleased by your brattiness, like this was what he wanted from teasing you. He wanted to drive you mad enough to talk back, just so he had an excuse to put you in your place. Maybe that was it all along. He slipped a third finger inside of you, turning your head to angle you so he could kiss you, greedily swallowing your gasp as he consumed it, mouth moving against yours. 

You moaned against him, his three fingers already stretching you out so much, his fingers jackhammering hard against you as he bullied your g-spot. He broke free of the kiss, a string of spit snapping off between you. His lips hovered over yours, parted as you panted out, moaning as he fucked you with his fingers. "Too much?" he asked, eyes looking into yours as he saw that dumb expression start to take over. "Can't take it?"

You quickly shook your head in denial, hips bucking against his hand as his palm repeatedly smacked against your clit, slapping the poor bud. "I can take it," you protested.

"Yeah?" He grinned as though proud of you. He stopped pumping his fingers, instead grounding the palm of his hand against you, digging the heel into your clit as his fingers plunged as deeply as they could, curling inside. "Think you can take my cock, then?"

You couldn't help but jolt in his arms, unable to help but get excited by the prospect of seeing it. You nodded your head, squirming in his arms. "Yes, let me see it. Please."

He chuckled against you, leaning in to kiss you once again, growling against your lips. "You're so desperate for me," he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you to lift you up from his lap and shove his boxers off. He did so, positioning you back in place, his cock standing proud and tall between your legs. He was glistening wet, pre-cum already smeared across the head, the flushed pink color matching his lips. Your eyes drifted to your phone screen capturing everything, the intimidating size right next to your pussy enough to make you gulp.

"It's the cock you've been dreaming of," Jungkook hissed, reaching out and squeezing the base of his dick. You hadn't noticed, but he was starting to get his boxers wet when you were squirming in his lap, unknowingly pressing against his bulge and causing him to make a mess of his underwear. He slapped it against your sex, the wet sound emanating around the room. "Think you're wet enough for it?"

You licked your lips, squirming again against the cuffs, wanting so badly to be able to reach out and touch his cock, to feel the glide of his cum against the shaft. "I think you'd be wet enough for both of us," you said honestly, practically mesmerized by the sight.

Jungkook chuckled, aligning the head of his cock against your hole. Slowly, he pushed in, the tip catching against your entrance before he slowly slid deeper inside. He went a few inches in, meeting resistance as you instinctively clamped down on him.

He sucked in a breath, clenching his teeth. He reached for your cunt, twirling his digits around your clit, trying to get you to open up. "Deep breaths, baby. Need you to let me in. Need to give you all of it."

You breathed deeply, feeling your cunt slick up around him and his cock slide deeper inside you, the last few inches bullying themselves in before his balls were pressing against your folds.

You took in another deep breath, feeling so full and spread out for him, his legs keeping your own stretched out wide so the camera could capture everything.

Jungkook groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck as he tried to steady his own breathing. "Fuck, you're so tight," he whispered, voice whiny from behind you. He mouthed along your skin, bringing his lips up to your neck to run his tongue over and kiss along it. "Feel so fucking good around me."

You mewled at his praise, walls squeezing around his cock in reaction.

He curled both hands around your waist, hugging onto you as his hips instinctively thrust upward, making you gasp. "Don't do that!" He scolded, arms tightening around you as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck. You're driving me crazy. Need to ruin you."

"Then do it," you encouraged, rolling your hips to try and get him to repeat the motion. 

He did so, hips jumping up and aiming right at your g-spot, making you moan out. He growled, squeezing you tighter, voice raspy. "I'm trying to be patient," he gritted, fingers twitching with need. "Need to take my time with you."

"Don't," you huffed, squirming in his hold again to entice him, despite his efforts to keep you still. "Fuck me already."

"Yeah? You gonna beg for it then?" Jungkook moved again, bouncing you on his cock once more before grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look back at him. "Gonna say what I taught you?"

You bit your lip, debating in your head whether you should give in or not, your urge to fight with him on everything taking hold.

"Bratty fucking slut." He glared at you, fingers flexing around your face. "It's just five simple words. Know you want it. Just need to hear it. Beg me to make you cum."

He offered you one final thrust, nudging his cock against your g-spot before stilling his hips. 

"If you don't, I'm pulling out of you right now and edging you all night," he threatened, the look on his face telling you he was deadly serious. "You can walk out of here with a four hour video of me teasing your clit until you're drooling."

You couldn't help but cower under his heated gaze, a piece of your pride crumbling.

"Please, give it to me Kookie," you said quietly, barely loud enough for the microphone on your phone to pick up on it. "Please make me cum."

The corners of Jungkook’s mouth curled up in victory, and the hand that was wrapped around your waist slowly slid down your stomach and to your cunt. "That's my girl."

He started thrusting into you now, patience seemingly vanishing into thin air as he barreled his way into you, feet firmly planted into the mattress as he fucked you. He moaned, hand splaying along the column of your neck and forcing you to face the ceiling, the fingers gripping around your throat as he forced you to bounce along his cock. He bit into your shoulder, muffling his moan into your skin as he heard how his balls slapped against the wetness of your sex, feeling it coat him already.

"Fuck!" You moaned out, hands scrambling to find something to grip onto, only able to brush along Jungkook’s abs, the hard muscle beneath your fingers providing some support.

Jungkook leaned back onto his pillows, hand gripping onto your throat tighter, his fingers sliding along your clit as he pounded into you. "Can't believe you take it this good," he panted, groaning into your ear. "Doing so good for me, princess."

You looked over to the tiny screen, seeing his thrusts captured in action as he drove his hips up into you, ass no longer even touching the sheets as he buried himself as deep as he could over and over again. He was addicting to the feeling of you bouncing on his dick, the glide of your walls against his shaft, both of you so wet you were making a mess on the silk. The wet, squelching sounds of your sexes slamming together was impossible to ignore.

"Always wanted to put you in your place like this," he hissed, his sick confession a sweet caress in your ears. "Every time we fought, just kept thinking about how to get you underneath me, fuck you so hard you can't even think about arguing."

Your mind reeled back to every argument you two ever had, the glaring, the heat, the tension. Was this what it was all building up to?

"I wanted you from the moment I saw you, but I just didn't know what to say," Jungkook continued, enjoying the way you shuddered against him. "And after I followed you out of that restaurant, I hated you. I hated how much I still wanted you."

His hand lightly squeezed your neck again, a soft laugh escaping his lips directly against your ear.

"I couldn't fucking stand you." He said the words so soft and sweetly, almost like it was endearment.

His other hand slid to your abdomen, right below your belly button, pressing down and feeling how he moved inside.

"Now look where we are."

"F-Fuck, you're so deep," you said, the angle perfect to reach where even your favorite vibrator couldn't.

"Yeah?" He hooked both hands into the back of your knees again, folding you on top of him, making sure he was able to get a good view of him pounding you on screen. "Fuck, you're so hot like this. Letting me use you like a little fucktoy."

You squealed, feeling your mind go hazy as pressure built up in your abdomen. Your legs hung in the air uselessly as he did exactly as he said, moving you up and down his cock and forcing you to take it.

"Jungkook!" His hands gripped your legs harder, his pace quickening when he heard you moan his name.

"Say that again," he demanded, needy to have you scream his name in a different context now. "Need you to say my name like that again."

"K-Kookie..." Even better. “Kookie” feels like he might just cum on the spot with how you sound.

"Fuck, that's it princess," he growled, unable to look away from your already fucked out expression. "Look at you, going dumb on my cock. Watch how you take me."

You nodded vigorously, mind empty as he railed his cock into your pussy, your cum coating him so much you could see a frothy ring of white forming at the base of his cock on screen.

"You're such a nasty little fuckslut for me," Jungkook rasped, every groan and gasp that left his lips being pressed directly in your ear. 

The pressure was building higher, an unfamiliar sensation beginning to pull on you.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I-I—" Your legs shook in his grasp, his cock battering against your spot and making the pressure worse. "I think I'm gonna—"

Jungkook groaned, sinking his teeth into your neck as he quickly let go of one of your legs, rubbing maddening circles on your clit once more. "Cum for me," he demanded roughly against you, licking at the mark he left behind. "Cum for me right fucking now."

You couldn't resist it, feeling yourself let go, your thighs and abdomen clenching as you squirted on Jungkook’s cock. Droplets flew as he fucked the squirt out of you, his pace never relenting as you screamed, throwing your head back as you trembled uncontrollably on top of him. 

"Fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes," Jungkook chanted in your ear, pistoning into you as you stained his sheets, getting you everywhere. "Look at you. Look at the messy little slut on screen. That's you, princess."

Your eyes darted to your phone, seeing how ruined you look already. It was a sight to behold, the way you already looked absolutely wrecked. You collapsed on top of him, limp in his arms as your limbs let out a few residual twitches, spent from the intense orgasm he provided.

You were gasping for breath, which Jungkook wouldn't allow, needing to devour you then and there as he smashed his mouth against yours, sucking in your greedy attempts for air. He slid his tongue against yours, moaning into your mouth as he felt your cunt give one more involuntary clench.

"Came so good for me baby," he praised, pecking your lips once more as he finally let you breathe. "Made such a fucking mess on me."

You glanced down at the darkening sheets, your face heating up with the knowledge that Jungkook would have to clean his sheets of you later.

He repositioned you, lifting you off his lap and finally undoing the cuffs. Your arms ached from the position they were held in, and you think for a moment he'll grant you reprieve. You thought wrong, however, as Jungkook flipped you over, moving your hands beneath you to support yourself as he positioned you on all fours.

"We aren't done," he said, quickly moving behind you to line the tip of his cock against your drooling hole again, sinking into you.

The glide is even faster this time, barely any resistance in comparison, allowing Jungkook to start pummeling into you immediately. You're barely able to hold yourself up, most of your strength depleted with that last orgasm he forced out of you. Still, you buck back against his hips, keening at the way his sharp hips snapped against your ass, his hands gripping your cheeks roughly and smacking you to see the clear handprint. It was like the two of you were magnets, only able to pull back a few inches before violently slamming back together.

You were glad your face wasn't what was on camera now, your tongue practically lolling out as you succumbed to the pleasure Jungkook offered. He reached even deeper inside of you now, his hands tight on your hips as he repeatedly pulled you back against him, using you like a doll.

He barreled a particularly harsh thrust inside of you, forcing your hips to collide with the mattress as he buried as deeply as he could. He pressed you into the mattress, now with you lying on your stomach, unable to support yourself properly. He bit his lip, spreading your cheeks between his large palms to get the view of his cock plunging into him, your asshole winking at him and begging to be ruined as well. 

"You'd let me use you however I want, wouldn't you?" He gripped the front of your neck again, forcing you to arch until you were able to make eye contact with him again. Your arms straightened out in front of you as you tried to stay upright for him. You're unable to answer, choking on your words.

He leaned over you, your mouth wide open from the moans you couldn't contain. He spit into your waiting mouth, hands gripping onto your throat as he felt you swallow it. 

"You're so fucking pathetic," Jungkook laughed, smiling as he panted into your open mouth, taunting you with the possibility of a kiss. "I guess I'll allow it."

You shuddered at his condescension, loving how small you felt beneath him, completely at his mercy. Clearly he was set on showing you none, however, dropping you back down onto the mattress and lifting you by the hips again, putting your ass in the air. His hands buried into the roots of your hair, keeping your face pressed down into the sheets as he fucked you.

His balls slapped against your folds repeatedly, the wet smacks ringing in your ears. His hand went down to join them, rubbing hard at your oversensitive clit, determined to ruin you.

 "C'mon baby, cum again for me. Gonna need you nice and open so I can breed you properly."

Your eyes rolled, and you squeezed around his cock, like the very idea was enough to make you cream all over him again.

He leaned forward more, fully mounting you now, his face close to yours as he squatted down and fucked you like you were both mere animals. He let go of your hair and wrapped his arm around your neck, choking you with his bicep and keeping you in place with a headlock.

"Should I post this video, huh? Show everyone how this slutty pussy takes me?" He mouthed along the side of your face, lips parted as he moaned into your skin. "Should I show them how much of a mess I make of you?'

You nodded frantically in his hold, mind illogical at the moment, only consumed with the thought of Jungkook cumming inside of you for the first time and getting it all on camera. You were starting to get close from the lack of blood flow to your brain, your high crashing over you.

"I'm— I'm—"

Jungkook already knew, the spasming of your pussy as you came around him again sending him to that blissful edge. He could feel you all over him, in his mouth, on his cock, in his arms, your arousal now on his own inner thighs too, your slick everywhere as you continuously trembled underneath him.

"Fuck, that's it, cum again, good girl," he sighed into your ear, slowing his rut to groan his praises, talking you through it. 

You were gripped around him so tight, nothing could convince him you didn't want his load deep inside of you. Your body was screaming for it, begging him to use you for all you were worth. He knew you deserved it at this point. 

"Cunt's tightening around me still like it wants me to cum inside," he hissed. You were moaning so much still. You really were the perfect pornstar for him, just like he was for you. "Wants me to stuff it full so bad. Just begging for it."

He felt himself getting to the edge himself now, needing to release his cum into the back of your cunt where it belonged.

"You're gonna let me breed this little pussy, yeah? Gonna let me fill you up, cum inside?"

Jungkook’s pace quickened, thrusts getting sloppy as he felt you cum on his cock. Before you know it you felt cum shooting into you in massive amounts, creamy white liquid already spilling out of you as he continued pounding into your poor pussy as hard as he could. You whined at the sensation, squirming beneath him as you felt the mess he made. He stilled and buried himself as deep as he could inside you, cockhead pressing firmly against your cervix as it twitched against it, spreading his seed right where it needed to be. He ground his hips up and down, rubbing his balls along your swollen cunt, copious amounts of cum escaping with each slow drag of his body against yours. He forced you to feel full of him and then some, cum having so little room in your tiny pussy, what with Jungkook’s impressive size, that it was impossible to keep it all in.

You held your breath, the sensation of his heavy cock pressing into your guts driving you crazy. Every time you'd try to move your hips forward Jungkook was following behind, hips glued to your ass, unrelenting. He made sure you took everything before he finally started to move again.

His balls repeatedly smacked against your folds from the position he was mounting you in, the sound getting wetter and noisier as his own cum ran down your cunt and splattered against the force of him slapping against you. There was so much of it, and he just kept going, filling you to the brim and fucking it out of you as much as he could manage, until there was a sticky mess covering your sex and inner thighs. 

"Fuck, that's it. Take it all. Take my cum like the pretty cumslut you are. So pretty for me."

Finally he buried himself as deep as he could again, balls snug against you as he let out the last few spurts of cum he had left. 

You reached behind you, grabbing his balls and gently massaging them, making sure to milk every last drop of him into your pussy. He groaned, shivering under your touch, his cock twitching once more with sensitivity. "Good girl. Such a good fucking girl," he praised, petting your hair gently.

He panted, pulling out, watching the obscene amount of cum spill out of you as he does so. Your thighs trembled, quivering as you tried to keep yourself upright, feeling his load glide between your swollen folds and down your thighs before pooling into the sheets.

"Fuck, I don't think I've cum this much in my entire life," Jungkook said, hand running up your thighs, collecting the cum that had spilled out. He rubbed his messy fingers against your puffy clit, sliding it along your cunt before shoving his fingers inside, wanting as much of it stuffed inside you as possible. "And you're just sitting there, wasting it."

"It's—It's so much," you gasped, feeling more of it coat your thighs as his fingers repeatedly plunged into you.

"No excuse," Jungkook scolded, swatting your ass to prevent any attempts of backtalk, the residue on his fingers now leaving a shine on your skin.

Jungkook took a step back, looking back at the phone to see if it was even capable of capturing the view he had before him. His jaw dropped, seeing your puffy, abused lips swollen with his cum, the way he could see droplets catch the light with every twitch of your thighs. Fuck, it was cinema, nothing he had ever shot before would ever even come close to this. He might as well quit classes now.

A good camera man always makes sure to take advantage of good lighting whenever possible, though.

You let out a small squeal as you feel his big hands on you again, cupping your ass with a firm, aggressive grip that told you he wasn't done with you..

Jungkook spread your cheeks, your messy pussy and winking asshole fully visible on camera.

Grinning, he spread you wider, particularly at the top, before going in at an angle and licking your rim. The smile on his lips was visible to the camera as he ran his tongue up and down, giving it a good view of how he licked you. 

It wasn't until you whined that he really went in for it, plunging his tongue in as far as your ass would allow

He popped his tongue out, scooping up the cum that ran through your messy folds and coating his digit. He let one of his shiny, cum covered fingers up to your asshole, circling your rim with the tip, as though he were applying a gloss. Slowly, he pressed the tip of his digit against you, sliding centimeter my centimeter inside, fighting any resistance. The cum that covered him helped, the lubrication giving him a much easier slide the deeper he got in you.

"Fuck, that's so hot," he said once he got his finger in to the last knuckle, your asshole gripping him tightly. "Your ass opens so good for me on camera, baby."

He slipped it out of your ass, plunging the fingers back into the mess below it to gather more cum and shove it back inside. He did it again and again until his digit was easily sliding in, your hole lubricated with both his cum and yours. He increased the digit from one to two, and it was like he was trying to shove as much cum into your unused ass as possible, making sure you'd hold it one way or another.

"Can't believe you're letting me play with your ass like this," he whispered, eyes glazed at the sight. "You're such a slut for me."

You whimpered as he stretched your ass further, feeling his cum inside as he pressed in with a few more dollops, making sure you're messy. You cringed from oversensitivity as he hooked his fingers into your pussy one last time, watching more of his cum spill out.

"Only for you," you groaned, loving the feeling as he sunk the two fingers in your ass again, until cum started to leak from there, too.

"For me or Goldenboy?" he questioned, keeping your cheeks spread as he looks at your two, cum filled holes.

"Both," you answered. "But you especially."

He couldn't help but glow at that, giving two secure pats against your spent pussy and turning off the camera, flipping you over onto your back so he could kiss you once again. "Good girl," he said, pressing his lips deeply against yours, holding you tightly against him, your sweaty bodies molding together. "Did so good for me."

—

You weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting after that encounter. I mean, obviously you still hated the man, but not as much. It helped that he gave good dick and good aftercare, making sure to carry your limp, worn out body into the bath with him to clean you up. He even let you spend the night, his chest warm against your back as you laid in bed. Still, as you quietly slipped your clothes back on the morning after, you were unsure what to make of the dynamic. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend now or anything. Hell, you didn’t know if this was going to be a regular thing or a one night stand.

Your body shivered remembering everything that happened, and you sincerely hoped it would happen again.

Jungkook didn’t text you after that, and you definitely weren’t the one who was going to text first. It wasn’t like you could be mad at him for this, though. You doubted he knew what to make of it either. He also hadn’t posted anything on his account. No prerecorded videos, no streams, no community notes, nothing.

At the next game night, you found your eyes repeatedly sliding over to him, admiring his profile, staring at the sliver of skin that peeked beneath his hoodie when he yawned and stretched. You knew everything now. Knew what he looked like under those clothes. Knew why he went home early or spent time by himself or refused to come out with the rest of the group some nights.

With all of your questions about him before now answered, what were you to do?

You didn’t drink at all that night, and neither did he. His eyes would catch yours, fleeting glances, eyes dark as though he were thinking of the exact same thing you were.

Your friends were both too plastered and too focused on the game of Life at hand to notice you and Jungkook hadn’t exchanged a single insult all night. That, or they were so grateful they didn’t want to jinx their luck.

You were lowkey convinced he’d go the entire night without talking to you, which you were also lowkey-peeved by, until he caught you in the kitchen.

You were getting another glass of water when you heard familiar footsteps, your favorite internet celebrity appearing before you.

At first you don’t say anything, letting the tension that entered the room simmer in the air as the two of you locked eyes.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, as though he were afraid one of your friends would walk in and overhear your conversation.

“Hey,” you greeted back, taking a sip from your drink, trying not to show how nervous you suddenly were.

He eyed the glass in your hand. “Not drinking tonight?”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You had half the mind to point out he wasn’t, either, but decided you wanted this exchange to become more productive already. “I noticed you haven’t been very active online.”

“Oh? Still checking?” A faint smile appeared on his lips, and he tilted his head to the side. “Why do you even bother?”

“What do you mean?” Were you supposed to unsubscribe after that night? Was it considered weird for you to still watch?

He stepped closer, no longer caring about personal space as he tilted your chin up to look at him, the small touch just as claiming as that night.

➥ TEASER TO BE RELEASED ON JUNE 5TH ‹𝟹

Those were your fingers running up and down your covered slit, and the shiny color of the naipolish he had helped you choose stood out against the laced black fabric of your panties. The vision of the camera cut just beneath your neck — white blouse opened, your tits spilling out over the thin fabric — but he knew the traces of your body rather well. And, more than that, he knew your voice very well.

It was his, however, that broke the stillness of his shadowy bedroom. Jungkook tried his best to suppress it, but the moan fought its way through his defenses, leaving his mouth like a whiny, airy exclamation. He could only hope that you didn’t catch it. 

His cock was painfully hard in his grip, throbbing as he watched you slowly push your drenched panties to the side. He gasped. Your pussy was so perfect and puffy that he felt himself leaking inside his loose shorts, his body begging for him to start pumping himself. But he couldn’t, not yet. 

Performing an erotic dance that Jungkook had grown shamefully used to, your fingers traveled between your folds as you opened your legs further apart. A small donation box popped up on the corner of your transmission, but neither of you paid attention to it. He could tell that you were horny that night, because there was no preparation: one second you were gasping while teasing your entrance and, the next, two of your fingers were plunging inside your pussy, a beautiful moan dripping from your lips. 

Now he could move.

Jungkook was never super imaginative as a child, but, in that lustful instant, he was using every ounce of his brain to envision himself sinking past your folds, and into the soft, velvety hug of your walls. He was sure you would be so heavenly, so tight and soaked for his cock. The squeeze of his hand around his thick length couldn’t even compare to the real thing, and that was a painful realization, something that was eating at his insides. 

“Feels so good,” you whined out and, for a hopeful second, he thought you were talking directly at him. 

Jungkook wanted that. He wanted to be the reason why you felt good. He wanted to see your body squirm under his touches, wanted to experience the delicious sensation of your wetness sucking his fat cock in, milking him dry until he had no choice but to fill you up with his cum. He wanted to see you find your high as you wrapped around him, wanted those moans to be his, and his alone. 

The fact that you were so dangerously close, just down the corridor of your small shared apartment, didn’t help with his overbearing fantasies. It all seemed so possible, so palpable, that sometimes Jungkook would convince himself that he was simply practicing for a moment that would eventually happen. 

But you didn’t think of him like that, he was certain of it. 

So that was what he was left with: watching you through a screen, hoping you wouldn’t hear him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, throwing his head back. He could notice himself starting to tip over the edge, toes curling as he fought to keep his eyelids open. The come-and-go of your fingers inside your drenched cunt was hypnotic, he couldn’t move his gaze away from it. And it all sounded so good: those little whines and whimpers you were letting out, the lewd wet sounds of your pussy. 

Sometimes he watched you use a vibrator to get yourself off. Those orgasms were always so intense, left you buckling up your hips and sobbing out something he couldn’t understand; yet the loud vibration muted the noises of your fingers moving in and out of yourself. And that was just so, so much better. Jungkook wanted to see (to hear) how soaked you were, wanted to imagine that it was he who got you so riled up. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled, hoping you’d hear him telepathically or something. “Wanna fuck your pussy so bad.”

On his monitor, you moaned out. “I’m so close.” 

Jungkook imagined you were telling him that. He imagined he was between your legs, licking his way between your folds, making you unravel on his tongue; his fingers curling in just the right way to have you squirming for him. Or maybe that he was pumping himself in and out of you; your nails trailing down his back and his cock hitting deep inside your pussy in a way that you could only think about how good it felt.  

That was the chaotic sea of disconnected fantasies that pushed him over the edge, his white cum dripping over his shorts and making a mess on his lower abdomen. Jungkook groaned and whispered your name as he came, his hand squeezing his cock even through his high. He didn’t stop: he only stopped when you did. 

He whined at the feeling, which was starting to get painful now, but still watched as you played with yourself, fingers coming out to tease your clit instead. Your actions were much faster now, less coordinated; your breaths were shallow and quick, full of high-pitched moans and broken sobs. Jungkook could see your nipples through your clear shirt; he could see the trembling of your thighs; the way it seemed as if your body was trying to pull away from the pleasure, as if it was too much. 

“Gonna cum,” you moaned out, and Jungkook could’ve literally cried in relief. His breathing was ragged, knees weak with the sensitivity he was putting himself through. He didn’t know how his cock was still hard, but he knew that he couldn’t stop stroking it. You were just so flawless; and angel and a demon at the same time. He wanted to fuck you so bad. “I wanna c-cum, please.”

More messages on the corner of the stream, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Your orgasm washed like a tidal wave over you, making your whole body shake as your fingers continued to work overtime, pushing your limits. If he thought the sounds you were making before were amazing, the ones you produced during your orgasm were bordering on a work of art. Your moans got Jungkook whimpering and sobbing, another, smaller amount of cum shooting out of his cock and dripping down his fingers. 

By the time it was over, it was as if he couldn’t even think properly. 

Like clockwork, he typed some generic compliment in the chat, a simple price to pay for having another great orgasm in your name, before logging off and discarding his computer for the night. He wished he could donate more often: it always made you so happy, but he simply couldn’t throw all that money away all the time. He needed to control himself. 

please DO NOT copy, repost, or claim as yours.

CREDITS: divider above from @/pixopix, any and all photos from pinterest (excluding the tomodachi martin)

maia’s note: im back !!! ok but first of all, i am not a tomodachi life larper, i’ve loved it since it was released on the ds and the photos of martin’s mii is from my actual game. anyways, i really love how this work ended up turning out not only bc of the concept of it but bc i’m genuinely just happy i finally finished a work. yes, this smau is not my finest… and there could’ve been more development… but nonetheless i like it and i hope you all enjoy reading it too ! reblogs and feedback are always appreciated !! 🩶

TAGLISTS: @bambisnc @mungbeancoups @starriniqhts @lusayyawnn @chrrific @winteringdream @w3willris3 @rickyshensgirlfriend @kaiyunsim @missingsarinha @lefttrashstrawberry @lovemashu

"Shh, Ms. Librarian, you’re too loud," his deep, lusty voice mutters from behind as he fucks up into you so meticulously that you can't help the pathetic sounds that escape the back of your throat. You live for the way his jeans hit your bare ass since he was too impatient and desperate to find a more private place to pull his cock out and plunge into you after only a couple of minutes of finger prep. That paired with the sound of the leather and metal dangling off of his waist is a sure-fire way of being heard. You lick his palm so he withdraws it and you can speak clearly.

"Tell that to your belt." He chuckles and uses his now free hand to yank off said noisemaker without falling off his rhythm. He folds it in half and rests it on your shoulder, the long loop bobbing next to your face and you tremble at the thought of him smacking you with it.

"Maybe if you bite down on it, it'll help keep you quiet. Or should I tie it around your hands so you don't knock down any books?"

"Says the clumsiest man on the planet."

Namjoon has been known to knock down his fair share of books, too busy pulling them off the shelves in excitement for finding his next read, just to pile them on the floor next to him, forget that it's there, and trip over it on his way to check out what he'd been looking for. The interaction that catapulted your relationship was when you walked by his table covered in books of various subjects and you caught his uncapped water bottle just as his hand bumped into it. You scolded him in a hushed tone, and he looked guilty at first but a gradual smile appeared on his face the more you gave him what for.

When you clocked out that night, you walked by him waiting outside for you on your way to your car. He apologized again for almost ruining the books, told you that you could scold him as much as you wanted to, and then offered to take you out to dinner. You found yourself getting fucked in your own backseat with his wrist twisted and giant hand pressed onto your mouth to cover your screams before you even got the chance to remember that you don’t fuck on the first date, definitely not prior to.

But you were the one who kissed him first because you couldn’t resist his dimpled smile, stupid deep voice, and subtle but sexy ass wink. Not to mention your insane attraction you’ve had towards him ever since he first talked to you, asking for your help finding a certain book about Nietzche’s philosophy and almost dropping it on your foot after you handed it to him.

Furthermore, you have a crazy thing for men who read, and the way he goes through intense, complex books about philosophy and gender studies and the occasional graphic novel tells you that he’s got a big huge brain and you want to spend your whole life figuring out all that goes on in there.

After messily but gloriously eating you out while staring directly into your soul, squatted down uncomfortably in the tight space between the front and back seats, he fucked you erratically, making you come with your hands hanging onto the door handle and top of the seat for dear life.

When the windows were nice and steamed up, he kissed you and wiped sweat off your face with the hem of his shirt. Hovering on one knee over you with a hand pressed on the door above you because he’s too damn tall to stand straight without bumping his head on the roof (which he did a couple of times and only smiled when you laughed and brushed your fingers over the top of his scalp to make sure he didn’t grow any cartoonish lumps), he jerked himself until he spilled into the condom that you dug out of your glove compartment, tore it off and tied it up to dispose of in the makeshift trash bag you hang off of your gear shift. He sat next to you with a heavy plop, pulled your arm to tug you into his lap, and you both laughed when you bumped foreheads on your way to shove tongues into each other’s mouths.

With a hand brushing your hair back and his lips kissing your temple, he finally asked you where you wanted to eat and after you decided on a place, you enquired which car you should take. You became so endeared when he blushed and ducked his head sheepishly as he informed you that he doesn’t have his license and his bike is locked up in front of the library.

You kissed his cheek with a smile and told him that it’s nice he doesn’t drive, that you appreciate how he’s one of too few who doesn’t contribute to the growing hole in the ozone. He kissed you gratefully and rested his hand over yours on the gear shift when you drove to a hot pot restaurant. He told you he’s forbidden by his best friend and roommate Yoongi to set foot into any establishment that requires food to be grilled on the table. You’d been craving hot pot all week so you instructed that he would just have to keep his hands to himself and he did so with a pleased grin on his face while you cooked the meat and waved him away when he tried to reach across the heat for a side of bean sprouts. He stared at you with soft eyes as you took over, happily placing meat, rice and banchan in his bowl.

Later, you ended up meeting his roommate who looked on in horror when Namjoon handed him a bag of takeout he brought back home for him and Yoongi rushed over to inspect his hands for any burns. You held up your own in mock surrender when he glared at you and recounted the trauma he experienced when one time Namjoon put his bare fucking fingers right on the hot bars of the grill and had to be rushed to the hospital. Yoongi had to change his bandages for two weeks, grumbled like he was annoyed each time, but he was always the one to do it, even when his boyfriend Seokjin came over and offered as he became one to bring them groceries since the two goofs would rather order-in then go to the market, even though that was hardly in their budget.

But Namjoon’s just too busy reading and writing and grading papers for the philosophy class he TA’s for at the esteemed university uptown. Yoongi, meanwhile, is far too preoccupied with composing soundtrack music for some Indie films, hoping to one day get on Hans Zimmer’s level.

You think he could, having gotten the opportunity to listen to some of it when you started coming over to their place after work almost every day since that first “date.” You hardly ever go home anymore, since all of Namjoon’s plants are in his living room and he can’t trust Yoongi alone with them. It took only three weeks of hanging out and cooking for them and Namjoon reading to you and fucking you in his room after he made sure that Yoongi had his noise-cancelling headphones on, for him to finally make things official.

Were things moving too fast? Yes. Did you end up falling for the man who was soft and articulate in the streets, but rough and ineloquent in the sheets harder than you’ve ever fallen for someone before? Double yes. But for once you aren’t scared by how easy Namjoon wedged his clumsy way into your life and became your favorite part of waking up every day, especially when it’s to his bare chest and bicep beneath you, even if he woke you up several times in the night with his snoring.

Sure, you’ve gotten into your fair share of fights with Namjoon when he’s forgotten dates purely because he was too entrenched in a book or overslept after pulling an all-nighter grading students’ theses and creating last minute lecture slides for the professor. And you’ve been at fault too when you get too busy with organizing events at the library and studying for your library science exams that you’d go a couple days without texting or calling him.

He’d show up on your breaks with the biggest, cutest pout and do some scolding of his own, one time going so far as to guilt trip you wondering if the bonsai tree he gave you for your birthday was feeling neglected. That conversation ended with you asking if he wanted to just move in with all his plants so he could look after them all at once.

And a week later, he did.

Yoongi was a bit too happy to help since once Namjoon moved out, Seokjin could move in, and not to mention the fact that he wouldn’t have to worry about him 24/7 anymore. He would still worry, of course, because his best friend is that much of a clutz, but he trusts you enough to make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself. When all of the boxes and plants were cast in unorganized, Namjoon fashion around your apartment, Yoongi shook your hand, wished you good luck with a lazy salute and scurried out, immediately calling up his boyfriend. You spent all night helping Namjoon unpack but only a few boxes of his things got put away when he wrapped his arms around you and whispered in your ear promises that he would make love to you all the time now that you lived together. He proved it then by taking you on your couch, now his, and fucked you until your throat was raw from screaming his name and being stuffed with his fat cock, crying until you were practically dehydrated.

It’s been almost two years now, but the spark is still there and you don’t think it’ll ever go out. And both of you put all the effort to keep it that way, finding new things to do, other libraries and museums to explore, nature walks and bike paths to take. Namjoon’s specialty is going out of his way to get his fill of you whenever you want it, getting more risky each and every time. And that’s how he came to fuck you at your job, in the middle of a goddamn work day, but in the archives where hardly anyone comes through.

“What do I have to do to get you to be quiet? You’re gonna get fired.”

“This was your idea!”

“Yeah, but you were a little too excited when I brought it up, weren’t you?” He reaches around under your skirt to play with your clit and mouths behind your ear. You nod and visibly tremble.

“Why’s that? You’ve thought about it? About me coming in here and fucking the shit out of you in the place where it’s against the rules to make noise?”

“So what if I have?”

“Well, you still need to shut up.”

You sharply huff and dig your fingernails into the edge of the shelf when he holds onto your hips and begins ramming into you, slow and steady, bringing you close to your peak and you have to pull your lips in and squeeze your eyes shut to keep yourself quiet.

But they go wide with the rapid beating of your heart when the door on the opposite side of the room opens and you both freeze at the sound of footsteps.

“Shit,” you whisper in unison, and Namjoon steps forward to press his body entirely against yours, matching your stance to hide your legs.

Squished against the books, you watch him yank a random one off the shelf, glancing over his shoulder when the footsteps grow louder and you stifle a laugh when he opens it upside down and pretends to read, still buried deep inside you.

“That looks natural.”

“Shh.”

You wait with bated breath as the footsteps come and go, thankfully not in your direction, and he sighs through his nostrils, fanning over the top of your head.

“It doesn’t go there,” you tell him when he shoves the book back in the wrong place.

“Fix it later,” he grumbles, momentarily pulling out of you so he can twirl you around by your shoulders, licks his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss your breath away. You hum over his tongue.

“Whoever that was might’ve thought you were fucking the books if they saw you,” you jokingly point out, tapering off into a moan when he thrusts back into you, picking up where he left off.

He peers down at you and shrugs. “Better than you getting fired.”

You raise your eyebrows at that. “Would you? Fuck books?” He coughs down a laugh.

“What do you take me for? I don’t love reading that much. How would someone even do that?”

“Dunno. Guys have figured out how to fuck weirder things.”

“That is true. But I’d prefer to fuck you holding a book and reading to me or something. Not right now, though. C’mon, we better hurry up before someone else comes in.”

You laugh at the image of Namjoon fucking the life out of you while you try to read aloud one of his complex, big brain books. Maybe you’d try to quiz him after, see if he could use that big brain of his to focus on everything at once. But that’s another story for another day.

You slide your hands around his waist and down to squeeze at his clothed ass and he bucks into you with a grunt, ducking his head to lick over your neck and you remind him he can’t make bruises. He lifts your legs to wrap them around his waist, ruts up into you with haste and fervor, grinning the beautiful dimpled grin when you come with silent, shuddered cries covered once more by his soft palm. His hand’s so damn big it could hide the entire lower part of your face.

“There you go,” he whispers as he drives you through your orgasm. “Nice and quiet, Ms. Librarian.”

You almost come again from his sultry voice alone. But soon after, he yanks out of you and helps you down on your knees so he can shove into your mouth instead. When his rhythm falters and he starts gasping in short little breaths, you lift up your hand and he smiles, immediately picking up on what you’re doing. He bends down and grabs your wrist to push it against his mouth, stilling his hips so you can work him to completion with stealthy bobs of your head. In your palm, you can feel the vibrations of his low, dark growls as he releases into your mouth, ropes of hot cum running down the back of your throat, making your eyes roll up in bliss.

You swallow every last drop and he digs his teeth into your palm when your throat constricts around his sensitive head to do so. When your mouth threatens to drive him into overstimulation, he pulls out, lets you catch your breath while he crams himself back in his underwear and jeans, and helps you back up with a smile, catching you in a heated, swollen kiss.

“Well, that was good for me, was it good for you? Same time next week?” he asks after a few minutes of having his tongue down your throat. He holds out his hand for you to shake to which you dramatically roll your eyes and push away, grabbing onto his bicep to force him to turn around.

“Get out of here, doofus.”

He starts walking away with a laugh, and you shush him, planting your hands on his wide, beefy shoulders and giving them a soft push. You ultimately become a hypocrite and once again break the cardinal rule with a loud cackle when he trips on his own two feets and falls forward, catching himself on his hands. He straightens with a harsh glare and you just grin, latching onto his elbow and when you reach the end of the shelves, you take a look around to make sure no one’s coming and skip off with your boyfriend in tow.

You forget to put the book back in its rightful place.

.

.

.

thank you for readinggggggg!!! i hope you enjoyed! pls support with likes, comments, and reblogs!

masterlist here

permanent taglist: join here

Materials clinked on a metal plate. A cold wipe rubbed over the thin skin. “You can relax it.”

Sucking in a breath, you knew what was coming, never once breaking eye contact with Namjoon. Even when the pinch turned into a burn. This was a performance, keeping your face neutral so the nurse wouldn’t think you were a wuss as it ached so deeply in your arm she might as well be sawing it off. The only thing that gave it away to Namjoon was the way your respiration rate grew more dramatic and intentional, and the microspasms of your eyelids that fluttered and twitched as they manned the front lines against a fresh wave of tears.

You could feel the vein bursting beneath the skin. Feel the bruise forming and the blood pooling beneath the skin. In one brief moment of weakness, you let your eyes squeeze shut, swallowing hard. Then they were open again like you had something to prove to everyone in the room.

Eternity slowed to the present, the needle slipping from the skin and a bandaid smoothed over the spot. Unfortunately, it didn’t take the ache with it.

“All done here.” Putting a cup in your hands, the nurse helped you to your feet. “I’ll show you to the bathroom to get the urine sample and then you’re free to go.”

You nodded at her, a wry smile all you could muster when all your assets were already focused in on not crying. Namjoon trailed behind, hovering over your shoulder and holding the bathroom door open for you. You didn’t care how it looked for him to be in there with you. All you cared about was doing this as quickly as possible and getting the hell out of dodge—and if that meant you got a standing audience while you peed into a plastic cup, then so be it.

The second the door closed you lent back against the wall for air, grasping your elbow and mouth open in a silent cry, breathing out in hisses through barred teeth.

“Did it burst?” He whispered at you softly.

You nodded, shakily exhaling through your nose. “Let’s get this over with so I can get an ice pack and zone out to a documentary.”

Namjoon shuffled awkwardly against the wall, unable to decide if he should face the wall or watch over you in case you needed help. He settled with conversing to the wall, hands in his pockets. After a few moments of rustling fabric and ripping toilet paper to coat the seat, he piped in. “Do you...Do you need help with it?”

That made you laugh. “I think I’ll be okay. Though I appreciate knowing you’d be willing to let me pee on you if necessary. How romantic~”

“I wanted to be a doctor, I can handle bodily fluids.” The backs of his ears turned pink.

“But not needles?” You teased, uncapping the cup.

“I said I wanted to be a doctor. Emphasis on the past tense.” He shifted his weight again. “You sure you don’t need help? Your grip looked weak today.”

“Nope. I can handle this. Sorry you can’t get your golden shower today.”

Namjoon’s body shivered, and you could almost see the face he was most likely making—probably because he turned to send it your way over his shoulder; crumpled and grimacing with disgust. “Please never say that shit to me again. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be here all night, definitely saying worse.” You finished swiftly, pain forgotten behind the playful conversation. Washing your hands and tucking the cup into the revolving case, you left with his hand in yours, leaning into his side to take the pressure off your own knees.

Sliding yourself into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car, you felt the first wave of jittering nerves start to flap their wings, just stretching the muscles and tendons out from being locked away in their cocoons. The appointment had gone surprisingly well—almost too well as far as you were concerned. The doctor was so quick to listen and believe your experience, always explaining her questions or her reasoning behind them, walking you through what the next process was going to look like. In her mind, there was no doubt about whether or not you could have EDS; it was just a matter of confirming which type.

You should be happy. Even if all of the genetic testing came back negative, she assured you that hEDS would be added to your diagnosis list and maintenance care would be provided. But somewhere inside, it still felt fake. Like you had built up the experience of finally being believed and how great it would feel or all the doors it would open. As though those little letters being inked onto your discharge paperwork would change your life for the better.

But it didn’t. While it felt amazing to be believed—nothing had changed. Your body still hurt, the fatigue was so overwhelming you would have to take a nap as soon as you got home, and your path was still littered with landmines.

All this did was give you a better headlamp to find them that sometimes worked and a shiny badge that said “Hey! You have to believe me now!”

“How does it feel?” Jungkook beamed at you as soon as you landed in the seat. “Better than last time?”

“Much better than last time,” You sighed, leaning back onto the headrest. “Being poked still sucked, but at least it’s for an actual purpose now.”

Jungkook hummed, steering the three of you out of the parking lot. “I told you she’d be great. I work with her sometimes—she’s one of the best in the area.”

Brow raised and pointed in his direction, you elbowed him gently. “Is that admiration I hear?”

“I mean yeah. She’s good at her job.”

“Her daughter is good at many things or so I’ve heard,” Namjoon shot you a look through the review mirror that said ‘We have to talk about this later’.

You tilted your head the smallest degree, eyes flicking from Jungkook to Namjoon. ‘You know about this?’

Namjoon pursed his lips, cheeks hollowed in and eyes darting to the sky for half a second. ‘Do I...’

“Stop doing that.” Jungkook groaned beside you.

“Doing what?” You and Namjoon said in unison.

Jungkook gestured wildly to the two of you. “That. That thing with your eyes. I know you’re gossiping about me.”

“I hate gossip and you know that.” Namjoon resituated the baseball cap on his head without failing to toss you another look over his glasses. ‘We’ll finish this later.’

Jungkook scoffed. “Just because your gossip is done over fancy rich people cheeses at Jin’s place doesn’t make it not gossip.”

“Like you’re any better!” Namjoon leveled to the younger one.

“I am! I actually don’t like gossip!”

It was your turn to interject, a choked sound of disbelief tumbling out of your throat. “Says the town crier!”

“Am not!”

“Are too! You, Hoseok, and Jin could’ve single-handedly wiped entire towns off the map during witch hunts back in the day—at one brunch.”

Jungkook sat with that for a second. Then another. “Okay. You’re not wrong...”

Namjoon drew your attention back to him again, sharing another sneaky look behind sly smiles. ‘Got him.’

“God, you’re still going?! Right in front of me too...”

You giggled, adjusting your seatbelt so it didn’t dig so hard into your ribs. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

Jungkook licked his lips like he was debating whether or not to say what was on his mind as the city rolled by, placing a supportive hand on your knee and squeezing, sounding surprisingly genuine. “You did good today. I hope to see you back on campus soon.”

The smile you offered him was sweet. “Likewise.”

Turning your head to lean against the window, you felt Namjoon’s gaze glazing over you from behind, hopeful and proud. You wanted him to keep looking at you like that—to do anything to keep that warm glow and soft smile. From above the tree tops, you followed the gliding birds as they wound themselves in arching circles, wings big and black like ink blots dotting a crystal blue sky; spread wide to let the wind run through their inky feathers. Angled to the left, claws retracted, eyes scanning the forest floor for their shared prey.

You regarded Namjoon over your shoulder, sharing in the moment of quiet.

One of the birds finally spiraled lower, claws extended and beak pointed down to disappear within the boughs of new green.

_________________________________________

Black ink spiraled out from the tip of your pen, moving slowly around the perimeter of the cerebrum, the live reference photos on the laptop in front of you, which Namjoon had been able to acquire from one of your professors, were enough to guide your proportions. Your eyes moved swiftly from paper to screen, noting the areas of light, bending folds, defining shapes—thickening the nooks and crannies that had once held an entire human being's personality, memories, and hopes. Hashed the shadows out over their dreams.

Namjoon’s looked better than yours. Clean lines, sharp edges, tight shadows. Clinical.

“You should try to tighten your draft next go,” Namjoon nudged your elbow gently. “This looks great, but I know you can do better.”

You swallowed, taking in the mess on paper before you with a soft pang in the center of your chest. Taking no offense to his gentle guidance was something you had mastered, but right now, as you sat looking at the thick lines that reminded you more of an artistic take on an antique medical journal than a modern portfolio—you liked how it looked. Liked how it felt to convey the gravity of the organ in front of you, both literally and figuratively, as though the deeper you carved the patterns into the model, the more answers you would uncover. Stories soaking through the ink and into your fingertips. Advice on how they lived. Memories that could help you decipher what was brewing deep within your nervous system.

“Right.” You finally sighed, swapping the ink pen for a pencil and starting again. An oval as the base, divided and sectioned off, with flimsy but intentional guidelines within its center and spreading out.

Namjoon pulled the inside of his cheek in between his teeth, chewing on it while he supervised your foundation, biting back a half-baked observation neither of you wanted to say out loud.

It wasn’t right.

Time was ticking, weeks flying by since your blood test drenched with the mundane tasks you used to pass the time while you awaited the results. You had only two more weeks before the summer semester would begin, and only two weeks to sign up for the classes you had to hope were still open. And here you were, making artistic renditions of your references at the price of perfect accuracy, getting lost in who the people were instead of looking at the now inanimate organ in front of you. Reanimating the dead and pretending to meet them.

For a second, you let yourself laugh at the idea that maybe a necromancer would be a job title better suited for you.

Only a few minutes into the less interesting sketch and Namjoon’s not-so-subtle stare, your phone made a rattling noise against the table. Then another. And another. At first, you had assumed that it was the group chat you had been added into going off as per usual. Perhaps another bee hive photo or a beat Hoseok was working on. Though when Namjoon’s phone remained motionless and black-screened on the table next to yours, tension lodged between your shoulder blades, and the phone was in your hand faster than you could throw the pencil away.

It was your health chart app, its little icon like guiding beam of a lighthouse leading you there without much thought.

‘New test results available’

Namjoon didn’t ask as he watched you flick open the app and type in your information, he already sensed it—already calculated the possibilities of who or what would cause you to move so urgently for.

‘Test for gene mutation COL3A1: negative.’

A strange combination of relief and disappointment flooded through you. While glad to know your heart and brain were at better odds, the negative sign still felt like mockery. You reminded yourself that it wasn’t. This was clinical and impartial. The word had no intentions, no brain to judge, and no hand to wag a disapproving finger at you.

Backing out of that one, you moved onto the next, hearing only the heavy breathing of both you and Namjoon as he crowded closer.

‘Gene mutation COL5A1: Positive. Please reach out to your healthcare provider regarding next steps.’

There were a few moments of silence. Heavy, dense, and concentrated in Namjoon’s living room, as though all of the quiet in the world had migrated in through the window and swarmed the air. The first tear fell before you even realized it had formed. While hEDS would have been a well and fine diagnosis, this one offered you results you couldn’t shove away on good days when self doubt was loud. A test result that no one could deny. Validation that held no motive to please you for the sake of niceties.

“C’mere.” Namjoon was already pulling you into his side, securing you there while your body processed feelings your brain hadn’t even registered. Relief collapsed against you like a tidal wave, the flimsy curtain that held you back from genuinely believing yourself now ripped away and torn to shreds. It felt safe now; the act of feeling your pain and the exhaustion that came from grappling with it all this time.

“What now?” You sniffled into the side of his neck. The question that kept coming back around now matter how many times you threw it away.

Namjoon drew soothing circles over your shoulder blades. “We get you back on track.”

You could feel it now, the rugged screech of rusted wheels trying to chug along eroded metal, the train that stored your passion and motivation stretching its stiff joints and corroded bolts to push you onward.

Yet the track in question felt more like a tightrope, thick fibers digging into your feet with every step forward; never intuitive, always intentional, and utterly exhausting. Your portfolio was growing thicker, as was your list of impending doctor's visits and specialists that was now long enough to span the floor of your shared apartment.

The future care felt good. The idea of gathering resources and mobility aids excited you.

Signing up for classes….didn’t.

Drawing your diagrams and organizing your portfolio didn’t.

Paying attention to Namjoon’s miniature lectures, refresh exams, and model drawing practice didn’t.

It all felt like a chore—a full-time job on top of your already existing full-time job that you had to clock into the second you woke up and never get to clock out of, even after you fell asleep. It drained you. Made your pencil drag across the paper rather than glide. Your answers on the tests half-assed and the bubbles barely filled in.

Namjoon never said anything, but the evidence that he noticed was written all over the tension in his shoulders and the dark circles smudged beneath his eyes; poured out in the explanations and directions he put all his energy into keeping your attention for.

Then the excuses started. Namjoon wanted to get a head start on signing up for next semester’s courses, hell-bent on securing you both a good spot with the teacher everyone wanted.

But each time the laptop was booted up and placed between you, you would say you were busy—which to be fair, you were. Knee deep in disability paperwork, insurance calls, and government applications for aid, all of which were a new set of hoops you had to jump through all on their own; an agility course made for the finest pedigree, while you limped around the first hurdle like a combination mutt that had no business existing on the field.

Between the calls to your local agency and having to repeat to them multiple times that you didn’t have an income and the tax return the system kept flagging was from four years ago, you were tired. But this was the life you were beginning to get used to. Dare you say, you were starting to find fulfillment in the nooks and crannies of advocating for yourself, thinking of how many potholes existed in the process that you could try and advocate for filling.

This, taking care of yourself, was a full time job.

The fickle thing about that was that taking care of yourself wasn’t just a job you could put on the side or send in a well-worded email begging for part-time hours for. This was forever. This was non-negotiable.

Which meant a decision had to be made, and you weren’t sure Namjoon was going to be okay with the answer, no matter how many times he had once assured you he would be in the past.

“Hey, you have a few minutes to sign up for our classes before I head off to one of my students?” Namjoon had the laptop propped on his forearm, the university website already pulled up, classes already loaded in the chart.

Glancing up at him from the current document you were filling out, you held up a finger, angling your phone away from your mouth and whispering, “Can you wait ten? I’m on the phone with the county again.”

Namjoon sighed, sliding the laptop onto the counter. “Can’t. I need to leave in five.”

You sent him an apologetic smile. “Can we do it when you get home?”

“Sure,” The compromise seemed to perk him up, a small smile gliding up his cheeks as he leaned over to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “See you at eight?”

“See you at eight,” You returned the smile, loving the way it looked on him.

You listened through the horrid hold music that squealed through the speaker into your ear for the sound of his keys leaving the glass bowl of the entrance way, and the front door closing after him.

Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes wander to the laptop he had left open on the counter, your hand moving along the mouse pad to scroll through the class information before your mind could stop you.

With one quick look, you knew this was going to wreck you. Not only did you have to take the last three courses, you also had to retake the one you had let yourself fail the previous semester, which meant you were going to be stretched even thinner than the last one. A pile of credits that even the average student would stress over juggling.

Dropping your gaze back down to the thick government packet on the breakfast bar, you flipped to the next page. “Huh? Yeah, I’m still here. I had a question about a section on page four….”

You don’t know why you did it. Can’t even remember when it happened. But somehow in between him leaving and the woman on the other end of the line picking up the phone, the classes were removed from your roster and the computer was left on, open and blank until it died.

And it was just a coincidence that you had curled up on the couch and fallen asleep just before Namjoon had come home.

It felt gross to just let him hold you that night, thinking you had fallen asleep while he stroked the skin of your arm and pressed absent-minded kisses to your temple or shoulder.

You were lying not only to yourself, but him.

But he had to know.

You knew he did by the hefty, dragged-out sigh he let out into the empty room when he thought you wouldn’t hear.

Followed by the softest yet most defeated “I love you,” that you had ever heard.

_________________________________________

Hands pat you on the back at the next visit to the diner, Yoongi mumbling a quiet congratulations, and Hoseok pretending to wipe proud tears from his eyes. Everyone was enthusiastic in their hopes for you, draping your neck in medals of kindness and praise just like you had always wanted.

Except they settled tight around your throat like a noose, their expectations for your future too bright to shield your eyes from, and too high up for you to jump up and reach. It felt like they all looked at this discovery of information like a cure instead of a new map. That now, with your diagnosis worn like a Superman sigil on your chest, you would be able to bounce back to the girl you were years ago, all bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and blood thirsty for a future all her own.

But when you thought back to who you used to be, you didn’t recognize that person anymore. She was nothing more than a memory—a friendship flame that died out and was better left smoldering in the past.

Someone you didn’t want to see ever again.

And you weren’t sure what that meant when it came to answering their questions about your upcoming semester. You didn’t know how to navigate classes without her grit or how to hunker down and persevere through a semester without her drive.

Without her, none of that felt attainable anymore.

“What classes do you have left to take?” Jin asked, bringing you back to earth.

“Uh…” The names for the classes escaped you, it had been a hot minute since you had last looked over the mandatory course guide, anyway. “There’s one that involves business and marketing...and one that helps us network….”

You felt Namjoon’s gaze boring into the side of your face. “You don’t know what classes we are signing up for?”

The question didn’t leave his mouth with venom, but it still stung when it sunk beneath the skin like it did. You shrank beneath his slowly disintegrating smile, voice growing smaller. “I haven’t checked in a bit…”

“Who cares about the names—she gets the gist.” Jungkook swooped in to save you with a laugh, tossing a crumpled straw wrapper in Namjoon’s direction. “Either way, they get done.”

“Right,” Namjoon leaned back against the leather seat, bringing the arm that was laying across the back of your seat down to reach for the salt, pouring a bit too mouch on his breakfast potatoes.

There was a few inches of space between you on the seat.

Neither of you moved to close the gap the change in position left.

“Where did you want to apply again?” Hoseok asked the question in good faith, oblivious to the not-so-subtle glare you sent his way that begged him to change the subject.

You hummed in thought for a few seconds, poking around your meal with your fork while your insides caught flame from how intently Namjoon was looking at you. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“Vermont.” Namjoon cut in abruptly.

“What?” You twisted your head to look at him.

His leg started to bounce beneath the table. “Your mom’s cousin. Vermont.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s an option.” You took a sip of your drink to try to disperse the sudden dryness that had overtaken your mouth. You had forgotten about Vermont and the connection your mom’s cousin promised, but you tried not to let that show on your face. “I don’t want to settle on any one thing just yet. Maybe look around a bit before I make any final decisions.”

Namjoon made a face that he failed to conceal. “That’s been your dream since forever.”

“Yeah, well, dreams can change. That’s what happens when you grow up.” You shot back.

“Vermont is cool,” Taehyung butt in, voice a bit squeaky as he clearly sensed the rise in tension. “They have a crap ton of different kinds of assassin bugs and ambush bugs-”

“So growing up means you can’t have dreams anymore?” Namjoon rebuked as though Taehyung hadn’t even spoken.

You made an indignant noise in the back of your throat. “That literally isn’t what I said. I said they can change.”

“It seems like a lot of things are changing these days,” Namjoon muttered beneath his breath, shaking his head to himself.

No one else dared say anything this time.

Except for you. Because you weren’t going to let that slide.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“-Anyone in the mood for some dessert? Our seasonal special is carrot cake cheesecake.” The gray-haired waiter flipped open his little notebook and regarded the table with a grin that was too tense to be oblivious.

“Thank fuck—I’ll take a slice!” Hoseok threw one of his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh, playing with the collar of his lime green flannel with the other.

Jin also raised his hand. “Count me in.”

“Anyone else?” The waiter did a once-over of the table, not bothering to hide the way he stopped on you and Namjoon, the two of you having gotten into the habit of sharing a dessert after dinner when each time you’d frequent the diner.

“No thanks,” You mumbled, falling back against the leather to create more distance between you and Namjoon.

Namjoon offered him a tight-lipped smile. “No, thank you.”

You couldn’t find it in you to say much the rest of the night, simultaneously too embarrassed that the previous exchange had happened in public, and too stubborn to speak to him any further. Passive-aggressive didn’t look good on him when it held truth to it. The clench of his jaw came home with them from the diner and didn’t leave, and now it wormed under your skin in a way that made you nauseous instead of warm.

It wasn’t like you were ignoring each other—dinner was still always shared, nights were spent tangled up under the same sheets, and tutoring sessions were prompt and timely. But the argument lingered in the back of your throats and soured the sweet bliss of being new roommates, the novelty now traded for normalcy.

The heat of it never cooled; unfinished and left to fester in the way he would run his tongue over his teeth whenever he overlooked your exam sheet, or how messily you filled in the answers.

You needed some fresh air. Time away from everyone you knew to give you space to pretend.

Right now, you were just a woman sitting at a coffee shop table, nursing a styrofoam cup full of whatever decaffeinated beverage didn’t sound depressing on the menu while you gazed out the window. Here, there were no expectations or questions about what you were doing next. She was a stranger. Someone nobody knew.

A blank slate open for interpretation.

A sip melted down your throat and warmed your stomach, eyes trained on the people that passed the window. Everything about them interested you.

The angle in which their feet faced as they sauntered or zipped by; what their hands were doing—clenched tight around grocery bag handles or purse straps, dangled by a pinky finger threaded through a small child’s grip, flattened to the outside of their thigh to tap along to the beat in their absurdly large headphones stuck to their heads; how fast they moved or whether they were alone or trailing in relaxed groups. Most of them had a goal or purpose for where they were going. A reason for where they turned or stopped.

But the people who didn’t have that set path seemed to earn your attention the most.

Moving both lazily and fecklessly, dancing openly or bouncing to a song no one else could hear, pausing on street corners to fake to the left once and the right twice, only to make a mad dash across the street before the timer ticked to zero—pinched apologetic smiles tossed to passerby's.

They may have apologized for the inconvenience, but not for their choices. Nothing about how they moved screamed ashamed or insecure; they were confident in the nowhere they were going.

And the people they inconvenienced or trivially bothered were unharmed—shaking their heads behind steering wheels and jeering with unimpressed judgment maybe—but in no way was their path ruined. They were separate from each other. Indifferent.

There was enough space for both, they just had to learn to walk around each other.

The cup hovered just below your lip. Whatever you ordered tasted good. Earthy, sweet, creamy, and comforting. Taking another sip from it, you noted to yourself that this might be your new favorite drink. You’d have to remember to let Namjoon know when you get home.

_________________________________________

Dinner was delicious. Really, it was something fantastic Jin had taught you how to make from one of his internships, and in turn, you had taught Namjoon to help with it. Spending time together was easy when there was something for the two of you to focus on or lovingly make fun of each other over.

But moments like this? When the two of you were just scraping your forks over ceramic plates and finding something to talk about other than the elephant in the room that glared at you from a small computer screen on the coffee table?

They were heavy with the unsaid.

You had one more week to sign up for classes, and the roster was filling fast, seats becoming scarcer by the hour, and the pressure to sign up for them reaching new heights. This was getting to Namjoon in ways he wouldn’t admit, and watching him hide his stress filled you with so much guilt that there wasn’t any room left to enjoy your meal.

A part of you knew he wasn’t going to bring it up first. Not because he was trying to distance himself, but because you knew he was worried about how you’d take it. His kindness was beginning to take a toll on himself, and you weren’t going to let it continue that way.

For once, you would do the work to make the first move. He deserved as much.

He deserved not to hold himself back for you.

“Can we talk for a minute?” You lowered your fork to your plate, letting the tips of it twirl against the sage green design.

Namjoon stiffened mid-bite, eyes wide behind his thick frames that you could see your own reflection in. You looked….different.

Coughing once, he swallowed his food down only half chewed. “Y-yeah, what’s up?”

You took a deep breath, trying to persevere through the anxiety that buzzed around your chest like a horde of gnats, spreading down your arms until your fingertips started to numb.

“I want to talk about classes. And graduation.”

Namjoon straightened in his chair, eyes narrowing in on the computer across the room for a flash before finding you again. “What about it?”

In that instant, you debated turning the ship around and spitting out something more palatable to him. Something neutral and unimportant that would soothe his worries and squash your own. Namjoon had never given you a reason to fear him, but it wasn’t him you were scared of necessarily. Losing the pride he showered you with, or the care and attention he so readily gave you was what kept your mouth glued shut against your will for a long, uncomfortable minute.

Knowing you were about to disappoint someone was a hard feeling to navigate.

“I think you should sign up on your own.”

Namjoon’s eyes fell closed in time with a barely audible exhale, his shoulders dropping just barely so. But you saw it. Saw the dejection sink in with the change in posture. He was finding himself—a response, a thought, or a feeling to share. Finding something to say that wouldn't hurt.

Your ears were ringing now. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to handle it. You did all you could to help, and I’m really grateful for that. But I can’t…there’s no…” Your voice got stuck in the tight squeeze of your throat. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“This is what you’ve wanted to do since we were kids.” Namjoon started calmly. “Why don’t we look at going part time?”

“I can’t,” You shook your head resolutely. “I won’t get financial aid for part time. I can’t afford the cost, nor am I interested in getting private loans that will put in me in debt for the rest of my life for a degree I can’t use.”

“Jimin and I can-”

“No,” You cut him off. “I have limits to how much I’ll allow you all to fund my life.”

Namjoon clenched his jaw just like he had at the diner. “Yes, but if it’s for a degree, then I’m sure we can work something out. Payment plans exist. Who knows, maybe when you get to Vermont you’ll make enough to cover it. I’ll help you—that’s what I’m here for.”

“You’re here to be my partner because I love you, not to solve my problems.” The smell of the food in front of you started to make you nauseous. “And I don’t want to go to Vermont.”

“Fine, then we find another magazine or public health-”

“Namjoon.” His name settled over the room like the clang of a judge’s gavel. “I don’t want to be a medical illustrator anymore.”

He blinked rapidly, respiration rate increasing with a rapid rise and fall of his chest. “But we made a deal.”

“Our deal was that you had until summer to convince me that I could do this, not that I would for sure graduate. You even said it was a no loss situation for me.”

“So nothing I did mattered?” Namjoon looked like he was about to cry, eyes shining in the living room light.

You groaned, feeling your own eyes start to burn. “That isn’t what I said. Everything you’ve done, all the support you offered—I can’t thank you enough for that. I’ve been able to find myself. I’ve learned what it feels like to be loved. I’ve been given space to get to know myself without judgment. And with that space, I’ve learned that I can’t do this. It has nothing to do with you. You can’t take away my disability, Joon.”

Namjoon was silent. Unmoving. Far off in his own mind and struggling to return.

“You knew this was a possibility. You knew this was a potential outcome. I asked you what would happen if I couldn’t succeed, and you said you’d still be here.” Suddenly, it was you who was having trouble breathing. “Were you...Were you lying when you said that?”

“No,” Namjoon’s irritated grunt was immediate. “I meant that. I’m just…” He pushed his chair back, running his hands through his overgrown hair.

“Just?” You probbed, fighting the instinct to pile on your defenses.

“Nevermind.”

“No,” Heat rose beneath your tone. “What were you going to say?”

“I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.” He grabbed for his fork again, shoving his food around in harsh circles.

“Just say it, Joon. I’m tired of you not just saying it.”

He stood with a curse, pacing in a circle behind his chair only to stop to fix you with a stare that bordered on accusatory. “Are you sure you actually don’t want to, or is this your insecurity talking?”

Something about Namjoon doubting your judgment stung. It burned deep like a hot poker through the heart, summoning old demons you thought had long since been exorcised.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not doubting your experience, but you’ve been putting less effort into lessons. You’ve been self-sabotaging your work or sketches, and spending more time and effort correcting them than doing them right the first time. You do this a lot—doubt yourself to the point that it gets in your head and knocks you off track. I just want you to know that you can do this if you really want to.”

The noose of other’s expectations pulled tighter.

You scoffed to try and loosen it. “Yeah, that’s the point. I’m not putting less effort in ‘cause I’m insecure, but because I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Are you sure you don't?” He was almost shouting now. "What else do you want then?"

“I want to just have time to exist as me! Five months isn’t enough time! I need to learn this new version of me before I make any long-term decisions that could fuck up my future even more than it already is—is that crazy to ask?!” Your volume now matched his, hands planted on the table to lift yourself up to a level playing field. “You should know with all your research how common it is for people with my condition not to work, or to have to give up their dreams to just survive.”

Namjoon grit his teeth. “Yes, but there’s also plenty of them that push through and achieve their goals with the right support.”

That one hurt. Those two simple words ‘push through’ ached.

“I don’t give a fuck what those people say! You can research this shit all you want Kim, but that’s all it is. Research. You aren’t the one who has to live with it—I do! That’s what I’m trying to-” You cut yourself off with a strangled groan. Yelling at him didn’t feel good. Nothing felt good anymore. Slumping back into your seat, you buried your face in your hands and tried to steady your breathing. A whisper squeezed through the gaps in your fingers. “I thought you said you believed me?”

There was no sound. No response save for the sound of both of your ragged breathing and the sniffles you tried to hide.

He was there in a few long strides, kneeling in front of you and wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. “Hey.”

You fought for your life against his grip to keep hiding behind your hands. Nothing sounded better than letting this awful feeling in your chest swallow you whole, taking you anywhere else but here.

“Hey, look at me,” He urged softly, finally prying your hands away to get a good look at your face. “I do believe you. I’m sorry if that came out in a way that sounded like I didn’t.” Lips quirked to the side, he carefully found his words again. “I just...I want you to know that you can do anything you put your mind to. That I believe in you too.”

“I know you do,” You sighed, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “Sometimes that feels like a trap, though. Like if I let you down or can’t keep up with your expectations, that you’ll just...give up on me.”

“Never. I’d never give up on you. That’s why I really just want you to try.”

A car rumbled by out the window. The water pipes whispered overhead.

What he said didn’t strike you as comforting. It still felt like rope.

“I’m sorry for yelling.” Braving a look into his eyes, you melted at just how sincere they looked. He really believed in you.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t talk about this sooner.”

He looked back over his shoulder towards the coffee table and the computer that balanced on the edge of it, then back at you. “Do you think you have it in you to try?”

Honestly? You wanted to go to bed. Wanted to toss the laptop out the window and just close your eyes before your joints started aching more than they already were. But the hands that clawed for release from the weight of everyone’s wants for you grew tired, collapsing in defeat at your sides. The little girl who still liked to brandish her old wounds coming up to poke at yours. She wanted to be praised. She wanted to make someone proud.

“Let’s look at classes.”

The next thing you knew, your chin was hooked on his shoulder while he added your classes to the roster, being extra sure to take his time reading through the descriptions with you and going over plans of action for how you were going to handle it. He even made you take screenshots of the teacher’s student contact information for office hours and extra support, skimming through the assistance offered for students with different disabilities, and taking notes on where you could go.

Unfortunately, you two would have to be split into different classes since there was only one seat left in the more favored teacher’s lecture, and you were adamant that he take it (no matter how many times he tried to make you). Which meant come Monday, you would be getting a ride to class from Jin instead of taking the bus with Namjoon.

That was fine.

Right as he was about to add the last class to your selection, his phone blared with an annoyingly high-pitched alarm—think Area 51 getting invaded by foreign enemy kind of alarm—making you both jump out of your skin and him rush to his feet to turn it off.

Namjoon cursed beneath his breath, stumbling to the door to shuck on his shoes.

“Tutoring?” You followed after him promptly, helping guide his arms into his jacket.

“Yeah, and I’m going to be late,” He responded breathlessly, pecking your lips. “Are you going to be okay finishing up?”

A small smile found its way on your lips. “Yeah. I got it.”

He scanned your features, meticulously running his gaze over every soft wrinkle or curve of your cheeks, risking his punctuality for one more kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too. See you when you get back.”

Shuffling back to the couch, you let its cushions welcome you like they always did, taking the mouse up in your palm and adding the last class to your list.

You really thought you could do it without him.

It was just one click.

One button.

But it was thousands of dollars. And months of your time.

It promised pain. Fatigue. Defeat. Fear. Promised to reopen feelings you had sutured closed; to let regret bleed all over the two of you until one of you pilled up and ripped like over-saturated paper.

It promised you disappointment.

Were you strong enough to handle that?

Should you have to be to be worthy?

There was nothing to describe the sudden and harsh wave of self-depreciation that came over you. It was cold hard reality clashing with the warm winds of what you wanted. Because a part of you was still holding on to the dream you had taped on your bedroom wall.

A part of you still was that little girl tracing colored shapes in medical textbooks with wonder and awe. And that little girl was grieving. Grieving the world she had thought was just waiting for her out the door of her mom’s gray house, and the person she was supposed to become.

The seeping cut left by the blade of reality was one you had already been applying pressure to. Wrapping in gauze and kissing the top of it. Honoring that it never should have been there in the first place, while accepting that it was.

It was time for you to hold that little girl instead of asking everyone else to. To rest your cheek on the top of her head and reassure her that you would still find something good out there—it just might look different now.

You were someone different now. Someone who had new limits and capabilities. And it was okay to be sad about it, but you needed to let go.

You couldn’t keep letting the wound bleed.

But what did this new person want? What could you find to fill the intimidating gap this had all left behind?

Namjoon, obviously. Your new friends? Time would have to pry them from your cold dead hands.

But what else?

Looking out the window, you could see someone traipsing down the sidewalk a street or two away, no bigger to your eyes than a large carpenter bee crawling up the glass as it walked the opposite direction.

They moved freely through their uncertainty, leaning this way and that without any real conviction. The sun was setting overhead, casting beams of pale orange light that deepened into cobalt shadows that stretched out from their feet. They paused at a stop sign, deciding which way to go.

They shrugged, leaping across the empty street with long strides like they couldn’t even be bothered to let gravity have any say in their choices.

You wanted to sketch the motions out so you could meet them. Study how they got to be so unbothered. Maybe in the loose lines of their baggy jeans and over-sized t-shirt you’d find an answer to your own worries.

The stranger disappeared around the corner of a brick firehouse, gone into the world for you to never see again.

You breathed in deeply, exhaling all the more slowly.

The cursor of the mouse darted across the screen to the 'delete' button.

You clicked it.

_________________________________________

Monday rolled in with the bright promise of a new semester, but you were gone before Namjoon had risen out of bed.

Not anywhere far, just back down the cafe that sold those decaf tea lattes you really liked now. You sent him a text to let him know where you were and that you would let Jin know where to get you.

You packed him a lunch. Reminded him with a smiley face to grab it from the fridge.

You did technically text Jin, except it was to tell him not to wait up. Plans had changed.

Namjoon wouldn’t find out until close to noon about what you had done when you didn’t show up for your shared class. Your seat taken by someone else, and the door never opening for you to enter. But right now, you liked the few hours you had where time was just yours, and no one else's. Your decision cradled close to your chest like a baby you wanted to savor the first few moments alone with. Because it was yours.

It wasn’t made by your mother’s influence, or to please Namjoon (or spite him as it used to be for so many years), or to impress doctor's to give you a chance at quality care. It was all yours.

Hours went by here by the window, a pencil in hand to roughly sketch out the figures that passed by, or the street view. When the clock read 12:30, you knew that the secret was no longer yours to keep. By this time, he’d be running through endless possibilities, his head on swivel to check for your arrival.

You held your breath for the flood of messages you expected to receive.

Except none came.

The only ding came from the overhead bell of the front door, countless pages ridden with your pencil marks and hours later. A brown backpack dropped unceremoniously in the chair diagonal from you, the owner taking their place in front of you, just watching your pencil carve out the rumpled fabric of an elderly man’s khaki’s, a half-burnt cigar poised from his lips, and his posture relaxed against the bench across the street.

You didn’t look up to greet him.

“That’s pretty good.” Namjoon nodded to the paper.

Pursing your lips, you appraised the figure with a thoughtful hum. “I guess years of anatomy come in handy when you want to try your hand at being creative.”

There was a pregnant pause as both of you tried to find what to say. You figured it was only right that you did.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon waved off your apology before it could leave your lips. “I knew.”

Wide eyes snapped up to look at his gentle observation. There wasn’t a single drop of anger on his features like you were afraid of. “What?”

His stare never wavered. “I knew you weren’t coming today.”

“How?”

“Iced vanilla?” A server came to the table side, and you rushed to move your sketchbook to make room for his drink. After a few mumbled thanks, she left the two of you be once more.

Taking the cup in his hands, he took a long sip of it, bringing it back to tap his index finger against. “I knew the second I looked at you when I left to tutor. Your mouth said one thing, but the look you gave me told me another.”

Swallowing thickly, you shrunk in your seat. “What’d it say?”

Namjoon smiled fondly this time, a humored exhale leaving his nose. “That you were trying to be someone you weren’t.” He spun the cup in a stiff circle. “And if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you are stubborn, determined, and a force all your own.”

“I still shouldn’t have lied,” You reasoned, letting the pencil drop to the paper.

“No,” He agreed with a shrug. “But I also shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to.”

“You didn’t-”

“I did. I accused you of not knowing what was best for you because I was the insecure one. Truth is, I had been so settled on this future that I had all planned out in my head of us working the same job, ribbing on each other at work, and keeping up with our usual routine that I lost sight of what this was about. I got so caught up in making sure you were adjusting well that I never even stopped to remind myself that I needed to also adjust.” His smile fell into something apologetic. “I guess I still don’t really know how to handle losing as well as I had thought.”

“I don’t think we lost." Closing your sketchbook carefully, you slid it out of the way so you could thread your fingers together. “I think we just...grew.” He looked down at your intertwined hands for a few minutes, just soaking in the touch.

Namjoon’s lip quivered, and his eyes shined when he looked at you again. “I just wanted to help you. And I thought if I failed, you wouldn’t want me around anymore.”

“And you did help me. So much.” You reminded him softly, running your other hand down his forearm to grasp his hand tightly. "You being able to 'fix me' was never something you had to achieve in order to keep me around."

“But you still have to give it all up.”

There was nothing else you could do but nod. “Yeah. I do. But my life isn’t over. This is just a roadblock leading me another way. Nothing you could have done would have changed the inevitable.” Bringing his knuckles up to your lips, you pressed a kiss to the soft skin. “But hey, we have each other, and I have new friends to bother. Even if I can’t finish a master’s degree, or work a full-time job—I’ll still be here. Making fun of how you write your ‘g’s and leeching off of you.”

He made a face and snorted. “You aren’t leeching off of me if I want to take care of you.”

“But you admit your ‘g’s are weird?”

The toe of his sneaker bumped playfully against yours. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t deny it either,” Your grin stretched wider, glowing with the afternoon sun and me.lting with the quiet serenity of the moment. “What do you say we do a little reset?”

“How so?” He tilted his head to the side, taking another swig of his drink.

“Why don’t we enjoy the nice day with a little walk, and pretend its our first date. No more deals, no more pressure to fix me, or make you proud. Just us. Adults with different goals spending a little time together.”

He weighed the suggestion, shoe tapping rhythmically against yours. “Are you still going to come home with me?”

“Of course I am.” You rolled your eyes in mock offense, knocking your boot back against his. “Who else am I going to force to watch that new hospital show with me?”

Namjoon stood with a chuckle, stretching his arms overhead to loosen up his shoulders that had spent too long hunched over a desk. Peering down at you, he picked up his cup and offered you a hand. “Chair or no chair?”

Pausing, you hooked your arm through his elbow, letting him guide the two of you to the front door of the cafe. “Can we bring it just in case? If you don't mind pushing it around a bit.”

He pressed his lips to your temple. “Absolutely.”

_________________________________________

Epilogue.

Sunlight beat down on your face and the hand you had brought up to try and block it out from your eyes. Key word tried. It was way too hot to be legal, sweat beading down the back of your neck and lower back, making you feel both dizzy and grumpy at the same time.

Heat never failed to thin your patience and turn you into a whole different beast than you would be otherwise. If the sun didn't calm itself down any time soon, you might have to do something drastic.

“How much longer?” You turned to look at Yoongi on your right, who looked to be in a similar state of displeasure over the heat.

Smoothing out the creases of the program he had pocketed, he skimmed the tiny black lettering with squinted eyes. “It should have started five minutes ago.”

“Ugh,” Snatching the paper from his hands, you read the time stamp with a frown, huffing upon finding he was right. “Do you think if I tell them I have heat sensitivity they’ll let me have some of that ice water they keep on the table for the professors?”

“Maybe if you butter them up enough,” Yoongi grunted, gazing across the field.

“Tell them your heart will stop and you’ll die on the spot. Really lay it on thick.” Hoseok snickered from behind you, leaning forward to snag the paper to use as a makeshift fan. “Just don’t forget to grab some for your best man.”

“For the last time,” Jin stole it right back from him and passed it down to you. “We all know who the best man is going to be, and it isn’t you.”

“What’s he whinin’ about?” Jimin asked, out of breath from jobbing across the field to the bleachers, smelling of cigarette smoke and floral perfume.

Yoongi grimaced at the combination of smells, hissing out his response through gritted teeth as he jabbed Hoseok with his elbow. “Being the best man at a nonexistent wedding.”

The emphasis on the word 'nonexistent' had you narrowing your eyes on the two, something fishy was clearly going on between them, but the heat had sucked out too much of your mind to care.

Jimin rolled his eyes to the back of his skull, grunting as he shoved Hoseok further in to make room for himself. “That’s my job. I did the most work getting these two together.”

Jungkook's brows disappeared into his hairline, choking on his second hot dog from the food trucks parked outside, reaching down to wipe a smear of ketchup off his hospital badge. “Excuse me! I carried here.”

Turning back to flash them a sarcastic grin, you quipped, “That’s okay guys. Remember, who doesn’t get to be the best man, I still have an open spot for my maid of honor. My friend from the disability group I'm in doesn't care for weddings.”

A few beats of silence passed between them before Jimin broke it. “I call that one.”

“That’s not fair! I didn’t even get a chance to call it!” Jungkook whined with a pout.

“Maybe if you weren’t inhaling hotdogs-”

Their bickering continued on far longer than necessary, not even stopping when Taehyung shuffled back from the bathroom with Namjoon’s mom at his side, elbow tucked with hers to help her up the stairs.

“Hi,” You shimmied over, making room for her to sit next to you.

She hurried into her seat, stealing worried glances out onto the field where professors were starting to amble to their positions. “I didn’t miss anything did I?”

“Nope, you’re all good,” Looping your elbow with hers, you squeezed her hand. “You’re right on time.”

Just as the last word left your mouth, music began to creep in over the overhead speakers and students in deep violet gowns trickled out from the other end of the field, making neat rows on the grass. Since there weren’t as many students for medical illustration—let alone PhD graduates—so they got shoved in between the other nursing, respiratory, and laboratory research students. Which, unfortunately for you all, meant longer wait times until Namjoon was called to walk the stage, grinning ear to ear and holding his certificate for his PhD high for you all to see.

You had never screamed so loud in your life, standing so fast that your vision went black for a few seconds, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Not when he looked like he was going to burst with joy at the sound of your groups erupted cheers.

Not when running for him after the ceremony ended hurt like a bitch, but hugging him first made the pain worth it.

The proud smile on your face never left, always lingering behind soft shared glances across his celebratory dinner and the run of your fingertips over the arm you leaned against. He was already talking about eventually going back for another degree—because of course he was—and everyone was already placing bets on how long he’d actually wait before he applied.

When the group dwindled to all but the two of you and his mother, who sat outside a local ice cream parlor with frozen treats dripping down the backs of your hands and onto your nice clothes, the sun had lessened its tyrannical reign in favor of a mild summer evening.

“So, my dear, what about you?” Namjoon’s mother asked from between you, looking at you around her ice cream cone everyone knew she probably wouldn’t finish (Namjoon had even told her so when she tried to convince him she knew what she wanted). She wasn’t one for sweets and always seemed to forget that.

You shrugged around your next bite, fleetingly meeting Namjoon’s eyes. “Not sure yet. Still trying to figure everything out.”

She hummed, low and pensive, debating on whether or not she wanted to take another bite or offer it to her son. Sometimes his mom struggled with the concept of you not working or going to school, but more so just out of worry and how she was raised than judgment. She acted more like a mother than yours did sometimes, and everything she did for you was out of love.

“I have a few ideas if I think I could handle going back. But right now I’m just focused on taking care of my health.” You decided to offer her a bit of comfort, tacking on with a laugh: “Otherwise I’m going to be the best housewife this world has ever seen.”

A hand pat the back of yours. “No worries my dear. Anything you can do is enough for me, as long long as you are happy and healthy.”

Smiling into your cold dessert, you felt yourself melt deeper into the moment, the ghost of her reassuring touch warming the once numb fingers.

The older woman heaved a tired sigh, looking down her nose at her ice cream. “I think I got too much.”

Namjoon made a noise in the back of his throat. “I warned you that they have big portions here, Mom.”

“I don’t want to just throw it away…” she trailed off, standing up to walk back into the shop, muttering about a to-go cup.

Turning to share a knowing laugh with Namjoon, your breath was stolen by how lovingly he looked at you. He spoke first, catching you off guard yet again.

“I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you,” you corrected, cheeks growing warm under the unexpected attention. Making you flustered never failed to balloon his ego, a teasing glint taking over his features.

He scooted across the bench until his side was flush with yours, arm thrown confidently over the back of the bench to rest on your shoulders. “So. ‘best housewife the world has ever seen’, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let that get to your head. I’ll only be a housewife if you respect that it’s a full time job too. I also refuse to take the trash out. That’s your job.”

“I can handle that.” Namjoon snickered, resting resting his empty cup on his knee.

“And I need days off. Regularly. That’s not all I’d become to you or anyone for that matter. Only I get to call myself that.”

“Of course.”

“There will also be days or even weeks I might not be able to do any of it, you know, when it gets really bad. I’ll always still need help.” You stuck your spoon into the rest of your soft serve, ready to throw the towel in as your stomach hit its limit of food for the evening. “And I hold the right to quit whenever I want to pursue something different. I want to take local classes and explore hobbies. I still want to expand my mind, even if it's just casual learning.”

Fingers fiddled with the sleeve of your dress. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The two of you stayed there for a moment, enjoying the gentle breeze and the street view of a bustling summer’s Friday.

“You know, there is something else that would have to happen if you were to want to be a house wife.”

The way in which he said the word ‘wife’ had butterflies erupting in your middle. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Namjoon tried to stay nonchalant, but you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat either. “Something that involves a ring, and a best man.” He held back a laugh, then added on a quick “And a maid of honor.”

"That sounds really fancy and important." You hummed mischievously, enjoying the way drawing out the conversation seemed to make him squirm. “How do you know I wouldn’t just be saying yes so I can get on your good-good medical journal insurance?”

“That’s fine, as long as I get to have you around.”

Thoughts wandered through images of him in a suit fit for a wedding, surrounded by colors you would hand-select with the help of your friends and his mother. Letting him sway you to music or getting to call him your husband.

Hmm. That name had a nice ring to it.

“I guess that means we have some fancy and important choices to make then,” You feigned concern, shaking your head mournfully.

Namjoon’s lips twitched upwards in a half smile. “I’ve already started making a few of the important ones.”

Gasping, your eyes zeroed in on his pockets, but could not find anything out of place or jutting out from the fabric. His hands were empty as well, but still your heart hammered in your chest in a blazing mix of excitement and nerves. Would he do this right now?

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring anything here,” He caught onto your search quickly, shaking his head both to reassure you and tease you.

“But you do have something?”

Another shrug. Another nonchalant tap of his dress shoe to your calf. “Maybe.”

“Well, if it’s not here, then I still have some time.” You shifted back to stare ahead like you weren’t burning up with a thousand questions and theories as to where he could be hiding said thing on the back at your shared apartment.

You definitely had to corner Hoseok later before they returned home. You could get him to squeal if you tried hard enough.

“Time for what?” Namjoon angled his head to look at you.

You held back a sly grin. “To make some purchases.”

“Are you serious?” Panic was evident in his voice as it lifted an octave.

“Yup.” You nodded smugly. “For no particular reason, what’s your ring size?”

Namjoon shook his head in disbelief, standing to take both of your cups into his hand. “Unbelievable.”

Clicking your tongue disapprovingly, you handed it to him. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“No. We aren’t making this a competition.” Pointing down at you menacingly, he walked backwards towards the trash can. He was only gone for a second before he whizzed back, looking conflicted. “I mean it this time.”

He seemed to be singing a slightly different tune when he plopped back down next to you, nibbling at his lip indecisively. “I’m a size 8. If you really need to know.”

“Understood,” Leaning into his side, you rested you head on his shoulder, only letting him relax in for five or seconds before whispering up to him.

“Best surprise wins?”

His answer was instantaneous. “Deal.”

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Next chapter

Main navigation

Come chitty chat!

-> Next

-> Next

The atmosphere in the ostentatious hotel suite is positively buzzing with anticipation.

Yoongi walks into the room in a crisp suit, sporting snake monograms on his cufflinks, pure elegance dripping off of him not unlike any given day. You gaze at his sexiness from the accent chair you’re reading a magazine on with your legs crossed, trying not to crassly drool, and in return, he gawks at the mesmerizing sight of his girl that massively overshadows the neon nightscape behind her. He gallantly reaches for your hand and places a kiss on it as if this is your special day.

He is very appreciative that you have generously indulged his requests for the night—wore his handpicked selection of attire all the way down to your shoes, put on the jewelry he had specially flown in, painted your nails in his preferred color…

You look so fucking gorgeous that if he can’t get a hold of himself, he’s going to ruin his appetite before dinner. 

“Like what you see, birthday boy?” you throw your arms around his neck, discreetly rubbing yourself against his crotch.

“Don’t tempt me or I’ll fuck you right in front of them,” he heavily exhales and nods towards the security detail by the door. “I’m barely holding it together.”

“You’ve wanted this that much?” you chuckle into his ear, gently biting his earlobe. “You seem more… enthusiastic than usual.”

“It’s you,” he gropes your ass with one hand while the other brings your fingers to his lips for a bite, opting for a kiss at the last second. “It’s always you.”

There is a reason he has dolled you up like a luxuriously packaged gift tonight. Although it is his birthday, the present is for someone else to open. 

And he’s never looked forward to something this much.

A knock interrupts the sultry melodies playing over the speakers. Yoongi glances at the door, then at you, and smiles.

“It’s showtime, baby,” he slaps your ass as you disappear to wait for your cue.

Jungkook enters the room flanked by two of his men looking like loyal hounds, cocky swagger of owning half the city dripping off of him. 

“Happy birthday, my liege,” he dips his head with the respect he reserves for less than a handful of people in the universe, then immediately cracks up once he absorbs the opulence cradling the room. “Jesus, you’d fucking die if you weren’t obnoxiously extravagant for once, wouldn’t you?”

The boss and his right-hand man slam their hands against each other for a firm shake and pull each other into a brief hug. They sit down by the gargantuan windows and engage in empty chitchat as they sip on the most expensive scotch money can buy. The weather. The game last night. Whether they should branch into solicitation for murder or not.

“What is this good news you kept teasing the entire week?” Jungkook taps his index finger on the glass resting on one leg folded over the other. “If it’s not a sizeable increase in my cut, I’ll be very upset. You hit fifty million thanks to me.” 

“Funny you should say that,” Yoongi presses two fingers on his temple. “It is about a reward I feel like giving you.” 

“Is the first digit finally a two?” Jungkook smirks with contentment.

“Even better,” Yoongi grins wider. 

“Gentlemen.” 

You make your entrance like the main character you are, hips swaying with radioactive temptation, and when he looks to his right, Jungkook confirms it’s not an auditory hallucination. He visibly falters, not expecting to see you tonight at all, and he is doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that he is mentally undressing you, jaw dropped, poise in shambles. He watches the way your heels kiss the rug with every step you take, and he realizes he is fucking jealous of the floor you walk on. 

It’s a miracle he manages to snap out of it.

“Is this a fucking prank or something?” he creases his brows at his boss. 

“I’m just showing hospitality,” Yoongi gracefully brings his scotch glass to his lips. 

Jungkook starts fighting for his life when you sit right on his lap, your arm flung over his wide shoulders inducing the kind of panic that can easily send him to the ER. He is sure he is no longer the man he was before your ass made contact with his thighs.

“You know, I hear everything that goes on under my roof. Tell me if this quote seems familiar to you:” Yoongi lounges back, his smile faint but amused to the high heavens, “I’d fuck her so good she would make me her side bitch on the first thrust.” 

Jungkook chokes on air. It doesn’t help that you are also chuckling into his ear.

“Look, I can explain…” 

“No need,” Yoongi shakes his head without an ounce of his usual tranquil fury. “Here’s your chance.”

That just CANNOT be possible. 

It’s a loyalty test, isn’t it? It’s not like he’s going to offer him his princess on a silver platter on his goddamn birthday or anything…

“You want me to fuck your girl?” he arches his brows in genuine surprise.

“If you’re interested, of course.” 

IN

TE

RES

TED?!

It’s not even remotely enough to describe his willingness levels. If he were any more interested, he would have to check himself into a psych ward for lust-induced psychosis. He lives for this. He eats, sleeps, and thinks this. If you knew how many times he jerked off to you in the past three days alone, you would issue a restraining order against him in the blink of an eye. 

The first time because you wore his favorite sundress, the second time because you touched his arm while laughing at one of his jokes, the third time because you moaned through a yawn, the fourth time because he imagined what you’d look like pregnant, and fifth time to exorcise himself for the fourth time…

He is your self-proclaimed number one fan, entirely obsessed with you, and you getting even more comfortable on his lap, playing with his curls, watching him crumble under you has to be the biggest fanservice in the history of everything.

“What? You’re scared he’s gonna shoot you?” you purr into his ear. 

“You don’t just hand things out,” Jungkook turns to Yoongi. “What’s the catch?” 

“There isn’t one,” he shrugs, perfectly serious. “Unless you call me being present a catch.” 

Years he has spent jerking off to you in shameful silence, and you are being offered to him just like that? This is a trap. It has to be a trap. Or a once-in-five-lifetimes miracle. 

Possibly both.

“That’s… That’s it?” 

“Well, there is one more thing, and I can’t stress how important it is,” Yoongi adds, letting the moment linger in the air to drag on the suspense. “You have to act like you’re doing this against my will.” 

Jungkook is bewildered out of his mind, utterly incredulous of the words coming out of this man’s mouth. 

Okay.

Fuck, okay.

God, okay, fuck, jesus!

He is already half-hard under you. He might last four minutes, six if he can force himself to imagine the unsexiest things his mind can possibly render. He’s desperately thinking of ways to sustain himself longer so he doesn’t wake up from the horniest wet dream of his life extremely prematurely.

“What are my limits?” he asks as he clears his throat.

“Nothing’s off limits. The worse, the better,” Yoongi answers. “Anything she accepts, you can do.” 

“How long do I have?” 

“However long you can last, but the second you cum, it’s over.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, crazy loyal to your man?” Jungkook turns to you, his on-brand cockiness slowly waking up from the chokehold.

“Who says I’m not?” you answer leisurely. “Loyalty isn’t about what I put inside me.” 

He charmingly smiles, stealing the briefest glance from Yoongi’s way in the meantime. 

“Then here’s what we’re going to do.” 

Your neck is right there for him to kiss, but he needs to break his five-year record and wait for five more minutes. He whispers his scheme into your ear, doing his best not to fucking pass out because of your perfume in his nose. Then he stands up to bring a chair for his boss to sit, changes the song to one of his favorite bedroom jams, and orders you.

“Dance for your man, beautiful.”

To every other person on the planet, Yoongi is an unreadable enigma, the embodiment of calm control and velveteen menace, but you can tell from the glint in his hooded eyes when something starts awakening within him. You climb onto the birthday boy’s lap and slowly roll your hips to the rhythm, every curve of your body wrapping around him as you move. The drag of his tongue across his lips devolves into a bite as he admires the tattoo between your tits. He has half a mind to say fuck it to everything and bend you over to fuck your wits out of you until he fully decimates you.

He is so hypnotized by the devil’s slutty bride grinding on cock that he doesn’t even realize his hands are cuffed behind his back until he hears a click.

“Honors?” Jungkook gives you two more pairs to tie Yoongi’s ankles to the legs of the chair.

“Just how many pairs of cuffs do you walk around with?” you chuckle. 

“There is always an opportunity if you know where to look,” he nods towards the door and points at the security detail, “and yours is right over there.” 

The man of the hour is properly pinned to his place. Jungkook sprawls on the couch right across him, then takes your hand and pulls you closer.

“Now, where were we?” he smiles at you like a man in possession of the uppest of hands.

Because he did.

Credit where credit is due, he fakes the most convincing composure of all time as he fights the raging urge to grope you everywhere, treating you like the queen you are with the sublest of touches. Hands coarse from handling guns become a pair of feathers tickling your body, gently sliding from your back down to your waist. He is so lost in the sheer sight of you that he can’t even register Yoongi’s presence in the room. 

“You have a rep among us lowlifes, you know,” he softly kisses your shoulder. 

“How so?” 

“Call me crazy, but every time I keep post outside, you suddenly feel this need to fuck your man for some reason. Then you scream so loud that one would think you’re doing it on purpose to get me horny,” his hands reach your ass and he gives it a firm squeeze, “which you do by the way.” 

“Yeah, you’re fucking crazy,” you chuckle.

“Damn straight,” he responds, dead serious, not smiling at all. “I’m fucking crazy about you.” 

He heaves a deep sigh, lips parted, devouring you with his eyes. The warmth of his breath tickles you, and you feel the first drops of your slick starting to pool between your legs.

“He has an army of guys at his disposal,” he brushes your cheek with a single knuckle. “Why do you think he asked for me?” 

His hands keep exploring your body. With each curve he feels under his touch, he turns a little more feral, grows a little bigger, and breathes a little heavier, biting his lips not because he is turned on, but to tame himself.

“Because he knows you get me weak as fuck,” he whispers against your skin.

“I get you weak?” you chortle. “How come I’ve never known this?” 

“When it’s a cartel boss’s princess in question, you can’t really declare that shit out in the open on account of wanting to live,” he says matter of factly, “but since I have a free pass tonight, I can say whatever the fuck I want.” 

His mouth ghosts on your collarbones, but he fails to practice restraint. His lips are momentarily pressed on them, drawing a wet trail from one side to the other. He leaves his own body and watches himself from afar as he slowly drags the bust of your dress down. Not all the way, just enough to tease himself with the sight of your cleavage. He can’t help himself and licks a stripe between your tits. When he makes you moan for the first time, he immediately thinks he’s not built for this. You’re too much temptation, and he is too weak for you, willing to collapse this entire cartel if it means you’ll ride him for five more seconds.

“Fuck being a princess,” his rampant jealousy morphs into a desperate plea as he pulls your face closer. “Come be my queen instead.”

You take his lips between yours, and he loses all control.

What was meant as a teasing peck instantly turns into a very heavy makeout session. Messy. Wet. Pornographically loud. Your hands in his hair, his fingertips sunk into your thighs, his cock throbbing harder under you every time your teeth tugs at his lips. You remember that hunger from somewhere.

The creak of the chair and the sound of metal clinking steal your attention. You break the kiss and turn around to witness a very tense Yoongi, the only other man who kisses you like this.

“If you’re flinching just with a kiss, we’re gonna have a fucking problem later on, boss. This is going to get a lot worse,” Jungkook warns him, then grins like a maniac. “I’m about to go all the way with your girl.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but there’s an equally deranged smile on his lips. 

“Nervous?” you coo at Jungkook. 

“Wouldn’t you be if your favorite pornstar was perched on your lap like this?” he licks his lips. “I’m a huge fan.” 

He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and takes out a miniature vial filled with white powder, then draws a line across your tits. He snorts the coke so deeply like it’s his backup supply of oxygen, and when he looks up at you again, his blown pupils almost completely eclipse his irises. You are pleased. You are aroused. You are loving this, and you want to see how much more feral he can get over you.

“Which one of my movies do you like the best?” you cradle his face. 

“Prison guard,” he answers without a beat. “By a landslide.” 

“It’s the latex, isn’t it?” 

“It’s everything about you,” he growls, jaw clenched with animalistic desire. “Fucking step on me.”

His fingers brush against the blackletter S tattoo right between your tits, and his face contorts upon the mental image he created for himself.

“It’s okay. I know a guy,” he kisses your chest. “It’ll be a J in no time.” 

He pulls you into another kiss, this time a lot deeper, messier. You moan into each other’s mouths, and the slurping sounds echo in the suite. You grind faster on his lap, stuck between wanting to tease him and making him cum untouched for you. 

“I always imagine it’s you when I get my dick sucked. I can’t help it,” he confesses into your ear, voice almost like a whimper as he sneaks one hand between your legs to caress your supple thighs. “I don’t care if it’s for one night, you’re finally mine.” 

He finally starts unpacking you, dragging down the straps of your dress first. Slowly, still teasing himself as if he’s not gonna die if you so much as kiss his cock. Then he yanks your bust down and reveals your breasts, almost passing out at the sight.

“I can be your side bitch. That could be my new job,” he fondles them, falling in love with the way they feel in his palms. “Now that would be the promotion I fucking deserve.” 

“Being his right-hand man doesn’t cut it?” you sneer. 

“No, but you being my wife would.” 

He traps your nipple in between his lips and starts sucking on it, his tongue stealing a couple of licks every now and then. He stays latched to you as you undress him. Blazer off, shirt off, belt off. Before you take his pants off, he trades places with you and makes you sit on the couch, then kneels before you like a faithful servant. Your thighs make a sticky sound as he spreads your legs, and he gulps way too thickly when he sees just how wet you are. 

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” you tease, tangling your fingers into his locks again.

“I might, actually. You into ruining hot men?” he asks, face way too serious for it to be a joke. “No worries if not. I’ll just get my tear glands removed.”

He wraps his arms around your thighs and gets into position, staring at your folds just like a predator looks at its prey. 

“Look into his eyes when I eat your pussy,” he instructs. “Show off your new fucktoy.”

He licks one stripe across your cunt, and the sound that rips from your throat is unholy. 

He starts giving you the deepest, sloppiest, and loudest head of your goddamn life like he is trying to prove something. Your eyes meet Yoongi’s, and it thrills the shit out of you to watch him watch you. His eyes are all hooded, snitching on how he’s dying of arousal as his spoiled princess gets pleasured out of her mind by a total simp, his cock straining his pants. It’s almost art, the way it goes down. No sight in the world can be this fucking sublime. 

“Look at him. He fucking hates how much he loves this, but he can’t do anything about it,” Jungkook chuckles into your pussy. “He can’t go anywhere. He acts all tough, but we both know what a fucking simp he is for you.” 

Two fingers curl into you as he licks a slow drag from your slit to your clit, giving it a strong suck at the end. You spit on your fingers and play with your nipples, riding his face faster for as much friction as you can get. He pins you in your place and spreads your lips, then starts flicking his tongue on your clit so fast that a buzzing sensation sets in.

“D–Deeper… Fuck me deepe— Yes. Now suck harder. Spit on it, baby, get it slipp— God, yes. Yes. YES, HARDER!!!”

You fall apart on his tongue, getting sucked hard and fingered deep just like you’ve ordered. He doesn’t let go until he reaches that sweet spot of overstimulation, enjoying the sight of you squirming for him just for a little while. 

“But if he wants to be with you, he’s gonna have to watch me wreck you,” he rises on his knees, chin covered with your slick, and pulls you close to let you taste yourself. “Now sit on my cock, beautiful.”

He stands for you to undo his pants first, and you swallow hard when you face his crotch, fully salivating when his cock springs free. Leaking. Flushed. Huge. Raging erection staring at you to devour it. You lean in and steal a taste from his tip. Low, almost quiet sounds of pleasure escape his lips as you tease his slit, but when you lose control and choke on his girth, he full-on growls. 

“God, you’re fucking killing me,” he throws his head back, eyes fluttering shut like your lips were rimmed with morphine.

He wants to fuck your throat and your cunt, and it’s driving him crazy that he can’t do both at the same time. If he lets you blow him any longer, he’s gonna grab a fistful of your hair, and god knows what will follow afterwards. He barely manages to peel himself away and sits back down, pulling you onto his lap again. 

“Into me,” he pulls your body closer, your back flush against his chest. “Spread wide so your man sees everything perfectly.” 

You gasp when his tip prods your entrance, and it turns into a drawn-out moan when he starts sinking into you, inch by thick, delicious inch. As Yoongi watches another man take what’s his, he makes the kind of sound grown men are not supposed to make. He is so fucking into it, leaking at the sight of Jungkook’s thick cock stretching you, wet squelch of your pussy complete music to his ears. A part of him is riddled with jealousy, but the part that is infested with fatal amounts of lust consumes it at record speed like flesh-eating bacteria. 

It doesn’t matter how much time Jungkook takes to disappear into you; he is still actively losing a piece of his mind permanently. His lips are latched to your neck, your arm is thrown back behind his nape, his hands are fondling your tits, and his cock is buried six feet under you, fucking you so hard like he’s going to die within the next ten minutes. He can’t believe you’re actually falling apart on his lap, screaming horrendous profanities with eyes squeezed shut. A sight he’s dreamed of, drooled over, jerked off to, now in technicolor, rushing in his veins worse than the coke he snorted and getting him twice as high. 

“You’re gonna kill me. God, you’re gonna fucking kill me,” he keeps repeating, voice faded as fuck as he licks into your ear. “Should I call over one of my boys to eat your pussy, too, huh? Do you wanna be a proper slut for me?” 

He shoves his fingers inside your mouth and collects your spit, then starts rubbing your clit, swollen and sticky, desperately fast like a starved animal. Nothing else exists in this moment. It’s just him and you, and this is all about how he’s the one you’re crumbling over, how he’s the one making you drool with your eyes rolling back, and how you’re moaning his name. 

RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR MAN!

“That’s it. Let go. Show him who’s really the boss. Show him who you really want,” he orders, laughing more deliriously as his arousal peaks, seconds away from snapping. “I love you. God, I fucking love you. I’ll fill you up so good, then I’m gonna watch him eat it. Milk me. Milk it out of me, baby, you’re fucking KILLING ME WITH THIS!!!” 

Jungkook assumed it would be you, but it’s Yoongi who reaches the finish line first, cumming untouched simply by watching this beautiful disaster. You can’t believe what has just unraveld before you, and he looks so fucking good, all fucked out without a single touch, that it pushes you over the edge. Jungkook senses the danger when you clench too hard around him and forces himself to his absolute limit to hold it. Until he makes sure those rhythmic pulses around him are fully involuntary. When he finally lets go, an inhumane sound rips from his throat, so guttural it could be a scream of agony. His orgasm gives him a terrible instant headache like a brain freeze, and you can feel the warm wetness gushing out of you, making you wonder just how large that load was.

A dense hush of pure satiation falls over the room, and your faded chuckles and heavy breathing are the only thing that echoes for a while. This is bliss. Utter and unmitigated bliss. You rest in Jungkook’s embrace until your limbs are loaded with some strength again, then you carefully pull him out of you. You stand up, thick strings of cum dripping down your thighs, and undo Yoongi’s restraints, soothing his cuffburns with soft kisses. 

“You got a bit carried away there with the confessions, Jeon,” he smirks at Jungkook. 

“Hey, what happens in the scene, stays in the scene, man,” Jungkook answers, one arm draped over his eyes, still trying to catch his breath. 

“So if I asked you to tag team her with me right now, you wouldn’t do it. Is that what you’re saying?” 

Jungkook removes his arm and looks at him, trying to assess how serious he really is, but all he can see is yet another enigmatic smile. Yoongi rises to his feet, reclaims your lips for himself again, then gallantly reaches for your hand and places a kiss on it as if this is your special day. As if you’re not all disheveled, covered in cum and spit. 

“I’ll take over the pussy worship duties for a while,” he declares. “Join us if you can manage to recover.” 

You cross the threshold to the bedroom hand in hand, and Jungkook watches you kiss Yoongi while removing his blazer. Then undo his belt. Then he watches Yoongi wrap the belt around your wrists and lay you down on the bed. Even though he just came, his cock faintly throbs. He might have accidentally picked up an addiction worse than cocaine tonight. 

Jungkook slowly opened his eyes as the light from the window hit his face. He squinted and yawned, he looked to the side and found you asleep next to him. He watched you sleep for a few seconds before brushing a couple of strands of hair away from your face. 

You would usually leave as soon as you two were done, so having you here in the morning was a rare treat. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile softly as he peppered kisses all over your face. 

“Wake up, sweets.” He whispered, still admiring you.

You stirred in your sleep, a little smile tugging on the corner of your lips as Jungkook kept presses soft kisses on your face. You slowly opened your eyes. 

“Morning…” you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Jungkook’s smile widened when you finally opened your eyes. He chuckles at your sleepy voice, “Morning, sleepyhead.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “How’d you sleep?”