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The sports medicine clinic at Briar somehow always smells the same no matter what time of year it is. Hockey gear, melting ice packs, and disinfectant.

And is technically supposed to close at six.

Technically.

In reality, it closes whenever the hockey team finally stops wandering in with mystery bruises, split knuckles, sore shoulders, or dramatic declarations that they’re "probably dying" before immediately asking for snacks five minutes later.

Which is why you’re still here. Somewhere along the line, what started as a second-year sports medicine placement had turned into unofficial emotional support for the entire Briar hockey team, half the roster had your number for “emergencies,” which unfortunately ranged anywhere from actual injuries to Garrett once texting you a photo of a bruise shaped vaguely like Abraham Lincoln at two in the morning.

The fluorescent lights hum quietly overhead while you reorganise rolls of athletic tape for the third time that evening, one AirPod in, paperwork half-finished beside you, when the clinic door swings open.

You don’t even look up immediately.

“You’re late,” you say automatically.

“Mrs Logaaaan,” Garrett sings back.

Tucker’s voice follows before you can respond. “Oh thank god, my favourite healthcare professional.”

“Can you legally prescribe me a girlfriend?” Dean winks at you, messing with his hair- spraying sweat onto the other players around him. 

That makes you glance up and grimace.

“You need deodorant first,” you reply flatly.

Your comment earns a loud chorus of offended reactions.

“You’re so mean to us.” One of them whines

“You guys make it incredibly easy.”

Hockey players file into the clinic grinning like idiots, damp hair from practice still sticking up in random directions, one drags himself dramatically toward one of the beds clutching his shoulder like he’s been mortally wounded.

“See? I told you guys that Logan’s her favourite. She hates the rest of us.”

“That’s not true,” you say automatically.

It kind of is, though.

You’d known all of them for years at this point - through playoffs and fractured fingers and Dean getting banned from intramural basketball for “excessive dramatics” - but Logan had somehow become something else entirely before you even realised it was happening.

“Logan’s my favourite because he knows how to fill out injury forms without drawing smiley faces.” You snort quietly and reach for a fresh pair of gloves. 

“That was one time,” Dean argues.

“It was four times. It doesn't get funnier the more you do it.”

The boys continue arguing over each other while you start sorting through who actually needs treatment and who’s just here for attention.

And from behind all of them, Logan steps into the room, looking unfairly good for someone who just spent two hours getting bodychecked into plexiglass.

His practice jersey is half untucked, curls damp at the edges from sweat, hockey bag hanging from one shoulder while he watches the entire scene unfold with the long-suffering expression of a man who absolutely could stop his teammates and simply chooses not to.

Your mouth twitches on instinct.

“Not a single one of you knows how to act in medical facilities.”

“We’re athletes,” one of them replies solemnly. “We’re fragile.”

“You’re twenty.”

“Exactly.”

His eyes find you. It’s subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice unless they were specifically looking for it, but you do. The way his expression shifts slightly the second he sees you, shoulders loosening a little like he’s finally somewhere he actually wants to be.

Unfortunately, the team notices too.

“There he goes,” Garrett says loudly to the room. “Looking at her like she personally invented happiness.”

“Actually disgusting,” another adds.

You shake your head under your breath, trying not to smile as you move toward the nearest bed.

“Alright, what happened?”

“Practice injury,” the player says dramatically.

“You got hit with a foam roller.”

“It was aggressive.”

From behind him, Logan laughs quietly.

The sound pulls your attention toward him automatically.

He’s already looking at you.

He always is, it started sometime last winter, subtle enough neither of you acknowledged it at first, until suddenly Logan had become this fixed point in your day without either of you meaning for him to.

And then, because apparently he enjoys making your job harder, he drops onto the stool closest to your station while the rest of the boys continue causing problems in the background.

You narrow your eyes slightly.

“You injured too?”

He shrugs once and glances at your clipboard.

“Are you busy?” he asks.

You look down at him. “No actually, this is all for fun.”

His mouth twitches.

Behind him, one of the guys points accusingly. “See that? Flirting.”

“We’re literally talking,” you say.

Which, admittedly, had become a problem sometime around November. Because Logan looked at you during conversations like every sentence mattered more than it probably did.

“That’s how it starts.”

Logan ignores them entirely.

“You look tired,” he says instead, quieter now.

You blink at him once, slightly thrown by the softness of it in the middle of all the noise, mostly because Logan only really sounded like that with you. Everyone else got easygoing sarcasm and dry one-liners. You got this version of him instead.

“Your team is exhausting.”

“That’s fair.”

“You included.”

“Less than the others.”

“Debatable.”

That finally gets a proper smile out of him, small but real, and it sits annoyingly well on his face.

You gesture toward the treatment beds with your pen. “Okay, which one of you is actually injured and which one of you just wants free medical attention?”

“My knee-”

“My wrist-”

“Emotionally, mostly-”

“Shocking,” you mutter, already beginning to inspect somebody’s wrist.

And through all of it, Logan stays where he is.

Closest to you.

Which, unfortunately, only makes the entire situation infinitely worse.. Because now he’s just sitting there. Watching you work.

You move from player to player while the clinic slowly dissolves into complete nonsense around you, someone stealing gloves from a supply drawer while another dramatically asks if bruising counts as a life-threatening condition.

“You’re literally holding an ice pack shaped like a cartoon penguin,” you deadpan, “meant for the kids who come for weekend lessons by the way.”

“It’s emotionally devastating.”

“You’ll survive.”

“That’s what they said about the Titanic.”

“Get out.”

Laughter breaks across the room in an undignified uproar.

Logan stays focussed on you with that same quiet gaze he always gets whenever you’re concentrating on something. One foot hooked loosely against the stool rung while he  absentmindedly spun the little keychain attached to the back pocket of your scrub bottoms. 

You glance back over your shoulder briefly.

He doesn’t even look guilty.

If anything, the corner of his mouth lifts slightly when he realises you noticed.

“You’re annoying,” you murmur quietly while digging through the drawer for bandages.

“Thought I was hot.”

You try to stay unimpressed, but your mouth still betrays you by twitching slightly while you go back to work, “You can be both.”

That earns the smallest laugh out of him.

Across the room, Garrett notices immediately, pausing mid-sentence and looking between the two of you suspiciously.

“Why are you looking at him like that?”

You don’t even blink.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to put him down.”

“Because he’s touching my keychain.”

“That’s weirdly domestic.”

“It’s literally a keychain.”

“Yeah,” Dean cuts in, grinning now. “A married couple keychain.”

Logan finally speaks again from beside you.

“Pretty sure married people have bigger problems.”

Dean chirps back, “Like taxes and children.”

Garrett points at Logan. “That man would thrive as a girl dad.”

Logan doesn’t even look embarrassed. If anything, he looks mildly annoyed at being interrupted.

You throw a roll of tape at them without looking.

The room erupts instantly.

“Okay,” you say over the noise, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. “Everybody either sit down properly or leave.”

Shockingly, they obey.

You finish checking a plethora of oddly shaped bruises and superficial cuts while the clinic finally settles into a moderate calm around you, the post-practice energy finally starting to wear off.

The entire time, Logan stays close. Close enough that every now and then your thigh brushes his knee when you walk past, close enough that he occasionally reaches out to tug lightly on the edge of your hoodie sleeve just to get your attention for absolutely no reason.

Especially when Dean starts dramatically fake-flirting with you while you’re checking his wrist, only for Logan to look up from where he’s sitting and say,

“Relax.” Which is unfortunately the exact tone he uses whenever he’s jealous but is trying to pretend he isn’t.

Dean sharply bursts out laughing.

“OH MY GOD THERE IT IS, you’re actually possessive!”

“I’m not possessive,” Logan lies.

“You looked ready to fight me.”

“You’re annoying me.”

“That’s even worse!”

You shake your head, trying to hide your smile while Logan leans against the counter behind him, completely unbothered by the fact that the entire room is basically accusing him of being in love.

Eventually, when the bulk of the man-toddlers have left the clinic and you’ve handed out enough ice packs to survive a small natural disaster. You finally make your way back over to Logan, picking up the 100th incident form to fill out for the stragglers left behind, 

“You sure you’re fine?” you ask eventually without looking directly at him.

“Mostly.”

That makes you glance up, you click your pen and drop it into your pocket,

“Mostly?”

He finally shifts slightly on the stool.

“My shoulder’s stiff.”

You stare at him.

“You waited until after I treated everyone else to tell me that?”

A shrug.

“You were busy.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

His mouth twitches again.

“You like me anyway.”

The worst part was that he said things like that with complete certainty now, like somewhere over the past few months he’d stopped questioning whether you’d stay.

One of the teammates gags dramatically somewhere behind him.

“There it is.”

“Shut up,” Logan says immediately.

You’re already moving toward the storage cabinet before the teasing can escalate further, only to realise halfway there that the tape drawer is nearly empty.

You stop.

Then sigh.

“Great.”

“What?” Logan asks.

“Your idiot teammates used the last of my shoulder tape.”

A couple guys cheer from across the room, “LET’S GO.”

Logan rolls his eyes at them, “That sounds like a team problem.”

“That sounds like your problem,” you huff.

He looks entirely unbothered.

“So,” you continue, ignoring them completely, “I need to go grab more from storage.”

Logan nods once.

“You can come back after your shower and I’ll tape it for you properly.”

He pauses.

“You want me to leave?”

“You smell like a locker room.”

“That’s hurtful.”

“And yet,” Garrett says from the hallway without even looking back, “she keeps letting you come over.”

Logan doesn’t miss a beat.

“That’s because she looooves me.”

“Disgusting,” Dean mutters.

You point toward the hallway.

“Go shower or change or whatever the hell you hockey people do after practice and come back in twenty minutes. I’ll restock from the storage room.”

One teammate gasps dramatically.

“She’s asking him to come back.”

“She asks all injured athletes to come back,” you say flatly.

“Yeah, but not like that.”

Logan looks up at you with the faintest grin tugging at his mouth, then he stands, tall enough that suddenly the tiny clinic space feels much smaller than it did thirty seconds ago.

He grabs his bag from the floor without taking his eyes off you properly.

“I’ll be back,” he says.

One of the players makes kissing noises immediately.

You throw a roll of bandage backing at them.

This time Logan laughs properly.

The rest of them filter out behind him in a mess of noise and complaints, leaving the clinic suddenly, almost suspiciously, quiet.

You thank the gods and take advantage of whatever time they've mercifully gifted you. Taking the minutes to do small tasks like restocking tape from the back storage room, reorganising supplies and finishing the paperwork you abandoned earlier.

By the time the clinic door opens again, barely fifteen minutes later, the noise of the team has completely faded into the distance.

You look up from where you’re reorganising a tray of supplies with immediate suspicion.

“You showered fast,” you say lightly.

Logan closes the door behind him with his elbow before answering, hair still damp around the edges like he’d towel-dried it in under thirty seconds and called it a day. He’s swapped into grey sweats and a dark Briar hoodie, duffel bag hanging lazily from one hand, and he looks far too pleased with himself for someone supposedly recovering from an injury.

“Yeah,” he says easily, walking toward you. “Wanted to see you.”

There was a time that line would’ve completely short-circuited your nervous system. Now it just settled warm somewhere beneath your ribs because Logan said things like that all the time.

You roll your eyes automatically even though warmth blooms under your skin anyway.

The corner of your mouth twitches before you can stop it.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Romantic.”

“I know.”

“You’re laying it on thick today.”

He drops his bag by the wall with a heavy thud and sits himself up on the treatment bed while you grab the fresh tape you’d dragged out from storage, and hold it out toward him

“There,” you say. “Knock yourself out.”

Logan stares down at the tape for a second like you’ve personally betrayed him, then his mouth pulls into the most ridiculous pout you’ve ever seen on a grown man.

“…Baby.”

“What?” you ask.

“You’re just handing it to me?”

“You have hands.”

“But you do it better.”

The thing about Logan was that he got clingier when he was tired. Post-practice Logan in particular operated almost exclusively on physical contact and opportunistic whining.

You choke out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“But you do it better,” he complains, looking up at you from where he’s sitting. “You literally study this stuff. It’s like having a personal private healthcare system.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

You fold your arms, trying very hard not to smile while he keeps looking at you like a neglected house cat.

You stare at him for a second, then laugh softly under your breath despite yourself.

“Oh my God.”

“I’m injured.”

“You are literally sitting upright.”

“My shoulder hurts.”

“You survived practice.”

“Barely.”

He says it completely deadpan too, which somehow makes it worse.

You step closer eventually, taking the tape back out of his hand with a dramatic sigh.

“I cannot believe this works on me.”

“It does though.”

You roll your eyes, lean down, and kiss the pout right off his mouth.

It’s quick, barely more than a soft press of your lips against his, but it instantly wipes the smug suffering expression off his face.

“There,” you murmur against him. “Better?”

“Much.”

“you're so manipulative.”

“You love it.”

Unfortunately, he isn’t wrong.

Still shaking your head, you begin to pick at the tape, searching for a start, a grin breaks across his face.

“There she is.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

He leans back slightly while you move closer, between his parted knees, 

“Take your shirt off.”

Logan’s eyebrows lift with mock dignity,

“Wow.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying, very forward of you.”

You point the tape threateningly.

“I can and will mess this up on purpose.”

That finally earns a laugh out of him before he grabs the bottom of the shirt and peels it up slowly over his stomach and chest before pulling it fully off. The movement flexes the muscles across his shoulders and arms in a way that makes your hands pause for just a second too long before continuing.

The first time you’d seen Logan shirtless, you’d nearly walked face-first into a supply cart. Now you liked to think that you mostly handled it with dignity. 

But even though you have seen him shirtless before, plenty of times, your brain still stalls for a second. Of course he notices, a Cheshire smirk spreading across his face.

“Are you checking me out right now?”

You snap your eyes back up to his. “Relax.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’ve literally taken your shirt off in front of me like a hundred times.”

“Exactly,” he says, leaning back on one hand. “So why are you acting shy now?”

“I’m not acting shy.”

“You stopped moving.”

“I was thinking medically.”

That gets a laugh out of him, low and warm and entirely too satisfied.

“Sure you were.”

You shove lightly at his shoulder. “Sit properly before I ruin your tape on purpose.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He straightens up obediently, but the second you lean closer to inspect the swelling, his hands settle automatically on your hips, warm and familiar through the fabric of your leggings. Logan constantly touched you in ways so absentminded, they almost felt instinctive - a hand at your back, fingers catching your sleeve, knees knocking together under tables. 

You glance down at them while peeling the backing off the tape.

“That’s not very professional of you.”

Logan looks at you innocently. “Neither is ogling your patient.”

You snort despite yourself and press your palm flat against his chest to push him back slightly so you can work properly.

“Shut up unless you want me to tape your arm to your torso.”

“Bit kinky for a medical facility.”

“John.”

You press the tape down slightly harder against his shoulder, he laughs quietly through the wince, shoulders shaking beneath your hands before finally relaxing when you glare at him.

“Abuse of power.”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it asymmetrical.”

That finally shuts him up.

The room settles into something quieter after that, the air hums softly around the two of you, close and warm and familiar in a way that makes the rest of campus feel very far away. You focus on the tape, fingers smoothing it across the curve of his shoulder and down his arm while Logan watches you with that same soft, steady attention he always gets when he thinks you aren’t noticing.

“You concentrate really hard,” he murmurs eventually.

“I’m trying to stop you from destroying your rotator cuff.”

“Hot.”

You roll your eyes so hard it nearly hurts.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says lightly, thumbs brushing absentmindedly against your hips, “you keep me around.”

You finish the final strip and smooth your hand over it one last time, making sure it’s fully adhered before tossing the empty backing aside.

“There,” you murmur, “Done.”

The clinic suddenly feels too quiet without the team in it.

Just the hum of fluorescent lights, the faint smell of your strawberry chapstick, and Logan looking at you like he has absolutely nowhere else he’d rather be.

You don’t step away and his hands tighten slightly at your hips while you’re still leaning forward over him, palms braced against the crinkling paper beside him on the treatment bed. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close your faces are.

You can feel his breathe against your parted lips, warm and steady

“You’re staring again,” he says quietly.

“You’re shirtless in a medical facility.”

“You invited me.”

Your eyes flick down to his mouth first and you lean in to kiss him before he can say something smug about it.

The first kiss is soft, more amused than anything, except Logan enthusiastically kisses you back. It’s not so chaste anymore.

His hand slides from your hip up along your waist while your fingers instinctively catch against the back of his neck, and the second you kiss him deeper, he exhales softly against your mouth like it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

You can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your hands, nails digging into his shoulder.

His mouth stays slow at first, then the kiss deepens steadily until your breathing catches halfway through it, a small involuntary sound escaping you before you can stop it, and Logan takes the opportunity to tilt his head and kiss you deeper like he’s been waiting for permission.

One of his hands slides into your hair, the other stays firm at your waist.

The new angle arches you against him properly now, your chest pressed lightly to his as he kisses you harder this time, slower and warmer and very deliberately not innocent.

His mouth is still curved faintly like he’s enjoying the fact that you started this, but the smugness fades quickly when your fingers slide into the damp hair at the base of his head and tug lightly.

The sound he makes against your mouth is quiet, but enough to make heat rush straight through you.

“Oh, you liked that,” you murmur before kissing him again. Logan’s hand tightens instinctively at your waist like he’s annoyed you noticed, which only makes you want to tease him more.

“Don’t get cocky,” he says, voice lower now.

“You literally started pouting for attention five minutes ago.”

“And it worked.”

He kisses you again before you can answer, his fingers creep below the hem of your scrubs and his palm flattens up on your spine, against your bare skin. The other slides down from your hair to your neck, guiding you harder into his lips, mouth parting to swallow your shallow breaths.

The paper beneath him crinkles loudly when he shifts forward toward the edge of the bed, and you can’t help laughing softly into the kiss at how absurdly obvious the sound is.

“You’re so clingy,” you whisper.

“Mm,” he hums against your mouth. “You love it.”

You pull away from him, chest heaving as you make room for his hands to skate up your sides, your scrub top going with them, "Actually...", his hands pause against you. You grin, going to press hot kisses to his neck, "I love you."

He groans at that, blunt nails digging into your ribs, just below your bra- itching to take it off.

You’re about to help him peel off your layers, when the clinic door suddenly slams open hard enough to hit the stopper behind it.

“YO LOGAN-”

You jerk back just enough to look toward the doorway while complete silence takes over the room.

You and Logan freeze for approximately half a second while the entire hockey team stands in the doorway staring in collective disbelief.

One teammate points aggressively.

“I KNEW IT.”

Another gasps dramatically.

“MRS. LOGAN CONFIRMED IN REAL LIFE.”

You bury your face briefly in Logan’s shoulder, mortified and laughing at the same time, meanwhile, Logan looks ready to commit murder.

He reaches blindly for the tape roll beside him and chucks it directly at them.

“Get out, you perverts.”

The tape bounces uselessly off one guy’s chest and nobody leaves.

If anything, they move further inside.

“HE’S DEFENSIVE!” someone yells.

“BRO WE INTERRUPTED FOREPLAY.”

“You guys are so annoying,” you groan, face burning.

Logan just watches you laugh for a second, despite the fact his teammates are actively ruining his life in real time, something in his expression softens completely.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he mutters quietly.

You look back at him with teary eyes.

“You threw tape at them.”

“They interrupted me.”

“That sounded possessive. Maybe Dean was right?”

“It was, can't believe I'm proving him correct.”

"YES MRS. LOGAN" Dean cheers from within the pack.

That makes you laugh all over again.

Logan, meanwhile, tightens an arm around your waist and glares at them with absolutely zero shame. He doesn’t even bother to move away from you anymore, which is probably the most embarrassing part.

“Door,” he says flatly.

The boys finally retreat, still yelling over each other, and the second the door slams shut again, the clinic falls back into silence.

You look down at Logan. He looks up at you.

Jungkook didn't even blink. He leaned his lower back against the sleek marble kitchen counter of the crowded beach house, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. A slow, incredibly annoying smirk spread across his face as his dark eyes locked onto yours. He took a deliberate, slow sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact.

"The kitchen belongs to whoever gets here first," he said, his voice a low, gravelly scratch that usually made girls at Westbridge High lose their minds. To you, it just sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "Besides, there’s plenty of space. You’re just annoyed because my presence is throwing off your aesthetic."

You let out a cold, humorless laugh, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him. The bass from the living room speakers vibrated through the floorboards, but the space between the two of you felt dead silent, thick with pure malice. You were wearing your favorite black dress—the one that made you look like an untouchable queen—and you used every bit of your height to look down your nose at him.

"Your presence throws off my mood, which is worse," you snapped, your voice dripping with sweet poison. "And trust me, Jeon, your aesthetic is entirely salvageable if you just put a bag over your head. Now, get out of my way before I accidentally spill this red wine all over your ridiculously expensive, try-hard jacket."

Jungkook’s smirk didn't fade, but his eyes darkened. He loved this. He lived for it. Everyone else in the graduating class walked on eggshells around him because he was wealthy, insanely attractive, and possessed a ruthless streak that could ruin a person's social life with a single rumor. But you? You were the ice queen of the senior hall. You didn't walk on eggshells; you crushed them under your designer heels.

"Try it," he dared softly, leaning down just an inch so his face was level with yours. "Spill it. See what happens."

"Is that a threat?"

"It’s a promise, sweetheart."

You held his gaze for three agonizing seconds, the air between you practically sparking with fire, before you forcefully shoved past his shoulder, making sure to hit him hard enough to make him stumble back against the counter. You didn't look back as you walked out into the humid night air, but you could practically feel his eyes burning a hole in your spine.

Ten minutes later, you were standing on the darkened back balcony, away from the sweaty bodies and the blinding strobe lights of the end-of-term party. You needed a second to breathe without looking at Jeon Jungkook’s stupid, perfect face.

You leaned against the wooden railing, looking out at the dark ocean waves. You took a deep breath, letting the cool wind calm the irritation bubbling in your chest.

Then, you heard voices right below you.

"There is no way in hell, man. She’ll castrate you before you even get her phone number."

It was Mingyu’s voice, loud and slightly drunk, coming from the shadows of the patio directly beneath the balcony.

"I’m serious," another voice chimed in. Yugyeom. "She’s not a girl, she’s a black widow. She literally ruined Seojun’s life last semester because he breathed too loudly next to her in AP Lit. You can’t tame that."

You froze, your fingers gripping the wooden railing tightly. You quietly leaned over the edge, peer-reading through the darkness. There, sitting on the outdoor lounge chairs with red solo cups in their hands, were Jungkook’s closest boys.

And standing right in the middle of them, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his silver lighter, was Jungkook himself. The small orange flame illuminated his sharp jawline and the arrogant tilt of his head.

"I don't need to tame her," Jungkook said, his voice chillingly calm as he blew a cloud of smoke into the night air. "I just need her to fall for me. There's a difference."

"A bet's a bet, Jeon," Mingyu laughed, slapping his knee. "One month. If you can get her to actually date you—like, hold your hand in the hallway, look at you like she doesn't want to murder you, and admit she’s yours—we buy you that vintage motorcycle you've been drooling over. But when she rejects you and shatters your tiny little ego into a million pieces, you hand over the keys to your car."

You felt the blood in your veins turn to absolute ice. A bet. They were turning you into a game.

You waited, holding your breath, wanting to hear exactly what the bastard would say.

Jungkook let out a low, cocky chuckle. He took another drag of his cigarette, looking up toward the sky, completely unaware that you were looking right down at him.

"A month is too long," Jungkook said, his tone full of disgusting confidence. "Give me three weeks. By graduation night, she’ll be begging me to be her boyfriend. The ice queen is going to melt, boys. Watch me."

Up on the balcony, your shock instantly melted away, replaced by a roaring, burning wave of fury. Your jaw clenched so hard it ached. How dare he? How dare he think he could play you like one of his stupid little video games? He thought he was the ultimate predator at Westbridge High. He thought everyone played by his rules.

A dangerous, slow smile crept onto your lips. The anger in your chest crystallized into something sharp, cold, and beautiful.

Oh, Jeon Jungkook, you thought, watching him laugh with his friends below. You just picked the wrong girl to mess with.

You weren't going to expose him. That would be too easy, too boring. No, you were going to play along. You were going to let him think he was winning. You would let him pull out every single one of his smooth, pathetic, charming tricks, and right when he thought he had you in the palm of his hand... you were going to destroy him. You would make him fall so hard his head would spin, and then you would break his heart in front of the entire school.

The game was on.

The next Monday morning, the school hallway was a chaotic mess of seniors counting down the days to graduation. Lockers were slamming, people were laughing, and the energy was high.

You walked through the front doors, your hair perfectly styled, your chin held high. People naturally moved out of your way, knowing better than to cross your path before you had your morning iced coffee. You reached your locker, spinning the lock with practiced ease.

"Good morning, sunshine."

A heavy weight leaned against the locker right next to yours. You didn't even have to look up to know who it was. The scent of expensive cologne and mint gave him away instantly.

Jungkook was leaning against the metal door, dressed in a black leather jacket, his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. He gave you a look that he probably thought was irresistible. It was his signature "I’m trouble, but you want me" look.

You slowly closed your locker door, turning your body to face him. Usually, you would have told him to drop dead within two seconds. But today, you had a script to play.

You let your eyes travel down his body, slowly, deliberately, making sure he noticed your inspection. Then, you looked back up, your expression completely blank, almost bored.

"You're in my light, Jungkook," you said smoothly, keeping your voice even.

"I am the light, babe," he replied, flashing a grin that showed off his sharp canine teeth. He stepped a bit closer, invading your personal space. He reached out, his fingers hovering just an inch away from a strand of your hair, before he gently tucked it behind your ear. His touch was warm, but it made your skin crawl with competitive adrenaline. "You looked beautiful at the party on Saturday, by the way. Even when you were trying to murder me with your eyes."

Um, so Phase One of his plan has begun, you thought. The cheesy compliments.

Instead of slapping his hand away like you normally would, you stayed perfectly still. You tilted your head, a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was a bait smile. A dangerous one.

"Are you hitting on me, Jeon?" you asked, your voice dropping to a softer, almost teasing whisper. "Because if you are, it’s a bit pathetic. I thought you had better game than that."

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He had clearly expected you to snap at him, to yell, or to walk away. The fact that you were standing your ground and talking back with a soft tone caught him completely off guard. Your reaction wasn't in his playbook.

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, his eyes narrowing with newfound interest.

"Maybe I am," he murmured, leaning his head down, his voice dropping into that dangerous, intimate register. "Maybe I’ve realized that the mean girls are much more interesting than the nice ones."

"Is that so?" You stepped even closer to him, so close that his chest almost brushed against yours. You could see the slight flare of his nostrils as his breath hitched. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your expression a perfect mix of mockery and temptation. "Well, let me give you a piece of advice, Jungkook. I don't do 'interesting.' And I definitely don't do boys who try too hard."

Before he could respond, you patted his chest twice with your hand—right over his heart, feeling the steady, rapid beat against your palm—and walked past him toward your first class.

Jungkook stayed frozen by the lockers for a moment, watching your retreating figure. He ran a hand through his hair, a genuine, frustrated laugh escaping his lips. His heart was actually beating faster, and it pissed him off.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. This wasn't going to be a simple walk in the park. She wasn't just mean—she was smart.

By the time lunch rolled around, the entire cafeteria was buzzing. You sat at your usual table near the large glass windows, surrounded by the top tier of the school's social ladder. You weren't really listening to whatever drama your friend was talking about; your eyes were fixed on the entrance.

Right on cue, Jungkook entered with his boys. He looked around the crowded room until his eyes found yours.

Instead of looking away, you held his gaze. You picked up your strawberry, taking a slow, deliberate bite while looking directly at him.

Jungkook’s stride slowed down. His friends noticed, looking between him and your table. Jungkook murmured something to Mingyu, broke away from his group, and walked straight toward your table. The entire cafeteria seemed to grow quieter, dozens of heads turning to watch the collision of the school’s two most dangerous seniors.

He stopped right at the edge of your table, placing both hands on the surface, leaning forward.

"We’re going out tonight," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a command.

Your friends gasped softly, staring at him like he had lost his mind. Nobody spoke to you like that.

You wiped your mouth with a napkin, entirely unbothered. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs. "Excuse me? Did I miss a chapter where I suddenly care about what you want?"

"Seven o'clock. I’ll pick you up," Jungkook continued, ignoring your bite. His eyes were intensely focused, a challenging glint in them. "Unless, of course, the ice queen is too scared to spend two hours alone with me."

Ah. Reverse psychology. How incredibly basic.

You let out a soft sigh, looking at him like he was a mildly amusing puppy. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to get you alone so he could charm you, make his move, and secure the bet. And you wanted to get him alone so you could start breaking his sanity.

"Scared of you?" you asked softly, loud enough for your friends to hear. You stood up, picking up your tray. You leaned across the table, your face just inches from his, mirroring his posture. The energy between you was so sharp the people sitting next to you looked uncomfortable. "Keep dreaming, Jeon. I'll give you two hours. But let’s make one thing clear: if you bore me, I’m leaving you on the side of the road."

Jungkook’s eyes flared with a mix of triumph and something hotter, something greedier. "Deal."

"Seven o'clock," you whispered, giving him a cold, gorgeous smile that didn't reach your eyes. "Don't be late. I hate waiting."

As you walked away to trash your lunch tray, you felt a massive rush of adrenaline. He thought he had just won the first round. He thought he had successfully baited you into a date. He had absolutely no idea that he had just walked right into a trap of his own making.

The hunter thought he was tracking a deer, but he had just poked a sleeping lion.

The black sports car pulled up to your curb at exactly 6:59 PM.

You watched from your second-story bedroom window as the sleek engine purred to a halt. Jungkook didn’t get out to open your door. He just sat there, the headlights cutting through the twilight, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He wanted to see if you’d make him wait.

You let out a slow, amused breath, checking your reflection one last time. You wore a tight, cropped white top, baggy low-rise cargo pants, and sharp designer boots. It was casual, effortless, and screamed I didn’t try at all for you.

You walked out of the house at exactly 7:10 PM.

When you pulled open the passenger door and slid into the leather seat, the scent of his expensive, smoky cologne hit you instantly. The interior of the car was immaculate, glowing with faint blue ambient lights.

Jungkook was leaning back, one wrist resting lazily on top of the steering wheel. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes scanning your outfit with a slow, calculating gaze. A familiar, mocking smirk played on his lips.

"Ten minutes late," he said, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered. "Trying to make a statement, sweetheart?"

"I was busy forgetting you were coming," you replied instantly, your tone dripping with sweet, careless malice. You pulled down the sun visor to check your lip gloss in the mirror, not even giving him a real glance. "Be glad I showed up at all. Drive."

Jungkook let out a low, dry chuckle. He shifted the car into drive, the tires screeching slightly as he pulled away from the curb with a bit too much speed. He was trying to intimidate you with his driving. Typical.

"You look like you’re going to a streetwear photoshoot, not a date," he remarked, his dark eyes flicking to you before focusing back on the road.

"That’s because this isn't a date," you said smoothly, snapping the sun visor back up. You crossed your arms, leaning back comfortably. "This is an audition. And so far, your conversation is getting a failing grade. Where are you taking me, Jeon? If it’s some tacky diner, I’m jumping out at the next red light."

"Relax," he murmured, his smirk widening. "I have taste. Unlike your exes."

"Bold of you to assume anyone compares to you in the tacky department," you shot back, looking out the window. "Your leather jacket looks like it was stolen from a middle-aged biker."

Jungkook’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white. You saw the faint twitch in his jaw. Score one for me, you thought, a surge of vicious satisfaction rushing through your veins. He hated his style being questioned. He prided himself on looking flawless.

"Keep talking," Jungkook muttered, his voice dropping into a lower, rougher register that vibrated through the quiet car. "We’ll see if you keep that same energy in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up to an exclusive, high-end rooftop arcade and lounge overlooking the city skyline. It was the kind of place that required a heavy membership fee, glowing with neon purple lights and filled with vintage game cabinets, private booths, and a sleek bar. It was empty tonight—he had clearly rented out the entire terrace.

"Impressive," you said, stepping out of the car and looking around the neon-lit space. You turned to him, putting a hand on your hip. "Did you use your daddy’s credit card for this, or did you actually have to use two brain cells to make a phone call?"

Jungkook closed his car door with a loud thud, walking over to stand right in front of you. The neon purple light caught the sharp angles of his face, making him look dangerously handsome. He was tall, his broad shoulders completely blocking your view of the city behind him. He stepped so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"I use my own money," he said softly, leaning down just enough so his breath brushed against your ear. The sudden proximity made your pulse jump, but you refused to move back a single inch. "And I don't need a script to deal with a girl like you. Pick a game. Let's see if your skills match your mouth."

"Oh, they exceed it," you whispered back, looking directly into his dark, intense eyes. The physical tension between you was so heavy it felt like a physical weight, pressing against your chest. You were both practically vibrating with the urge to tear each other down. "Name the stakes, Jeon."

Jungkook walked over to a vintage racing simulator—two leather seats with steering wheels and massive screens side by side. He patted the top of one seat.

"Three rounds. Corner drifting allowed," he said, his eyes flashing with a competitive fire. "If I win, you have to let me hold your hand on the walk back to the car. In public."

Your mind immediately flashed to the bet. Ah, he’s trying to secure his first milestone for his friends. Holding hands in public was step one.

You let out a soft, mocking laugh, stepping up to the machine. "And when I win?"

"If you win, you can ask for whatever you want."

"When I win," you corrected him sharply, sliding into the leather racing seat, "you are going to carry my shopping bags across the entire school courtyard tomorrow during lunch. Like a good little assistant."

Jungkook’s eyes flared with pure, undiluted irritation at the thought of his reputation being ruined like that. He sat down in the seat next to yours, his long legs barely fitting under the machine. "Deal. Prepare to cry, sweetheart."

The game started. The countdown flashed on the screen: 3... 2... 1... GO.

For the next ten minutes, the arcade was filled with the aggressive clicking of buttons and the screeching of digital tires. You weren't just good; you were ruthless. Every time Jungkook tried to pass your digital car, you deliberately rammed your vehicle into his, forcing him into the wall.

"Are you serious right now?" Jungkook growled, violently spinning his steering wheel to recover from a crash you caused. "That's dirty playing!"

"There are no rules in war, Jeon," you mocked, your eyes glued to the screen as you took a sharp turn, keeping the lead. "Cry louder. It helps me focus."

He let out a frustrated, breathless sound, his focus intensifying. His face was dead serious, his veins popping slightly on his forearms as he gripped the wheel. By the final lap of the third round, your cars were neck and neck. The finish line was right there.

In a split-second move, Jungkook smoothly drifted around the final corner, clipping the back of your car just enough to spin you out, and crossed the finish line a fraction of a second before you.

The screen flashed: PLAYER 1 WINS.

Jungkook threw his hands up, a loud, triumphant laugh bursting from his chest. He looked over at you, his face glowing with pure, arrogant victory. "Yes! Look at that! Who's the assistant now?"

You sat back in your seat, your jaw clenched, staring at the screen in genuine frustration. You hated losing more than anything. You slowly turned your head to look at him, your expression dark and murderous.

"You got lucky," you snapped, stepping out of the seat.

"A win is a win," Jungkook said, stepping out of his seat too. He blocked your path before you could walk away, his chest almost touching yours. He was breathing a bit heavily from the intensity of the game, a smug, unbearable grin plastered across his face. He extended his right hand toward you, his fingers open. "Pay up. Hand."

You stared at his hand like it was covered in garbage. "We are in an empty arcade, Jungkook. There's no one around to see it."

"I don't care," he murmured, his voice suddenly losing its playful edge, becoming deep and heavy. He took a half-step closer, completely invading your space. The smell of his cologne, the neon lights, and the absolute silence of the rooftop made the atmosphere suffocatingly tense. "A deal's a deal. Give me your hand."

You looked up at him, your breath catching for a brief second at the sheer intensity in his gaze. He wasn't just playing a game anymore; he wanted to break your resistance.

Slowly, deliberately, you lifted your hand. But instead of placing your palm in his, you forcefully grabbed his wrist, twisting it slightly so he was forced to step closer, his chest pressing right against yours. You looked up at him with a cold, fierce smile.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Jeon," you whispered, your voice a soft, dangerous hiss against his lips. You were so close you could see the dark golden flecks in his eyes. "You won a video game. You didn't win me. You want to hold my hand? Earn it."

You let go of his wrist with a harsh flick, pushing past his shoulder.

Jungkook stood frozen by the game machines, his heart thudding violently against his ribs. He looked down at his wrist where your fingers had just been, his skin burning from the contact. The bitchy, confident attitude you had wasn't pushing him away—it was pulling him in like a black hole. He was supposed to be making you fall, but every time you looked at him like he was nothing, it made him want to conquer her even more.

By the time he drove you back to your house, the moon was high in the sky. The drive back had been filled with more biting banter, neither of you willing to let the other have the last word.

He pulled up to your curb, idling the engine.

You unbuckled your seatbelt, turning to him with a bored expression. "Well, that was mildly amusing. You get a C-minus for effort."

"C-minus?" Jungkook repeated, leaning his head back against his seat, turning to look at you with a dry smile. "I literally rented out a whole rooftop for you."

"And you lost your temper over a racing game," you replied smoothly, opening the passenger door. "Goodnight, Jeon. Try not to dream about me too much. I know it’s hard."

Before he could respond with another sarcastic comment, you slid out of the car and shut the door behind you.

You walked up your front steps, feeling his eyes tracking your every move through the tinted glass of his car. You didn't look back until you reached the front door. When you finally turned around, you saw the taillights of his sports car disappear down the street.

You walked into your quiet house, leaning your back against the closed front door. Your heart was beating remarkably fast, the adrenaline from the night still rushing through your veins.

"Three weeks," you whispered to the empty hallway, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across your lips. "Let's see who breaks first, Jungkook."

The next morning, the Westbridge High courtyard was drenched in bright, humid sunlight. It was lunch hour, the peak time for social positioning. You sat at your usual concrete table beneath the shade of a massive oak tree, sipping an iced matcha latte. Your friends were gossiping about graduation dresses, but your eyes were tracking a specific group across the courtyard.

Jungkook was leaning against a brick wall, surrounded by Mingyu, Yugyeom, and a few varsity guys. He was laughing, his head tilted back, looking every bit the untouchable, arrogant king of the senior class.

Then, his dark eyes scanned the crowd and locked onto yours.

You didn’t blink. You slowly lifted your latte, taking a sip while giving him a cold, challenge-filled look. Jungkook’s laugh faded into a smirk. He murmured something to Mingyu, broke away from the group, and began walking across the grass toward you. Every head at your table went silent.

He stopped right beside your seat, towering over you, casting a long shadow. He was wearing a fitted white tee that showed off the sharp lines of his shoulders, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets.

"You left your lip gloss in my passenger seat last night," he said, his voice loud enough for the neighboring tables to hear. A collective, quiet gasp rippled through the girls around you. He pulled the small, sleek tube from his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. "Come get it."

Yeah?. A public power move, you thought, your blood instantly humming with competitive fire. He wanted everyone to know you were in his car last night. He wanted to score points for the bet.

You slowly stood up, smoothing down your short plaid skirt. You didn't look flustered at all. Instead, you took a step closer to him, closing the distance until you were dangerously deep in his personal space. The scent of his smoky cologne hit your senses, thick and intoxicating.

"You could have just thrown it away, Jeon," you murmured, your voice a smooth, careless purr as you reached out. Instead of grabbing the lip gloss, your fingers brushed deliberately over the warm skin of his knuckles, sliding the tube out of his grip. "But I guess you just needed an excuse to talk to me today. Pathetic."

Jungkook’s eyes darkened instantly, his jaw clenching at your public insult. "Watch your mouth," he muttered, leaning down so his lips were inches from yours, his tone dropping into a rough, private whisper. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy yourself last night."

"I’ve had more exciting dental appointments," you shot back, giving him a sweet, vicious smile. You tapped the lip gloss against his chest—right over his heart—before turning on your heel and walking away toward the empty library building, knowing exactly what his bruised ego would force him to do.

You walked deep into the back stacks of the school library, past the rows of old reference books where nobody ever came during lunch. It was dimly lit, silent, and smelling of old paper and dust.

A second later, the heavy wooden door of the aisle clicked shut.

You turned around just as Jungkook stepped into the tight space between the bookshelves. His face was a mask of pure, frustrated irritation. He looked dominant, dangerous, and completely done with your games.

"What the hell is your problem?" he growled, stepping forward until he crowded you back against the cold metal bookshelf. He slammed his hand against the shelf right next to your head, trapping you. "You play nice in the car, and then you try to humiliate me in front of the entire school?"

"I don't play nice anywhere, Jungkook," you hissed, your hands coming up to press firmly against his broad chest, keeping him from crushing you. The physical contact sent a sudden, heavy jolt of lightning straight down your spine. The tension between you two was no longer just a verbal match—it was a ticking time bomb. "You wanted to play with the ice queen. Don't complain when you get burned."

"You think you're so untouchable," he muttered, his eyes dropping to your lips, his breathing turning ragged and heavy. The anger in his eyes was rapidly melting into lust. He hated how much he wanted you. He hated that your attitude was driving him completely insane. "You think I can't break you?"

"I know you can't," you whispered back, teasing him, your heart hammering violently against your ribs as you felt the hard, hot planes of his chest beneath your palms.

Jungkook let out a low, feral growl. He didn't think. He just reacted.

His hand moved from the bookshelf to the back of your neck, his fingers tangled firmly into your hair as he violently pulled your face up and crashed his lips against yours.

The kiss wasn't sweet. It was a collision of teeth, friction, and pure malice. It was rude, dominant, and desperately hot. You let out a breathless gasp against his mouth, and Jungkook took the opportunity to force his tongue inside, tasting you deeply, claiming your mouth with a possessive, aggressive hunger that made your knees instantly go weak.

You didn't push him away. Your bad-bitch exterior crumbled into pure, ravenous desire. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until there was absolutely no space left between your bodies. You bit his lower lip hard enough to make him let out a dark, muffled groan into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening until it was almost bruising.

He lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back hard against the metal bookshelf. Books rattled behind you, but neither of you cared. Your legs naturally wrapped around his waist, pulling his heat right against your core. The friction through your clothes was unbearable, a sharp, electric ache building rapidly between your thighs.

"You're a brat," Jungkook panted against your lips, his mouth leaving yours to trail a path of burning, wet kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck. He bit down gently on the soft skin right above your collarbone, making you arch your back with a quiet, breathless moan that echoed in the silent library.

His large, calloused hand slid underneath your short plaid skirt, his warm palm tracing up the bare skin of your thigh. You shivered, your fingers clutching tightly into the fabric of his white shirt as his hand moved higher, his fingers slipping underneath the lace edge of your panties.

When his fingers made contact with your wet, swollen center, you let out a sharp, choked gasp against his ear. You were completely soaked for him, your body betraying every single cold word you had ever spoken to his face.

"Look at you," Jungkook whispered, his voice a deep, rough growl of pure satisfaction as he slid one long finger inside you, testing how tight and wet you were. He began to stroke you, a slow, torturous rhythm that had your head rolling back against the bookshelf. "So mean to everyone out there, but you're dripping wet for me in the dark. Say my name."

"Shut up," you gasped, your hips helplessly rolling against his hand, begging for more pressure. "Just... shut up and move."

Jungkook let out a dark chuckle, his ego completely fed by your desperation. He added a second finger, shifting his thumb to rub heavily against your sensitive nub. The sudden, intense friction sent a blinding wave of pleasure straight through your core. You clamped your teeth onto his shoulder to muffle your scream as your body violently spasmed, your walls tightening aggressively around his fingers as you rode a fierce, shattering climax.

He held you tightly, absorbing the tremors of your body, his own breathing heavy and uneven as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.

A few minutes later, the bells for the next class rang through the hallways, shattering the heavy, silent atmosphere of the library.

The reality of what just happened crashed back into the room.

Jungkook slowly let your legs slide down to the floor. His white shirt was wrinkled, his dark hairs messy, and his lips were swollen and red from your teeth. He looked down at you, his eyes still dark with lingering lust, but that familiar, arrogant smirk was already trying to crawl back onto his face. He thought he had won. He thought he had broken the ice queen.

You smoothed down your skirt, your heart still racing, but your expression instantly hardened into a mask of pure, icy indifference. You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, looking at him like he was nothing more than an annoying inconvenience.

"Not bad, Jeon," you said, your voice remarkably steady, cold, and entirely unbothered. You adjusted your collar, looking him up and down with a bored gaze. "Next time, try to be a little quicker. I have a class to get to."

Jungkook’s smirk completely vanished. His eyes widened in absolute disbelief. He had just given you a shattering orgasm against a bookshelf, and you were treating it like a mediocre homework assignment.

"Are you kidding me right now?" he muttered, his voice laced with pure irritation as you picked up your backpack from the floor. "That's all you have to say?"

"What do you want, a trophy?" you shot back smoothly, walking past him toward the aisle exit. You stopped at the edge, looking back over your shoulder with a dangerous, beautiful smile. "See you around, assistant."

You walked out of the library, leaving him standing alone in the shadows, his knuckles white with anger and his body still aching with unfulfilled tension. He was supposed to be the predator, but as he watched you walk away completely unfazed, a terrifying thought hit his mind.

He wasn't winning this game at all. He was drowning in it.

…

The days leading up to graduation were a psychological warfare.

You didn’t soften. If anything, the library incident made you twice as vicious. Every time Jungkook tried to look at you with that smug, possessive *I’ve-seen-you-undone* glint in his eyes, you cut him down with a single, freezing glance. You made it clear that what happened in the dark stayed in the dark, and in the bright, judgmental lights of Westbridge High, he was still just an arrogant target.

And it was driving him absolutely insane.

"You're late with the senior committee notes, Jeon," you said coldly, slamming a heavy leather folder onto his desk during study hall. The room was mostly empty, just a few students scattered in the back rows.

Jungkook was slouched in his chair, a black snapback turned backward on his head, spinning a silver pen between his fingers. He didn't look at the folder. He just leaned back, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a heavy, intense irritation.

"I'll finish them when I feel like it," he muttered, his voice a rough, disrespectful drawl. "Stop breathing down my neck. Unless you miss the view from the library stacks."

You leaned forward, resting both palms on his desk, bringing your face inches from his. The air between you instantly turned to pure friction, thick with a toxic mix of hatred and unyielding attraction.

"Don't flatter yourself," you whispered, your voice a sharp, dangerous blade. "That was just a charity case. I wanted to see if the campus playboy actually had any talent. Turns out, you’re just loud."

Jungkook’s silver pen snapped down onto the desk with a loud crack. He stood up abruptly, his towering frame immediately crowding you, his chest almost brushing yours. The heat radiating off him was suffocating.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he hissed, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. "You act like you're better than everyone else, but you're just a mean, selfish brat who likes to play with fire."

"And you're a cocky, insecure little boy who thinks a leather jacket and a sports car make him a man," you shot back, your eyes flashing with pure malice. "I hate everything about you, Jungkook. Your voice, your face, your pathetic little ego."

"Good," he growled, his hand suddenly shooting out to grip your chin, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline, forcing you to look up at him. His touch was rough, possessive, and entirely devoid of gentleness. "Because I absolutely loathe you. I hate how you look at me. I hate how you talk to me."

"Then let go," you breathed, your heart hammering a frantic, violent rhythm against your ribs as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

"No," he whispered, his grip tightening just a fraction. "Not until you admit you're thinking about me every single night."

Before you could respond with another biting insult, he yanked you out of the classroom and straight into the narrow, dimly lit janitor's closet across the hall, slamming the door shut and locking it with a sharp click.

The darkness of the closet was absolute, smelling of citrus cleaner and industrial bleach, but the only thing you could focus on was the heavy, ragged sound of Jungkook’s breathing.

He didn't waste time talking. He shoved you back against the concrete wall, his heavy body pinning you in place. His hands grabbed your wrists, pinning them high above your head against the cold wall.

"Let go of me, you savage," you hissed, kicking his shin with your designer boot.

"Make me," he growled back, entirely unbothered by the pain. He leaned his full weight into you, his hard, muscular thighs flattening your legs against the wall. The physical contrast was staggering—his sheer brute strength completely overpowering your fierce resistance.

He dropped his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your expensive perfume like a drug. He bit the sensitive skin right under your ear, hard enough to elicit a sharp, angry gasp from your throat.

"I hate how much I want to ruin you," Jungkook panted against your skin, his mouth moving aggressively down to your collarbone. "I want to tear that pretty, arrogant smile right off your face."

"Try it," you challenged, your voice breathless but still laced with pure defiance. "You don't have the nerve."

Jungkook let go of your wrists, but before you could strike him, his hands were tearing at the buttons of your silk blouse, popping two of them off completely. He shoved the fabric away, his large, rough hands mapping the bare skin of your waist, squeezing your flesh with a bruising, desperate hunger.

He unzipped your skirt in one violent motion, letting it drop to your ankles. You reached for him, your fingers clawing at the fabric of his black t-shirt, tearing it upward until your bare breasts pressed against his warm, tensed chest. The sensation was electric, a blinding rush of pure, raw need that erased every ounce of logic from your brain. You hated him, you despised his very existence, but your body was screaming for him to take you.

Jungkook groaned, a dark, primal sound, as his hand slid down between your thighs, ripping your lace panties to the side. He didn't bother with foreplay this time. He didn't care about being gentle. He grabbed your hips, lifting you slightly off the ground.

With one heavy, aggressive thrust, he drove himself completely inside you.

You let out a loud, choked scream, your fingers digging so deep into his shoulder blades that your nails nearly broke the skin. He was so thick, so impossibly hot, stretching you to your absolute limit.

"Fuck," Jungkook swore loudly, his head rolling back as your tight, wet walls clamped around him like a vice. He didn't wait for you to adjust. He began to move inside you with a brutal, relentless rhythm, his hips pounding against yours with a primitive, angry force.

Every thrust rattled your bones against your wall. It was a battle of dominance, a physical manifestation of the war raging in your heads. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, arching your back, meeting every hard, deep stroke with an aggressive tilt of your own hips.

"You're mine," Jungkook muttered darkly, his lips finding yours again, smothering your breathless moans with a deep, invasive kiss. His tongue copied the brutal rhythm of his hips, dominating your mouth while he stretched you inside out. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Never," you gasped against his lips, tears of pure, overwhelming pleasure pricking the corners of your eyes as the friction hit a fever pitch. "You... you don't own me, Jeon!"

"We'll see about that," he growled, his pace turning fast, frantic, and incredibly deep. He hit a specific, sensitive spot inside you, and your vision went completely white.

A violent, shattering climax ripped through your entire body, your internal muscles spasming aggressively around him. The sheer intensity of your release pushed Jungkook over the edge. With two last, deep, desperate thrusts, he buried himself as far inside you as possible, letting out a roar as he spent himself deep inside your warmth.

For a long time, the only sound in the closet was the heavy, synchronized thudding of your hearts and the ragged gasps of your breathing. Jungkook stayed buried inside you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his large hands still gripping your waist like he was terrified you'd disappear if he let go.

There was a strange, heavy silence between you now. It wasn't just physical satisfaction; it was the terrifying realization that this wasn't just a game anymore. The hatred was still there, but it had morphed into something deeper, something permanent. You didn't just want to destroy him; you wanted to keep him. And he didn't just want to win a bet; he was completely obsessed with you.

Slowly, Jungkook pulled out of you, the sudden loss of his heat making you shiver.

He stepped back, adjusting his clothes in the dim light. He looked at you, his eyes completely dark, lacking his usual arrogant spark. For a second, he looked almost exposed.

You picked up your skirt, pulling it up and stepping into your boots. Your blouse was missing buttons, but you tied the ends together in a tight, effortless knot, hiding the marks he had left on your chest. You smoothed your hair back, your bad-bitch mask locking right back into place with practiced ease.

"We're even now," you said coldly, your voice cutting through the quiet room like a knife.

Jungkook paused, his hand on the doorknob. He turned his head, his brow furrowing in irritation. "Even? You think this is a scoreboard?"

"Everything with you is a scoreboard, Jungkook," you said smoothly, stepping past him to look out the small crack of the door to ensure the hallway was clear. "Tomorrow is graduation night. Enjoy your final day of thinking you're the king of Westbridge High."

Before he could ask what you meant, you slipped out of the closet and disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone in the dark.

Jungkook leaned his head against the door, a frustrated, self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips. His hands were still shaking. He was supposed to make her fall in three weeks to win a motorcycle. But as he looked at the empty space where you had just been, the brutal truth finally hit him.

He didn't give a damn about the motorcycle. He was completely, utterly ruined for anyone else.

…

The Westbridge High graduation gala was a massive, glittering sea of black ties, expensive silk dresses, and fake smiles. It was held in the grand ballroom of the city’s finest luxury hotel. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a bright, blinding light over the hundreds of seniors celebrating the end of an era. Everyone was laughing, taking photos, and drinking champagne, pretending they were all best friends.

But for you, the real event hadn't even begun. This night wasn't about celebrating a graduation. It was about executing a perfect, ruthless plan.

You stood near the massive chocolate fountain, slowly smoothing down the front of your dress. You had chosen an emerald green silk gown that fit your body like a second skin. It had a dangerously high slit up the left leg, showing off your sharp designer heels every time you took a step. Your hair fell down your back in perfect, glossy waves, and your lips were painted a sharp, bloody red. You looked absolutely stunning, like an untouchable queen—and a lethal weapon.

"You look like you're about to murder someone," your friend whispered, nudging your shoulder as she looked at your intense expression.

"Just taking out the trash," you replied smoothly. Your voice was calm, sweet, and entirely empty of warmth.

Your eyes scanned the crowded ballroom, moving past the dancing couples and the crying groups of friends, until they finally landed on the VIP lounge area in the back corner.

Jungkook was there. He was looking effortlessly handsome in a tailored black suit that made his broad shoulders look even wider. His white collared shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, giving him that careless, arrogant bad-boy look he loved so much. His dark hair was styled perfectly, falling slightly into his eyes. Mingyu and Yugyeom were crowding around him, laughing loudly, drinking from crystal glasses, and slapping his back. They kept checking the silver watches on their wrists.

The three-week deadline was up tonight. The game was reaching its final seconds.

You watched from across the room as Yugyeom reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a sleek, heavy silver set of keys. It was the key to the vintage motorcycle Jungkook had been drooling over for months. Yugyeom handed them over with a smirk, shaking Jungkook’s hand.

Jungkook took the keys, his fingers wrapping around the silver metal. But he didn't look happy. He didn't look like a guy who had just won a massive bet. Instead, his face looked exhausted, his jaw tightly clenched as his dark eyes restlessly scanned the massive ballroom. He was looking for someone. He was looking for you.

When his eyes finally locked onto your emerald dress, he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second. The arrogant smirk on his face completely died.

You didn't look away. You held his intense gaze across the crowded room, slowly lifting your glass of champagne in a mocking, silent toast. A dangerous, beautiful smile spread across your red lips. Then, you turned on your heel, the silk of your dress whispering against your skin, and walked toward the large glass doors leading out to the grand outdoor terrace. You knew exactly what he would do. He was too proud, too angry, and too obsessed to stay inside. He would follow you like a dog on a leash.

The outdoor terrace was completely empty, cooled by the midnight breeze coming off the city streets below. The loud, pounding bass of the ballroom music became a distant hum behind the thick glass doors. The air out here was fresh, smelling of wet concrete and night air. You walked over to the edge, leaning your hands against the cold marble balustrade, looking out at the million blinking lights of the city skyline.

A few seconds later, the heavy glass doors slid open with a soft hiss, and then closed again.

Heavy, confident footsteps echoed on the stone floor behind you. You didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. The sharp scent of his expensive, smoky cologne cut through the midnight air, wrapping around your senses. Jungkook stopped just a foot away from you, his presence immediately making the wide-open terrace feel suffocatingly small. His breathing was heavy, a chaotic mix of frustration, anger, and a deep, lingering desire radiating off his body.

"You've been avoiding me all night," Jungkook said. His voice was a low, rough growl that vibrated through the quiet air. He stepped closer, crowding your space, his large shadow completely falling over you. "Are you finally ready to admit defeat? The game is over tonight, sweetheart. Graduation is happening, and you're still standing next to me."

You let out a soft, melodic laugh. It was a cold, cruel sound that cut right through his confidence. You slowly turned around, resting your lower back against the marble railing, crossing your arms over your chest. You looked up at his handsome face, entirely unbothered, your expression full of brutal amusement.

"You're right, Jungkook. The game is over tonight," you said smoothly, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Did you enjoy your little victory lap with the boys inside? Did Yugyeom give you the shiny new keys to your motorcycle?"

Jungkook completely froze. The smug, arrogant look on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a rare flash of genuine, pale shock. His eyes widened, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, come on, Jeon. Did you really think you were that smart?" You took a slow step forward, closing the distance between you until the emerald silk of your gown was almost brushing against the dark fabric of his expensive suit. You looked up into his dark eyes through your eyelashes, your smile dripping with sweet, lethal poison. "I heard every single word of your pathetic little conversation on the beach house balcony three weeks ago. I knew about the motorcycle. I knew about the three-week deadline. I knew exactly what the ice queen was supposed to do."

Jungkook’s breath hitched loudly in his throat. For the first time since you had known him, he looked completely defenseless, his chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven movements. The terrifying realization was washing over him, painting his pale skin with panic. "You... you knew the whole time? From the very first day?"

"The entire time," you whispered, mocking him with your calm tone. "Every single word. Every cheesy compliment at the lockers, every stupid little date, every touch... I was playing along, Jungkook. You thought you were the predator at Westbridge High? You thought you were tracking a deer? You were my entertainment. I let you think you were winning because it was amusing to watch you try so hard. I let you touch me because I wanted to see how desperate and pathetic you would get. And look at you now."

You let your eyes travel down his suit, then back up to his face with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust.

"You didn't win me, Jungkook. You didn't break the ice queen," you said, each word hitting him like a physical blow. "You ruined your own sanity for a piece of metal. I let you into my space because I wanted to destroy you. I loathe you, Jungkook. I always have, and I always will. You mean absolutely nothing to me."

Jungkook’s face contorted into an expression of pure, burning fury, mixed with something agonizingly raw, something that looked almost like heartbreak. His eyes turned incredibly dark, wild with a toxic mix of hatred and obsession. He couldn't handle it. His massive ego had just been shattered into a million pieces by the only girl he had ever actually cared about conquering.

With a low, angry sound, his hands shot out, his fingers locking tightly around your upper arms. He yanked you forward with a violent pull, crashing your body hard against his chest. The physical impact made you gasp, your hands automatically pressing against his lapels to keep yourself from suffocating under his weight.

"So it was all a lie?" Jungkook hissed, his face dropping down until his lips were inches from yours, his hot breath fanning across your skin. His grip on your arms was so tight it was going to leave bruises, but he didn't care. He was completely out of his mind with rage. "Everything we did? In the library stacks? In the janitor's closet? You're telling me you felt absolutely nothing when I was inside you?"

"I felt physical attraction, obviously. You're not bad to look at, Jeon," you shot back instantly, your voice remaining steady and cold, refusing to let him see the frantic, terrified pounding of your heart against your ribs. "But love? Affection? Connection? Don't be pathetic. It was just a game. And I won."

Jungkook let out a dark, broken laugh that sounded more like a sob of pure anger. He looked at you like he wanted to tear you apart, but at the same time, he looked like he wanted to swallow you whole. The physical tension between your bodies was heavy, thick, and completely suffocating, vibrating with an dangerous mix of revenge and a dark obsession that neither of you could kill.

"You think you won?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a terrifying, deep register that sent a shiver straight down your spine. He leaned down, his eyes burning into your soul with a promise of absolute destruction. "You think you can just walk away from this, put your little mask back on, and pretend I didn't ruin you for anyone else? You hate me? Good. Keep hating me, you beautiful, selfish brat. Because I'm going to make sure I'm the only thing you think about, the only name you scream, for the rest of your pathetic life."

Before you could open your mouth to scream another biting insult, he slammed his lips against yours.

The kiss was brutal, toxic, and utterly filled with a desperate need for revenge. There was absolutely no gentleness in it. He tasted like expensive liquor, mint, and pure desperation. He used his tongue to aggressively force his way inside your mouth, dominating you, punishing you for every single cold word you had just spoken to his face.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his suit jacket tightly, your fingers curling into the material as you tried to fight his weight, but your body was betraying you once again. The raw, violent chemistry between you two was too strong, too addictive.

You bit his lower lip hard, tasting the metallic tang of iron as blood broke on his skin, but Jungkook only groaned darkly into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening until he lifted your feet slightly off the stone floor, driving himself deeper into the kiss. It was a silent, desperate declaration that he would never let you go, even if it destroyed you both.

With a harsh, breathless gasp, you finally found the strength to forcefully shove his chest, tearing your lips away from his. You were both panting heavily, your chest heaving, your perfect red lipstick smeared across your mouth and his jaw. You looked at him with absolute, unyielding coldness, your eyes like two chips of ice in the moonlight.

"We are done, Jungkook," you said, your voice remarkably steady as you reached down to smooth the silk of your green gown, hiding the shaking of your hands. "Enjoy your motorcycle. You paid a very high price for it."

You turned around, not giving him another second of your time, and walked back toward the glass doors. You didn't look back as you slid the door open and stepped back into the warm, brightly lit ballroom, leaving Jeon Jungkook standing alone in the darkness of the terrace, his hands trembling and his chest heaving with a fury he couldn't escape.

An hour later, the graduation gala was finally winding down. The music had stopped, and the entire senior class was gathering in the massive, marble-floored lobby of the hotel, waiting for the final graduation announcements and saying their final goodbyes.

Suddenly, a loud, synchronized chorus of pings echoed through the entire lobby.

Almost every single student reached into their pockets, pulling out their phones as a mass text notification flashed on their screens. A mass message had just been sent to the entire Westbridge High student database from an untraceable, anonymous number.

You slowly pulled your phone from your small designer clutch, a vicious, deeply satisfied smile spreading across your lips as you looked down at the screen.

It was an audio file. Specifically, it was the crystal-clear, undeniable recording of Jungkook, Mingyu, and Yugyeom from three weeks ago at the beach house party.

The loud, arrogant voice of Jungkook echoed through hundreds of pairs of headphones and speakers across the lobby: "A month is too long. Give me three weeks. By graduation night, she’ll be begging me to be her boyfriend. The ice queen is going to melt, boys. Watch me."

The entire lobby went dead, terrifyingly silent. The laughter stopped. The crying stopped. Hundreds of heads slowly, deliberately turned to look at the entrance of the lobby, where Jungkook was standing with his hands in his pockets.

The whispers started instantly—sharp, judgmental, and mocking. In a matter of mere seconds, Jungkook’s carefully built, untouchable reputation as the flawless, dominant king of the school was utterly shattered. He wasn't the cool, mysterious bad boy anymore. He was exposed to the entire world as a tacky, desperate loser who used girls as playground bets to win a motorcycle.

Mingyu and Yugyeom looked panicked, their faces turning completely red as people started staring at them with disgust. But Jungkook didn't even reach for his phone. He didn't have to. He already knew exactly what it was.

He slowly turned his head, his dark, intense eyes moving across the crowded lobby, cutting through the sea of whispering students until they found yours. He knew exactly who did it. He knew this was your final, devastating stroke of revenge. You had let him believe he was winning, let him take his prize, and then you had publicly executed his social standing in front of everyone he knew.

You didn't hide. You stood directly under the massive, bright crystal chandelier in the center of the lobby, your green silk dress glowing under the light. You looked right back at him, your chin held high, a cold, triumphant smile plastered on your face. You had won. You had destroyed him.

But as Jungkook continued to stare at you across the silent room, his expression didn't change to shame. He didn't look defeated. He didn't look embarrassed.

Instead, a slow, incredibly dangerous, and terrifying smirk began to creep onto his bloody lips. His dark eyes flared with a new kind of hunger, a dark, promises-filled fire that made your blood run cold. He wasn't broken by your revenge. He was challenged. Your public betrayal hadn't pushed him away; it had only fueled the toxic fire inside him, turning his competitive bet into a permanent, deeply dangerous obsession.

This wasn't an ending. This was a brutal declaration of war.

You both knew that high school was officially over tonight. You both knew that college started in exactly two months. And most importantly, you both knew that you had both been accepted into the exact same elite university city campus. As you stared at each other across the ruined remnants of your high school social ladder, a chilling, addictive thrill rushed through your veins.

The high school game was finally finished, but the real, toxic war was about to begin. And neither of you had any intention of losing.

The heavy mahogany doors of the luxury hotel ballroom slammed shut behind you, cutting off the suffocating noise of the crowd. You stepped into the dim, deserted corridor that led to the private executive suites. The adrenaline that had carried you through the public exposure in the lobby was beginning to morph into something heavier, a thick, throbbing ache between your thighs and a wild, racing pulse that refused to slow down.

Before you could take another step, a hand clamped onto your wrist like a steel shackle.

You were violently yanked backward, your back hitting the plush wallpapered wall of the corridor with a soft thud. A massive, looming body immediately crowded you, cutting off all light and escape. The familiar, intoxicating scent of tobacco, dark whiskey, and expensive cedarwood flooded your senses.

Jungkook.

His jacket was gone, his white button-down shirt wrinkled and torn open at the collar, showing the frantic, heavy rise and fall of his chest. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. The muscle in his jaw was twitching violently, his teeth grinding together so hard you could hear it in the silence of the hallway. But beneath the rage, his eyes were wide, dark, and completely consumed by a terrifying, dangerous addiction.

He didn't look at you like he hated you. He looked at you like you were his oxygen, and you had just cut off the supply.

"You absolute bitch," he breathed, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a violent shiver down your spine. He leaned his face down, his nose almost brushing against yours, his hot, ragged breath hitting your lips. "You leaked it. You had the tape the entire time and you played me like a fucking fool."

You didn't flinch. You tilted your chin up, your emerald green dress shifting against his legs, your eyes wide and burning with your own defensive malice. "I told you, Jeon. You're a child playing a man's game. Did you think I was going to let you walk away with your pathetic little pride intact? I ruined you. Look at you. You’re nothing but a joke to the entire school now."

"You think I care about them?" Jungkook roared, his voice cracking with a sudden, raw vulnerability that shocked you. He slammed both palms against the wall on either side of your head, the sound echoing loudly in the narrow hallway. He was shaking. The untouchable, arrogant Jeon Jungkook was physically trembling with rage and desperation right in front of you. "You think I give a single fuck about a motorcycle or those idiots in the lobby? I was a fool because I thought I was the one pulling the strings. I was a fool because I actually believed you were letting your guard down for me."

He took a deep, ragged breath, his eyes dropping to your lips, dark and wild with an intense, agonizing craving.

"I’m addicted to you," he whispered, the admission sounding like a curse, torn directly from his throat. "I hate you so much it makes my blood burn, but I can't look at anyone else. I can't touch anyone else. You did this to me. You planned this whole thing to break my ego, and all it did was make me want to tear you to pieces."

A cruel, mocking smile spread across your red lips, though your heart was hammering so hard against your ribs it felt painful. "Then tear me to pieces, Jungkook. But you’ll still be the loser of this game."

Jungkook let out a feral, frustrated sound, completely pushed past his limit. He grabbed the front of your silk dress, his fingers bunching the green material tightly as he violently pulled you up against his body. He didn't ask. He didn't tease. He just conquered.

His mouth crashed down onto yours with a primitive, angry force that knocked the air straight out of your lungs.

The kiss was a war zone. It was rude, mean, and hundred times more vicious than anything you had shared in the dark corners of the school. He bit your lip hard, drawing blood instantly, his tongue forcing its way past your teeth to claim your mouth with a possessive, toxic hunger. You groaned against his mouth, the metallic taste of blood making your head spin, your hands shooting up to grip his hair, pulling him closer even as you tried to fight him off. You hated him. You truly, deeply despised his arrogance, but your body was completely screaming for his touch, melting against his hard chest with a desperate, heavy heat.

Jungkook didn't stop. He was completely out of his mind, driven by a chaotic mix of revenge, anger, and pure lust. He slid his large hand down the high slit of your dress, his rough palm scraping against the bare skin of your thigh. He gripped your hip tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks, and lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist.

He pinned you against the wall with his hips, the hard, rigid length of him pressing directly against your soaked center through the layers of fabric. You let out a sharp, breathless gasp against his lips, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he began to grind his hips against yours in a heavy, torturous rhythm.

"You think you won because you exposed me?" Jungkook panted, tearing his mouth away from yours to bite down on the sensitive skin of your neck, his voice a dark, rough growl against your skin. "Look at you. You're begging for me. You're dripping wet for the guy you claim to loathe. We're both going to hell, sweetheart, and I'm dragging you down with me."

"Shut up," you hissed, your head rolling back against the wall as his mouth moved lower, his teeth grazing your collarbone. "Just... shut up and finish it."

"No," he whispered dangerously, his fingers sliding underneath the lace of your panties, finding your swollen, slick nub and rubbing it with a cruel, agonizingly slow pressure that made your vision instantly blur. You arched your back, a loud, helpless moan escaping your lips. Jungkook looked up at you, his dark eyes wide and filled with a sick, triumphant satisfaction. "I'm not going to make it easy for you. You want to hate me? Then hate me while I do this to you."

He added another finger, pushing deep inside your tight, wet heat, driving a frantic, breathless pace that had your body violently trembling in his arms. The physical tension between you was so high, so incredibly thick with malice and pure attraction, that every single touch felt like an explosion. You locked your arms around his neck, pulling his head back down to yours, drowning his arrogant smirk in another desperate, bruising kiss as your hips helplessly rolled against his hand, chasing the friction.

With one final, heavy press of his thumb against your center, your body completely fractured. A violent, shattering climax ripped through you, your internal walls clamping aggressively around his fingers as you let out a muffled scream into his shoulder.

Jungkook held you tightly against the wall, absorbing the frantic tremors of your body, his own breathing heavy, ragged, and completely broken. He didn't let you slide down. He kept you pinned there, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes looking down into your dazed, exhausted face.

The silence that followed was suffocating. There was no softness. There was no sweet afterglow. The air was still thick with an overwhelming sense of rivalry and revenge. You had exposed his secret, and he had exposed your desperation.

You slowly let your leg drop back to the floor, your hands releasing his shirt. You smoothed down your ruined dress, your expression instantly hardening back into that cold, untouchable mask of pure, unbothered malice. You wiped the blood from your lip with the back of your hand, looking at him like he was nothing more than dirt under your designer heels.

"Are you done throwing your tantrum, Jeon?" you said smoothly, your voice remarkably steady, cutting through the quiet hallway like ice. "Because I have a ride waiting."

Jungkook’s eyes darkened to a terrifying shade of black. The anger rushed right back into his face, his jaw clenching so hard a vein popped on his temple. He looked at you, his chest heaving, completely infuriated that even after this, you could still look at him with so much disrespect. He was a fool, he was an addict, and he was completely, utterly ruined by you.

"This changes nothing," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous threat as he stepped back, his hands curling into tight fists. "You think you can just walk away and leave me like this? You think you can go to college in two months and pretend I don't exist?"

"I don't think, Jungkook. I know," you replied coldly, adjusting the strap of your dress as you turned away from him. "Enjoy your broken reputation. You earned every bit of it."

You began walking down the long corridor, the sharp click of your heels echoing against the walls, your head held high. You didn't look back. You didn't dare to.

Behind you, Jungkook stood in the middle of the empty hallway, his breathing still ragged, his body still aching with an unfulfilled, toxic desire. He stared at your retreating figure, a slow, deeply twisted, and dangerous smile spreading across his bloody lips. His eyes were wide with a manic, terrifying promise. He hated you with every single fiber of his being, but the thought of ever letting someone else have you made him want to burn the world down.

He didn't want to fix his reputation. He didn't want to win the bet anymore. He just wanted to conquer you, to break your cold pride until you were just as addicted and ruined as he was.

As you reached the exit doors, a sudden, heavy wave of competitive adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your skin tingle. You both knew what was coming in two months. You both knew you were heading to the same city, the same campus, the same elite circle.

This wasn't a fresh start, and it certainly wasn't a peaceful truce. It was a toxic, permanent tether. You were going to spend the next four years trying to destroy each other's lives, driven by a mutual, burning hatred that felt more intense, more consuming, and more violently addictive than any love story could ever be.

Armin, who sat down at the little table across from Eren with his muffin, fruit, and eggs, could tell that his best friend was upset by the way he stirred his own scrambled eggs around on his plate, but not actually eating them.

“Don’t worry,” Armin looked up at his friend after taking a sip of his orange juice—Armin loved hotel orange juice, and Eren hated it—and the blue-eyed boy flashed a reassuring smile. “We’re going home tomorrow, so you’ll get to see her soon.”

“Yeah,” Eren mumbled.

“Maybe you could FaceTime her before we leave for the day,” Armin suggested. After all, jet skiing and scuba diving were on the agenda, and he truly wanted Eren to enjoy it.

“I already talked to her twenty minutes ago,” Eren sighed, slouching back in his chair. “It only made me miss her even more. She has a new hairstyle and everything.”

“Eren,” Armin slowly chewed on a strawberry as he blinked. “It’s only been a few days.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eren pinched the bridge of his nose, and that’s when Connie and Jean joined them at their table.

“Guess what,” Connie grinned, placing two packed plates of food on the table. “They said we can sit here and eat as long as we want even after they stop serving breakfast, but we just can’t go back for seconds.”

“Connie grabbed every fucking thing he saw,” Jean frowned, grabbing a seat next to Armin.

“Hell yeah,” Connie picked up a grape, tossing it at Jean’s head. “So don’t be shy, grab whatever you want and eat up!”

“Don’t throw the grapes,” Armin said. “They’re delicious, so try not to waste them.”

“Loosen up, will you?” Jean frowned, breaking his hash brown into pieces before diving right in.

“I’ll loosen up once I know everything’s going according to plan,” Armin paused. “I mean, someone has to make sure we’re on schedule. It’s our last day here, so if we miss something, we won’t get another chance to do it.”

“The hell does that have to do with throwing grapes?” Connie said, earning a laugh from Jean.

Jean ruffled Armin’s blonde hair. “Don’t worry, we know you love the beach. We’re not gonna miss anything, alright? So just relax.”

“Right,” Armin smiled softly, “sorry.”

For a moment, everyone ate their food and engaged in somewhat polite chatter about today’s planned events.

“Alright, so we have our entire morning and afternoon planned,” Jean paused. “What are we doing tonight?”

Armin took that opportunity to bring the one silent member at their table into the conversation.

“Eren, is there anything you wanna do?”

“Yeah. Pack.”

And with that, Eren left the table, tossing his uneaten food in the garbage before heading back to the hotel room.

“Damn it, Connie,” Jean frowned. “I told you to let the guy bring his girlfriend.”

Connie tossed his arms up defensively, swallowing his food before he said, “go to Hell.”

—

As the day went on, Eren managed to have a bit of fun with his friends. Even so, as he swam with colorful fish and zoomed across the sea, a tingle of pain would shoot through his heart whenever he remembered that you weren’t with him, experiencing all of the bucket-list worthy adventures by his side.

As the group headed home in Jean’s SUV, Eren sat in the backseat besides Connie. He pressed his head against the foggy window, looking out at the orange streetlights passing by.

“Eren,” Connie fought back a laugh, pulling his phone out to record the pouting man. “Why are you acting like you’re in a R&B music video right now?”

“Shut up, Constance.” Eren effortlessly tossed his hand out and smacked Connie’s tattooed arm.

Connie quickly ended the recording.

“I’m gonna drop Eren off first,” Jean said, gripping the steering wheel as he made a left turn, “I really think he might die if he doesn’t get to Y/N soon.”

“Turn left again,” Armin said, directing Jean from the passenger seat. “But guys, leave him alone. Y/N’s lovely. None of us can understand what he’s going through because the three of us are single.”

“Thank you, Armin,” Eren said.

Eren folded his arms across his chest, continuing to sulk like a kid who just had their favorite toy taken away.

But, once Jean turned down a familiar street, the depressed man instantly perked up.

“You’re grinning like a toddler, dude,” Connie teased, but Eren ignored him, gripping the door handle tightly.

Jean tugged on his hat, slowing down as he pulled up in front of your home. However, before Jean could come to a complete stop, Eren started to jump out of the car.

“Eren! Be careful!” Armin warned as Jean slammed on the brakes. His warning was utterly useless, as Eren was already halfway through your front yard by the time the words fell from Armin’s lips.

“You forgot your bags!” Jean shouted, rolling down his window. “Didn’t shut my damn door, either.”

Suddenly, you opened your front door, having heard all of the commotion outside. And when you smiled, all of Eren’s friends could easily see why he was so in love with you.

Eren nearly knocked you over once he finally made it into your arms, a big smile spreading across that beautiful face of his. He showered your forehead and cheek with kisses as he inhaled your comforting scent.

“I missed you so much,” he said.

“I can tell,” you teased, hugging the tall man back. “I missed you too.”

He pulled away from the hug only to cup your face with his large hands. He kissed your lips softly, melting over the touch he had craved for days.

“I’m not going anywhere without you ever again. I don’t care if it’s the grocery store or to the living room,” Eren mumbled against your lips, and you giggled softly.

“Hey!” Jean suddenly honked his horn. “You’ve seen her, now come get your stuff!”

“In a minute,” Eren shouted back, flipping the driver off.

He just had to stare at that gorgeous face of yours for a few more minutes, and who could blame him? He was madly in love with you.

jungkook: come over

here we go.

you roll onto your side, thumb hovering over the glass. your chest feels tight, that familiar ache of wanting to give in and wanting to scream at him at the same time.

you: no.

the bubbles appear instantly. he’s hovering. he’s waiting.

jungkook: why are u being so difficult?? just come over

you sit up, the sheets pooling around your waist. you think about the instagram story you saw three nights ago.

the loud music you could practically fucking hear through the screen, the way some girl's arm was brushed against his shoulder while he laughed at something his friend said.

he looked like he didn't have a care in the world while your "where are you?" texts went unread for hours.

you: how am i being difficult when you barely could explain what happened a few nights ago??

jungkook: for fucks sake. i told you nothing happened, and i was going to come over later that night. shit just got carried away.

you: yeah but you didn’t. so until you tell me the truth, i ain’t coming over for shit. goodbye.

you toss the phone face down. you know what comes next. he’ll call. he’ll say he got carried away, again. he’ll say his friends made him stay, and then beg for me to forgive him.

it’s the same cycle. he pushes you away with his silence, leaves you wondering where you stand, and then the second you start to build a wall, he tries to kick it down.

he wants you close enough to touch, close enough to have, but never close enough to actually hold onto.

your phone buzzes again. then again.

you pick it up. it isn't a text this time. it's a picture.

it’s a blurry picture of his calvin klein sweatpants that you bought for him.

his length clearly hard, his hand just barely placed right above it.

then a voice note follows.

you press play, and his voice is low, scratchy with sleep or maybe something else.

"don't be like that," he mutters, the sound of a lighter flicking in the background. "i'm literally begging. just let me come over. please."

well, fuck.

the "please" is what actually kills you.

it’s the only time he sounds like he belongs to you, and you hate how easily it works.

he acts like he doesn't care if you stay or go, but the moment you actually head for the door, he’s blocking the damn exit.

you look at your front door, then back at the phone. what are you even fucking doing?

you: I’m upset, jungkook. can’t you tell?

jungkook: I know. so let me make it up to you, baby. I’m coming to yours rn. leave the lock open.

you : fine.

he doesn't ask. he never asks. he just decides. that’s the problem.

and of course. of course, you're already reaching for the remote to buzz him in.

the sound of his heavy boots echoing in the quiet hallway makes your stomach flip.

knock. knock. knock.

"open up, baby.” he mumbles, his voice vibrating through the door. "know you’re there."

you pull the door open just a crack, and he doesn't even wait. he pushes his way in.

he kicks the door shut with his heel and immediately crowds you into the wall, his large hands coming up to cup your face before you can even get a word out.

"hey," he whispers, his nose brushing against yours. his eyes are dark, searching yours with a look that’s so soft it feels like a lie.

"jungkook, stop," you say, your voice coming out way weaker than you wanted.

you put your hands on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart through his hoodie. "we need to talk. you didn't even explain about the other night and i'm not just gonna—"

"shhh," he breathes, cutting you off with a lingering kiss on your temple. "don't do that. not right now, hm?”

he starts kissing the side of your face, his lips grazing your jawline, moving slow and deliberate.

every time you try to turn your head away, he just follows, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your cheeks. it’s so frustratingly gentle.

it’s the jungkook that makes you forget all the red flags.

"i'm still upset," you whisper, even as your eyes flutter shut. "you can't just come here and act like everything is fine. i need communication, jungkook. i need you to actually tell me what happened."

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his thumb catching your bottom lip and tugging it down. "i know, i know baby. i’ll tell you everything you want to know, okay? just... not now."

he leans down, finally capturing your lips in a kiss that tastes like a promise he probably won't keep.

it’s deep and slow, his tongue slicking against yours until your knees feel like they’re going to give out. your hands, which were supposed to be pushing him away, are now fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

"i know you're mad," he murmurs against your mouth, his hands sliding down your back to hook under your thighs, lifting you up so you have to wrap your legs around his waist.

"why don't you take this off for me? let me take care of you. make you feel good.”

you let out a shaky breath, your resolve crumbling into a million pieces. he carries you to the bedroom, the room only lit by the dim light of the streetlamps outside.

he lays you down like you’re something precious, hovering over you while he watches you struggle with the hem of your shirt.

"that's it," he praises, his voice dropping an octave as he watches the fabric fall away. "so pretty for me. you have no idea how much i thought about this while i was out."

he doesn't rush. he spends forever just worshiping your skin, his mouth exploring every inch of your neck and collarbone. he’s a talker, just like always.

"you like that, don't you? can feel your heart racing," he whispers, his hands moving down to unbutton your jeans. "tell me you missed me. tell me you wanted me here."

you just groan, your head hitting the pillow as he works his way down. he's so focused, so intent on making you feel every single thing.

when he finally moves between your legs, his hands are firm but careful, spreading you open.

"look at me," he commands softly. you open your eyes, seeing him look up at you from between your knees. "gonna make you forget why you were even shouting at me earlier, hm? gonna make you feel good. that’s what you deserve, yeah?”

and he does. his tongue is precise, findng exactly what you need, his fingers working in perfect sync.

he’s talking the whole time, multiple praises and dirty whispers that make your toes curl.

"yeah, just like that— fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby. keep making those sounds, i love hearing you moan f’ me.”

by the time he finally moves back up, you’re a mess.

you're calling his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he sinks into you.

it’s not fast or rough, not like the usual.

this time it’s slow, and incredibly intimate.

but it’s on purpose.

he keeps his eyes locked on yours, murmuring about how good you feel, how much he missed the way you fit together.

fucking asshole.

you knew this was his way of saying “sorry”, of trying to avoid the questions you’d bombard him with.

and for a moment, everything is perfect.

but then, the moment he releases in you, the feeling passes.

the room goes quiet except for your heavy breathing as you both collapse onto the tangled sheets.

you’re waiting for him to pull you into his chest, to kiss your forehead and stay in this bubble for just a little longer.

instead, you feel the bed shift.

jungkook reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone. the bright screen lights up his face, casting a glow over his features. he’s scrolling, his thumb moving fast, and a small, amused smirk plays on his lips.

the silence in the room suddenly feels heavy again.

you hated this part.

you hated that he’d talk like how he did just to get into your pants, and then he’d completely act as if you didn’t exist right after.

it had you overthinking most of the time, which led to arguments, and arguments led to a prolonged lack of communication. which would then be fixed by him knocking at your door again, and fucking you, again.

and the cycle repeats.

you try to talk, hoping that something would change this time.

"that felt ... felt really good, kook," you say softly, trying to catch his eye. "missed you.."

"mhm," he hums, not looking up. his eyes are glued to his screen. “me too.”

"maybe we could, i don't know, cuddle and watch a movie?" you suggest, reaching out to trace the tattoos on his arm. "or we could just stay like this for a bit."

"yeah, down for that," he says, but his tone is totally flat. he’s still typing something out, his focus a million miles away from the bed you’re currently sharing.

you watch him, the ache in your chest returning.

he’s right here, his skin still warm against yours, but he’s already gone.

he’s back to being this version of himself, the one who treats you like an option once his needs are met.

you ponder what you are to him. and it doesn’t help with the already lingering questions and thoughts in your head.

you shift closer, resting your head on his shoulder, trying to force the intimacy back into the room.

he doesn't pull away, but he doesn't drop the phone either. he just shifts his arm slightly so he can keep scrolling.

"who are you talking to?" you ask, trying to sound casual, even though your heart is sinking.

"just the guys," he mutters, finally locking the phone and tossing it face down.

he sighs, a long, tired sound, and finally rolls over to face you. he looks at you for a long beat, his expression unreadable.

"c’mere."

he pulls you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin. it’s exactly what you asked for, but it feels different now.

"we're good, right?" he asks, his voice muffled by your hair.

you want to say no. you want to bring up the girls, the ignorant fucking texts, and the fact that he was supposed to be over a few days ago, but bailed and has yet to give you an explanation.

but you’re tired, and his arms are warm, and the scent of him is already drugging your brain again.

"yeah," you lie, closing your eyes. "we're good."

the next morning, you expected him to be gone.

you expected to wake up with a note on your bedroom table, but you see him awake, and staring at the ceiling

you can’t help but smile, thinking that maybe things were changing.

but oh were you fucking wrong.

"hey, morning.” you mumble.

“didn’t think you’d still be here.” you whisper, and his head turns towards your direction.

“just don’t have anywhere to be today.” he replies.

you simply nod, trying to not think much of it.

“m’ gonna shower," you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

"i'll join you," he says. he doesn't look at you, but he stands up and follows you into the bathroom.

you feel a tiny spark of relief in your chest, a little smile tugs at your lips. maybe last night actually meant something. maybe he's actually staying present this time.

right?

the shower is steaming up fast. you step under the water, waiting for him to pull you close, to continue that sweetness from a few hours ago.

but he just stands there.

the silence is deafening, punctuated only by the aggressive spray of the water against the tiles.

he’s washing himself without even looking at you, his eyes occasionally looking up at the bottle of soap.

he looks like he’s a million miles away, like he’s already mentally left the apartment.

fuck, you hated this.

"kook?" you say.

"you okay? you’re like... unusually quiet."

"i'm fine," he mutters, not looking up. "could you pass me the soap."

you hand it to him, your fingers brushing his, but he doesn't grab your hand or even acknowledge the touch. he’s dry and he’s cold.

the warmth from last night has been completely drained out of him.

you try one more time, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "did you sleep okay? i was thinking maybe we could go grab some—“

he sighs, cutting you off.

he fucking sighs.

"don't really feel like talking right now," he snaps, rinsing the soap off his chest. "just wanna get clean."

he finishes before you, stepping out of the glass stall without a second glance.

you stay there for a few more minutes, the hot water turning cold, feeling that familiar knot of frustration twisting in your gut.

your mind is racing with thoughts, you quickly do what you need to do, and within minutes you’re out.

and you don't even bother with a towel.

you throw on a tiny tank top and your underwear, your hair dripping wet and sticking to your back, and you march out into the living room.

he’s sitting on the edge of the couch, scrolling through his phone, fully dressed in his jeans and hoodie like he’s already halfway out the door.

"jungkook. did i do something?" you start, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"was it something i said? or did i suddenly become invisible the second you fucked me last night?"

jungkook doesn't even look up from the screen. "no. what are you even talking about?"

"then why the fuck are you acting like this?" you raise your voice, stepping into his line of sight.

"last night you were literally begging to come over. you were so sweet, so gentle, acting like you actually gave a shit about me. and now? you’re acting like i’m some stranger you just happened to wake up next to!"

he finally looks up, and his expression is so blank it makes you want to scream. "i don't know why you’re yelling so early in the morning. i’m literally just sitting here."

"no!— you’re not 'just sitting here,' jungkook! you do this every single time!" you’re pacing now, your wet hair spraying droplets on the floor.

“whenever you mess up, you turn into this perfect version of yourself. the perfect version for me. you use the sweetness to get back in my fucking bed, and the second you get what you want, you shut down, you shut me out! you treat me like a fucking convenience."

he scoffs.

"you’re reaching," he says, his ego flaring up as he stands to face you. he looks down at you, towering over you with a nonchalant shrug that drives you fucking insane.

"i came over because i wanted to see you. i made it up to you. what more do you want?"

"i want you to actually be here! and i want to know what we actually are for fucks sake." you shout, poking a finger into his chest.

"i want to know who the real you is. is it the guy who calls me baby and kisses my forehead, or is it this cold, selfish jerk who can't even look at me over breakfast?"

jungkook scoffs, shaking his head like you’re the one being crazy. "what do you mean?" he asks, his voice sounding genuinely confused, which only makes it worse.

holy shit you’re about to break.

"i'm right here. i'm staying, aren't i? you’re the one creating a problem out of fucking nothing."

"nothing? you think this is nothing?" you’re practically vibrating with rage, the tears starting to prick at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall.

“you lie to me all the time, you bail on me for like— the 60th time, and then you come here and act like you own me. you use me to feel better about yourself and then you check out.

i’m so fucking tired of guessing what you want from me."

"you know what, I’m not doing this with you," he says, his jaw tightening.

he’s already reaching for his wallet and keys on the coffee table.

"you’re being way too much right now. you’re always searching for some deep meaning behind everything. this isn’t fucking third grade literature y/n! sometimes a shower is just a shower."

you cannot believe those words just flew out of his mouth.

"fuck you! leave then!" you scream, your voice cracking.

"because i'm done trying to translate your bullshit signals. you’re a coward, jungkook. you can’t even handle one real conversation without running away."

he stares at you for a long beat, his eyes cold and hard. he looks at your messy hair, your shaking hands, and he just sighs like you’re an inconvenience.

wow.

"fine. have it your fucking way," he says, shoving his phone into his pocket. "you’re confusing as shit, you know that? one second you’re pulling me closer and the next you’re screaming at me. i can't keep up with this. i'll see myself out."

he doesn't even look back. he grabs his jacket, throws it over his shoulder, and walks out.

the door slams.

the sound of the door hitting the frame echoes through the empty apartment, final and sharp.

the silence that follows is deafening. you stand there in the middle of the room, the dampness of your hair making you shiver. the adrenaline drains out of you all at once, leaving you empty and hollow.

you collapse onto the couch, the same spot where he was just sitting, and finally, the first sob breaks through.

you hate him.

you hate how he makes you feel like the crazy one just for wanting the truth.

you hate that even now, with your heart breaking, you're already wondering how long it'll take before he sends the next "can I come over? let me make it up to you." text.

and the worst part is you already know what your fucking answer will be.

——

the silence in the apartment is literal torture.

it’s been seven days. seven days of you staring at your phone, checking his "last seen," and then getting mad at yourself for even caring

your room is a fucking mess. clothes on the floor, empty take out containers on the desk, and the curtains are drawn shut like the time you mourned the death of that one dinosaur that was left behind in jurassic park for a week.

you’re laying facedown on your bed, scrolling through your old photos, when you hear aggressive banging on your apartment door.

"y/n! open the door! i have a safety pin and a clip and i'm not afraid to use them!" yunjin yells through the wood.

you groan, dragging yourself up. you look in the hallway mirror and wince.

your skin is pale, your hair is practically a bird's nest, and you’ve got dark circles under your eyes.

you open the door just as she’s about to kick it.

"finally," she snaps, pushing past you. she stops in the middle of the living room and gag.

"oh my god. girl. it smells like literal sadness in here. when was the last time you opened a window?….. or showered?"

"i don't know. leave me alone, yunjin," you mumble, walking back to the couch and burying your face in a pillow.

she doesn't leave. she starts opening the curtains, letting in the blinding sun.

you hiss, clearly irritated.

but she does not give one fuck. she sits on the edge of the couch and pulls the pillow away from your face.

"okay, talk to me. seriously. what’s up with you? it’s been a week. you’ve been ghosting the group chat and you didn't even post for jimin’s birthday. is it him?"

you feel the lump in your throat getting bigger.

“so it is him, isn’t it?”

"he just... he left, yunjin. like, for real this time. we had this huge fight after he stayed over. he was being so sweet that night, like actually gentle, trying to make up for the shit we fought about a few nights ago.” your voice trails.

“and then the next morning it’s like he flipped a switch. he was cold and dry and when i called him out on it, he just walked out. he slammed the door so hard i thought the frame broke."

yunjin’s expression softens. she reaches out and rubs your arm. "did he say anything after? a text? a call?"

"no. nothing," you whisper, and your voice cracks.

"and that’s what hurts the most. i thought after everything... after the way he was looking at me that night... i thought he’d care enough to at least check if i was okay. but he just went back to his life. he’s probably out right now acting like i don't even fucking exist."

“it hurts, yun. it really…. fucking hurts.” your voice softens, tears threatening to fall as you can feel your heart physically being stabbed.

"oh, my poor baby… you know what he is? he’s a coward," yunjin says firmly.

"he uses that nonchalant act because he’s scared of actually being real with you. he’s acting like he doesn’t care because he’s too scared to have any real feelings."

"i just feel so stupid," you say, a tear finally escaping.

"i just… i ponder what i even am to him, yun.”

“like, am i just someone he calls when he’s bored of his friends? am i just a backup? i hate that i let him back in every single time. i hate that i'm sitting here crying and he's probably totally fine."

yunjin pulls you into a hug, letting you just leak into her shoulder for a minute. she lets you cry it out, not saying anything until you’ve gone quiet.

"oh baby. you’re not stupid," she says, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

"you’re just human. and you deserve to feel the way you do right now….. but you’re also a bad fucking bitch, and you’ve forgotten that because you’ve been rotting in this apartment for a week.” she says firmly.

“you’re not gonna sit here and cry over a guy who can’t even send a text. you're way too hot for this."

she stands up suddenly, clapping her hands. "get up. go to the bathroom. exfoliate. shave. and for gods sake, take a fucking shower. I love you, but you reek.”

"why?" you ask, wiping your eyes, looking up at her.

"because we’re going to the club tonight. jimin and taehyung are already texting me. hara is coming too. we’re gonna go out, get some drinks, and remind you that the world doesn't start and end with jeon mother fuckin’ jungkook."

"yunjin, no," you groan, falling back onto the cushions.

"i look like a literal zombie. my hair is a mess, i have nothing to wear, and i just want to sleep for another ten years.

"fuck no. you’re not sleeping," she says, heading for your closet and tossing clothes around.

“i’ll pick the fit and do your makeup. we are going to get you a vodka soda and you’re going to dance until you forget his name. blackout, if you must. anything to have your mind away from him and his circumcised dick.“

you look at her, seeing that look in her eyes that means she’s serious. you look around your depressing apartment, then back at your reflection in the glass of the tv.

"fine," you mutter. "but if i cry in the middle of the dance floor, it’s your fault."

"I can work with that, we have a deal." she chirps, pointing toward the shower.

"hit the shower. now."

by the time yunjin is done with you, you actually

look… not disgusting. she put you in this tiny, tight black dress and did your makeup so good you barely recognize yourself.

the club is completely packed when you guys get there. the bass is thumping so hard you can feel it in your chest, and the air smells like perfume, sweat, and expensive drinks.

you follow yunjin through the crowd, trying not to trip over everyone, until you see the booth in the corner.

jimin, taehyung, and hara are already there, sitting around a table full of drinks.

"holy shit! look who’s alive!" jimin yells over the music, jumping up to pull you into a massive hug.

"i thought you actually died, you’ve been so quiet on everywhere."

"yeah, well. blame yunjin, she dragged me out," you laugh, sitting down next to him. taehyung hands you a shot of tequila immediately, and you down it, feeling the burn hit your throat.

the club gets a bit drowned out after a couple more drinks.

you lean closer to jimin, since you guys have always been close but haven't really caught up in forever. you start telling him a little bit about what happened last week.

"he’s just so exhausting, chim," you shout over the loud music, holding your drink tight.

"one second he’s literally begging to see me, being all sweet, and the next he acts like i’m a stranger. i don't even know what we are. and he always avoids that exact question or tries to push me away when i bring that topic up."

jimin nods, looking all sympathetic. "he’s always been like that, babe. he doesn't know how to show emotion. he thinks that the only way he’ll get through life is by being this— closed off version of himself. we’ve tried telling him it never ends well. but does the fucker listen? nope."

“you’re doing the best you can, y/n. don’t beat yourself up about this too much, okay?” he finishes, rubbing your shoulder slightly.

“now, what shall offer m’lady? perhaps a highball? or maybe a—“ suddenly, jimin stops talking. his face goes completely blank, and his eyes shift toward the entrance.

"holy fucking shit," jimin mutters, his grip tightening on his glass. "look who just walked in."

you turn around, and your heart literally drops straight into your stomach.

jungkook.

well, shit.

he’s walking in with two of his guy friends. he’s wearing an all black fit, his hair is messy, and he looks entirely too good.

he looks completely fine, like he hasn't lost a single second of sleep over you.

"fuck. holy fucking shit. i— i shouldn't have come here," you whisper-yell, instantly panicking. you grab your clutch, ready to bolt. "yunjin, we have to go— if not, i’m leaving right now."

"are you phsycotic?! stay down! don't be so dramatic!" yunjin hisses, grabbing your arm and pulling you back into the seat.

"are you seriously going to let this jerk ruin your night? what did we talk about on the way over here? live your fucking life y/n. it’s about time you have some self respect! besides, you look way too hot to run away like some coward. just ignore him."

"ignore him? yunjin, he’s right there!" you’re literally hiding behind jimin’s shoulder, trying to peek through his arm like an absolute psycho.

it’s kind of funny how bad you're freaking out, and taehyung is just sitting there laughing at you.

jungkook doesn't notice you guys yet. he moves over to a table across the VIP section. and within minutes, a couple of girls in low cut tops slide right into his booth.

you feel that annoying pang of jealousy in your chest, but you somehow force yourself to keep watching.

the girls are doing the most, leaning in close and trying to talk to him. but jungkook just looks... bored. or just, out of it. you guess.

he’s in his own little bubble, sipping his drink and staring at the floor. he nods when they speak, but he isn't really laughing or entertaining them like that.

his friends are trying to hype him up, forcing him to take shots and enjoy the vibe, but he just looks totally closed off.

"see? babe, he looks miserable," yunjin whispers in your ear, nudging you. "he’s literally ignoring them."

"whatever, that means nothing." you mutter, but you can’t look away. it’s actually kind of funny watching these girls try so hard while he just sits there looking so nonchalant and annoyed.

after another hour of watching him from a distance, the tequila finally kicks in. you stand up, telling yunjin you need another drink.

"i'm going to the bar, need another drink.” you say, as she simply nods.

you walk toward the bar, making sure your hips swing just a little bit more. you can feel eyes on you. you don't look at his table, but you know he’s watching. you can literally feel the back of your neck tingling.

you reach the bar and order a vodka soda.

you’re waiting for the bartender when you hear a familiar voice right next to you.

you turn your head slightly, looking at the big mirror behind the bar.

and there he is.

jungkook is standing three feet away from you, ordering a drink for his friend. he looks over, catches your eye in the reflection, and his expression cracks for a split second.

he looks surprised, then his eyes darken as he takes in your dress.

you don't say a word. you just grab your vodka soda from the bartender, take a sip, and turn around to walk straight back to your booth.

you walk right past him. your shoulder brushes against his chest. it feels like a literal electric shock. you keep your face completely blank and don't stop.

but just as you step away, you hear his voice.

it’s low and rough. you haven’t heard it in awhile.

“nice dress.” he whispers.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck!

you hide your expression well, you don't even give him the satisfaction of looking back. you just keep walking, but inside, your brain is melting.

you get back to the booth and yunjin is basically vibrating in her seat. "oh my god we were watching! he saw you! what did he say? did he say anything?"

"he said he liked the dress," you mutter, trying to act cool but your face is definitely red.

"and? what did you do?" jimin asks, leaning in.

"nothing. i just ignored him and walked away."

jimin laughs, raising his glass. "nice one!”

you glance back over to his table one last time. jungkook is back at his booth, but he’s not even pretending to listen to his friends anymore.

he’s just sitting there, his chin resting on his hand, staring directly at your table with his dark eyes.

he looks completely wrecked that you just brushed him off, and for the first time in a week, you finally feel a little alive.

you finally feel the way he’s been feeling all the times when he’d act like this to you. and you’re fucking loving it.

you get back to the table and try your best to just keep yourself busy by engaging back into the conversation, laughing at whatever stupid jokes your friends are making.

you’re trying so hard to be unbothered. you want him to see that you’re perfectly fine, that your life didn't stop just because he decided to go ghost for a week.

but for the next hour, it’s just a straight up fucking mind game with him.

every couple of minutes, your eyes just automatically drift back to his table.

and every single time, he’s already staring. you quickly snap your head away, pretending like you were just looking at the lights or the crowd, and a few minutes later, you catch him doing the exact same thing.

he looks away the second your eyes lock. it’s exhausting. and your chest feel like it’s being squeezed.

( whip out spotify or apple music right the fuck now and put on “every breath you take” by the police!! — and I’d recc you to read it & follow the lyrics but do whatevaa!! x )

you take another drink just to make the knot in your throat go away.

and then, the bass dies down.

the loud club music fades out, and this familiar, soft intro starts playing through the speakers.

“every breath you take... every move you make..”

your entire body just freezes. your cup stops halfway to your mouth and you genuinely feel yourself stop breathing.

oh? oh.

“every bond you break, every step you take. I’ll be watching you.”

the dj comes on the mic, his voice sounding way too cheerful. "alright guys! let’s slow it down a little bit. grab your partner, or someone special to you and bring them out to the dance floor."

you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. a big fucking truck. of all the songs in the world, it had to be this one.

“every single day, and every word you say.”

this was your guy's song. it wasn't even a romantic thing at first— you just remember the exact night you both watched season 2 of the stranger things finale.

you both fell in love with the series and that exact scene of the ball, and from then on, it was just your thing.

“every game you play, every night you stay.”

whenever it came on randomly on shuffle, in a car, or in a store in public. jungkook would grab your waist and spin you around, both of you laughing without a care in the world. it was the only time things felt simple with him.

the only time things didn’t feel complicated, or rushed. time always stopped the moment the two of you moved your bodies against each other to that song. you felt almost… loved?

so yeah, horrible fucking timing.

slowly, you look back over at his booth.

“I’ll be watching you.”

only he isn't looking away this time. he’s staring straight at you, completely ignoring the noise and the people starting to stand up around him.

and his face isn't cocky. there's no smirk, no anger, nothing. his eyes look so heavy, almost... emotional. it’s a face you’ve literally never seen him make before.

you see his jaw tighten, not like he’s pissed off, but like he’s trying to hold something back. his eyebrows descend downwards, looking almost sad. completely wrecked.

your mind goes totally foggy. the crowd is moving, couples are walking past your booth to go to the dance floor, but it feels like the room is in slow motion. you’re just staring at him, trying to figure him out while trying to keep yourself from bawling right there and then.

“oh can’t you see?”

and then, of course, the worst thing possible happens.

one of the girls from earlier reaches down, grabs jungkook’s arm, and pulls him up.

you see his face look startled for a split second, like he was snapped out of a trance.

your mouth drops open a little bit, your stomach twisting into a sickening knot. because instead of shaking her off, instead of sitting back down, jungkook actually follows her.

“you belong to me.”

he lets her lead him right onto the dance floor. but he’s looking at you.

the second you see them start to move together to your song, you completely lose it. you couldn't believe what you were watching.

it felt like a literal slap to the face. the tears just start spilling over, hot and fast, blurring your vision.

“how my poor heart aches.”

you can see him looking over the girl’s shoulder, his dark eyes locked onto you the entire time he’s moving with her, but that just makes it a million times worse. it feels malicious.

“with every step you take, every move you make. and every vow you break.”

it feels like he’s doing it just to hurt you, just to prove he can.

"babe? hey, what’s wrong?" yunjin’s voice cuts through, her hand coming onto your shoulder.

jimin leans in, his face looking all worried. "hey, why are you crying? did he do something?"

you can’t hear shit. their voices sound like they’re underwater, completely drowned out by the lyrics of the song playing in the background.

your black mascara is already running down your cheeks, burning your eyes. you can't sit there for another second watching them.

you just grab your purse off the table, knock your chair back a bit, and rush out of venue.

you’re practically pushing past people, your head down, stumbling in your heels as you run toward the exit.

the music is still echoing in your ears, following you out of the main room, somehow getting louder the further away you go from the club.

you burst through the heavy doors and run into the bathroom located right outside the club entrance.

thankfully, it’s empty. the faint sound of the song is still vibrating through the walls.

you let yourself sink straight down against the back of the bathroom door, your knees pulling up to your chest. you’re sobbing so hard your chest hurts, horribly, the sound of your crying echoing against the walls.

your hand fists into your messy hair, pulling at the roots because you just want the pain in your chest to stop.

"you're such a fucking asshole!," you choke out, your voice breaking into tiny, pathetic sobs. "i h-hate you. i f-fucking hate you."

without even thinking, you unlock your phone with a shaking thumb. your eyes are so blurry from tears you can barely see the screen. you open your contacts and scroll down until you hit his name.

you click on his contact. right at the top is the profile picture you set for him.

a photo booth picture of the two of you from months ago. you’re biting his cheek and he’s laughing, everything looks so happy, and perfect.

your heart completely breaks into pieces looking at it. it feels like that boy doesn't even exist anymore.

with a shaky breath, you scroll all the way to the bottom of his contact page. you don't hesitate this time. you press the red text that says block this caller.

the pop up asks if you're sure. you press block contact.

you slide the phone face down onto the dirty bathroom floor, burying your face in your knees as a fresh wave of sobs hits you. you blocked him. it’s done.

but as you sit there in the quiet stall, listening to the muffled music outside, you just feel completely empty, and as the song fades out, so do you.

you wake up and your head is literally pounding so fucking bad it feels like it’s about to explode.

everything is a total blur.

you try to squint your eyes open against the light, and the first thing you see is yunjin and jimin’s faces right above you, looking down like they’re inspecting a corpse.

they’re whispering, but because your head hurts so bad, it just sounds like something’s stuck in your fucking head.

"i told you she's waking up, stop poking her arm," jimin mutters, swatting yunjin’s hand away.

"i'm not poking her, i'm checking if she's alive! she's been out for like 14 fucking hours," yunjin whispers back, sounding all annoyed.

"well, don't yell! you're gonna give her a headache."

"i’m literally whispering!”

you let out a weak groan, and they both instantly snap their heads down, their expressions softening the second they see your eyes are fully open.

"hey, hey," jimin says, his voice getting super soft as he reaches out to pat your shoulder.

"how are you feeling? you okay?"

"water," you croak out, your throat feeling like actual sandpaper.

yunjin immediately runs to the kitchen and comes back with a glass, lifting your head up slightly so you can sip it.

"what happened?" you mutter, rubbing your eyes. you look around and realize you're back on your own couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

"how did i get here? the last thing i remember is... the bathroom."

yunjin scoffs, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"girl, we called your phone like a thousand times. we were literally panicking thinking you got kidnapped or something. then i remembered we have our locations shared on find my iphone, so i tracked you. it led us straight to the bathroom outside the club."

"we found you literally blacked out on the floor,"

jimin adds, shaking his head. "yunjin was about to call a whole fucking ambulance, but then we realized you were just completely out and asleep from the tequila and the crying. so i just carried you out through the back exit and we brought you home, and stayed the night so you wouldn’t wake up to nobody.”

you try to process everything they're saying, but their voices start to drown out as little snippets of last night start flashing in your head. the music. the song.

your, song.

jungkook looking at you. and then... that girl grabbing his arm and pulling him onto the dance floor to your song.

the memory hits you like a physical punch to the stomach.

"hey," yunjin says, noticing your face change.

"what actually happened last night? why did you run off like that? you can talk to us, babe. you know that right?”

you look at the two of them, and that fuckass of a lump in your throat comes back, twice as big this time.

"it was t-the song," you start, your voice trembling. "that slow song the dj played. it was our song. we used to dance to it all the time.”

you feel the hot tears start spilling over your cheeks again, your chest tightening. "and he was staring at me, yunjin. he looked so sad, like he actually felt something for once. but then this girl... this girl just grabbed his arm and pulled him to the dance floor. and he went. he actually went and danced with her while looking straight at me."

by each word, you get visibly more upset and hurt, the pain from the past week just bubbling over until you can’t hold it back anymore. you start bawling, completely sobbing as you just spew and rant everything you’ve been bottling up.

"fuck! i hate him so much!" you scream, cry, fisting the blanket in your hands.

"how does he— how can he, treat me like I’m fucking nothing. he ignores me for a week, acts like i don't exist, and then the second i try to have a little bit of fun, he has to ruin it. he has to show me that he can just replace me in front of my face. i blocked him. i blocked his number on the bathroom floor because i just can't do this anymore. i’m so tired of feeling like i’m losing my mind over someone who doesn't even care about me.”

“but why, why can’t I make this feeling go away. why… do I still yearn for someone who doesn’t yearn for me?” you question yourself, teary eyes looking up at your friends.

jimin and yunjin just move closer, wrapping their arms around you while you just lose it. they let you scream and cry for a long time, just listening to you let it all out.

"I’m so sorry my love. he’s jjust a piece of shit, babe," yunjin reassures you, wiping a tear from your cheek.

"you did the right thing by blocking his entitled ass. he doesn't deserve to have access to you if he’s gonna play with your feelings like that. you need space to actually breathe without him constantly messing with your head."

"exactly," jimin says softly.

"you gotta stop letting him dictate your mood. he only pulls those stunts because he knows you're watching. the best thing you can do now is just stay strong and not.. unblock him. let him see and feel what it’s like to actually lose you."

after like an hour of just sitting on the couch and talking it out, you’ve finally stopped crying, though your eyes are still completely puffy and your face feels raw.

suddenly, three sharp knocks appear on your front door.

"is that taehyung?" yunjin asks, looking at jimin.

"probably," jimin nods. "he knew we were coming here after the club and he said he might drop by if he got off from work early."

"i'll get it," yunjin says, standing up and walking over to the door.

she unlocks it and swings it open, ready to greet taehyung. but the second she sees who’s standing there, the smile completely vanishes from her face.

it’s not taehyung. it’s jungkook.

the moment yunjin realizes, she slams her weight into the door to close it, but jungkook is faster. he shoves his hand into the gap and forcefully pushes it open, stepping right into your apartment.

he looks a complete mess. his hair is all wild and unbrushed, and his eyes are heavy and droopy, like he hasn't slept all night. he’s just wearing a baggy black hoodie and gray sweatpants.

the second his eyes scan the room and land on you— wrapped in that blanket, with your eyes all red and puffy.

you can see his expression shift. it’s like his heart literally squeezes just looking at you.

your eyes widen, and you feel completely paralyzed. you can’t move a single muscle. you genuinely do not want to see him right now, not after last night.

"get the fuck out, jungkook," yunjin yells, putting both her hands on his chest and trying to push him backward out the door, but it’s completely useless.

he’s way too strong. he doesn't even budge. he’s just standing there, staring directly at you, and you’re staring right back at him, the room going dead silent.

jimin suddenly gets up from the couch and steps right in front of you, blocking jungkook’s view.

that’s when jungkook finally snaps out of his trance, his face twisting into a slightly annoyed expression as he looks at jimin.

"why the fuck are you here?" jimin asks, his voice low as he steps closer to jungkook. "get the fuck out of her apartment. she clearly doesn't want to see you."

jungkook scoffs, his ego flaring up despite how tired he looks. "i didn't come here to talk to you, jimin. move out of my fuckin’ way."

"i’m not moving shit," jimin says, matching his tone, his jaw tight. "you think you can just show up here after the shit you pulled last night? you wrecked her, and we had to be there for her because your ass couldn’t man up and comfort her for shit. so, walk away before i make you."

jungkook scoffs.

"you won't do shit," jungkook talks back, stepping closer until they’re practically chest to chest. "this is between me and her. you guys need to leave."

"she blocked your number for a reason. you’re a fuckin’ asshole and you need to take the fucking hint." jimin shouts, getting right in his face.

"you’re nothing but a selfish loser who uses her when you’re bored. you don't care about anyone but yourself."

that completely snaps jungkook’s patience. before anyone can even react, jungkook’s arm flies out and he punches jimin straight across the jaw.

"jimin!" yunjin screams.

jimin stumbles back a step, but he doesn't back down. his face goes completely dark.

he gets right back up and launches himself at jungkook, punching him square in the face, sending him stumbling back against your dining table.

the sudden violence completely breaks you out of your shock. what the fuck was happening?

you rush off the couch, dropping the blanket, and run toward them.

"can you two fucking stop!— stop it right now!" you’re yelling, completely upset as you and yunjin try to break them apart.

yunjin grabs jimin around his waist, pulling him back with all her strength, while you jump right between them, throwing your hands onto jungkook’s chest and shoving him backward toward the door.

"jungkook! stop— fuck! let go please!— fucking let go of him!" you scream.

when you finally manage to pull them apart, you keep your hands pressed against his chest, pushing him away.

you’re looking at him, so close to him for the first time after this entire horrible week. your breathing is heavy, and you find yourself whispering, "stop... please just stop."

jungkook finally looks down at you. he doesn't even acknowledge the fact that he just got into a literal fistfight, or that there's blood starting to smear across his face. his dark eyes are just searching yours, looking completely desperate.

"i need to talk to you," he whispers, his voice rough and low.

"are you fucking crazy?" you whisper-yell, your eyes burning with fresh tears. "you come to my house, force your way in, and fucking fight my best friend after everything that happened this week? after what you did last night?"

"i don't care," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "i don't care about any of that. i just need to talk to you. please."

just as he says that, a dark drop of blood drips from the corner of his swollen lip, sliding down his chin.

your heart completely winces. no matter how much you hate him, no matter how much he hurt you, seeing him bleed makes your stomach turn. you feel this horrible wave of guilt, like this is somehow all your fault.

without even thinking, your hand automatically moves up, your thumb gently wiping the blood away from his lip.

the second your skin touches his, jungkook’s hand flies up and grips your wrist abruptly. his grip is tight, firm, but his fingers are trembling against your skin. he holds your hand right there against his face, awaiting your answer.

"please," he whispers again, his voice literally breaking this time.

your eyes burn into his, and you slowly gulp, your mind completely spinning. you look at his messy hair, his droopy eyes, and the desperation practically oozing off of him.

slowly, you pull your wrist out of his grip. you turn around and walk over to jimin, who is leaning against the kitchen counter while yunjin checks his jaw.

"are you okay?" you ask softly, throwing your arms around jimin’s neck and hugging him tightly. "i'm so sorry, jimin. i'm so sorry— this is all my fault."

"hey, stop, it's fine," jimin mutters, hugging you back just as tight and patting your back. "it's not your fault. the guy’s a fuckin’ psycho.”

he pulls back and looks at you, then glances over your shoulder at jungkook, who is just standing by the door watching you hug him with a totally miserable expression.

jimin sighs, smoothing down your messy hair.

"look, me and yunjin are just gonna go for a drive around the neighborhood. we’ll give you guys some space to talk this out."

he raises his voice, speaking way louder so jungkook can hear every single word. "call us if anything happens. immediately. i don't care what time it is, you call and we’ll be back here in two minutes, alright?”

yunjin steps up and gives you a tight squeeze, whispering in your ear, "don't let him bullshit his way out of this, okay? stay strong."

you nod weakly.

they walk toward the door, and as jimin heads out, he purposefully slams his shoulder into jungkook’s, a hard, petty bump.

but jungkook doesn't even flinch. he doesn't even care at this point. his eyes are completely glued to you, waiting for the door to click shut so he can finally have you alone.

the door clicks shut, and the sudden quiet in the apartment is almost too heavy to breathe in.

you just stand there for a second, your hands shaking as you cross your arms over your chest.

a few fresh tears slip out of your eyes, hot and quiet, running down your puffy cheeks.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice, and turn around to face him.

"talk." you say, simply.

jungkook takes a step closer to you, his eyes drooping and looking completely broken. he looks down at you, his hands twitching like he wants to reach out but he’s too scared to touch you.

"i'm so, so fucking sorry," he starts, his voice rough and cracking. "i don't even know what came over me last night. i don't know why the fuck i chose to follow that girl and dance with her. but i swear to god, i was only thinking about you. the whole time, i was just looking at you. i didn't even realize what i was doing until you stormed out of there, and then it hit me. i immediately pushed her away and ran out to chase after you, but you were just gone. i didn't know where you went, i couldn't find you anywhere."

he rubs a hand over his face, leaving a smear of jimin’s blood on his skin, but he doesn't even care.

not right now.

"i know we're not— exclusive. and we’ve never talked about it," he murmurs, his eyes burning into yours.

“but i know there's something here between us. i feel it, every single time. every time you hold me, touch me. but i'm scared. i'm so fucking scared because i've never felt like this before."

you just stare at him, the tears running down your face heavily.

"when i was young, in my first ever relationship... that girl broke me," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"i loved her so much, and she hurt me so fuckin’ badly. and even though it's been like fifteen years since that happened, and i'm completely moved on from her, a part of me still feels like the only way i can live my life without feeling that type of pain again is by just... not letting myself feel anything. especially love. i thought if i didn't care, i couldn't get hurt."

your heart aches hearing him say it, and you do sympathize with him, you really do. but the anger and the pain from the past few months is still too raw. too… painful.

"that still doesn't give you a reason to act the way you did," you say, your voice trembling as you look up at him.

"just because some girl broke your heart when you were younger, that doesn't mean you get to do the exact same thing to me. because whatever you felt back then? that’s exactly how i’m feeling right now. that’s how i’ve been feeling for months, kook. and i’m s-so tired. my chest physically hurts whenever i look at you. my heart literally squeezes whenever we have fucking sex, and then you just act like it means absolutely nothing the second it’s over."

"no— I, baby. y-you don't get it," he cuts you off, shaking his head and stepping even closer until he’s right in your space.

"i feel so amazing when i'm with you. I feel so good. but the only reason why i act like that afterwards is because i just feel like you wouldn't want me close to you. feel like if i do get too close, you’ll find me too fucking clingy or annoying or whatever, and you’ll just push me away. and i can't s-stand the thought of you pushing me away. i c-can’t stand being away from you."

you let out a bitter laugh. "you can't stand being away from me? then what about the entire week that you fucking ghosted me after we fought?"

"i didn't know what to do!" jungkook yells softly, his voice full of frustration and desperation.

"i felt so fucking s-shit, b-baby. felt like a fucking jerk because i knew it was entirely my fault, but i just... i couldn't face you after that. i know we fight a lot, there’s been so many times where we’ve messed up. b-but i couldn't face you after this specific fight. i don't even know why, but i think it’s because everything just came rushing to my head at once. whatever i was doing, how bad i was treating you... it just all hit me and i felt like i couldn't face you."

"i don't even know what to believe anymore," you sob, shaking your head as you look away from him. "every single time i ask you what we are, or even try to bring up the topic, you just push me away."

"i know, i know. fuck— I know baby. and I’m so sorry.” he rambles, his hands finally coming up to grab yours. his palms are warm and shaking.

"but it was never fully intentional, i always just had second thoughts about everything, i was just overthinking, but i knew that i wanted you. only you. because i love you and i just—"

he stops mid sentence. his breath hitches, and he just stares at you, his eyes slightly wide.

you freeze, your heart stopping in your chest.

"wait... what did you just say?"

( turn spotify the fuck on and play ‘iris’ by the goo goo dolls right now!! )

jungkook shuts his mouth, looking at you for a few seconds.

and then, a tiny, genuine smile touches the corner of his bleeding lip.

"i love you, y/n.” he says, his voice steady and soft this time. "i really fucking do."

he pulls your hands up to his chest, bringing himself so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

"and i'm so sorry i didn't get to tell you sooner. i'm so sorry it took me this long to realize it. but i swear, i promise you i will be better for you. i’ll change for you. i’m never gonna make you feel this way ever again, and i will never let another tear come out of your eyes because of me."

that completely breaks you. you’re fucking bawling now, as you lift your weak hands and start lightly hitting his chest.

"you're so f-fucking stupid," you sob, your forehead pressing against his hoodie. "you're so fucking stupid.”

you sigh, looking up at him. “i love you too."

"f-fuck. say that again," he whispers, his hand coming up to gently lift your chin so you have to look at him.

his eyes are bigger now, burning into yours.

and for the first time, in forever of knowing him, his eyes are not full of lust, but full of love.

and then he smashes his lips onto yours.

it’s not like before. it’s not fast or desperate. it’s deep, passionate, and so full of emotion it makes your whole body ache.

you’ve never kissed like this before, ever. your hands grip his neck, pulling him closer as his tongue slides slick against yours, tasting the faint copper of his blood.

his hands roam your body, pulling you flush against his chest as he moves his mouth down to your jaw, whispering against your skin. "you're s-so beautiful... so fucking beautiful. i'm so sorry, baby. for everything. gonna show you how much i love you."

he handles you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, guiding you back toward the bedroom.

your clothes are discarded on the floor, leaving nothing between you but the heat of your skin.

when he lays you down on the tangled sheets,he hovers over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls off your clothes slowly.

his mouth lands on your left nipple, enveloping your bud into his mouth as he sucks on it lightly.

swirling his tongue around your bead as his eyes never leaves yours.

“t-taste so fucking good, so fuckin’ full for me.” he whispers, mouth attaching itself to your other nipple, giving it an equal amount of attention.

“k-kookie! mm— fuck!” your voice cracks, hands gripping his brown locks tightly.

“fuckin’ love your tits, the most beautiful pair in this whole fucking world. so soft. so mine.” he whispers, his mouth trailing kisses down your stomach, stopping above your pubic bone.

he brings himself back up, parting your legs.

his middle finger slides across your already drenched cunt, feeling the pool of wetness.

“you’re so fucking wet, all f’ me?” he whispers, coming closer to press a soft kiss onto your quivering lips.

“h-has— always only been for you.”

“y-yeah?” his voice breaks, looking into your eyes as he pushes two fingers inside of you.

“you’re so fucking tight, needa— needa prep you for my cock or else, I’m gonna nut the moment I’m in you, baby. fuck.”

his fingers move skill fully, curling inwards as he hits the spot that makes you squirm underneath him.

“mm— kook! I’m gonna— fucking. c-cum!!!” you yell, as he quickens his pace, before pulling out.

he hears you whine, and uses it as a chance to press another kiss onto your lips. whispering an “I love you.” in between the kiss.

he pushes himself up to quickly remove his sweatpants, hovering over you immediately to attach his lips onto your neck.

“gonna mark you, angel. make sure everybody knows you’re mine. all— all fuckin’ mine.”

his lips devour your neck like he was a vampire that was incredibly parched, sucking and biting on every single spot of your neck.

by the time he was done, your whole neck, once an empty canvas, was painted with sweat and faded purple.

his face hovers above yours, looking into your eyes as he smiles softly.

“s-so sorry, baby. gonna— gonna fuck you so well, m’kay? make sure you cum s’ fuckin hard and make you feel so good.” he whispers, positioning his dick at the entrance of your cunt.

“k-ookie..” your voice trails out.

“what is it, baby?”

“love y-you, s’ much.” you were barely able to let out, eyes filled with tears, unable to see.

“fuck.”

his lips crashes onto yours, once again. and he finally, finally. pushes inside of you.

“nghh— fuck. angel, you’ve gotta unclench. please, baby. I’m gonna fuckin’ nut if you don’t. please—“ he whines, as he pushes his cock deeper inside of you.

“feels so b-big, koo. I can’t— can’t take it, mmf— wait.” you cry out, he’s never felt this big before. not like this.

you wonder whether if it was the intense amount of emotion that was making the both of you feel this way.

“you can take it, yeah? you were made to take my cock. just mine. only mine. fffuckkkk— can feel your cunt just swallowing me whole. feels, so fucking good, baby.”

"you’re mine," he murmurs, his thumb catching a tear on your cheek.

"tell me you're mine. tell me you’re mine while im fuckin’ you. you feel so good, baby. i love you so much. so much."

and right at the peak of it, when he’s deep inside of you and your breathing is completely shattered, he pauses for a split second, his chest heaving against yours.

"may I be your boyfriend?" he whispers pleasingly, his voice breaking as he pushes deep again. "please. be mine for real. let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

"k-kook…yes," you sob, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another bruised kiss. "yes, jungkook, yes."

he groans, his pace getting a little faster, more intense but still so incredibly gentle.

you look up at him through your blurry vision, and you see it. small tears are actually falling from his own eyes, landing directly onto your already tear stained cheeks.

he’s crying with you, completely stripped of his armor, letting you see every single raw emotion he’s been hiding for months.

you couldn’t fucking believe it. couldn’t believe this was happening right now.

he keeps repeating it like a mantra against your lips, your neck, your shoulder. "i love you. i love you so much, baby."

“gonna fill you up so good. gonna put a ring on your fuckin’ finger. give you kids. buy you a fucking house. make sure you never have to lift a finger to work ever again. gonna do everything for you. build a whole life with you, you want that? baby?” he lets out, pulling himself slightly higher to slam into you harder.

“nghh— kookie! yes— mm! want— wanna have your kids!”

“yeah? gonna make that happen baby, gonna cum s’ deep inside of you until it sticks. make sure it doesn’t leak out of you.”

his hands held your legs apart as his pounds into you uncontrollably.

“I love you. love you so fuckin’ much. gonna fill you up so good. give you what you deserve. yeah?” he whispers.

“mmhh— please! please..!” you cry out, absolutely losing it the moment his fingers rub circles around your sensitive clit.

when he finally finishes inside of you, he pushes his cock deeper inside of you, refusing to let any of his seed leak out of you.

his forehead resting against your shoulder as he lets his weight settle over you for just a second.

after a few long minutes of just catching your breath, he pulls out slowly, wiping your tears when he hears you wince.

he lays down next to you, but jungkook doesn't reach for his phone this time.

instead, he immediately pulls you close against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you and tucking your head securely under his chin.

he pulls the blanket all the way up over both of your shoulders, holding you so tight like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

his fingers are tracing slow, lazy circles on your bare shoulder, his chin resting right on top of your head.

you lay there for a long time, just listening to him breathe.

you… can’t believe this is happening. it feels like a fever dream. you’ve only dreamt of this ever happening to you with him.

"kook?" you whisper, your hand resting flat against his chest.

"yeah, baby?" his voice comes out soft.

"did you mean it? like, everything you said before?"

jungkook stops tracing your shoulder. he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you.

the dim light from the window hits his face, showing the slight bruise forming on his jaw and the tiny cut on his lip. his eyes are so soft, so entirely full of emotion it makes your chest ache all over again.

"every single fucking word," he whispers, his thumb gently wiping away a dry tear track on your cheek.

"i've never been more sure of anything in my life. i know i fucked up. i know i put you through so much bullshit because i was too much of a coward to face how i felt about you."

you look up at him, your eyes burning a little bit.

"i just... i spent months feeling like i was crazy, jungkook. i thought i was the only one feeling this. it hurt so bad."

"i know. and i hate myself for making you feel that way," he says, his voice cracking a little. he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

"i was just so scared that if i let myself love you, you’d realize i’m a mess and leave me. but watching you walk away last night? seeing you look at me like you completely hated me? that was way worse than any fear i had. i can't lose you, not now. not ever.”

you let out a soft breath, your fingers tangling into the hairs at the back of his neck, pulling him just a little bit closer. "you're not gonna lose me. i'm right here."

jungkook lets out this long, shaky sigh, like a massive weight has finally been lifted off his chest.

a tiny, breathless smile forms on his lips, and he kisses you.

"say you love me again," he murmurs against your mouth, his eyes burning into yours.

"i love you," you whisper.

"i love you." he says, his voice so thick with affection it completely melts you.

you laugh slightly, “why don’t you ever say ‘too’?”

he stares at you slightly, “I don’t love you because you love me. I love you, because I love you. because, you’re you.”

he drops back down onto the pillow, pulling you right back into his chest and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

you close your eyes, not wanting to say anything back. you feel so content it’s scary.

you can finally go to sleep in his arms without wondering if he’s going to be here in the morning

you can finally go to sleep without waking up earlier just to be able to get a glimpse of him before he leaves.

you can finally go to sleep without having to leave out an extra note pad so that he’d be able to leave you a letter in case he left in the middle of the night.

you can finally, go to sleep. knowing he’s yours. knowing he’s staying. and knowing that you both are exactly, where you guys want to be.

In the beginning of your relationship, the sex had been good enough to leave you content. It wasn’t mind-blowing or adventurous, but it was warm and loving and enough to make you curl into him afterward with a sleepy smile. Over the last couple of years though, things had slowly changed. The spark had dimmed into something mechanical, almost routine. You found yourself lying there more often than not, faking soft little moans so he wouldn’t feel bad, while the ache between your legs only grew more frustrated. Sometimes you wondered if he noticed how often you slipped away afterward. Tonight, you knew he did. You could feel it in the way his body had tensed just slightly when he pulled out, the unspoken awareness hanging heavy between you.

Soobin shifted beside you, the mattress dipping as he rolled over. His arm draped loosely across your waist for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there like an apology he didn’t quite know how to voice. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered, voice already thick and sleepy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to sound normal.

“Goodnight,” you replied softly, turning your head just enough to brush your nose against his shoulder.

You waited in the dark, listening carefully as his breathing gradually slowed and deepened. Minutes stretched out, each one feeling longer than the last. When you were finally sure he was fully asleep, you slipped out from under his arm with practiced care, trying not to disturb the mattress too much. The cool air of the room hit your bare legs as you stood, and you padded quietly to the bedside drawer. Your fingers closed around the smooth, familiar shape of your vibrator, the one you’d come to rely on more than you wanted to admit. The weight of it in your palm felt almost comforting now.

You tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door behind you with a soft click, locking it out of habit even though Soobin was dead to the world. The small nightlight cast a gentle golden glow across the tiles as you leaned back against the sink counter. Heart still racing from the unresolved tension in your body, you hiked up the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on and parted your thighs. The moment the buzzing toy pressed against your swollen, neglected clit, a shaky exhale escaped your lips. This was never fine. This was intense, almost desperate— the sharp pleasure you craved but could no longer get from the man sleeping in the next room.

Your free hand gripped the edge of the counter as you worked the vibrator in slow, teasing circles, then faster, chasing the release that had been denied to you earlier. Your mind wandered while your hips jerked against your hand, thoughts drifting dangerously toward the crumpled business card you’d tucked away in your purse weeks ago. Jeon Jungkook. Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in couples’ intimacy issues. You’d stared at that card so many times, equal parts ashamed and curious. The glowing reviews online had mentioned how thorough he was… how hands-on.

Your thighs trembled as the pressure finally built to its peak. You bit down hard on your lip to stay quiet, eyes squeezing shut while the orgasm crashed over you in strong, pulsing waves. For a few blissful seconds, everything else disappeared— the frustration, the guilt, the growing distance between you and Soobin. Only the sharp pleasure remained. But as the high faded and you caught your breath under the dim nightlight, the reality settled back in. This couldn’t keep going on like this. Something had to change.

The next day dawned gray and quiet, the kind of overcast morning that made the apartment feel smaller than it was. You woke up before Soobin, his arm still loosely draped over your waist from the night before. For a long moment you just lay there, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that had become an unwilling witness to so many disappointing nights. Your body still carried the faint ache of unresolved need, even after last night’s secret session in the bathroom. The memory of the vibrator’s buzz and the sharp, guilty pleasure it brought made your thighs press together under the sheets.

All day the business card burned a hole in your pocket.

You went through the motions— making coffee, answering emails, attending meetings, but your mind kept circling back to it. Should I say something? What if he gets defensive? What if he thinks I’m unhappy with him as a person and not just… this? The card felt heavy, its edges sharp against your fingertips every time you brushed your hand over your pocket. At lunch you pulled it out in the bathroom stall just to stare at the elegant black text again: Jeon Jungkook, Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in Couples’ Intimacy & Desire. Your stomach twisted with nerves and something else, something hotter and more dangerous.

By the time evening came, the anxiety had twisted into a constant, low hum beneath your skin. You cooked dinner in silence while Soobin set the table, the two of you moving around each other with the familiar, gentle choreography of a couple who had been together for years. Pasta with creamy tomato sauce, garlic bread, a simple salad, comfort food on a night that felt anything but comfortable. The apartment smelled warm and safe, yet your heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Your fork paused above your half-eaten plate, twirling a strand of pasta that you no longer had any appetite for. Soobin was talking softly about his day, something about a deadline at work, but the words barely registered. Your fingers trembled as they slipped into your pocket and pulled out the slightly creased business card. Without a word, you slid it across the wooden table until it rested beside his glass of water.

Soobin’s voice trailed off. He looked down at the card, fork hovering in mid-air for a second before he slowly set it down. The quiet clink of metal against the plate sounded impossibly loud. You held your breath, chest tight, watching his face as he picked up the card with long, elegant fingers. His eyes scanned the text once, then again, more carefully. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

You waited for confusion. For hurt. For anger, maybe. Instead, Soobin let out a long, slow sigh.

It wasn’t the frustrated kind you’d feared. It was… relief. Deep, exhausted relief. His shoulders sagged as he placed the card back on the table, turning it over once between his fingers before looking up at you. His eyes were soft, a little sad, but strangely calm.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed hard, nodding. Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “Yes. I… I know things haven’t been great. Between us. In bed. I know you’ve felt it too.”

Soobin leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He stared at the card for another long moment, then looked at you again— really looked at you. There was no defensiveness in his gaze, only a quiet acknowledgment that made your throat tighten.

“I have,” he admitted, voice low. “I’ve felt it for months. Every time I touch you and you don’t… every time you make those little sounds like you’re trying to spare my feelings.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile that broke your heart a little. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I don’t want you anymore, because I do. So fucking much. I just… I don’t know how to fix it.”

The honesty in his words made your eyes sting. You reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were really seeing each other again. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not,” you whispered. “I think… maybe we need help. Real help. From someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Soobin glanced back down at Jungkook’s name on the card. His thumb brushed over the printed letters almost absentmindedly. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure you want to do this… then I’m in. We’ll do it together.”

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, a strange mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in your stomach. The decision was made. The appointment would be made.

The waiting room of Jeon Jungkook’s private practice was quieter than you expected. Soft ambient music played low in the background, something instrumental and soothing that did little to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You sat on a sleek gray couch beside Soobin, your hand resting loosely in his lap while his thumb brushed slow, absentminded circles over your knuckles. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and clean linen. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light, but the tension in your chest made everything feel slightly unreal.

You had been nervous all morning. The drive here had been mostly silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but now that you were actually here, sitting in this elegant, minimalist office, the nerves had twisted into something sharper. A low, thrilling hum of excitement sat right beneath the anxiety. Your thighs pressed together under your sundress as you replayed the glowing reviews in your head. Thorough. Transformative. Life-changing.

Ten minutes felt like an eternity.

Every time you heard footsteps in the hallway, your breath would catch, only for the sound to fade again. Soobin squeezed your hand gently, offering a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the same mixture of uncertainty and hope in his eyes. He looked handsome today in his button-up shirt, but even that familiar sight couldn’t stop the restless energy buzzing under your skin.

Finally, the door opened.

Jeon Jungkook stepped inside, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt.

He was stunning. Easily one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a quiet, confident grace that immediately filled the room. His black hair was slightly tousled, falling over his forehead in a way that looked effortlessly perfect. Sharp jawline, full lips, and dark, piercing eyes framed by long lashes. He wore a fitted black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing tattoos that disappeared beneath the fabric, and tailored slacks that accentuated his powerful thighs. The subtle scent of his cologne, something woody and expensive, reached you as he closed the door behind him.

You couldn’t stop staring.

Jungkook didn’t speak right away. He crossed the room and settled into the large leather chair across from you, clipboard in hand. For several long minutes he simply read over his notes, his expression calm and focused. The silence was heavy. You found yourself tracing the line of his neck, the way his fingers held the pen with quiet strength, the faint flex of muscle in his forearm as he turned a page. Heat crept up your neck. Soobin shifted beside you, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man in front of you.

After what felt like forever, Jungkook finally looked up.

His eyes met yours first, then shifted to Soobin. A small, professional smile curved his lips, warm, but with something unreadable flickering behind it. “Hello,” he said, voice smooth and low, like velvet dragged over stone. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. Thank you for waiting. I’ve reviewed the intake forms you filled out online.” He set the clipboard on his lap and leaned back slightly, giving you both his full attention. “So… why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Soobin gave your hand another squeeze, silently encouraging you to start. Your voice came out softer than intended as you began to speak.

You told him everything. How the sex had been good in the beginning, warm, loving, safe. How over the past couple of years it had slowly become routine and unsatisfying. You described lying beneath Soobin, faking soft moans while your body remained tense and frustrated. The mechanical rhythm, the lack of real spark, the growing ache that no amount of “fine” could satisfy. You mentioned slipping away to the bathroom at night with your vibrator, chasing the intense pleasure your boyfriend could no longer give you. Your cheeks burned as you spoke, but Jungkook’s gaze never wavered. He listened with complete focus, occasionally nodding or jotting something down on his clipboard.

Soobin chimed in quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability. He admitted feeling the distance growing between you two. How he could sense you weren’t fully there with him anymore, how guilty it made him feel, how much he still wanted you but didn’t know how to reach you the way he used to. He spoke about the pressure of wanting to please you and constantly falling short.

Jungkook listened intently the entire time.

His dark eyes flicked between the two of you, absorbing every word. Every so often he would write something down in neat, precise strokes, his pen moving across the paper with a soft scratch that somehow felt intimate in the quiet room. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer empty reassurances. He simply absorbed it all, head slightly tilted, expression thoughtful and impossibly focused. You found yourself wondering what exactly he was writing. What he was thinking. Whether he could already picture exactly how to fix what was broken between you.

When you both finally fell silent, the room felt heavier than before. Your heart was racing, thighs warm, a traitorous pulse beating between your legs as you watched Jungkook tap his pen against the clipboard once, twice, before setting it down.

“I appreciate how open you’ve both been so far,” he began, eyes flicking between you and Soobin. “But to truly help, I need to understand the specifics. The details matter. How often do you have sex currently? How long do your sessions usually last, from start to finish? And most importantly… what does it actually look like when you’re together?”

You felt heat bloom across your chest and climb up your neck. Soobin’s hand tightened slightly around yours, his palm growing warmer. Jungkook waited patiently, giving you both space, but his dark eyes were sharp, missing nothing. When neither of you spoke immediately, he continued gently, guiding the conversation. “Let’s start with positions,” he said, tone professional yet undeniably intimate. “What positions do you usually use? Do you switch often? How does foreplay factor in— duration, techniques? And how long does penetration usually last before one or both of you finishes?”

The questions landed heavily in the quiet room. You swallowed, mouth dry, your sundress suddenly feeling too thin against your skin. Jungkook’s gaze settled on you expectantly, patient but commanding. There was something about the way he looked at you— focused, knowing, like he could already see the frustration coiled tight in your body, that made your pulse throb between your legs.

You took a shaky breath and forced the words out, voice barely above a whisper at first. “We… we mostly just do missionary,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “It’s what feels most natural for us, I guess. Comfortable. Soobin on top, me on my back. Sometimes I’ll ride him, cowgirl, but not very often. And when I do… there’s not much vigor to it. I get tired quickly, or it just doesn’t feel… right.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, writing something down in those neat strokes. The scratch of his pen seemed louder than it should have been. He didn’t look surprised or judgmental. Instead, his expression remained thoughtfully neutral, though you swore you caught the faintest flicker of something darker, interest, perhaps, behind his eyes.

“And how long does it usually last?” he asked, voice smooth. “From the moment clothes come off to when it’s over. Be honest.”

Soobin cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably beside you. His ears had turned pink. “Maybe… ten to fifteen minutes?” he offered quietly. “Sometimes less. I try to hold out, but…”

You squeezed his hand, both ashamed and relieved to finally say it aloud. “It’s not that it’s bad,” you added quickly, though the words felt hollow even to you. “It’s just… short. And always the same. Missionary with him above me, moving steadily until he finishes. I rarely do on my own during it. When I ride him, I try to move, but it feels awkward. Like I don’t know how to make it feel good for either of us anymore. There’s no real… intensity. No roughness. No experimentation.”

Jungkook listened with complete focus. His full lips pressed together in thought as he processed your words. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, closing some of the distance between you. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm, masculine, expensive. “No oral?” he asked calmly. “No doggy style? No standing positions, no restraints, no toys during sex together? You mentioned using a vibrator alone at night, does Soobin ever use it on you? Or watch you use it?”

Each question felt like a layer being peeled back. You squirmed in your seat, painfully aware of the growing wetness between your thighs. The way Jungkook spoke, so direct, so clinical, yet dripping with unspoken promise, made your mind race with images you knew you shouldn’t be having in this moment. Him. Those tattooed arms. That confident grip. Showing you exactly what you’d been missing.

Soobin shook his head slowly. “We’ve tried oral a few times, but… it doesn’t last long. And no, we’ve never really done any of the other stuff. It just never felt necessary before. Or maybe we didn’t know how.”

You nodded in agreement, biting your lip. “It’s always been vanilla. Safe. But now it feels too safe. Too… predictable. I love him. I do. But I lie there wondering if this is just how it’s going to be forever.”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary before he wrote a few more lines. The silence that followed was thick with tension. He finally set the pen down and looked at you both, his expression composed but carrying an undeniable edge of authority. “I understand,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “You’re stuck in a very narrow script. Missionary and occasional cowgirl with minimal energy or variation, that explains a lot about the frustration you’re both feeling. Your bodies have adapted to routine. Comfort has replaced desire.”

Jungkook set his clipboard aside completely now, the soft thud of it hitting the side table sounding final. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and fixed both of you with a steady, intense gaze. The professional mask was still there, but something sharper and more commanding lingered just beneath it.

“I’ve heard enough to see the pattern clearly,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Words and explanations can only go so far. At this point, the most effective way for me to help is through demonstration. I’d like to show Soobin exactly how to touch you, how to build real desire, and how to awaken the parts of your body that have been neglected.”

He let the words settle in the heavy silence of the room before turning his full attention to you. “I won’t do anything without your explicit consent,” Jungkook continued, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “This would involve me touching you directly while Soobin watches. I’ll start slow. I’ll show him how to kiss you, how to touch you, how to read your body’s responses. If at any point you want to stop, you say the word and everything ends immediately.”

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest. Heat flooded your face, your neck, and lower. You could feel Soobin’s hand tense in yours, his breathing shallow beside you. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft ambient music and the rush of blood in your ears.

Jungkook waited patiently, giving you time. His gaze never wavered— calm, confident, and impossibly magnetic. You swallowed hard, throat dry. Nervous energy twisted in your stomach, but underneath it, something hotter and more dangerous stirred. A deep, aching curiosity. Excitement. “Yes,” you whispered, voice barely audible at first. Then stronger, “Yes… I want that.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. He glanced at Soobin. “And you? Are you comfortable with me demonstrating on your girlfriend while you observe?”

Soobin hesitated for only a second, then gave a slow nod, his cheeks flushed. “If she wants it… then yes.” Jungkook stood up smoothly, moving with that quiet, predatory grace. He crossed the short distance between his chair and the wide, plush chaise lounge where you and Soobin were seated. He extended his hand to you.

“Come here,” he said softly. “Lie back and get comfortable.”

Your legs felt unsteady as you stood. Soobin released your hand, and you moved to the chaise, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could both hear it. You lay back against the soft cushions, your sundress riding up slightly against your thighs. Jungkook sat on the edge beside you, the heat of his body immediately noticeable. He was so close now. The scent of his cologne, the faint warmth radiating from his broad frame, the way his button-up shirt stretched across his chest, it was overwhelming.

He looked down at you, eyes dark and focused. “Relax for me,” he murmured. “We’re going to start very slow.” Jungkook leaned in, one hand gently brushing your hair away from your neck. His breath ghosted over your skin first, sending shivers racing down your spine. Then his lips pressed softly just below your ear. The kiss was feather-light at first, warm, deliberate. He took his time, kissing down the sensitive column of your neck with slow, lingering presses of his mouth. Each one felt intentional, like he was learning the map of your reactions.

A shaky exhale left your lips. Your eyes fluttered half-closed as he kissed lower, finding the spot where your neck met your shoulder and sucking gently. The wet heat of his tongue traced a small circle there, and your back arched instinctively. One of his hands slid up your side, slow and confident, until his large palm cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed gently, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes until it hardened under his touch.

“See how she responds when you take your time?” Jungkook said quietly, speaking to Soobin without pulling his mouth away from your neck. His voice had dropped even lower. “Don’t rush straight to the obvious places. Build it. Make her feel wanted.”

He kneaded your breast with just the right amount of pressure, rolling your nipple between his fingers over your dress, while his mouth continued its slow exploration of your neck and collarbones. Soft, open-mouthed kisses. The occasional gentle scrape of teeth that made your thighs press together. Your breathing had already grown uneven, small sounds escaping you that you didn’t even try to hold back.

Jungkook’s free hand rested on your waist, holding you in place as he shifted slightly closer. The weight and warmth of him beside you made your head spin. Every touch was precise, controlled, and devastatingly effective. You could already feel yourself getting wet, arousal pooling between your legs far faster than it ever did with Soobin.

Soobin sat quietly in the chair nearby, eyes wide and fixed on every movement. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, breathing audible. Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at your face, his thumb still lazily circling your nipple. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “How does that feel?” he asked you, voice husky. “Be honest.”

You could barely form words. Your neck tingled where his mouth had been, your breast warm and heavy under his hand. “It feels… really good,” you breathed, cheeks burning.

A satisfied smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured, leaning back down. “Then let’s continue.” Jungkook’s hands moved with deliberate confidence as he sat up slightly on the edge of the chaise. His dark eyes never left your face, reading every flicker of nervousness and arousal that crossed it. “Let’s remove this,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “I want you to feel everything without barriers.”

His fingers found the hem of your sundress, slowly sliding it upward. The fabric whispered against your skin as he lifted it inch by inch, exposing your thighs, then your hips, then the soft curve of your stomach. You raised your arms obediently, heart hammering against your ribs. With one smooth, practiced motion, Jungkook pulled the dress up and over your head, leaving your hair slightly tousled. He set the garment aside neatly on a nearby chair, his gaze roaming over your body now clad only in your bra and matching underwear.

The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed skin, making you shiver. You felt incredibly vulnerable under their combined stares— Soobin’s wide-eyed and tense from his seat, and Jungkook’s dark, hungry, yet still controlled. Jungkook hummed softly in approval, his large hands returning to your body immediately.

He leaned down again, lips finding your neck once more. This time his kisses were deeper, more possessive, sucking gently at your pulse point while one hand cupped your breast through the thin lace of your bra. His thumb brushed over your nipple in slow, teasing circles, coaxing it to a stiff peak. He kneaded the soft flesh with just the right pressure, firm enough to make you arch into his touch, but never rushed.

“Watch how I’m touching her,” Jungkook said quietly to Soobin, his mouth still hovering against your heated skin. “Don’t just grab. Mold her breast in your palm like this… feel its weight. Use your thumb to tease her nipple until it’s sensitive. Her body is already responding, see how her breathing changed? That’s what you want.”

You let out a shaky whimper as he emphasized his words by pinching your nipple lightly through the fabric, rolling it between his fingers. Pleasure shot straight down between your legs. Jungkook continued kissing down your collarbone, occasionally glancing toward Soobin to explain, his voice smooth and instructional even as his hands worked magic on your body.

After several long, indulgent minutes of kissing and caressing your breasts, Jungkook’s hand began to travel lower. His palm smoothed down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, eyes intense. “Still okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip. “Yes…”

With your permission, his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties. The first touch of his fingers against your bare, heated skin made you gasp. You were already slick with arousal, embarrassingly wet from everything he’d done so far. Jungkook’s middle and ring fingers found your swollen clit and began rubbing slow, lazy circles over it.

“Fuck… she’s soaked,” he murmured, almost to himself, though loud enough for Soobin to hear. His fingers moved with expert precision, not too fast, not too light, applying perfect pressure as he circled your clit again and again. “This is key, Soobin. Don’t rush to penetrate her. Spend time here. Learn exactly how she likes to be touched. Feel how her hips are already trying to follow my hand?”

Your thighs trembled. Soft, needy sounds spilled from your lips as Jungkook continued the torturously slow rubbing. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in your lower belly. Every circle of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure racing through you. He kept his mouth on your neck and chest the entire time, kissing and gently biting while his hand worked between your legs.

After several drawn-out minutes of this, Jungkook shifted slightly. He used two fingers to pull your soaked panties to the side, fully exposing you. Without warning, he slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, then a second, stretching you open with delicious care. A broken moan escaped your throat. Your back arched off the chaise as his fingers sank deeper, curling slightly to find that sensitive spot inside you. Jungkook groaned softly in approval at how tightly you clenched around him.

“See that?” he said to Soobin, voice huskier now. “She’s gripping my fingers so tightly. This is what happens when you take the time to arouse her properly. Slide in slowly… curl them like this… and listen to the sounds she makes.” He began thrusting his fingers in and out in long, deep strokes, his thumb returning to rub circles over your clit at the same time. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the building pleasure while Soobin watched every single movement with flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked back to your face, watching you intently as he fingered you with steady, devastating skill. “You’re doing so well,” he praised softly, pumping his fingers deeper. “Let me hear you.”

Jungkook’s fingers moved with growing intensity, thrusting deeper and faster into your soaked pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of his thick fingers pumping in and out filled the room, mixing with your increasingly loud moans. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your head fell back against the chaise as shameless whimpers and cries spilled from your lips. “Ah— fuck… Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, your voice breaking on his name. Your fingers dug desperately into his muscular arm, gripping the hard bicep through his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your hips bucked up to meet every thrust, chasing the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you so effortlessly. “Oh my god… it feels so good—”

“That’s it,” Jungkook praised, his voice low and rough. “Let it out. Don’t hold back for me.” His fingers curled perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every stroke, faster now, more relentless. The wet squelching sounds grew louder as your arousal coated his hand and dripped down between your thighs.

Your moans turned into desperate, breathy cries. Your thighs trembled violently around his wrist as the pleasure built higher and higher, far beyond anything you’d felt in months.

Jungkook suddenly slowed his fingers, keeping them buried deep inside you, and shifted his position. He moved onto his knees on the chaise, spreading your legs wider with his free hand. He looked over at Soobin, eyes dark with lust but still carrying that instructional tone. “I’m going to eat her out while I keep fingering her,” he told Soobin calmly. “This combination is extremely effective. Watch how I use my tongue.”

You whimpered at his words alone, already anticipating what was coming. Jungkook hooked his fingers under the waistband of your soaked panties and pulled them down your legs, tossing them aside. Completely exposed now, you shivered under his gaze.

He leaned down between your spread thighs, face inches from your dripping pussy. Without warning, he spat directly onto your swollen hole, the warm saliva landing right at your entrance. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation. Jungkook used two fingers to spread the spit around, mixing it with your own wetness, before pushing his fingers back inside you.

Then his tongue was on you. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as his warm, wet tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your pussy before focusing on your clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth while his fingers continued thrusting in and out of you, faster than before. Then he did exactly what he’d described, he fucked the spit into your hole with his tongue, pushing it inside you alongside his fingers in messy, obscene strokes.

You were on cloud nine.

“Fuck—! Jungkook— oh my fucking god—” you cried out, voice loud and unrestrained. Your back arched sharply off the chaise as intense pleasure crashed through your body. Your hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his soft dark hair, gripping tightly as his tongue fucked into you deeper. The wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy mixed with the filthy squelch of his fingers pumping relentlessly inside you.

Jungkook groaned against your cunt, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through you. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue and sucking hard on your clit, all while his fingers curled and stroked that perfect spot without mercy. “Soobin,” Jungkook said, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips shiny with your juices. “Come closer. Sit right next to her. She needs you here.”

Soobin moved quickly, his face flushed dark red. He sat on the edge of the chaise beside you, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook devour you. You reached out blindly, grabbing Soobin’s hand and squeezing it hard as another loud moan ripped from your throat.

“Baby— ahh— it feels so good,” you whimpered to Soobin, voice shaking. Your body thrashed under Jungkook’s skilled mouth and fingers, hips grinding desperately against his face. You gripped Soobin’s hand like a lifeline while your other hand stayed tangled in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him harder against your pussy.

Jungkook doubled down, tongue fucking into you even deeper, spitting on your cunt again before diving back in with messy, hungry strokes. His fingers never stopped their brutal pace, curling and thrusting until your moans turned into near-screams of pleasure.

You were lost in it, whimpering, moaning, and shaking uncontrollably as the man between your legs showed you exactly what your body had been missing, while you held your boyfriend’s hand through every devastating wave of pleasure.

The pleasure built to an unbearable peak as Jungkook’s tongue fucked relentlessly into your dripping hole and his fingers curled against that perfect spot inside you. Your moans turned into desperate, broken cries, growing louder and more frantic with every filthy stroke of his skilled mouth. You gripped Soobin’s hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, your other hand fisting Jungkook’s dark hair as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Suddenly, the coil inside you snapped.

You came hard on his tongue with a loud, shuddering scream. “Jungkook—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed violently, thighs clamping around his head as powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers and tongue, gushing wetly against his mouth while he continued licking and sucking through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. Soobin’s hand stayed firmly in yours the entire time, grounding you even as you fell apart under another man’s mouth.

Jungkook worked you through every last aftershock, licking you slowly and gently until your body finally sagged against the cushions, panting and dazed. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. He looked devastatingly handsome like that, flushed, eyes dark with lust, and breathing heavily.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked between you and Soobin, voice low and husky but still controlled. “Are you both willing to continue?” he asked. “I’d like to move into demonstrating positions. The difference between what you’ve been doing and what she actually needs.”

You didn’t even hesitate. Still floating on the high of your orgasm, arousal already stirring again, you nodded eagerly. “Yes,” you breathed, almost desperately. “Please… I want more.”

Soobin swallowed hard, visibly affected by what he’d just witnessed, but he nodded as well. “If she wants it… yes.”

A satisfied, almost predatory smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m going to fuck her raw. Skin to skin. No condom. She needs to feel the full effect, the heat, the friction, everything. Then I’ll show you, Soobin, exactly how to make missionary feel incredible for her instead of just… adequate.”

Jungkook reached behind your back with skilled fingers and unclasped your bra. He slid the straps down your shoulders slowly, savoring the moment as he pulled the lace away and dropped it aside. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already hard and aching. He groaned softly at the sight before leaning down and capturing one nipple in his mouth.

He sucked on it hungrily, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his large hand kneaded the soft flesh of your other breast. He switched sides, giving the same devoted attention to the other nipple, sucking harder, grazing his teeth gently, then soothing with his tongue. The wet sounds of his mouth on your breasts filled the room as you moaned and arched into him, your body responding instantly.

After several long, indulgent minutes of worshipping your chest, Jungkook finally positioned himself between your spread thighs, after kicking his pants and boxers off. He gripped his thick, hard cock in one hand, stroking it slowly as he looked down at your flushed, dripping pussy. “Watch carefully,” he told Soobin, voice rough. “This is how you claim her.”

He rubbed the swollen head of his cock up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness, before pressing against your entrance. With a low groan, Jungkook pushed forward and slid into you in one long, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, fluttering heat.

You cried out loudly at the stretch, your back arching sharply. He was big, thicker and longer than Soobin, and the raw, bare feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. “Fuck… so tight,” Jungkook growled, holding still for a moment to let you adjust. Then he pulled back almost all the way before slamming back in, setting a rough, brutal pace immediately.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as he fucked you hard and deep. Each powerful thrust rocked your entire body, your breasts bouncing with the force of it. Jungkook’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, the wet, filthy sounds of your pussy taking his cock filling the air. “That’s it,” he groaned, eyes locked on your face. “Take my cock. Feel how deep I am?”

Your moans were loud and unrestrained, turning into near-screams every time he bottomed out inside you. The brutal pace left you shaking, gripping the cushions beneath you as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled through your body.

Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with possessive strength. He used your body like a personal toy, pulling you down onto his thick cock with every brutal thrust. Instead of just fucking into you, he yanked your hips forward to meet him, slamming you onto his length over and over again in a relentless rhythm. The wet, filthy sound of your soaked pussy being filled echoed loudly in the room with every powerful motion. Each time he dragged you back down, his cock buried itself impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix and sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure shooting through your entire body.

“Fuck—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and broken. Your head tossed back against the chaise, mouth falling open in a constant stream of moans and whimpers.

Jungkook glanced over at Soobin, breathing heavily but still in control. “Soobin,” he growled, never slowing the way he was manhandling you onto his cock. “Play with her clit. Rub it while I fuck her. She needs the extra stimulation.”

Soobin hesitated only for a second before leaning closer. His hand trembled slightly as he reached between your bodies and found your swollen, sensitive clit. He began rubbing slow circles over it, just like he’d watched Jungkook do earlier. The added sensation was immediate and devastating.

Your moans instantly grew louder, turning into desperate, shameless cries. “Oh my god—! It’s so good… so fucking good— Jungkook, your cock is so big— I can’t— ahh!” The words spilled out of you in a messy, nonsensical stream.

Jungkook groaned in satisfaction at your words, his pace growing even more punishing. He kept yanking your hips down onto him with raw strength, using your body exactly how he wanted. The wet slap of skin against skin was constant now, your arousal dripping down his balls and soaking the chaise beneath you. Every brutal thrust made your breasts bounce heavily, your entire body jolting with the force of him claiming you.

Soobin’s fingers kept rubbing your clit, faster now, his eyes wide and dark as he watched you fall apart. “You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “All fucked out… you’re glowing. So fucking pretty when you’re moaning like that.”

His words only pushed you higher. You squeezed Soobin’s hand tighter with your free one while your other hand clutched desperately at Jungkook’s forearm, nails digging into his tattooed skin. “Your dick is so big, it feels too good, I can’t think— please don’t stop—!” you babbled loudly, words slurring together between broken moans and gasps. Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as he continued to wreck you.

Jungkook smirked, dark eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction. He adjusted his angle slightly and started pounding into you even harder, pulling you onto his cock with every snap of his hips. The new position made him hit that perfect spot inside you with devastating accuracy on every thrust. Sweat glistened on his forehead and neck, his shirt now clinging to his muscular chest from exertion.

“That’s right,” he growled, voice rough and low. “Feel how deep I am? This is what your pussy needed. Not soft, polite sex. It needed to be ruined like this.”

He kept using your body ruthlessly, yanking you down onto him, grinding deep, then pulling back only to slam you onto his length again. Soobin never stopped rubbing tight, slick circles on your clit, his eyes flicking between your face and the sight of Jungkook’s thick cock disappearing inside you repeatedly.

The pleasure was blinding. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the room as another orgasm began rapidly building, even stronger than the first. Jungkook was fucking you better than you had ever been fucked in your life. The brutal pace of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, combined with Soobin’s fingers rubbing relentless circles on your swollen clit, pushed you straight over the edge again.

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train.

“Jungkook—! I’m cumming— fuck. ” you screamed, your voice cracking as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around his thick cock, fluttering and gushing as powerful waves of pleasure ripped through you. Your back arched sharply off the chaise, thighs shaking uncontrollably while Jungkook kept fucking you through it, dragging out every last pulse of your release. Soobin’s hand never stopped, prolonging the overwhelming sensation until you were sobbing with pleasure, tears slipping down your cheeks.

You were still twitching and gasping, trying to catch your breath, when Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you with a wet sound. Before you could even whimper at the loss, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing.

He turned and sat down on the chaise, pulling you with him so you straddled his lap facing him. He guided you down onto his cock again in one smooth motion, burying himself back inside your sensitive, fluttering pussy. This new position pressed your bodies flush together, chest to chest, your knees bent on either side of his hips.

“This is called the lotus position,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice deep and slightly breathless as he held you firmly on his cock. “It’s intimate. She’s completely wrapped around me, which lets me hit every sensitive spot inside her. The closeness increases stimulation on her clit and lets her control the depth and rhythm while I guide her. It feels incredible for her because she’s full and every movement grinds right against her g-spot.”

You barely had time to process his words before your body took over. Still trembling from your last orgasm, you started moving on him, slow at first, then faster, rolling and bouncing on his thick length with desperate need. The new angle made him feel even deeper, pressing against places you didn’t even know existed.

“Ahh! Jungkook!” you sobbed, pleasure bordering on too much. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shirt as you rode him. Your head tipped back, mouth open in a constant stream of broken moans and cries. “It’s so deep… so fucking deep, oh my god.”

Tears continued slipping down your flushed cheeks as you moved faster, chasing the overwhelming pleasure. Your breasts bounced heavily with every roll of your hips, pussy swallowing his cock again and again with wet, obscene sounds.

Jungkook groaned deeply, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. He kneaded the soft, plump flesh roughly, spreading your cheeks as he helped guide you up and down on his cock. Then— smack, his palm came down hard on your right cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. You cried out at the sting, clenching tighter around him. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, slapping your ass again, harder this time. “Ride me just like that. Use my cock.”

He buried his face between your bouncing tits, sucking one nipple into his hot mouth while his hands continued kneading and spanking your ass in rhythm with your movements. He groaned against your skin, tongue swirling and teeth grazing as he devoured you.

You were lost in it— sobbing, moaning, and babbling nonsense while you rode him with everything you had.Your head stayed tipped back, eyes half-lidded and glassy with overwhelming pleasure as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. Soobin watched everything in stunned silence from just inches away, eyes dark and fixed on the way your body moved on Jungkook’s cock and how his hands owned your ass.

Jungkook pulled his mouth from your nipple just long enough to look up at your pleasure-drunk face, voice rough with lust. “That’s my good girl… Keep fucking yourself on me. Let him see how pretty you look when you’re falling apart.”

You were completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, rolling your hips desperately on Jungkook’s thick cock in this position. Your voice had grown hoarse from moaning, but his name still fell from your lips like a prayer. “Jungkook… Jungkook— fuck, Jungkook—” you whimpered repeatedly, your head tipped back and eyes glazed over.

Jungkook pulled his face from your breasts, lips shiny, and looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. His hands squeezed your ass firmly as he held you down on his cock, grinding up into you slowly. “What is it, pretty girl?” he asked, voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you need? Tell me. Use your words.”

You sobbed softly, still moving on him, drunk on the feeling of being so full. “I want it from behind,” you begged, voice shaky and desperate. “Please… I want you to fuck me from behind.”

Jungkook let out a deep, amused chuckle that vibrated through his chest. “Greedy girl,” he murmured affectionately. Without warning, he lifted you off his cock, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. He easily maneuvered your body, turning you around on the chaise.

He guided you into position with strong, confident hands. “Soobin, sit down right here,” he instructed. Soobin obeyed, sitting on the chaise with his back against the cushions. Jungkook then pushed you forward until your face hovered just above Soobin’s lap, your elbows resting on either side of his knees. Your back was arched deeply, ass up and presented perfectly for Jungkook behind you.

You looked up at Soobin through your lashes, flushed and breathing hard, your cheek nearly brushing against the bulge in his pants.

Instead of immediately sliding his cock into you, Jungkook knelt behind you. He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing you completely. He leaned in and sank his teeth gently into the soft flesh of your right ass cheek, biting and sucking hard enough to make you gasp sharply.

“I’m going to eat her ass now,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice calm but dripping with lust. “Most men skip this, but it feels incredible for her. It relaxes her and makes her even wetter. Watch.” Before you could fully prepare yourself, Jungkook buried his face between your cheeks.

A loud, broken cry tore from your throat the moment his warm, wet tongue licked a slow, filthy stripe over your tight hole. “Oh my god!” you screamed, your whole body jerking forward. He licked you again, slower this time, swirling the tip of his tongue around your rim before pressing it inside you.

You were crying out uncontrollably now, the pleasure intense and strangely intimate. Your hands scrambled desperately for purchase, grabbing onto Soobin’s thighs and squeezing hard as Jungkook devoured your ass with filthy enthusiasm. He groaned against your skin, the vibrations making your eyes roll back.

His tongue pushed deeper, fucking into your tight hole with wet, obscene sounds while one of his hands reached underneath to rub firm circles on your clit. He alternated between long, broad licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, eating you like a man starved. Every stroke sent jolts of sharp, dirty pleasure racing up your spine. “Fuck— Jungkook, it feels so fucking good!” you sobbed, pushing back against his face instinctively. Tears of overwhelming sensation rolled down your cheeks as you panted against Soobin’s thigh, looking up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your wet skin. “Hear how loud she gets when I eat her ass? This is what she’s been missing.” Then he dove right back in, licking and sucking even more eagerly, his face pressed fully between your cheeks as he worked you open with his skilled tongue.

Your moans and cries filled the entire room, shameless and loud, while your hands gripped Soobin’s thighs like a lifeline, trembling as Jungkook continued. Jungkook didn’t rush. He kept his face buried between your spread cheeks, devouring you with slow, filthy dedication. His tongue swirled and probed at your tight rim, licking long stripes from your dripping pussy up to your asshole before pushing inside again. Every time his tongue fucked into your ass, a fresh wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed through you, making your back arch deeper and your fingers dig harder into Soobin’s thighs.

Your hips pushed back against his face instinctively, chasing more of that dirty, intense sensation. He groaned deeply against your skin, the vibration traveling straight through you as he continued with even more enthusiasm. He spread your cheeks wider with both hands, fully exposing you, and spat directly onto your hole before diving back in, licking and sucking like he couldn’t get enough.

Minutes stretched out in a haze of pleasure. Jungkook took his time, alternating between broad, sloppy licks and sharp, pointed thrusts of his tongue deep inside you. One of his hands stayed between your legs, rubbing slow, firm circles on your swollen clit while the other kneaded and slapped your ass cheek occasionally, the sharp smacks making you jolt and moan louder. You were a mess, sobbing, whimpering, and shaking as he continued rimming you relentlessly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again without ever letting you tip over.

Only when your legs were trembling uncontrollably and your cries had turned into constant, desperate begging did Jungkook finally pull back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose onto his knees behind you, his voice rough with lust as he spoke to Soobin. “Now I’m going to fuck her from behind. Hard. This position lets me go deeper and gives me full control.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt the thick, blunt head of Jungkook’s cock pressing against your soaked entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, stretching you open around his thick length.

A loud, broken scream tore from your throat. "Fuck yes!" He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He immediately set a brutal, punishing pace, slamming into you hard and deep. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoed loudly through the room with every thrust. He gripped your hips tightly, yanking you back onto his cock over and over again, using your body exactly how he wanted.

“Fuck— so tight,” he growled, voice low and strained.

Every brutal snap of his hips drove his cock impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix with every stroke. Your elbows trembled as you tried to hold yourself up, face buried against Soobin’s thigh while your moans and cries grew louder and more broken. Jungkook reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back slightly so your back arched even more for him.

“You like that?” he groaned, pounding into you mercilessly. “You like being fucked like a little toy from behind?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck— Jungkook!” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. The angle was devastating. Every thrust ground against that perfect spot inside you, making your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, soaking him with every rough stroke as he continued to rail you without mercy.

Jungkook’s pace was relentless, hard, fast, and animalistic. The wet, filthy sound of your arousal squelching around his cock mixed with the sharp slap of skin on skin. He kept one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks, pulling you back onto him with every thrust like he was trying to bury himself even deeper.

Jungkook continued pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping against your ass with a loud, rhythmic slap. Your moans were constant and broken, your body jolting forward with every brutal thrust while your face stayed pressed against Soobin’s thigh. Jungkook’s grip on your hips was iron-tight, fingers digging into your skin as he used you relentlessly.

He slowed his thrusts just enough to speak, his voice rough and commanding, yet still instructional. “Soobin,” he said, breathing heavily. “Grab her hips. Both hands. I want you to help move her back and forth on my cock. Feel how she takes me. Learn the rhythm she needs.”

Soobin hesitated for a moment, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook’s thick cock disappear inside you again and again. His cheeks were flushed dark red, but after a few seconds, he leaned forward and placed his hands on your hips, right beside Jungkook’s.

“That’s it,” Jungkook encouraged, still buried deep inside you. “Pull her back onto me when I thrust forward. Help her fuck herself on my cock. She loves it deep like this.”

Soobin’s hands tightened on your hips. At first his grip was gentle, almost uncertain, but as Jungkook started moving again, Soobin began pulling you back onto Jungkook’s cock in time with his thrusts. The added force made Jungkook’s cock slam even deeper inside you.

A loud, broken cry ripped from your throat. “Oh my god!” you sobbed, eyes squeezing shut as the new sensation overwhelmed you. Soobin’s familiar hands pulling you back combined with Jungkook’s massive cock stretching and ruining you created an intensity you’d never felt before. Every time Soobin yanked your hips back, Jungkook’s thick length drove into you harder, filling you completely.

Jungkook groaned in approval. “Good. Harder, Soobin. She can take it. Look how her pussy is gripping me every time you pull her back.”

Soobin’s grip grew firmer, more confident. He started pulling your hips back with more strength, helping impale you on Jungkook’s cock over and over again. The wet, filthy sounds grew even louder — the obscene squelching of your soaked pussy mixed with the sharp slap of skin whenever your ass met Jungkook’s hips.

You were falling apart between them.

“Fuck— fuck— it’s so deep!” you cried out, voice muffled against Soobin’s thigh. Your hands clutched desperately at Soobin’s legs, nails digging into his pants as your body was rocked between the two men. “Jungkook’s cock is so big… Soobin, baby, he’s so deep inside me— I can’t”

Jungkook kept a steady, brutal pace while Soobin pulled you back onto him with every thrust. The dual control over your body made you feel completely used, a toy being shared between them. Jungkook’s cock kissed your cervix with every forceful pull, stretching your walls perfectly around his thickness. “That’s it,” Jungkook growled, one hand moving up to grip the back of your neck while Soobin continued manipulating your hips. “Feel how she’s dripping down my cock? She’s fucking loving this. Pull her harder, Soobin. Make her take every inch.”

Soobin obeyed, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft hips as he yanked you back more forcefully. The new intensity made your eyes roll back, loud, shameless moans spilling from your lips as Jungkook fucked you raw and Soobin helped drive you onto him again and again. You were trembling violently, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face, caught in the devastating rhythm the two of them created together.

The combined rhythm was absolutely devastating. Jungkook’s thick cock slamming into you while Soobin pulled your hips back with increasing confidence created a merciless, perfect storm of pleasure. Your moans had turned into constant, broken sobs as your body was rocked between them.

Jungkook’s breathing grew harsher, his thrusts becoming more erratic and deeper. “Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, gripping your hip tighter while Soobin continued helping pull you back onto his cock. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”

You could only whimper in response, your mind hazy with overwhelming pleasure. Jungkook’s pace turned punishing, slamming into you with short, brutal strokes as he chased his release. With a deep, guttural groan, Jungkook buried himself to the hilt inside you and came hard. You felt every powerful pulse as he emptied himself deep inside your pussy, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your walls. He kept grinding into you, pushing his load even deeper while growling your name under his breath.

The feeling of Jungkook cumming so deep inside you triggered your own orgasm instantly. Jungkook’s grip on your neck tightened as he pounded into you even harder. “That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock. Let go.”

The pressure built impossibly high, tighter and hotter, until it finally snapped. You came harder than you ever had in your life. A loud, guttural scream tore from your throat as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around Jungkook’s cock, and then you were squirting, hard. Clear, hot liquid gushed out around his thick cock with every thrust, soaking his hips, dripping down your thighs. You shook uncontrollably, sobbing and moaning as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through you. Jungkook didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging it until your vision went white and your legs gave out completely.

“Fuck, look at her,” Jungkook groaned, voice rough with satisfaction. “She’s squirting everywhere. Good girl… such a messy, beautiful girl.”

Your body finally went limp, trembling with aftershocks as Jungkook slowed his thrusts and eventually stilled deep inside you. He stayed buried in your pulsing heat for a long moment, letting you feel every inch of him while you tried to catch your breath. Soobin’s hands gently rubbed your hips, soothing the marks he’d left behind.

Jungkook eventually pulled out slowly, a rush of your combined juices dripping from your ruined pussy. He helped you collapse gently onto the chaise, turning you onto your back so you could breathe easier. Your chest heaved, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed, and eyes glassy with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Jungkook sat back on his heels, breathing heavily but looking pleased. He glanced at Soobin, then down at your spent body. “That,” he said calmly, “is what she needs. Not just gentle, loving sex. She needs to be fucked properly, deeply, roughly, and without hesitation. She needs variety. She needs to be used and worshipped at the same time.” He looked at you softly. “How do you feel?”

You could barely speak, still floating. “Incredible…” you whispered hoarsely. “I’ve never… felt anything like that.”

Jungkook smiled, then turned back to Soobin. “You did well today. Helping move her like that was a great start. We’ll work on building your confidence and skill. This was only the first session.”

He helped you sit up eventually, handing you a soft towel and a bottle of water from a nearby table. While you recovered, he spoke to both of you about aftercare, communication, and homework, things for Soobin to practice at home before the next appointment.

As you slowly got dressed, your legs still shaky, you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Jungkook. The memory of how he had completely ruined you while Soobin watched was burned into your mind. Soobin was quiet, but he stayed close to you, gently rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to your temple. There was a new tension in the air, something shifted between all three of you.

Before you left, Jungkook leaned against his desk, arms crossed, looking unfairly composed and handsome. “Book your next session soon,” he said with a small, knowing smirk. “We still have a lot to work on… and I think you both know now how much she needs it.”

You left the office leaning on Soobin’s arm, body sore in the most delicious way, your mind already replaying everything that had happened… and wondering how much further Jungkook would take you next time.