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Work began at four in the goddamn morning, forcing him to cut hours out of his already fragile sleep schedule just so he could get out of bed earlier and send out newspapers while everyone else was still dreaming. By the time he was wrapped up around seven, he didn’t even have time to get coffee — let alone breakfast — before rushing back to campus, trying to get to his first class on time.

It’s not like his job was the hardest job in the world. But still, the hours were inconvenient, and the exhaustion was real. And hell, Jungkook had been so fucking busy he hadn’t had sex in two months.

Two whole months.

He was usually having sex twice a month. A respectable amount, nothing outrageous, just enough to keep him sane. But now, he felt like he was dying. He was losing himself. Is this what celibacy feels like?

He went through his roster — the girls he usually hooked up with.

Evelyn stopped calling him, cold out of nowhere. He sure as hell wasn’t going to call her first. Vanessa had called it quits the second she got a boyfriend. Fucking dweeb. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she came crawling back, begging him to fuck her the way she actually liked.

As for now, the only girl he could think of who was both available and interested was also the one he least wanted to touch. What was her name again? Myra? Maia? Who fucking knows. She was clingy, annoying, and always talked to him like he was her boyfriend. Quite frankly, he didn’t have the time — or patience — for all of that.

Whatever, his hand will have to do.

He exhaled deeply. All that walking, legs burning, blood pumping through his veins like he’d just run a damn marathon — and yet, he still felt like collapsing. His body was moving, sure, but his brain was dead. Gosh, he was so glad he didn’t have classes today.

Rubbing at his heavy eyes, he trudged forward, shoes scraping against the pavement as he made his way to the last house on his route. Just one more.

He was so ready to throw this stupid fucking paper at this persons door, call it a day, and crawl back to his bed for a much needed nap. His arm was already mid-swing, prepared to launch it and walk away without a second thought.

But the door opens.

And… oh. Hello.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you said with a soft smile, all bright-eyed and cheerful like it wasn’t eight-something in the morning. 

Jungkook blinked. Once. Twice. Maybe even a third time, he lost count.

Maybe it was your face that caught him off guard — pretty in that effortlessly annoying way, your hair pulled back with a clip that made your features stand out more. Or maybe it was the fact that you were very clearly wearing absolutely nothing underneath that silk robe, stepping out onto the porch like it was no big deal.

So casually. So revealing.

You tilted your head, reaching out for the paper. “Thank you,” you said, fingers brushing against his for a second. 

Jungkook blames it on his lack of sex — or hell, just the physical touch in general — for the way a shiver shot down his spine.

“Yeah. No problem,” he said, clearing his throat, but not even bothering to be subtle as his eyes dragged up and down shamelessly.

You didn’t seem to notice the way he was checking you out, or maybe you did, but you didn’t mention it. Either way, you just smiled, glancing down at the front page of the paper, skimming the headlines.

“Having a good morning?” he asks, noting the complete lack of exhaustion or irritation on your face this early.

You chuckled, clearly amused by the contrast between you and him. “I slept well. You caught me on a good day.”

Jungkook smirked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders loose and relaxed. “Must be nice. I haven’t gotten more than four hours of sleep these days.”

“Poor thing. Guess someone’s been working too hard.” you said, your voice dipping into something teasing, almost sultry as you pouted at him playfully.

Jungkook liked that. Oh, he liked that a lot. His tongue darted out to licks his lips, his gaze locked dead on you. Jungkook had always been such a flirt — never the type to get shy when it came to hitting on a girl. It’s no different with you, a beautiful, grown woman. But he does find it a little more exciting. 

“You pay for these newspapers?” he asked, titling his head, still ogling you.

You shook your head, “No, my husband does. But it gets pretty lonely when he’s off to work and my kids are at school. These keep me busy until it’s time to make lunch and pick them up.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, lips twitching like he was holding back a smirk.

Husband. Kids.

Should’ve been enough to put him in check.

Should’ve been enough for him to back off.

But instead, Jungkook found himself even more intrigued.

“You know,” he said, voice low and a little rough, “if it gets that lonely… I wouldn’t mind keeping you company.”

You raised an eyebrow, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “You flirting with me, paperboy?”

He chuckled under his breath, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Depends,” he said, eyes glinting with something mischievous. “Is it working?”

Your eyes dropped into a warning glare, but the smile tugging at your lips told a different story.

“How old are you?” you asked, voice light but edged with curiosity.

“Twenty-one, ma’am,” he said. “In nine months… but basically twenty-one.”

You blink slowly, clearly unimpressed. “So… twenty.”

“Not in nine months,” he says back, that cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You scoffed. “You’re just a baby.”

“I’m not quite sure babies can drink legally,” he said looking up, brows furrowed in mock confusion.

“You can’t,” you pointed out.

“I can in nine months,” he repeated, grinning.

You exhale, glancing off to the side like maybe the breeze would carry this boy away. “You in college?”

“Yup,” he said proudly. “Heading into my third year,”

You nodded slowly, sizing him up. “So, you’re young, probably have plenty of girls your age lining up...”

“What if I don’t want girls my age?”

You tilt your head at him, narrowing your eyes just slightly. “And what is it exactly that you want from me?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just smiled, slow and unapologetic, eyes dragging down your figure for the briefest moment before flicking back up to your face.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice low. “But I wouldn’t mind finding out.”

He stares at you, that flirt still dancing in his eyes, tongue pressing into his cheek as he waits for your response.

But you don’t give him one.

Instead, you turn, stepping back toward your doorway.

“See you next Wednesday,” you teased, your words light and playful, floating over your shoulder as the door clicked softly shut.

Jungkook bit his lip, a slow grin spreading across his face.

Yeah. Wednesday might’ve been his favorite day of the week now.

With the semester coming to an end, Jungkook was drowning in final exams. Studying was all he knew. Ask him how his day was, and he’d reply with something he learned in his fucking English course. Still, somewhere buried beneath all the notes and reading, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He continued delivering newspapers to regular subscribers, and even though you weren’t due for another until Wednesday, he still found himself walking past your house anyway.

Maybe he’d catch you coming back from dropping your kids off at school. Maybe you’d be standing near the large windows in nothing but that silk robe. But he didn’t see you — not once.

The wait for Wednesday was unbearable, and the rest of the week was torture.

But eventually, the day came. 

For the first time ever, Jungkook didn’t hate the sound of his alarm. The annoying beep from his bedside table felt almost like a victory bell. He was up before it could go off a second time, out of bed and getting dressed with more enthusiasm than he’d shown all semester.

He threw on a bomber jacket — dressing much nicer than he had last Wednesday — and stepped out into the chilly morning air. The streets were still quiet, the cold air nipped at his cheeks, and his stomach was already growling, but his mind was only focused on one thing. One house. One door.

And one woman who had no business looking that damn good so early in the morning.

Wanting to be considerate of everyone else’s time before he lingered on your doorstep and took his time hitting on you, he rushed through the rest of his deliveries — saving the best for last.

By the time he turned the corner onto your block, it was nearing ten. He slowed his pace as he walked down the familiar sidewalk, the excitement jittering in his stomach as your house came into view.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about someone else perhaps opening the door… or worse, you not answering at all.

Because there you were — in the driveway, back turned to him, bent slightly as you grabbed a few paper bags from the trunk of your car.

“Let me help!” he called out, jogging up the driveway.

You straightened, looking over your shoulder — unintentionally robbing him of the very nice view of your ass he was enjoying. But the smile that curled on your pretty glossy lips more than made up for it.

“Ah, paperboy,” you teased, voice warm and teasing. “Perfect timing again… you have my schedule written down somewhere?”

Jungkook chuckles, taking the bag from your arm before reaching into the trunk for the rest. “Name’s Jungkook,” he says with a grin. “And yeah, I named it Pretty Woman in the Silk Robe.”

You giggle, closing the trunk and locking your car. “Sounds like a porno.”

“Could be one,” he says with a shrug, smirking. “I’m pretty good with a camera.”

You shoot him a look, cheeks feeling warm despite yourself. “You really shouldn’t flirt with me.”

Jungkook shifts the grocery bags in his arms, no signs of struggle. “C’mon, you don’t like it?”

“You’re twenty,” you reply, but your tone is more amused than scolding.

“That doesn’t answer my question though, does it?”

You roll your eyes, lips twitching into a smile as you turn and head toward the house. Jungkook trails behind closely, eyes shamelessly glued to the sway of your hips. Damn, those jeans were doing it for you — and him.

“Oh, c’mon, I gave you my name!” he whines, a pretty smile tugging at his lips.

You glance over your shoulder, your voice soft as you finally offer yours — slipping from your tongue just as smoothly as the silk robe you wore last week. Pretty, Jungkook thinks. Real pretty.

“You flirt with other customers like this?” you ask, brow arched, tone teasing.

“Only pretty ones like you,” he flirts again without a second wasted.

You let out a soft snort, shaking your head as you push the door open. “Set the bags down on the counter and don’t get comfortable.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, following you in.

He steps in further, eyes roaming with quiet curiosity. The scent of vanilla lingers faintly in the air, cozy and homely. There’s a pair of small sneakers by the door, a doll under the coffee table, a sweatshirt draped over the arm of the couch. Signs of your life when you aren’t home alone. 

You’re a mother.

He has to remember that. He needs to remember that.

“Kitchen’s this way,” you say over your shoulder, motioning with a tilt of your head.

He follows you down the hall, the sound of your footsteps leading him into the open kitchen. Sunlight spills from the windows, reflecting against the tile floors and countertops. The space feels lived-in, but clean and comfortable — just like you.

He sets the bags down on the counter, watching as you move with ease, starting to unpack the groceries and restock the refrigerator. There’s something oddly domestic about it. Something strangely intimate.

Jungkook lingers, unsure if he should take the hint and head out — or wait to be dismissed. But you don’t say anything, and the silence stretches just enough to feel like an invitation. 

“So…” he starts. “How many little ones we talkin’?”

You glance back at him over your shoulder as you shut the fridge. “Three. A girl and two boys.”

He lets out a low whistle, settling onto the stool at the kitchen island. “Damn. Busy house.”

“Too busy,” you reply, leaning your elbows on the other side of the counter. “Why do you think I don’t wanna put up with you?”

“Well,” he chuckles softly. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You raise a brow. “Only because you won’t back off.”

“I do when I’m told.”

There’s a pause. Your gaze lingers on him for a second too long.

“And I haven’t…” you say, voice quiet.

His smile grows, slow and knowingly. “Exactly.”

You lift your left hand, slowly, deliberately — the diamond glinting in the sunlight. “You forgetting I’m married?”

He doesn’t flinch. Just tilts his head, eyes locked on yours. “Are you?”

Jungkook wasn’t wrong. You hadn’t exactly drawn a line. Hadn’t shut him down when he flirted. Hadn't told him to stop calling you pretty, or stop looking at you like that. You’d let him in — quite literally — and you hadn’t made it hard for him to do so either.

But he wasn’t right in this situation either. Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. Knew you were married. Knew there were kids in the picture. And he was still sitting there, shooting his shot like none of it mattered.

But then again… you hadn’t told him to stop.

And maybe, deep down, you didn’t want to.

You clear your throat, inhaling deeply as if that’ll cool the heat crawling up your neck. “Alright,” you say, tapping the counter. “You’ve been here long enough.”

Jungkook raises a brow, smirk already pulling at his lips. “Kicking me out already?”

“You weren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” you say, walking away from the counter gesturing for him to follow. “Come on,”

He whines dramatically, throwing his head back playfully. Nonetheless, he follows — reluctantly, like a well-trained dog — eyes fixed on your hair bouncing with each step behind you, the sway of your hips, down to your ass in those jeans. God, he loved those jeans.

You open the door, letting the morning breeze waft in, but he doesn’t walk away right away. He lingers, standing close. You lean your head against the side of the door, meeting his gaze.

“So,” Jungkook starts, sporting a troubled grin, “when can I come over again?”

You chuckle softly. “This isn’t happening again. I told you… I’m married.”

“Happily?” he asks, bold, the cocky tilt of his head showing he already knows the answer.

You don’t deny it. You don’t say anything at all — and that alone tells him everything.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you sing, closing the door.

It shuts with a soft click — the familiar scent of vanilla still lingering in the air, your voice echoing in his head, your lips and figure burned into his memory.

Fuck… he’s so down bad, it’s not even funny.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve clouded his mind like the damn plague.

And even now, as he pounds into Katarina Rose — insufferable, snobby princess with a trust fund and a daddy who buys her the world — you’re all he can think about.

His hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, strands falling into his eyes. His hands clamp around her waist hard enough to bruise as he holds her down and drives his hips into her. She's already, somehow, been on her third orgasm. 

Meanwhile Jungkook hasn’t even gotten close.

He loves pussy. Loves tits. Loves women! He’s never been ashamed of that — never had a reason to be. And still, here he is, fucking the girl that every fraternity would sell their souls to get inside of… and he feels nothing.

He’s never been this turned off in his life.

Maybe it’s her obnoxiously loud moaning.

Maybe it’s the way she keeps screaming daddy instead of his actual name.

Whatever it is, Jungkook can’t drag himself anywhere to his release.

His mind slips — not to the feline arch of Katarina’s body beneath him — but straight back to you.

He thinks about the last time he saw you — the effortless seduction you carry without even trying, the glittery gloss shining on your lips, the little heart necklace resting just above your cleavage, your ass hugged tight in those jeans. And your voice… soft, feminine, sultry — the kind of sound that could get him hard without you even having to touch him.

Then his memory drifts further, to the first time he ever laid eyes on you.

That pink silky robe. Nothing underneath. Your nipples pressing through the fabric. You didn’t bother covering up, not for him, a complete stranger standing on your property. Your husband must have a hard time dealing with a woman like you.

Jungkook’s certain he wouldn’t. He could handle every last bit.

And the thought alone makes his fingers dig harder into Katarina’s hips, knuckles whitening as he drags her back into him. His thrusts pick up, sharp and punishing, the wet slap of his pelvis against her ass echoing through her tiny dorm room. Her moans somehow get louder than they already are — loud and dramatic — but he can’t hear a damn thing.

Because he’s thinking about you while he’s fucking another girl.

And as messed up as that is, he doesn’t even try to stop it. He doesn’t acknowledge it. Not when fantasizing about you is finally pushing him towards his edge.

He yanks out at the last second, mouth gaped open, hand wrapping around his length. He strokes himself fast, desperate, chasing the only thing that’s made him feel anything all night — you.

And you weren’t even here.

A moan escapes his throat as warm ropes of cum shoot across Katarina’s bare back, coating her skin. His entire body tightens, shudders, your face burned behind his eyelids with every pulse of pleasure until the very last drop leaves him.

Katarina squeals, snapping Jungkook back into reality. He swears he feels himself soften the second her voice hits his ears.

“You know you could’ve came inside… I’m on birth control, remember?” she purrs, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Jungkook forces a polite expression onto his face. He tries — really tries — not to grimace while she’s looking at him.

“I told you. I don’t do that,” he mutters, planting his feet on the ground as he scans the floor for his jeans.

And it’s true. Jungkook doesn’t cum inside of girls he’s not dating — especially not randoms… or girls like Katarina.

She’s been throwing herself at him for months. The only reason he finally caved tonight was because he hadn’t had sex in forever and needed something — anything — for that release. This was actually his first time hanging out with her — if you could even call it that. And he already regrets it.

He doesn’t even bother handing her a towel, doesn’t even glance at the mess he left on her back. Post-nut clarity hits him like a slap in the face, and all he knows is that he needs to get the fuck out of here.

Jungkook fumbles for his boxers on the floor, yanking them up in one swift motion, the waistband snapping hard against his hips. He drags his jeans on right after, not even bothering to tighten his belt — that would take too much time, and he’s already halfway out of the moment.

“You’re not gonna stay?” Katarina asks, still on all fours on the bed like she’s waiting for another round.

“Nope,” Jungkook mutters, already pulling his hoodie over his head, smoothing his beanie down after. He doesn’t look at her.

“Why not?” she presses, genuinely confused.

“Can’t. Gotta go.” His voice is flat, emotionless — exactly how he feels towards her.

And then he leaves — walking out the door without another word, without a second glance, heading straight back to his own dorm with only one thought.

You.

It’s Wednesday again. And like every other Wednesday lately, Jungkook dresses like he’s got some modeling gig to go to.

It’s also another morning where he takes the exact same route straight to one specific house on Hot Milf Avenue.

He rings the doorbell, pulse already picking up, and a couple seconds later you’re opening the door. If Jungkook weren’t so delusional, he’d swear you were just as eager for him as he is for you. 

And it sure as hell isn’t the newspaper he thinks you’re excited to see.

“Morning,” you say, voice soft but unmistakably flirty — and you don’t bother hiding the way your eyes drift down his chest, over the fitted tee, the chain at his neck, the way his jeans sit low on his hips.

“Morning,” Jungkook repeats, a slow smirk forming like he knows exactly what you were looking at.

“You know,” you tease, tilting your head toward the mailbox by the walkway, “you don’t always have to personally hand me this. The mailbox is right over there.”

He shrugs, casual, cocky, eyes dragging over you shamelessly. “I like seeing who opens the door.”

You hum, arching a brow. “That’s bold of you to assume it’s always me.” 

“I don’t assume,” he says, confidence dripping from every word. “I know.” 

You let out a soft laugh, stepping just a little closer, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re lucky he isn’t here.”

“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, biting back the comment he really wants to make — something dangerously close to when is he ever? Biting back his tongue, he shifts his weight, eyes locked on yours as he flashes you a boyish smile. “You need company?"

You consider the question — just for a second — but he doesn’t get an answer. Instead, you give him your version of yes.

“Ten minutes,” you say lightly. “I’m waiting on a call.”

Jungkook smiles slowly. “Enough for me.”

You roll your eyes, stepping aside and opening the door wider for him. Jungkook slips past you, shoulder brushing yours just enough to feel intentional, and the door clicks shut behind him.

The familiar scent of your house wraps around him instantly — warm vanilla softened by something sharper, piney, clean.

There are no scattered toys this time. No tiny shoes kicked off by the door. A half-finished glass of wine rests on the coffee table beside a stack of glossy magazines, last week’s newspaper folded neatly underneath them. Evidence of an evening spent alone.

Jungkook’s gaze drifts, taking it all in far too carefully.

“So,” he says casually, like he isn’t cataloging every detail, “where exactly is your husband?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, already turning away and dropping onto the couch.

Jungkook’s mouth quirks instantly — very obviously — he thinks he’s slick, but he’s far from. He follows you without hesitation. But instead of taking the opposite cushion like a sane person, he settles right in the middle, invading your space on purpose. His knee bumps your shin where your legs are tucked onto the couch, as if he’s trying to touch you in any way he can.

“Just being careful,” he says.

You laugh quietly. “He’s in Chicago for a work trip. Won’t be back for another week.”

Jungkook blinks. Then, brows lifting, “He left you alone with three kids? Doesn't seem very practical.”

You narrow your eyes at him, amused more than offended. “Mind yourself, paperboy. They’re angels,” you warn, tone playful but carrying just enough bite. “I do just fine on my own.”

He only hums, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Jungkook wasn’t fully aware of your relationship with your husband — he’s never asked, never pressed you about it — but he’s not stupid either. Whatever your relationship with your husband is, it’s clearly not a healthy one.

You tilt your head, bringing your legs closer against his. “But they’ll be with my mom this week.”

Jungkook’s eyes light up — bright, eager, like a puppy that’s just been promised a treat. The corner of his mouth tugs upward as he bites down on his lip, barely containing the spark of excitement.

“Well,” he says slowly, dragging it out, “Chicago’s pretty far from here… and a week is a long time.”

You hum, lifting a brow as you lean back into the couch. “Is it?”

“Couple thousand miles,” he shrugs. “Give or take.”

“And what exactly are you implying?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

He tilts his head, gaze flicking briefly around the quiet house before settling back on you. “Pretty woman. Big house. All alone.” His voice drops, softer now, a faint rasp threading through it. “What if it gets too lonely?”

You laugh under your breath, the sound warm, indulgent. “I wouldn’t mind a certain someone’s company…”

“And that is?” Jungkook asks, already leaning in, like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it anyway.

“You might know him,” you tease. “He delivers newspapers every Wednesday. Cute face.” Your eyes drag slowly over his. “But he’s a bit… young.”

Jungkook chuckles, low and quiet, his piercing glinting in the sunlight as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. “Is he?”

“Very,” you say, gaze betraying you as it dips — just briefly — to his lips.

“What’s that saying?” he murmurs. “Age ain’t nothing but a number.”

“Mmm.” You tilt your head, studying him like you’re weighing a bad decision you already want to make. “I’m not sure ten years should be dismissed that easily.”

He inches closer anyway, his torso brushing your knee — more confident this time. “I’m sure he knows what he wants,” Jungkook murmurs, leaning closer, voice low and steady. “As long as you do.”

“I’m not sure I do,” you admit.

“Are you willing to find out?”

He’s good. Too good. And it has you caving with ease — embarrassingly so.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you close the space yourself, your body moving on instinct.

It starts as a soft peck, your glossy lips brushing his in a tentative press. A shiver spikes through your spine — maybe from the cold graze of his lip piercing grazing your plump mouth, or perhaps from the thrill of a touch you haven’t felt in so damn long. It could be both, you can’t even tell. 

Jungkook’s hand finds your ass immediately, fingers digging into the firm flesh through your jeans before his cold palm slips under your shirt. The chill of his palm against your warm back makes you gasp softly into his mouth, but he doesn’t stop there. He grips tighter, pulling you flush against him as he moves you backward, laying you down onto the soft surface beneath.

He hovers over you now, his broad frame caging you.You taste his regular lip balm mixed with your lip gloss, which smears messily across his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips, invading your mouth.

Your legs part automatically, an invitation he accepts without hesitation. He slots himself between your thighs and he’s already rock hard, his cock straining solid and heavy against the confines of his baggiest jeans, the outline pressing insistently against your core.

Unintentionally — kind of — he sinks his weight down, grinding his heavy bulge right between your legs. The friction is rough, the coarse denim scraping against your own jeans, creating a delicious ache that borders on discomfort. But it hurts so good, that building pressure making your pussy throb with need.

Jungkook can’t help it. He rolls his hips again, rubbing his stiff length into you for some semblance of relief, his breath hitching against your lips. The teasing drag sends jolts of pleasure and pain through you both, your clit pulsing under the barrier of clothes.

He pulls away from the kiss, panting, his face dropping to the crook of your neck. His hot breath fans over your skin, lips brushing just below your ear. “Fuck,” he whispers, the word almost a whine, filled with raw desire and desperation.

“This was not what I meant by company,” you tease, your voice breathy and playful, even as your hand threads through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly to keep him close.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters against your throat, his voice muffled and husky, vibrating through you. His teeth graze your pulse point, nipping just hard enough to make you arch. “Can’t help it. Fucking irresistible.”

You smile, your lower lip catching between your teeth as he ruts into you harder, his cock throbbing violently inside his jeans. The sensation makes your hips buck up to meet him, chasing that friction despite the denim’s resistance.

“Can I help you?” you whisper into his ear, your lips grazing over the shell, warm breath teasing the lip before you nip at it gently.

“Please,” he begs, the word so sweet and pleading.

You push him off you slowly, handling his weight back until he’s sitting upright against the cushions, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Straddling him now, you settle your weight across his lap, your legs on each side of his thighs.

Your hands move with purpose, fingers unbuckling his belt before you tug his jeans down his thighs, bunching the denim just above his knees. His boxers remain, the thin cotton stretched over his arousal, the tent blatant and straining.

Jungkook throws his head back, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as the shift in pressure hits him. It’s painful now, his cock throbbing profusely against the confines, every pulse making the material pull tighter. His fists tighten at his sides, fingers digging into his palm.

“Stay with me now,” you tease, your voice sultry yet playful.

“Gonna fucking kill me,” he chuckles breathily, but then his brows knit together sharply, a hiss escaping through clenched teeth. His hips twitch upward involuntarily, seeking friction against the barrier.

“Just wanna tease you a bit, baby,” you say, your fingers trailing lightly over the waistband of his boxers, not dipping inside, just hovering there to further torment him.

He lifts his head up slowly, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson that spreads down his neck, those dark eyes hooded and low as they lock onto yours from below. There’s vulnerability in his gaze, mixed with hunger, making your pulse quicken.

You slide your hand down again, palming his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. The material clings to his length, damp from his pre-cum, and he jolts beneath you like he’s been shocked, his hips bucking up involuntarily into your touch.

He’s so sensitive now, every stroke sending a twitch through his body. You press the heel of your hand firmly against his clothed shaft, rubbing in slow circles. The friction makes him throb under your palm.

Jungkook is vocal — surprisingly so, his usual composed demeanor shatters. Low groans spill from his lips, turning into breathy whimpers as you work him over. And well… you just figured out something new about yourself.

The sounds he lets out make your thighs clench, a dominant thrill lighting up inside of you. His eyes squeeze shut, brows knitting together in that perfect expression of overwhelmed pleasure, his mouth gaping open as soft moans escape — high and needy, nothing like you’d expected from him. Each sound vibrates straight to your core, and you feel a light pulse throbbing between your legs, your pussy growing slick and aching in response, soaking through your panties.

His head begins to loll forward as if he can’t hold it up anymore, lost in the sensation. You pull your hand away from his cock just as the pain was starting to subdue. Instead, you cup his jaw with both hands, your fingers firm and his warm, flushed cheeks, tilting his face up to meet your eyes. His gaze is hazy, pupils blown wide with lust, and you hold him there, making him watch you as you sink down fully. Your crotch connects with his clothed shaft, the rough denim of your jeans pressing against his bulge as you grind down, rolling your hips in a slow, teasing drag.

The sound he lets out is guttural, a deep rumble that starts in his chest and rips from his throat — like music to your ears. His hands shoot up immediately, fingers digging into your hips with force. You lean down, crashing your lips against his in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues sliding together wetly. He moans right into your mouth, the vibration humming against your lips, his breath hot and ragged.

His hands slide from your hips, palming your ass through your jeans, squeezing hard before he yanks you closer. He pushes you into him more forcefully, bucking his hips up into you. You can feel exactly how hard he is, hard even through the layers, the pressure against your clothed core sending pleasure throughout your body.

Jungkook breaks the kiss first, pulling back with a gasp, his lips shiny and swollen from yours. “Fuck, already so close,” he pants, voice wrecked and strained, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Yeah?” you muse, your tone light and teasing, even as you keep grinding into him.

He hums in affirmation, a low, desperate sound, biting down hard on his lower lip as he stares up at you in awe. From this angle, he gets a full view — your lips swollen, that glittery lip gloss somehow still clinging despite how messily you two were kissing. Your necklace sways with every movement, the heart pendant dragging lightly across his face, cool metal teasing his heated skin. And your tits right in his face, straining against your shirt. As bad as he wants to rip your top down and suck on one of your nipples, he knows he’s far too gone. He’s creaming in his boxers already like some hormonal teenage boy.

Suddenly, he freezes up beneath you, his whole body tensing. Then it snaps — a guttural moan tears from him as he starts panting wildly. His hips thrust up erratically, rocking into you with short, desperate jerks. Your hips slow down, riding out his orgasm, feeling his release starting to seep through onto your jeans. You watch him unfold completely — eyes shut, mouth slack, every muscle quivering in release — and it only makes your own around spike higher.

And as if the universe has impeccable timing, the phone rings, the shrill tone cutting through the moment. It’s the call you’ve been waiting for.

You quickly lift off Jungkook’s lap, the sudden absence making him whine softly, his spent cock softening beneath his boxers. “Alright, your time is up, paperboy,” you say, a playful smirk tugging at your lips despite the interruption.

“Seriously?” he asks, his chest heaving up and down, voice hoarse and disbelieving, looking wrecked and adorable.

“Mhm, quickly! I gotta take this call,” you urge, snatching the phone from the nearby table but holding off on answering just yet, the ringing growing more insistent.

Jungkook moves fast despite his post-orgasm daze, yanking his boxers back into place over his softening length before tugging his jeans up his thighs. His fingers fumble with the belt buckle at light speed, the metal clinking as he secures it.

You grab his arm, leading him toward the door on slightly shaky legs of your own, the phone still shrieking in your other hand. He doesn’t protest, just follows obediently, stepping out into the cool evening air.

“Jungkook!” you call out after him. He turns, that boyish smile already creeping onto his lips, eyes sparkling. “I might get lonely this week.”

Before he can respond, you finally answer the call, the voice on the other end stealing your attention. You shut the door with a soft click, no goodbye offered.

But it’s alright, he’ll just be back again.

“Come on, bro!” Jimin whines through the phone. “When’s the last time you, me, and the guys have hung out?”

“I don’t know, dude… a while?” Jungkook mutters, phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder as he digs through his dresser.

When Jungkook left your house yesterday, he hadn’t wasted a second. Barely slept. Barely thought about anything else. It was already the next night, and all he knew was that he needed to see you again. He’d showered longer than usual, scrubbed away the lingering scent of your house only to replace it with his best body gel, his favorite cologne. Even his hair had gotten extra attention — still damp now, towel slung low around his waist as he stood half-naked in his dorm, clothes throw everywhere.

“Exactly!” Jimin says, way too loud, making Jungkook squeeze his eyes shut and pause for a second. “So why don’t you wanna come? You’re always down to party. I heard Vanessa’s gonna be there…”

Jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes hard at the mention of her. Even more so at the inevitable image of her stupid fucking boyfriend glued to her side — a loud, irritating reminder that she had chose that over him. And for a split second, it almost pisses him off again.

Almost.

Because he doesn’t actually give a shit about Vanessa. Or the party.

He has somewhere else he wants to be.

“I was planning on going somewhere tonight…” Jungkook admits, still rifling through his clothes.

There’s a brief pause on the line. Then Jimin chuckles knowingly. “Ah. Little Jungkookie thinks he’s gonna get laid by a MILF…”

Jungkook snorts, rolling his eyes even though Jimin can’t see it. There’s a smirk tugging at his mouth despite himself. “Fuck you.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Jimin presses. “She’s not gonna let someone ten years younger than her fuck-”

Jungkook cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. He still hasn’t told Jimin about yesterday. About the way you touched him. The way his body had betrayed him so easily, jizzing in his pants like some pubescent teenage boy with no self-control.

“Yeah, you’re getting blocked,” Jungkook mutters, yanking the phone from his shoulder so he could find Jimin’s contact.

“I’m joking! I’m joking!” Jimin blurts out. “Please. Just come out tonight. You said she’s got the house to herself all week, right? Just miss one night. Please?”

Jungkook exhales slowly, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea of a party already exhausts him — drunk people doing stupid shit, loud music vibrating through his skull, girls leaning too close and pretending to care about what his tattoos mean or whatever excuse they need to get him to fuck them.

He doesn’t want any of it.

He wants you.

Wants to hear your voice again. Wants to feel your hands all over him, taste your lips. Repeat yesterday, or take it further. He doesn’t even care what you do. As long as it’s you.

But it has been a while since he’s seen the guys. And break is still months away.

Another sigh slips from him, quieter this time.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll see you there.”

People were already scattered in the front yard, the bass of the loud music thumping loudly even from outside of the house. Jungkook shoulders his way through the front door, adjusting his jacket. The place is already full — hazy air, stinks of weed, and too many people he doesn’t care about.

He spots his friends instantly in the living room. Red solo cups in hand, voices loud, laughter louder.

“Look who actually showed up,” Taehyung grins, sprawled on the couch with a cigarette lazily hanging between his fingers. 

“You made it!” Jimin shouts over the music, hopping up from a chair to pull Jungkook into a hug. “Thought you’d be too busy playing stepdad.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, patting Jimin’s back. “Shut the fuck up.”

“So, when are you gonna let us meet her?” Hobi calls out from the other couch, leaning forward to pour himself a shot, grin tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I will need a taste if I see her,” Taehyung adds with a smirk, the cigarette between his fingers glowing faintly before he blows out smoke.

Jungkook and Taehyung had shared a few girls in the past. It was something unspoken between them, easy and never messy. It was just harmless fun.

But you were different.

Taehyung wasn’t going to go near you ever. You were off limits.

“She’s married, dude,” Jungkook mutters, plopping down next to Namjoon and pouring a shot before tossing it back.

Taehyung gasps, sitting up from his slouched position. “No fucking way. You didn’t tell us that part!”

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate, smacking Jungkook’s shoulder in disappointment.

“Listen,” Jungkook says quickly, arms raised in defense. “I can tell she’s not getting what she needs from her husband!”

“But why are you even talking to her if she’s married?” Namjoon asks, voice calm but laced with concern. He’s not judging — just genuinely trying to understand.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know…” he groans. “She’s interesting. It’s different with her.”

“MILF fever,” Taehyung sings, leaning back again, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

“There’s so many girls here tonight, Kook,” Jimin adds, motioning toward the kitchen where a group of girls sit around laughing and drinking. “Talk to one of them.”

Jungkook barely glances that way. Doesn't even want to entertain the idea. Doesn’t even want to be here.

But he knows his friends are right.

So he downs another shot. And a few more.

“Where’s your head at?”

If Jungkook was completely honest… he was zoned out.

His body felt warm all over, face flushed and slightly dizzy from all the shots he’d thrown back nearly an hour ago. For a second, he even forgot he pulled one of the girls from that group. She was sitting next to him now — legs crossed, hand very high on his thigh. And although it should have excited him, sparked something inside of him, it didn’t.

Because he wasn’t thinking about her. Not her perfume, not her leg kicking at his slightly, not the way her nails lightly scratched at his thigh like she was trying to get his attention.

He was thinking about you.

About your perfume, the way your nails scratched against him, your voice — low, teasing, seductive like you were luring him in.

He turned his head, blinked once at the girl beside him. She looked good. Objectively, anyone else would’ve killed for a moment like this — a pretty girl practically crawling into his lap at a party, willing and ready.

But she wasn’t you.

He only called her over because his friends encouraged him to — trying to get his mind off a married woman, for fuck’s sake.

As if some drunk girl in a miniskirt could erase the image of you from his head. As if her laugh could drown out the sound of your voice, or her touch could make him forget the way your hands felt against his chest.

He wasn’t even here for this.

He was here because he wanted to spend time with his friends. That was the plan. A few drinks, laughter, talking and catching up on each other's lives.

But now he’s sunk into this couch, surrounded by everything he didn’t want to be near — drunk idiots, loud music, and this girl trying to start a conversation with him.

“Just… thinking,” Jungkook finally mutters, his voice low and distant. He throws an arm across the back of the couch, the other settling on her bare thigh, giving it a light squeeze like he’s interested in her. Like maybe it’ll make him feel something. 

But it doesn’t.

Nothing.

She giggles, misreading his silence for teasing, leaning closer into him until her lips nearly graze his jaw. Her fingers curl into the hem of his shirt, tugging slightly.

“About…” she whispers, soft and breathy, looking up at him through lashes too thick, eyes too expecting.

But Jungkook doesn’t say anything else.

He just moved.

His hand slides up to her jaw, fingers pressing softly under her chin as he tilts her face toward his. Then he leans in and kisses her.

It’s slow, calculated. The kind of kiss that could be mistaken for something real. His hand cradles her cheek like she means something to him, like this moment is more than a distraction. She melts into it easily, moaning into his mouth as her hand fists his shirt.

But all Jungkook can think about is that he’s not kissing you.

That your mouth would taste different. That your fingers would feel differently tangled in his hair. That your lips wouldn’t move this fast or rough — you’d tease him, take your time.

And that if he kissed you, he’d actually feel something.

He pulls away, lips pink and swollen, jaw tense. He doesn’t meet her eyes right away — just leans back, putting distance between them. His hand slips from her thigh, settling in his lap like he was suddenly disgusted.

She’s still leaning into him obliviously, eyes half-closed, lips parted. “You gonna take me upstairs?” she asks, voice forcefully seductive, not as natural nor sexy as yours.

He doesn’t cringe — doesn’t want to embarrass her. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

But he does anyway when he gets up.

“I can’t do this,” he says, quiet but firm.

She blinks, confused for a second before her expression shifts. “Are you serious?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, backing away.

But he’s already turning, weaving through everybody, the music turning into static. He doesn’t even remember the shots he took — feels stone cold fucking sober now.

And he drives. Not to clear his head.

Straight to your house.

Your home is empty, quiet — oddly comforting in the way silence can be after a long day. You loved your children to pieces, wouldn’t even trade the world for them, but you needed your alone time.

The bathroom glows in soft candlelight, enough to see the words on your book. The tub is full, bubbles floating at the top. You take a slow sip of red wine, the glass cool against your fingers. You let the bitterness settle before swallowing, then place the glass gently on the edge of the tub.

You sink deeper into the warmth, the tension in your muscles slowly melting. No crying or fighting, no toys or shoes scattered all over the place, no spilled beverages on the carpets. Just the sound of water moving around in the porcelain, and your own breathing.

Then the doorbell rings, echoing throughout the house.

Normally, the sound would’ve set you off — slicing through your unsavored moment of peace, shattering the rare quietness you had fought so hard to find.

But not tonight.

Because somehow, you already know who it is. And the interruption doesn’t upset you in the slightest.

You set your book down gently, the pages slightly wet from your hands, and rise from the bath — water cascading from your skin. You grab a towel, patting yourself dry.

Then you reach for that piece of silk — the one he’s already seen once, the one you have no idea drives him insane — and let it slip over your skin. It clings to your damp body, the strings tying easily at the front, just barely holding the fabric together.

You make your way down the stairs, each step careful, letting your bare feet get used to the cold tiles. Your fingers find the lock, twist it, and then you open the door.

And there he is.

His face is flushed, a deep pink that covers him from his cheeks down to his neck. He doesn’t say anything — he just stares. Eyes drag slowly down the curve of your body, drinking in every inch of you draped in that thin silk robe.

Then he pounces on you.

There’s no hesitation — no pause, no words. His hands grab your waist, pulling you in against him like he’s starved. His mouth crashes into yours, messy and desperate, tongue touching tongue, breath hitching as you stumble back a step with the force of it.

It’s not gentle. Not careful.

You pull away, breath catching in your throat, and for a split second, Jungkook stiffens. His eyes search yours, heart skipping, scared he might’ve crossed a boundary.

“You’ve been drinking,” you say softly, tasting the sharpness of alcohol still lingering on his tongue.

“So have you,” he counters, lips brushing yours as he speaks. He tasted the wine — expensive, sweet, addictive. Just like you.

“Mmm, I’m not the one feeling it though,” you murmur, brushing his hair back from his face. Your fingers linger a second too long against his skin, knuckles grazing his temple, your thumb tracing the edge of his brow.

His eyes flutter, jaw clenching as if he’s physically holding himself back. When he finally speaks, it’s a whisper — husky and low.

“I don’t care,” he says, almost like a confession he’s been carrying around for weeks. “I just want you.”

You grab the front of his jacket and pull him inside, shutting the door with a click. When you turn around, he’s already there — mouth on yours in a heartbeat, needy and rough, kissing you like his lips have missed you for years.

His hands roam greedily. Shoulder blades, then your waist, and finally down to your ass — where he gives a firm, possessive squeeze. Just because he finally can. Just because he’s been thinking about it nonstop. Just because it’s you.

“Went to a party earlier,” he mutters between kisses, lips brushing over yours before trailing lower, to the curve of your jaw, then your neck.

“Yeah?” you breathe, head tilting back to give him more access. Your fingers slip into his hair as his mouth traces along your skin.

“Mhm,” he hums, the sound vibrating against your throat. “Was fucking boring. My friends tried to get me to talk to this girl.”

“Did you?” you ask, voice soft.

“Yeah,” he admits, pulling back just enough to look at you.

Without another word, you take his hand and lead him upstairs. He follows, like he’d go anywhere you pulled him to. In your room, you turn suddenly and push him back onto the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” you demand, voice low and commanding as you stand before him.

Jungkook glances up at you from where he sits on the edge of the bed, his cheeks burning with a deep flush. His dark eyes dart away briefly, strands of his tousled raven hair falling across his forehead. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. He’s stripped naked before, yes, but never watched under anyone’s gaze like this.

He swallows hard, throat bobbing, and starts with his jacket. He shrugs it off his broad shoulders, letting the fabric slide down his arms before he throws it on the floor. Then comes his shirt — he grips the hem and pulls it over his head in one motion, revealing the faint lines of his abs. His skin is like honey, smooth except for the full sleeve going up his entire arm. He kicks off his boots, then reaches down to unbuckle his belt. His pants follow, shoved down and pooling on the floor, leaving him in nothing but his black Calvin’s.

“Everything,” you say, a teasing edge sharpening the words as you tilt your head.

Jungkook pauses, his hands hovering at the waistband. He meets your eyes again, before he hooks his thumbs in and tugs the boxers down. His cock springs free, already thick and firm, the head flushed a deep pink and glistening with a bead of precum at the tip. He kicks everything aside, his body on display for you.

“I want you to touch yourself,” you command, voice laced with that dominance that gets him excited.

Jungkook’s never been shy about his body. Nudity has always been effortless for him. But this — stroking his own cock while you watch, clothed while he was fully exposed — it’s different. He finds it to be intimidating, the way it strips away his usual boldness, leaving him vulnerable under your gaze.

His hand trembles just a fraction as he wraps his fingers around his shaft, his grip loose and hesitant at first. He strokes upward slowly, thumb brushing over the sensitive head, smearing that precum down the length.

You watch him intently, letting him see the pride in your eyes. It encourages him, his stroke gaining a subtle rhythm, but his brows furrow, eyes squeezing shut as a soft, breathy moan escapes his lips.

“Keep your eyes open, Jungkook. Don’t stop,” you say softly. He obeys instantly, eyelids fluttering open to meet your stare, his hand pumping steadily from shaft to tip. “Did you have fun at the party?”

“N- no,” he stutters, his voice cracking as his fist tightens, sliding faster along his cock.

“No? Did you kiss that girl?” you press, your eyes tracing the way his bicep flexes, the subtle twitch of his hips urging his hand on.

“I- yes! Yes I did,” he moans, the confession spilling out raggedly, his free hand gripping the bedsheet to steady himself. You can see how conflicted he really is — the mix of embarrassment and arousal at admitting this while you command his pleasure, his body betraying how much this turns him on.

“You did. Was she cute? Did you fuck her?” you tease, your voice dripping with mock curiosity that only heightens his arousal.

You don’t really care about what he does with other girls. It’s the rush from getting him all riled up like this — watching him unravel piece by piece, that soaks your panties, your own arousal building as his moans grow deeper, more desperate.

“No!” Jungkook shouts, his voice cracking again with frustration, his hand instinctively slowing on his cock.

“Don’t slow down,” you demand sharply. “No, she wasn’t cute, or no, you didn’t hook up with her?”

“Both!” he exclaims, grunting through clenched teeth, his fist pumping faster now, the slick slide of his palm over his throbbing shaft echoing in the room. “I- I couldn’t stop thinking about you! W- wanted to come here but… my friends told me I shouldn’t!”

A smile curves at your lips at his confession, the desperate need in his voice sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. You finally close the gap, walking right up to him. You kneel down in front of him, reaching out and pushing his hand away from his cock.

You lean in close, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss — your tongue invading, tasting the faint bitterness of alcohol again. He moans into it, his hands twitching at his sides, desperate to touch but holding back under your control. You pull back slowly, nipping at his lower lip before pressing one more soft peck to the corner of his mouth.

“What were you thinking about?” you ask, your voice sultry and low.

Your hand wraps around his cock this time, fingers wrapping around his stiff shaft. You smear the precum from the swollen tip down the length in slow strokes, twisting your wrist as you go. Jungkook throws his head back, a low, guttural moan ripping from his throat as his hips jerk involuntarily into your touch.

You press your other hand against his sweaty chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart under your palm, then slide it down over his abs — hard and flexing under your exploration. “Hey, baby, stay with me,” you murmur, your tone teasing but insistent.

He lifts his head with effort, eyes hazy and dark as they lock onto yours, then drop to where your hand works his cock. Your fingers look so pretty around his pink, flushed length — nails painted a matching soft pink. The cool metal of your wedding ring and band drags along his skin with each stroke, a forbidden chill that sends a twisted thrill through him, as sick and intoxicating as it feels. And that robe — the silk one that started this — hangs loose on your shoulders, open just enough at the chest to reveal the swell of your cleavage, your breasts jiggling softly with every motion of your arm as you pump him.

“Can’t stop… can’t stop thinking about your voice, your lips, ah- fuck-” he cuts himself off with a curse, his breath hitching as you tighten your grip. “You might’ve… ruined everyone else for me,” he laughs breathlessly, the sound turning into a sharp gasp that rips through his throat. “Oh fuck,”

You don’t respond with words, but a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. It’s like music to you, and you’ll show him just how much you love hearing it.

Your free hand moves to the tie of your robe, fingers deftly loosening the knot until the fabric falls open completely, exposing your bare body beneath.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, a low moan spilling from his lips as his gaze devours you, wide-eyed and ravenous. You hold his stare, making sure he watches every second as you guide his cock between your breasts, the heat of his shaft pressing into the soft space between your cleavage. The contrast of his hard length against your warm flesh makes him whimper.

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely, his hands fisting the sheets beside him.

You look down at his cock nestled there, and let a thick string of spit fall from your lips, landing right on his tip before it drips down between your breasts. The lubrication makes everything slick and warm as you push your tits together firmly, trapping his cock in the tight, plush grip. You start moving, sliding up and down in a steady rhythm, the head of his cock peeking out with each thrust.

Jungkook’s breath comes in ragged pants, his eyes glued to the obscene display — your breasts sliding around his shaft, the wet sounds of skin filling the silence. He looks like he might pass out from the overload, his abs clenching, fists tightening around the sheets.

You giggle softly, the sound light and teasing, keeping your pace slow and torturous. “You like it?”

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers, his head lolling back for a moment before he forces it up again, unwilling to break the view.

“So your friends,” you start casually, as if you’re not currently tit-fucking him senseless. “They know about me?”

“Sorry,” he says breathily, the apology falling into a moan. “Can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “What do they think?”

“Namjoon and Jimin… t- they don’t think I should be talking t- to you because you’re married,” he struggles to get out, his stare fixed on your breasts enveloping his cock.

“Maybe they’re right,” you point out lightly, testing him, your hands pressing your tits tighter to heighten the sensation.

“Fuck them,” he says defiantly, the words growled through a groan. “Taehyung said h- he might want a turn with you.”

You chuckle, the idea sparking a wicked curiosity, but you keep your focus on him, on drawing out more of that possessive edge you like so much.

You pull back abruptly, releasing his cock from between your breasts, leaving it slick and straining in the air, bobbing against his stomach. “Can you get on the bed? Lay down for me?” you ask, eyes locked on his as you stand, the robe slipping further.

Obedience floods him instantly, the submissiveness peeking through as he nods and scrambles onto the bed full, stretching out on his back with his head sinking into the pillows. The same pillows your husband rests on every night — but now Jungkook lies there, cock hard and leaking.

You shrug the robe off completely, letting it pool on the floor, your body fully exposed now. Crawling onto the bed, you straddle his hips, your wet pussy hovering just above his cock, the heat of him radiating up to tease your folds without touching yet. His hands come up instinctively to grip your thighs, fingers digging in as he looks up at you.

“Are you clean?” you ask, eyes narrowing on him as you hover above his cock, the tip brushing your slick folds, teasing with no mercy.

He nods eagerly, his gaze locked on your pussy, glistening under the dim lamp light.

“Put it in,” you say, giving him the green light.

Jungkook’s hand reaches down without hesitation, wrapping around his thick cock to steady it as he nudges the swollen head against your sopping entrance. You sink down slowly, enveloping him inch by inch, a sharp gasp escaping both your lips at the sudden fullness. He stretches you perfectly, his girth filling you up until you bottom out, seated fully on him. The delicious burn makes your thighs quiver as you adjust, clenching around his length before lifting up just enough to pull off slowly.

You sink down again, harder this time, starting to ride him with rolls of your hips. His hands fly up to grip your waist, fingers digging into your skin, holding on as you maintain the pace, your breasts bouncing with each drop.

“So this Taehyung? He cute like you?” you tease, wanting to rile him up again.

“No,” Jungkook moans, the answer tumbling out way too quickly, laced with jealousy. “He’s ugly as shit. You can only have me.”

“Only you, huh?” you laugh breathlessly, still riding him. “And the girls you hook up with?”

“Getting jealous?” he shoots back, sly smirk creeping on his lips even as his hips buck up to meet yours.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say, bouncing up and down faster now, the wet slap of your bodies echoing. “But if Taehyung still wants his turn, give him my address.”

A growl rumbles from his chest, possessive and annoyed, and in a quick motion, he changes the positions. You giggle at the sudden shift, but he’s too fast, manhandling you onto your stomach. He yanks your hips up, positioning you on all fours. From behind, he lines up and thrusts in deep, burying his cock to the brim, then starts fucking you at a slow, torturous pace.

“Maybe I should tell your husband, huh?” Jungkook teases, his chest pressing against your back, lips grazing your ear with each word. “Tell him you like fucking guys way younger than you? Yeah? Would you want that?”

“Go ahead,” you moan, pushing back against him. “I’ll tell him he fucks me better than any of you do, anyway.”

Jungkook’s nose scrunches in irritation, that attitude sparking something feral in him. Fucking brat.

He lifts himself off you, delivering a sharp slap to your ass with his heavy palm. You cry out a loud moan, the sting igniting fresh arousal that soaks his cock. He shoves your upper body down flat against the mattress, keeping your ass high, and heightens the speed, slamming into you with quick, punishing thrusts. His pelvis smacks against your ass, the force jolting you forward.

You’re moaning wildly now, face buried in the pillows that smell of you and your husband, muffling the sounds as Jungkook fucks the life out of you, his cock driving into you relentlessly.  

“Your husband fuck you like this?” he dares, voice rough, hips snapping harder to emphasize the point, balls slapping against your clit.

He definitely doesn’t. Hell, he doesn’t fuck you at all these days. But you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction, too lost in the pleasure after so long without it to stroke his ego just yet.

“Don’t wanna answer, you brat?” he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. He leans down again, draping his body over yours, skin slick with sweat sliding against each other. But this time, he snakes his beefy arm around your neck in a loose hold — not at all choking you, just holding you there. “It’s fine,” he murmurs right in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive lobe, nipping lightly. “I’ll fuck it out of you. That what you want?”

You twist your head toward him, capturing his mouth in a messy kiss as his cock continues to pound into your pussy from behind. But when his free hand snakes between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit and starting to rub circle, you break away from his lips with a sharp moan.

At this point, words fail you entirely. Jungkook doesn’t need them anyway — he feels the answer in the way your pussy clenches desperately around him, milking him with every snap of his hips.

You’re near the edge, so close already, the coil in your tummy winding tighter from the assault of his fingers on your clit and his relentless fucking. Your body betrays you, thighs shaking, breaths coming in ragged whimpers as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, his arm still loosely around you, holding you right where he wants you.

He moans low in your ear. Sweat beads on his skin, and you feel the heat radiating from him, your own body glistening under the dim light. He’s close too — you can tell by the way his thrusts grow erratic, his fingers pressing harder against your clit.

“J- Jungkook, I-“ you stammer, voice breaking as tears form at the corners of your eyes, the overwhelming pleasure making everything blur.

“I know, baby,” he husks, breath hot against your neck, not letting up for a second. He thrusts deeper, hips slamming forward, chasing your release with everything he’s got.

It hits you like a wave crashing over, shattering completely. A moan rips from your throat, loud and unrestrained — fuck the neighbors, let them hear how good he’s fucking you. You gasp for air, chest heaving as the orgasm wrecks through you, leaving your limbs weak. Jungkook’s arm keeps you propped up, his strength the only thing holding you together as you ride out the aftershocks, your juices flooding around him.

But he’s close too, his control thinning. With a swift move, he pulls out — your pussy clenching emptily at the loss — and flips you onto your back. You’re spent, body going limp against the rumpled sheets, gazing up at him through heavy eyes. Jungkook hovers above, eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight. Your swollen folds glistening, creamy white from the intense friction, your arousal coating his cock in a shiny gloss.

He wraps his fist around his dick, stroking fast and rough, the wet sounds filling the room. His abs tense, thighs quivering, and then he comes undone — thick ropes of warm cum spurting across your stomach, painting your skin white. He groans deep in his chest, hips jerking forward into his grip as he milks every last drop.

Panting hard, he collapses forward slightly, resting his forehead against your knee. The air smells with the scent of sex and your mingled fluids.

“My husband has nothing on you,” you tease, a lazy smile curving your lips.

“No?” He lifts his head, smirking at you, eyes shining with that cocky satisfaction.

Before you can respond, he bends lower, tongue darting out to lick a broad stripe through his own cum on your stomach. The sight sends a fresh throb to your heat, your pussy tingling again already, aching for more despite the exhaustion. Holy fuck. 

Then he straightens, grabbing your chin firmly, tilting your head back. His fingers pry your mouth open, and he leans in, spitting the salty load right onto your tongue. The taste hits you — sweet yet salty at the same time — and you swallow it without hesitation.

“Definitely not,” you murmur.

He chuckles, already shifting closer, his softening cock twitching back to its previous stiffness again. That look in his eyes promises he’s nowhere near done. This week was going to be a lot of fun and a lot of endless fucking.

Thank your husband for flying out to that business trip, your mother for watching the kids, and Jungkook’s stupid fucking paperboy job for dropping him right at your door.

a/n: hi everyone! I'm so excited to have finished this story, I've been working on it for a while trying to make it perfect!!! I had so much fun writing it ++ any vegas jungkook look always ends up being my favorite so I had to write something for it. vegas air x jungkook is definitely a dangerous combo!!! anyway, I hope you guys like my fic. I'm thinking of opening a taglist?? comment if you want to be tagged for any of my future works. tysm for reading... don't forget to reblog ⋆. 𐙚 ˚<3

The flight from LAX to LAS takes just over an hour, but you have been awake since four in the morning, watching the dark ceiling of your apartment, listening to the distant hum of the freeway. You told yourself you weren't going to do this. You told yourself you were going to be mature, respect the boundaries of his tour, let him have this without you hovering at the edges like some ghost of Los Angeles past.

But then you saw his story. Posted at 2 AM, the timestamp glowing accusatory in your dark bedroom. Backstage at Allegiant Stadium, the concrete corridors painted that particular shade of industrial beige that exists in every venue in every city in the world. He was holding that stupid vintage camcorder he insists on using for everything, the one that makes everything look like a memory even as it's happening, and he was complaining about the dry Vegas air, about how his skin feels tight, about how he misses the humidity of Seoul, of home, of-

Of you. He didn't say it. But you heard it anyway.

You booked the ticket before the video looped a second time. You packed a bag with clothes you didn't bother to fold, just stuffed them in like you were running from something, and you drove to the airport with the windows down, the Los Angeles winds whipping your hair into a frenzy, the city sprawling behind you in its perpetual golden-hour haze.

Now you are standing in the loading dock of Allegiant Stadium, ducking under yellow caution tape that says CREW ONLY in letters that have faded from sun exposure. The desert heat hits differently here, drier, more aggressive, sucking the moisture from your skin the moment you step out of the rideshare. You can hear them - distant, muffled, the thump of bass vibrating through the concrete bones of the building, the soundcheck for a show that won't happen for hours.

You should have told him. You know you should have told him. But there's something delicious about the surprise, about the look that will break across his face when he sees you, about the possibility that he might be as hungry for this collision as you are.

The security guard starts toward you, hand raised, mouth open to tell you to leave, but you flash the laminate that Hoseok sent you three hours ago in a text that just said come with seventeen exclamation points. The guard squints at the pass, squints at you, and waves you through with a shrug that says he's seen stranger things in this city.

Backstage is a labyrinth. You move through it like you're dreaming, past roadies coiling cables with practiced efficiency, past catering tables laden with fruit you know no one will eat, past the wardrobe racks that smell like dry cleaning and sweat. You find the corridor that leads to the stage-left wing, the one he's posted from, and you press yourself against a concrete pillar that is cool against your spine, and you wait.

The music stops. Starts again. Stops. They're running 2.0 now, you think, or maybe it's Aliens, the melody distorted through the walls, stripped of vocals, just the skeleton of the song. You check your phone. One hour until doors, three until showtime - an eternity.

You watch the makeup artist - Miyoung, you remember her name from his stories - touch up a dancer's jawline with a small brush, precise and unhurried. You drift toward her like you're caught in her orbit, and she looks up, recognizes something in your face, maybe, or just sees another lost girl in a venue full of them.

"You look like you need coffee," she says, not unkindly.

"I look like I need a lot of things," you reply, and she laughs, a bright sound that cuts through the industrial hum.

"Sit," she says, patting the chair next to her station. "I'll fix your face. You look like you flew in this morning."

"I did."

She makes a considerable noise and tilts your chin up with gentle fingers. The brush is soft against your skin, cool, soothing. She works in silence for a while, dusting something golden across your cheekbones, lining your eyes with a precision you could never manage yourself.

"You're the LA girl," she says finally. It's not a question.

You freeze. "He talks about me?"

Miyoung smiles, something knowing and soft. "He talks about the weather in LA. About the traffic. About this coffee shop near your apartment that he wants to try. About how the light looks different there, how it makes everything look like a movie." She steps back, assesses her work. "There. Now you don't look like you just survived a redeye."

You look in the mirror. You look like yourself, but sharper, more luminous, like someone worth flying for.

"Thank you," you say, and she squeezes your shoulder before turning back to her kit.

Time moves strangely backstage. You help a roadie tape down a cable. You accept a bottle of water from a staff member who doesn't ask your name. You watch the dancers stretch, their bodies bending in ways that seem to defy physics, and you think about your own body, about the way it feels heavy with wanting, weighted down by all the things you haven't said.

And then soundcheck ends. The distant thrum of voices, seven of them overlapping, laughing, complaining about the monitors, about the heat, about the dry air that makes their throats scratch. You press yourself harder against the pillar, heart hammering against your ribs, and you wait for him to appear around the corner.

But it's Namjoon first, tall and tired, glasses slipping down his nose, still in his rehearsal clothes. He sees you before you can decide whether to hide or run, and his face shifts from confusion to recognition to something like delight.

"LA?" he says, and his voice carries.

You push off the wall, suddenly nervous, suddenly aware of every hour of sleep you missed, every reason this was a bad idea. "Surprise?"

Namjoon crosses the distance between you in three long strides and pulls you into a hug that lifts you slightly off your feet, that smells like his cologne and the faint metallic tang of the venue. "You're insane," he says into your hair, but he's laughing. "He's going to lose his mind."

"I wanted to-"

"Surprise him," Namjoon finishes, setting you down but keeping his hands on your shoulders, studying your face with that particular intensity he has, the one that makes you feel like he's reading the footnotes of your thoughts. "I know. I can tell." He squeezes once. "Be gentle with him. He's been... he's been looking at his phone a lot."

Before you can ask what that means, there's a whoop from down the corridor, and Hoseok is running toward you, arms windmilling, grinning so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You came!" he shouts, and you brace yourself as he collides with you, spins you, sets you down only to step back and present his cheek with theatrical expectation.

You laugh, the sound surprising you, and you give him a light slap - firm enough to sting, playful enough to mean nothing - before pulling him into a hug that smells like sweat and peppermint gum. "I came," you confirm.

"Jungkook-ah doesn't know?"

"Not yet."

Hoseok's eyes gleam with mischief. "Oh, this is going to be good. This is going to be so good."

The others filter past - Jimin with a wave, Taehyung with a curious tilt of his head, Yoongi and Jin with nods that somehow feel like approval. They don't question your presence, or if they do, they keep it to themselves. You're part of the furniture here, part of the landscape of Jungkook's life that they've all learned to navigate around.

And then, there he is.

He's at the end of the corridor, still holding that camcorder, the one with the duct tape on the side where he dropped it in Tokyo. He's talking to it, narrating his life in that soft, sleepy voice he gets after he sings, something about the venue, about the soundcheck, about how the dry air makes his throat feel like sandpaper.

He doesn't see you at first. He's looking at the lens, at himself, performing even when he thinks no one is watching. You have time to study him - the way he has slimmed down since the last time you saw him, all sharp angles and new edges, the way his forehead is finally visible again with this haircut, the one you told him suited him best, and the tiredness in his shoulders that he carries like a secret, like something he's ashamed of letting show.

You step out from behind the pillar.

"LA?"

Your name hangs in the air - the nickname he gave you three years ago in Budapest, then cemented during those long weeks in Los Angeles when they filmed the album, when you were around so much you became part of the furniture, part of the language. They say it like a word, like a place, like something that means her and home and the one who keeps leaving all at once. The camcorder lowers slowly. His face shifts through seventeen emotions: confusion, disbelief, hope, fear, sunlight breaking through clouds.

"You're not-" He stops. Steps forward. "You're actually here."

You shrug, missing casual by miles. "You said you missed humidity."

He stares. The camcorder hangs forgotten, still recording. You see the pulse in his throat, his hand tightening on the strap until his knuckles whiten.

Then he's moving.

He crosses the space in a rush that feels gravitational, arms around you, lifting you off your feet, spinning you once, twice, laughing into the curve of your neck. He smells like rehearsal - sweat and cologne and something uniquely him, the fabric softener you bought him last Christmas.

"You're insane," he says, setting you down but not letting go, hands gripping your waist like you'll evaporate. "When did you- how did you-"

"Hoseok," you admit. Hoseok cackles behind you.

"Hoseok," Jungkook repeats, but he's not angry, only present, eyes scanning your face like he's memorizing it, like he's been starving and you're the first meal. "I can't believe you. I can't believe you're here."

"Surprise," you say softer, and his expression shifts, becoming tender and vulnerable.

"Yeah." He breathes. "Surprise."

He doesn't let go. The camcorder bumps your hip. He looks down at it, forgotten, then back at you with a question.

"Keep filming," you say.

He lifts the camera, captures both of you in the frame. You see yourself on the small screen - flushed, bright-eyed. See him looking at you instead of the lens.

"Day three in Vegas," he says, voice rough. "Soundcheck finished at Allegiant Stadium. We ran 2.0 and Aliens and-" he glances at you, swallows, "-LA is here. She just showed up. Like a ghost. Like a miracle."

"Not a miracle," you protest, smiling.

"Miracle," he insists. He turns the camera off, pulls you back into his arms, face buried in your hair. "Stay," he mumbles.

"I'll stay for now," you say, and he exhales like you've granted him something precious.

The hours blur. You find your place at the end of the southwest walkway, pressed against the scaffolding where the lights don't reach, where the curtain hangs heavy and dark between you and the world. Through the screen you can see them - seven figures moving through their formations on the central stage, then dispersing down the four walkways that stretch like arms reaching for the crowd.

From here the stadium opens up around you, three hundred sixty degrees of screaming, of light sticks creating oceans of color, of faces tilted upward like they're looking at something holy. You watch him move down the northeast walkway, then the northwest, then back to center, and you can imagine the sweat on his brow, can see the way he scans the crowd between lyrics, the way his shoulders relax when he finds your shadow in the wings.

You watch them run through Into the Sun - his voice rising through his verse like something carved from light, like a prayer offered up in a language only the faithful understand. He sounds angelic, truly, the kind of voice that makes you understand why people build religions around beauty, why they kneel before things they cannot comprehend. Through the screen his face flickers, close-up, ethereal, and you think of Hungary, of that bar in Budapest where you met, where he was just a boy with a pretty smile and you were just a girl who didn't know enough to be impressed.

He thought you were cute. You thought he was funny. The night ended in laughter and phone numbers exchanged on a napkin you still have somewhere, pressed between the pages of a book you never finished.

Now thousands of people scream his name, reaching toward the walkway like they could pull him down and keep him. You watch girls cry, boys scream, bodies pressed against barriers, living for this moment, this proximity to something they've only ever seen through glass.

And you realize - with something that feels like vertigo - that you are living someone's dream. That the boy they're screaming for is the same one who texts you memes at 3 AM, who sends you voice notes complaining about his laundry, who fell asleep on your couch last November and drooled on your throw pillow.

The thought makes you feel strange, temporary, like a glitch in the system. Like eventually the universe will notice and correct its error.

But then he's moving toward you, down the southwest walkway, and through the distance you see his eyes find yours, and he smiles - not the performance smile, but something smaller, real, meant only for you.

For a moment, the stadium fades. It's just his face - looking at you like you're the only person in the room.

Then the song ends, and he's turning, and the crowd roars, and you're just a shadow in the wings again, watching someone else's miracle from behind a curtain.

After, when the lights go down and the crowd roars and fades, you find yourself swept up with the others, with pizza that tastes like cardboard and the chaos of post-show adrenaline. You're part of the furniture here - helping Namjoon find his glasses, listening to Hoseok complain about his feet, letting Yoongi show you a meme.

"Where's Jin?" you ask at one point, noticing the empty chair.

"Asleep," Taehyung says, scrolling through his phone. "Said he's going to sleep for a year. So tired."

You laugh, and Jungkook watches you from across the room, eyes following the shape of your smile.

It's barely past eleven when Namjoon stretches, joints popping. "Food," he announces.

"That bar in the hotel, the one with the good sliders. Who's coming?"

"I'm in," Hoseok says, already reaching for his jacket.

"Me too," Jimin adds.

Taehyung looks at you, then at Jungkook, something knowing in his expression. "LA? You hungry?"

You are, suddenly - starving in a way that has nothing to do with food. You look at Jungkook. He's watching you, waiting.

"Yeah," you say. "I'm coming."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The bar is in the lobby of their hotel, some trendy spot with leather booths and neon signs that look vintage but aren't. It's nearly midnight but Vegas doesn't sleep, the place half-full of tourists in sequins and people who lost money and are drinking their way back to even.

You slide into a booth after Namjoon, and Jungkook slides in after you, thigh pressed against yours in a way that feels deliberate. The others arrange themselves - Taehyung and Jimin on one side, Hoseok beside Namjoon - and a waiter appears with waters and menus.

He's tall, dark-haired, the kind of handsome that moves through spaces like he owns them. His eyes find yours immediately, skipping over the five famous faces at the table like they don't register, like you're the only one in the room.

"Can I get you anything else?" he asks, but he's looking at you, his smile slow and deliberate. "Another drink? Something... special?"

You order another gin and tonic, and he touches your hand when he takes the empty glass, his fingers warm, lingering. "Excellent choice. I'll make sure it's perfect for you."

You feel Jungkook shift beside you, his thigh going rigid against yours, his arm pressing harder into your shoulder.

"Thanks," you say, and the waiter smiles again, all teeth, before finally turning away.

"Friendly," Taehyung observes, his eyes amused, watching Jungkook."Very friendly," Jimin adds, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"He's just doing his job," you say, but under the table Jungkook's hand finds your knee, his grip tight, his thumb pressing hard enough to make you look at him.

"What?" you mouth.

He shakes his head, jaw tight, reaching for his water with his free hand. "Nothing."

But his hand doesn't move from your knee, and when the waiter returns - your drink balanced on his tray, his smile even wider - Jungkook's fingers dig in just slightly, a warning, a claim.

"Here you are," the waiter says, setting the glass down, his hand brushing yours as you take it. "Made it just for you. Extra lime, like you asked."

"You remembered," you say, surprised.

"I pay attention," he says, his voice dropping, intimate in the noise of the bar. "To things worth remembering."

Jungkook makes a sound, low in his throat, almost a growl. The waiter glances at him, finally, recognition flickering - oh, that’s Jeon Jungkook - but he doesn't back down. If anything, his smile widens, a challenge in his eyes.

"Anything else I can get you?" he asks, but he's looking at you, only you.

"We're good," Jungkook says, his voice flat, final, his hand sliding from your knee to your thigh, his palm hot through your jeans, claiming territory. "Thanks."

The waiter nods, slowly, his eyes lingering on you one last time before he turns away.

"Possessive," you murmur, not looking at Jungkook, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Not," he lies, his hand staying on your thigh, his thumb tracing patterns that feel like writing, like spelling something out in a language only you two speak.

"You literally just-"

"Drink your gin," he interrupts, his voice rough, his eyes fixed on the waiter's back across the bar. "Before I do something stupid."

"Like what?"

He finally looks at you, his expression dark, his pupils blown wide in the dim light. "Like go over there and explain that you're not... that he shouldn't..."

"That I'm not what?"

He stares at you, his jaw working, his hand tightening on your thigh. "Available," he says finally, the word torn out of him. "That you're not available."

The silence between you stretches, filled with the noise of the bar, the laughter of his friends, the weight of three years of pretending.

"Am I not?" you ask, your voice quiet, barely audible.

His eyes search yours, desperate, hungry, all the things he's never let himself show you. "Are you?"

You don't answer. You can't. But you don't move his hand from your thigh, and when the waiter passes again, you don't look up, and Jungkook's fingers relax, just slightly, like he's breathing again.

"So," Jimin interrupts the two of you, leaning forward, eyes bright with mischief. "LA flies to Vegas unannounced. This is a rom-com plot."

"It's a horror movie," you say. "I'm the ghost who haunts his tour."

"You're not haunting," Jungkook says, "You're... visiting."

"Visiting," Taehyung repeats, tasting the word. "Very casual. Very normal."

You kick Jungkook's ankle. He kicks back, grinning.

The conversation moves around you - tour logistics, the venue tomorrow, Jin asleep upstairs dreaming of hibernation. You eat a slider that tastes like salt and grease and watch Jungkook from the corner of your eye. He's animated, hands moving as he talks, but every few minutes his attention drifts back to you, checking, making sure you're still there.

Hoseok orders a third plate of sliders. He eats them with the focus of a man possessed, and when he finally sits back, patting his stomach with a groan, he stretches his arms over the back of the booth and sighs, long and loud.

"God, I love Vegas," he says. "No consequences. What happens here, stays here, right?"

He says it with a grin, rubbing his stomach, and you realize he's talking about the sliders - about the gluttony, the grease, the way he's going to feel this in the morning. It's a joke about guilt, about indulgence, about pretending the things you do in this city don't follow you home.

But Jungkook looks at you, and you look at him, and for a second the noise of the bar fades out entirely. His eyes are dark in the dim light, and you know he's thinking about all the things that could happen here, all the things you've never let happen anywhere else.

You look away first. Take a long sip of your drink.

"Speaking of," Namjoon says, and his voice is careful, deliberate, breaking the spell.

"We should head up. Early call tomorrow."

"Already?" Jimin whines, but he's already sliding out.

"Come on," Hoseok says, standing. He looks at you, then at Jungkook, and his smile softens into something almost gentle. "Don't stay out too late."

They leave in a cluster, Taehyung waving over his shoulder, Jimin making a kissy face that Jungkook flips off. And then it's just you and him, alone in the booth, the neon buzzing overhead.

"You didn't have to stay," you say, tracing a water ring on the table.

"I wanted to." He pauses. "I have stuff for you, actually. Merch. The good stuff. It's in my room."

"In your room," you repeat.

"In my room."

You look at him. He's watching you carefully, no smile now, just open want and the fear that you'll say no.

"Okay," you say.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The elevator ride is silent. The corridor is silent. His room is on the thirty-fourth floor, corner suite, Vegas sprawled out below like a circuit board, like a promise.

You stand at the window while he dumps his bag on the bed, spreads out offerings - a hoodie that smells like him, a hat, stickers, a photocard.

"Here," he says, patting the space beside him.

You sit. The bed dips. You're close enough to feel his heat, see the tiredness in his eyes, feel your hand trembling when you pick up the photocard.

"Someone had a fan tonight," he says, and his voice is casual, too casual, the way it gets when he's hiding something sharp.

You blink, looking up from the photocard you've been turning over in your fingers. "What?"

"At the bar." He doesn't look at you. He's arranging the stickers in a neat row, aligning their edges with precision that feels like avoidance. "The waiter - he couldn't stop looking at you."

You laugh, surprised, the sound bright in the quiet room. "Are you serious? You had like seventy-two thousand people screaming your name tonight."

"Seventy-two thousand and one," he corrects, and there's a smirk tugging at his mouth, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "But I'm serious. The waiter, Sunshine. He was into you."

"I didn't notice." You set the photocard down, reach for the hoodie, bring it to your nose to breathe in the smell of him-fabric softener and something else, something warm. "I was too busy watching you eat like you hadn't seen food in a week."

"Of course you didn't notice." He says it softly, almost to himself, and something in his tone makes you look up.

"What?"

"Nothing." He stands suddenly, moves to the window, his back to you. "It's just... you never do. Notice things."

You frown, the hoodie forgotten in your lap. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you fly in, you fly out, and you act like you're just passing through." He's still not looking at you, his reflection fractured in the glass, doubled by the city lights behind him. "Like this-" he gestures vaguely at the space between you, at the room, at everything "-like it's just... convenient. Like I'm just convenient."

"Jungkook-"

"Three months." He turns now, and his face is carefully blank, the mask he wears for interviews, for cameras, for strangers. "Three months since you were in Seoul. And you didn't even tell me you were thinking about coming tonight. Hoseok knew before I did."

"I wanted to surprise you-"

"Surprise me," he repeats, and there's a note in his voice you can't name. "Or keep your options open? In case you changed your mind?"

You stand up, blood starting to rush in your ears. "That's not fair."

"Is it?" He takes a step toward you, then stops, like he's afraid of what he'll do if he gets closer. "Last time you were in Tokyo, you left early. Said you had work. But I saw the pictures. You were at the beach with friends. You just... didn't want to stay."

"That was different-"

"Was it?" Another step. His hands are fisted at his sides. "Or the time before that, in New York? You said you'd come to the show, but you got 'caught up' with your ex-"

"He needed help moving-"

"And you needed to be there." He's close now, close enough that you can see the pulse hammering in his throat, the flush high on his cheeks. "You needed to be there for him, but you can't be here. Not really. Not when it counts."

"That's not-" You shake your head, defensive, confused by the velocity of this, by how fast the ground is shifting beneath you. "I'm here now. I flew here. For you."

"For now," he says, and his voice cracks, just slightly, just enough. "For tonight. And then what? Tomorrow you'll be back in LA, and you'll text me when you're bored, when you need a distraction, when you want to feel like someone wants you-"

"Stop-"

"But actually showing up?" He's not yelling, but his voice has gone tight, strange, the way guitar strings sound before they snap. "Actually staying? Letting this be real? You'd never risk it. Because then you might have to want me back. You might have to need me. And god forbid, Sunshine-god forbid you ever need anyone."

The words hit like a slap. You stare at him, breathing hard, the makeup Miyoung applied feeling suddenly like a mask, like armor you don't know how to remove.

"That's not fair," you whisper, but your voice breaks.

"Isn't it?" He turns away again, paces to the window, and his reflection is fractured, doubled, and you can't tell which one is the real him. "At least the waiter looked at you. At least he saw you. You act like I'm invisible unless you need something. Unless you're lonely, unless you're sad, unless you want someone to tell you you're pretty at 3 AM-"

"Fuck you," you say, louder now, anger rising up to meet the hurt. "That's not- I'm not-"

"What?" He spins around. "What are you, Sunshine? Tell me. Because from where I'm standing, you're the girl who keeps me on a shelf. Who takes me down when she's bored and puts me back when she's done. And I keep letting you. I keep waiting by the phone like some fucking-"

"Stop it!" You grab your bag from the chair, hands shaking. "I'm not doing this. I'm not-"

You get three steps toward the door before his hand closes around your wrist.

"Let go."

"Why?" His grip tightens, not hard, just enough to stop you, enough to make you feel the heat of his palm against your pulse point. "So you can run again? Back to LA, right? Back where it's safe? Where you don't have to feel anything?"

You wrench your arm, but he doesn't let go. You're facing each other now, breathing hard, inches apart, and you can see the shine in his eyes that he won't let become tears, can see the way his jaw is clenched so tight it must ache.

"Say it," he says, low, rough. "Say you're running."

"I'm not-"

"Say it."

And you can't. Because you're not running, you've never been able to run from him, not when he's looking at you like this - like you're breaking his heart and saving it all at once.

"I hate you," you whisper.

"No, you don't," he says, and then his mouth is on yours.

It's hard and desperate and tastes like years of waiting, and for a moment you melt into it, your body betraying you, your hands fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer. But then your brain catches up, the words he just threw at you still sharp in your chest, and you push against his shoulders, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

"Wait," you breathe, your lips tingling, your heart hammering. "Wait, you don't get to do that."

He's breathing hard, his eyes dark, his hands still gripping your waist. "Do what?"

"Blame me," you say, your voice shaking. "You don't get to tell me I never stay, that I never risk anything, and then just kiss me like that fixes it. Like I'm the only one who messed this up."

His jaw tightens. "That's not what I-"

"It is," you cut him off, pushing against his chest until he steps back, giving you space. "You want to talk about me leaving? About me not expressing my feelings? Well what about you, Jungkook? When have you ever told me to stay? When have you ever actually said what you want?"

He stares at you, chest heaving, and you see something flicker in his eyes - hurt, defensiveness, the mirror of your own accusations.

"I've been here," he says, his voice low, dangerous. "I've been right here, watching you date assholes who don't deserve you, watching you leave and come back and leave again. What was I supposed to do? Beg you?"

"Yes!" you shout, the word tearing out of you. "Maybe! Or at least tell me! Tell me you want me to stay instead of just letting me go, letting me think you don't care-"

"I care," he snaps, stepping toward you again, crowding you back against the wall. "I care so fucking much it makes me sick. Is that what you want to hear? That I've been in love with you for three years and I've been dying every time you walk away?"

Your breath catches. "Then why didn't you say-"

"Because you were always leaving!" He's close now, so close, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in. "And you seemed fine with it. You seemed fine with whatever we are."

"I'm not bored," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I was never bored. I was scared. I'm still scared."

"Of what?"

"Of this," you say, gesturing between you. "Of wanting you this much. Of needing you and having you leave instead."

"I'm not leaving," he says, his voice softer now, raw. "I've never left. You're the one who-"

"Because you never asked me to stay," you interrupt, and there are tears in your eyes now, hot and humiliating. "You never said don't go. You just let me."

He stares at you, his expression shifting, softening, the anger draining out of him like water. "I didn't think I had the right," he admits, quiet. "I didn't think you wanted me to ask."

"Well I did," you say, your voice small. "I do."

He leans in then, slow, giving you time to pull away, and brushes his lips against yours - softer this time, questioning. You don't pull away. You kiss him back, tentative, tasting the salt of tears you can't tell are his or yours.

"Stay," he whispers against your mouth, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. "Don't go back to LA. Not yet. Stay with me."

"You don't mean that," you say, but you're kissing him again, deeper now, your hands sliding up his chest.

"I do," he insists, breaking the kiss to look at you, his eyes fierce. "I've never meant anything more. Stay tonight. Stay tomorrow. Stay-"

"Stop talking," you breathe, and pull him back to you, your mouth crashing against his, hungry, desperate.

He groans, his hands dropping to your waist, lifting you, and you wrap your legs around him, the friction of him against you making you both gasp. He walks you backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, and then you're falling, hitting the mattress with him on top of you, settling between your legs with a weight that feels perfect, inevitable.

"Wait," you gasp, tearing your mouth away, your head spinning. "Wait, I'm still mad at you."

"Good," he growls, his mouth moving to your neck, sucking hard enough to mark. "Be mad. Yell at me. But don't leave."

"I'm not-" you break off with a moan as he grinds against you, his hips rolling in a way that makes you see stars. "I'm not leaving, but you- you have to-"

"Have to what?" He lifts his head, his eyes dark, challenging. "Tell me what you want, Sunshine. Use your words."

"I want you to stop talking in circles," you manage, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him back to you. "I want you to show me. Show me you want me."

He kisses you again, hard, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, and you meet him with equal fervor, your teeth clicking, your breath mingling. He pulls back just enough to strip your shirt over your head, and you help him, your bra following, and then you're bare and he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world.

"Beautiful," he breathes, and then his mouth is on your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and you cry out, arching into him.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hands tangled in his hair, holding him there. "Jungkook-"

He switches sides, his hand replacing his mouth on the first breast, pinching and rolling your nipple while he sucks hard on the other, and you're whimpering now, your hips bucking up against him, seeking friction.

"Still mad?" he asks against your skin, his voice smug, teasing.

"Yes," you breathe, but you're pulling at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. "Take this off. I want to feel you."

He sits back, stripping his shirt off, and you sit up too, reaching for him, your hands running over his chest, his shoulders, the ink on his arms. He shivers under your touch, his eyes falling closed, and you lean in, pressing your mouth to his collarbone, his throat, biting gently at his jaw.

"Tell me," you whisper against his skin. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," he says, his voice rough, his hands gripping your hips. "I want your mouth on me. I want to be inside you. I want everything, Sunshine, I've wanted everything for so fucking long-"

You push him back, guiding him until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, and you sink to your knees in front of him, your hands working at his jeans. He lifts his hips, helps you strip him, and then he's naked in front of you, hard and thick and straining toward you, and you want him in your mouth more than you want to breathe.

"Fuck," he breathes as you wrap your hand around him, stroke him once, twice. "Sunshine, you don't have to-"

"I want to," you say, looking up at him through your lashes. "I've wanted to. Tell me to stop and I will."

"Don't stop," he groans, his head falling back. "Please, god, don't stop-"

You lean in and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, from base to tip, and he shouts, his hips jerking forward. You take him into your mouth, sucking lightly, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, and his hands are in your hair, not pushing, just holding, his fingers trembling.

"Your mouth," he pants, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, your mouth, I've thought about this-"

You take him deeper, inch by inch, until he's hitting the back of your throat, and you swallow around him, hollowing your cheeks. He cries out, a raw, guttural sound, and you pull back slowly, letting him feel every inch, then sink back down, finding a rhythm.

"So good," he babbles, his hips stuttering. "So fucking good, you're perfect-"

You pull off with a wet sound, catching your breath, and he whines at the loss, his eyes opening, fixed on you with desperate hunger. You meet his gaze, then lower your head to his balls, heavy and drawn up tight. You lick at them, soft and wet, and he groans, long and low, his knees spreading wider.

"Sunshine- fuck, that's- don't stop-"

You take one into your mouth, sucking gently, rolling it on your tongue, and the sound he makes is inhuman, a broken moan that echoes off the walls. You lavish attention on them, sucking one and then the other, taking them both into your mouth and rolling them gently, and he's babbling now, incoherent, his hands tight in your hair.

"I'm gonna come," he warns, his voice strained. "Fuck, I'm close, please-"

You pull off with a wet sound, denying him, and he whines, high and desperate, his hips chasing your mouth.

"Not yet," you say, your voice filthy, and you start kissing your way up his body - his hip bone, the sharp line of his stomach, the ridge of his ribs. You push him back onto the bed, your hands firm on his chest, and he goes willingly, sprawling back against the sheets, his cock twitching against his stomach, wet and aching.

"Sunshine," he groans, his voice wrecked. "Please, I need to-"

"You don't get to finish yet," you interrupt, straddling his thighs, pinning him down. "Not when you've been such an ass."

"Then punish me," he challenges, his eyes dark, his chest heaving. "Go ahead."

You lean down, your mouth finding his nipple, and you suck hard, teasing with your teeth, and he shouts, his back arching off the bed, his hands flying to your hair. "Fuck- fuck, that's-"

He snarls, flipping you over suddenly, his strength surprising you, pinning you beneath him. You gasp, your back hitting the mattress, and he's between your legs, his hands rough on your thighs, spreading you open.

"My turn," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You got to play. Now I get to taste."

He doesn't wait for permission. He dives in, his mouth hot and filthy on your cunt, licking a broad stripe up your folds that has you screaming, your hands fisting in the sheets. He groans against you, the vibration making you see stars, and then he's spitting on you, wet and obscene, rubbing it into your clit with his thumb before he goes back to sucking you into his mouth.

"Look at you," he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to speak, his chin wet with you, his eyes fixed on your face. "Look how fucking desperate you are. Grinding on me like you couldn't wait to get this pussy on my tongue."

"Jungkook-" you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.

"You want me to eat you out?" he asks, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "You want me to make you come all over my face? Say it."

"Yes," you gasp, your face burning, your body aching. "Yes, please, eat me out, I need it-"

He goes back to work with a vengeance, his tongue circling your clit before he sucks it hard into his mouth, his fingers sliding into you, curling to find that spot that makes you cry out. He's messy, filthy, spitting on you again to make you wetter, his fingers fucking you in time with the suction of his mouth, and the sounds he's making - groaning like he's the one being worshipped-are driving you insane.

"So fucking sweet," he pants against your thigh, his fingers never stopping, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Tastes so good. Been dreaming about this, dreaming about having you like this, making you scream-"

"Don't stop," you beg, your voice breaking, your hands in his hair, holding him there. "Please, don't stop, I'm so close-"

"Come for me," he demands, his tongue flat against you, licking broad and filthy. "Come on my tongue, Sunshine. Let me drink you down."

You do. You let go, and the orgasm crashes through you, violent and overwhelming, your back arching, your vision whiting out, your body clamping down around his fingers in rhythmic pulses. He doesn't stop, keeps licking you through it, drawing it out until you're whimpering, oversensitive, trying to close your legs.

"Can't take it," you gasp, pushing at his shoulders. "Too much-"

He crawls up your body, his face wet with you, and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself, filthy and perfect. You can feel him, hard and thick against your thigh, already ready again, desperate and throbbing.

"Let me get a condom," he mutters against your mouth, his hand reaching toward the nightstand.

You catch his wrist, stopping him, your heart hammering against your ribs. "No," you breathe, your voice raw, desperate. "Please. I want to feel you. Just you."

He freezes, his eyes snapping to yours, dark and blown wide. "Sunshine," he warns, his voice rough, strained. "You sure? I can't- fuck, I need to be careful with you-"

"I'm sure," you insist, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, your heels digging into his lower back. "I'm on the pill. And I trust you. I want to feel you come inside me, Jungkook. Please."

He groans, a broken, guttural sound, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his whole body trembling against you. "Fuck," he whispers, his voice wrecked. "You can't say shit like that. You can't-"

"Then do it," you challenge, rolling your hips against him, feeling the hot, hard length of him slide against your wetness. "Fuck me bare. Fill me up. Show me you mean it."

He snarls, his restraint snapping, and then he's pushing into you, slow and deep and completely unhindered, and the feeling is overwhelming - hot and thick and perfect, skin against skin with nothing between you. You both cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck," he pants, his eyes rolling back, his jaw clenched tight. "Fuck, you feel- you're so hot, so wet, I can feel all of you-"

"Move," you beg, your voice breaking, your legs tight around him. "Please, Jungkook, move, I need you-"

He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound that tears from your throat is primal, needy. The friction is perfect, intense, every ridge of him dragging against your walls, and he's groaning with every thrust, his head thrown back, his chest heaving.

"So good," he grits out, his hips snapping against yours, setting a brutal rhythm. "So fucking good, you're taking all of me, fuck- you're so tight around me, squeezing me-"

"Yes," you gasp, your head thrown back, your back arching off the bed. "Yes, just like that, don't stop, harder-"

He gives you harder, his hips pistoning against yours, the bed creaking beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall. He's hitting something deep inside you, a spot that makes your vision blur at the edges, and you're clawing at his back, your legs wrapped tight around him, pulling him deeper with every thrust.

"Touch yourself," he demands, his voice ragged, his rhythm faltering slightly as his own pleasure mounts. "I want to see you touch yourself while I fuck you."

You slide your hand between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit, swollen and sensitive, and you rub tight, desperate circles. The added sensation is too much, just enough, and you're climbing again, the pleasure building in waves that crash higher and higher.

"Jungkook," you warn, your voice high, broken. "I'm gonna- I'm close-"

"Not yet," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm as he chases his own release. "Not yet, I need to feel you from behind, need to see that ass while I fuck you-"

He pulls out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, and he flips you over with rough hands, pulling your hips up until you're on your knees, your face pressed against the mattress. He spreads you open with his hands, groaning at the sight of you, wet and open and waiting for him.

"Fuck, look at you," he breathes, his hands gripping your hips, his thumbs spreading your folds. "Look how fucking wet you are for me, dripping down your thighs-"

"Please," you whimper, pushing back against him, seeking friction, seeking him. "Please, Jungkook, I need you inside me-"

He pushes in with one long, smooth thrust, deeper from this angle, hitting places that make you scream into the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets. He's groaning, long and low, his grip on your hips bruising as he pulls you back onto his cock, meeting his thrusts.

"So deep," he pants, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, you're so deep like this, taking all of me, fuck-"

He sets a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room, wet and filthy. He's hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, the one that makes your legs shake, your vision blur, and you're pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, desperate for more.

"Touch yourself," he demands again, his hand coming around your hip, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough and filthy. "Come for me, Sunshine. Come on my cock while I fuck you like this-"

"Yes," you gasp, your voice muffled against the mattress. "Yes, don't stop, I'm so close-"

He doesn't stop. He fucks you harder, his fingers working your clit in tight, desperate circles, and you're climbing, climbing, the coil tightening, tightening, until-

You come with a scream, your back arching, your body clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses that draw out his own climax. But he doesn't stop, keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out until you're whimpering, oversensitive, your body trembling.

"One more," he growls, his voice strained, his thrusts becoming jerky, desperate. "One more position, I want to see your face when I come-"

He pulls out, flipping you over again, and pulls you up until you're straddling him, your hands braced on his chest. He guides himself back into you, his hands on your hips, and you sink down onto him, taking him deep, so deep you feel impossibly full.

"Ride me," he demands, his eyes dark, his jaw clenched. "Ride my cock, Sunshine. Show me how much you want it-"

You do. You roll your hips, finding a rhythm, your hands bracing on his chest, your nails digging into his skin. He's groaning, his head thrown back, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you, lifting you and pulling you back down onto him.

"Fuck," he grits out, his hips bucking up to meet you, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm. "You're so fucking beautiful like this, taking my cock, fuck- I'm close, I'm so close-"

He groans, long and low, and then he's coming, his whole body tensing, his cock pulsing inside you, hot and thick and filling you completely. His hands grip your hips hard enough to leave marks, his forehead pressed against your chest, his breath hot and fast against your skin.

"Fuck," he pants, still twitching inside you, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, Sunshine, I wish you could taste me inside of you."

You whimper at the thought, at the filth of it, but before you can respond, he's flipping you onto your back, spreading your legs wide, and diving between your thighs. You gasp, shocked, as he licks at your folds, messy and desperate, gathering the wetness of you both on his tongue.

"Jungkook-" you breathe, your hands flying to his hair, but he's relentless, lapping at you with long, filthy strokes, his tongue delving inside to taste where he just filled you, where you're still warm and full of him.

He lifts his head, his chin wet, his eyes dark and fixed on yours, and then he's crawling up your body, his hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back. He leans down and spits into your mouth, the taste of you both mingled on your tongue, warm and filthy and intimate, and you moan around it, swallowing, your whole body trembling.

He kisses you then, hard and desperate, his tongue sweeping through your mouth, sharing the taste, the intimacy of it overwhelming, perfect. You kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him to you, tasting yourself and him together, the most vulnerable thing you've ever shared.

When he finally pulls back, he's breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching your face like he's memorizing you.

"Stay," he whispers, his voice rough, his thumb brushing your swollen lower lip. "Not just for now. Stay."

You close your eyes, your heart hammering, and for the first time, you let yourself want it too. "Okay," you whisper. "I'll stay."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The Vegas sun is too bright. It cuts through the gap in the curtains like a warning, landing directly on your face, and you groan, pulling the sheet over your head. Your body aches in places you forgot existed. Your mouth tastes like him, like the filthy things you said to each other in the dark.

You become aware, slowly, that you are not alone in the bed.

He's awake. You can tell by the quality of the silence, the way he's holding himself still, pretending to sleep. You can feel his eyes on you even through the sheet.

"Stop staring," you mumble, your voice wrecked.

"I'm not staring," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm admiring."

You peel the sheet down just enough to glare at him. He's on his stomach, chin propped on his hands, the blanket low on his hips, the ink on his arm shifting as he breathes. He looks annoyingly perfect. Rested. Like he didn't spend hours fucking you until you couldn't remember your own name.

"You're too smug," you say, pulling the sheet back up. "This is weird."

"What's weird?"

"This." You gesture vaguely at the space between you, at the wreckage of the room, your clothes scattered like evidence. "Weird."

He laughs, soft and warm, and reaches out, his hand finding your hip under the sheet. "It's not weird. It's us. Just... finally."

"Don't say finally like that. Like it's inevitable. Like you knew."

"I did know," he says simply, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. "I've known for three years. You were the one who needed convincing."

You bury your face in the pillow, your face burning. "I hate you."

"You don't." He tugs at the sheet, trying to pull you closer. "Come here."

You let him pull you, let yourself be arranged against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, his chin resting on your head. You breathe him in, memorizing this, knowing you shouldn't.

"I have to go back," you say, the words quiet, into his skin.

He goes still. "What?"

"To LA. My flight's at noon."

"Today?" His voice changes, something cracking. "You just got here."

"I know." You close your eyes, your heart hammering. "But I have work. I have... I can't just stay, Jungkook. I can't just-"

"Can't you?" He pulls back, his hands finding your face, tilting it up to look at him. His expression is wrecked, all the softness gone, replaced by something desperate. "Can't you just... stay? For once?"

"I can't." Your voice breaks. "I want to. God, I want to. But I can't."

He stares at you, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, his eyes searching yours like he's looking for something to hold onto. "So that's it? We do this, we finally do this, and you just... leave?"

"Jungkook-"

"Don't." He lets go, rolling onto his back, his arm thrown over his eyes. "Don't say my name like that. Not if you're going."

The silence stretches, heavy and awful, filled with the hum of the city below, the reality of morning after.

"I'll be back," you whisper, not sure if it's true, not sure if you're promising something you can keep.

"When?"

"I don't know."

He laughs, but it sounds broken. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

You sit up, the sheet pooling around your waist, your chest tight, your eyes burning. You should get dressed. You should leave. You should do what you always do.

But you can't move. You can't make yourself stand up and walk away from this, from him, from the only thing that's ever felt like home.

"Look at me," you say, your voice rough.

He doesn't. He keeps his arm over his eyes, his jaw tight, his whole body radiating hurt.

"Jungkook. Look at me."

Slowly, painfully, he lowers his arm. His eyes are red-rimmed, wet, and it breaks something in you to see it, to know you put that there.

"I'm not running," you say, the words careful, deliberate. "I'm not... this isn't me leaving because I don't want this. I want this. I want you. But I have things I can't just drop. You know that. You have things too."

"So what do we do?" he asks, his voice small, younger than you've ever heard him.

"I don't know," you admit. "But... we figure it out? Together?"

He stares at you, his expression shifting, hope warring with fear. "Together," he repeats, like he's testing the word.

"Yeah." You reach for his hand, your fingers interlacing with his. "I'm not good at this. I'm going to mess it up. But... I want to try. If you do."

He doesn't answer immediately. He looks at your joined hands, at the morning light catching on your skin, at the wreckage of the room around you.

"There's a show in LA," he says finally, his voice quiet. "In three months."

Your breath catches. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He looks up at you, his expression softening, something like a smile touching his mouth. "Maybe... maybe you could be there. In the audience. Not backstage, not hiding. Just... there. Watching."

"I could do that," you whisper, your heart hammering.

"And after," he continues, his thumb brushing your knuckles, "maybe we could get dinner. Somewhere public. Where people might see."

"Jungkook-"

"I want people to see," he says, his voice firmer now, his eyes holding yours. "I want them to know. I'm tired of hiding this. I'm tired of pretending you don't matter."

You stare at him, this boy who waited, who wanted, who finally let himself have you only to watch you leave. You think of three months, of phone calls and time zones and the particular ache of missing someone who exists in a different world.

"Okay," you say, the word barely audible. "Okay. I'll be there. Front row."

"Please," he counters, a ghost of his smirk returning. "I want to see your face when I sing."

"Deal."

You lean down, kiss him slow and careful, tasting the salt of tears neither of you shed, the promise of something you don't know how to keep. When you pull back, he's smiling, sad but real, his hand still holding yours like he's afraid to let go.

"Go," he says softly. "Before I convince you to stay."

"I don't need much convincing."

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough. "That's what scares me."

You dress in silence, wearing the hoodie he gave you last night, your clothes scattered like breadcrumbs, evidence of what you did here. He watches from the bed, the sheet wrapped around his waist, his eyes following you like he's memorizing you, like he's already missing you.

At the door, you turn. He's still watching, his expression open, vulnerable, nothing like the boy who performs for millions.

"Three months," you say.

"Three months," he echoes.

You smile, small and real, and walk out the door before you can change your mind.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The camera wobbles as he adjusts it on the hotel dresser, angling it toward the bed. He's shirtless, hair messy, eyes soft with sleep and something else, something sated and sad all at once. The morning light filters through the curtains, golden and lazy, illuminating the wreckage of the room - clothes on the floor, sheets tangled, evidence of a night he can't talk about.

"Morning routine," he says, his voice rough, still sleep-thick. "Vegas edition."

He moves through the room collecting things - his phone charger, a water bottle, the vintage camcorder he uses for everything. He doesn't make the bed. He doesn't notice the white bra peeking out from beneath the rumpled white sheets, the strap just visible, the lace detail catching the light.

He sits on the edge of the bed, the camera still rolling, and runs a hand through his hair. "Good show last night," he says, his smile small, private, meant for someone who isn't there. "Really good night."

He stands, stretches, his back to the camera, and the sheets shift, the bra sliding more fully into view - delicate, feminine, utterly wrong for a hotel room where a boy band member sleeps alone.

"Anyway," he says, turning back, oblivious. "Day four today, I'll see you all very soon." He reaches for the camera, hand covering the lens. "Cut."

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The video is everywhere within minutes. Screenshots, zoomed-in crops, slow-motion replays. The hashtag starts trending before lunch.

@/kookielover97: um. um. UM. WHAT IS THAT IN THE BED????

@/bangtantheories: THE SHEETS ARE WHITE. THE BRA IS WHITE. HE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE. HE POSTED THIS. HE ACTUALLY POSTED THIS.

@/jungkookbiased: zoom in. zoom in on the bed. second frame from the end. that is NOT a tank top. that is NOT his. WHOSE IS THAT

@/rkivesarchive: ENHANCE. ENHANCE. the lace detail. the strap width. that's a WOMEN'S bra. a women's BRA.

@/kookenthusiasts: he slept in that bed. someone else slept in that bed. HE SMILED LIKE THAT AND SOMEONE SLEPT IN THAT BED.

@/jimingotjams: the bra appears to be a standard white t-shirt bra, possibly Calvin Klein or similar mid-range brand. not expensive. not fancy. someone PRACTICAL was there

@/seokjinsfishingrod: practical. someone practical. someone who doesn't need to impress him. someone who already KNOWS him.

@/theorythread: let's analyze the timeline. he posted the vlog at 11am vegas time. his flight was at 2pm. that means he filmed this MORNING. after someone LEFT. the bed is unmade. the bra is UNDER the sheets. they SLEPT there. together

@/kookielover97: IM SO JEALOUS

@/bangtantheories: the smile. watch the smile again. that's not a performance smile. that's a "i got laid and i'm sad about it" smile. that's a "someone left me" smile. WHO LEFT YOU JUNGKOOK???

@/armydetective: the hoodie he was wearing in his last story. the oversized one. the MERCH one. someone was wearing it. someone was wearing HIS hoodie. and left their BRA.

@/tatasandtaetas: SHE TOOK THE HOODIE. SHE LEFT THE BRA. THIS IS CINEMA.

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

The text comes through as you're above the clouds, the plane humming around you, his hoodie still soft against your skin. You pull out your phone, expecting a goodbye, a safe flight, something sweet.

Instead: a photo. His hand. Your bra - the white one you couldn't find this morning, the one you left behind in your hurry - wrapped in his fingers, the comments visible on his laptop screen in the background. No words. Just proof.

Then another text.

JK: 2.7 million views

JK: They found you

Your stomach drops. You open the link he sends and there it is - the vlog, the screenshot, the zoomed-in crop of white on white, your bra visible in the wreckage of the bed you shared. The comments are already endless. Bra girl. Who is she. Find her.

You: oh my god

You: jungkook you didn't notice???

JK: I noticed now

JK: I'm keeping it

JK: let them look. let them wonder. I know who you are

You stare at the screen, your heart hammering against your ribs, the hum of the plane filling your ears. Somewhere below, the internet is on fire. Somewhere behind you, he's holding onto the only piece of you he has left, refusing to let go.

JK: three months

JK: front row

JK: I'll see you there

You close your eyes, the phone warm in your hand, his words settling somewhere deep in your chest. Outside the window, clouds stretch endless and white. Ahead, Los Angeles waits. And three months from now, so does he.

“ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE FERRARI DRIVER, WHO EXTENDS HIS LEAD IN THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!”

The grandstands continued to roar, the deafening cheers echoing throughout the circuit, frantic, relentless, and filled with undeniable admiration.

The roar of the engines had fallen silent, yet the Monza circuit remained under the thunderous noise of more than ninety thousand people —perhaps even more than that — singing with overwhelming pride and joy. Countless red flags waved through the grandstands as a Ferrari slowly completed its celebratory lap.

Him. — Jeon Jungkook raised one gloved fist from the cockpit.

Another victory. His seventh of the season. The seventy-third of his career.

“Grazie, ragazzi!” — Jungkook’s voice came through the team radio, breathless yet beaming with exhilaration. He couldn’t help but let a few curses slip in his native language, earning a round of laughter from his race engineer. — “The car is unbelievable, magnifico.”

“No, JK.” — The engineer replied. Jungkook could hear the smile in the older man’s voice; years of working together had made it unmistakable. — “You were the unbelievable one out there, mate.”

On the pitwall, the Italian team’s mechanics jumped over one another, screaming with euphoria; the feeling of securing a home victory was satisfying, truly rewarding. — The true honor of Ferrari. — Without suppressing or interrupting the celebration, Kim Taehyung was the second driver to cross the finish line and meet the checkered flag, securing a one-two finish for the red team.

Jungkook parked the SF-26 in the designated spot marked by the enormous number one sign. He then removed the steering wheel and released himself from the harness and the car’s safety restraints, taking a deep breath. As he lifted his visor, the sound of the crowd seemed to double in intensity, in sheer force and passion. — It was extraordinary. — He climbed out of the car, raising his arms as a gesture of relief and strength.

After completing the correct and mandatory post-race procedures, Jungkook didn’t waste a single second before celebrating his victory.

The golden helmet, detailed with purple and black accents, was removed, revealing his dark hair completely messy and stuck to his forehead from the sweat. But nothing stopped him from messing it up even more with his fingers and feeling comfortable with the temporary hairstyle.

Ferrari had won once again.

The photographers, still buzzing with excitement, fired hundreds of flashes — and fought for the best angle of the young man without hesitation, even risking creating chaos — while Jungkook greeted some officials from the department and welcomed Taehyung with a fearless, heartfelt embrace. Even through the helmet, the younger driver admired the brightness in his teammate’s eyes.

It was the kind of embrace reserved for those who had shared years together, victories, defeats, and countless hours inside Ferrari. — Not to mention the endless complaints over the team radio.

“So, you decided to fly today?” — Taehyung asked, his voice muffled by his helmet, a grin evident in his tone. — “I knew you weren’t going to waste that pole position.”

“Looks like you did too,” — Jungkook replied as he reached for his water bottle and set his helmet down in the designated area. — “I thought you were going to come after me after that last Safety Car.”

“I thought about it.” — They both laughed. Taehyung could have, and he genuinely considered, overtaking the younger driver on lap forty-two; he wasn’t lying. In the end, though, he chose to stick to the team’s strategy. Besides, he had won the previous race. — And he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip away at the next Grand Prix. — “You deserved it, man.”

One of the photographers captured the moment; without a doubt, he thought, it was one of the finest shots he had ever taken throughout his career. — Ferrari’s confident, seemingly unstoppable partnership.

“Jungkook!” — A familiar voice caught the race winner’s attention, pulling him away from his conversation with Taehyung. Warm and upbeat, yet always carrying a youthful enthusiasm for her role and her work, her tone had always been inviting, especially to him.

The call, clear and instantly recognizable amid the chaos of engineers, photographers, and mechanics still riding the high of the race, drew his attention at once. It was curious — and peculiar, so incredibly peculiar — how, among hundreds of voices echoing around him, he could still pick yours out effortlessly, as if his body had learned to search for your long before his mind even realized it.

Funny enough, there was something about your voice that always managed to capture his attention; soft, comforting, and reassuring. It carried that effortless warmth, that so deeply admired charm capable of winning anyone over, whether there was a camera pointed at you or not. — Anyone.

Except him.

Or, at least, that’s what the world believed.

His dark, gleaming eyes found the figure approaching, and his lips threatened to give away a smile he was quick to suppress. — Jungkook caught the corner of his lower lip between his teeth, absentmindedly biting down against the piercing; a habit he desperately needed to break. — One of these days, he was going to rip the jewelry right out.

“First of all, congratulations on the win!” — Your words came across flawlessly professional, accompanied by your signature warm smile, your eyes gently curving with genuine sincerity. — “I’d say it was a nearly flawless race, wouldn’t you?” — You extended the interview microphone toward the driver.

“Well, i suppose i can.” — Barehanded now, Jungkook accepted the microphone. For the briefest of moments, his fingers brushed against yours.

“Starting from pole position, managing your tires in a way only a handful of drivers can, and doing it here of all places; you built a gap of more than seven seconds to the driver in second over the closing laps.” — You had a remarkable ability to catch every detail and put it to use in your interviews, something that both impressed your fellow journalists and kept the drivers on their toes. — “Honestly, it looked like no one could keep up with you.”

And you was right. Jungkook wasn’t about to argue with your last remark. That didn’t mean he wanted to feed his own ego or boast about his drive. — He knew how to distinguish confidence from arrogance, regardless of the shallow headlines and manufactured rumors claiming otherwise. — In response, the tattooed driver gave a subtle nod of agreement.

“The team gave me a fantastic car.” — Jungkook took a deep breath, his gaze drifting toward the grandstands and the members of the team gathered together, embracing his teammate as they celebrated the podium finish. — “I’m grateful to my team and to the fans. This is all because of them. I just had to do my job.”

“Honestly, it’s great to hear that.” — The broadcast camera centered on the driver as he waved to the crowd, raising both fists in triumph while thousands of voices erupted, chanting his name. — “But on lap… thirty-two, you ignored your race engineer’s recommendation to preserve the medium tires. Instead of managing them, you kept pushing at the front and attacking.” — Hidden within the praise were the carefully crafted criticisms that came with your job. — “Was that confidence or recklessness?”

Raising an eyebrow, you paid no attention to the quiet murmurs from the other journalists gathered around the interview area. You was simply doing your job; and doing it exceptionally well. Questions like that were sharp, necessary, and invaluable for the network’s upcoming coverage, not to mention the official Formula 1 broadcast team. — Well, you had never been known for going easy on your questions. As a matter of fact, you had never once taken it easy on that particular driver.

Jungkook let out a quiet, breathy laugh, almost unable to believe what he was being asked. — You were unbelievable. — Years of experience had taught him to recognize a provocation from a mile away, and he’d learned to deal with it in his own way; to answer it in his own way. His smile widened, making the piercing on his lip catch the light, as he narrowed his eyes at you.

He almost felt like congratulating you on the question.

“Look…” — He said your name with unmistakable cynicism and a hint of arrogance, never letting the sly, barely charming smile leave his lips. Listening closely, you leaned in toward Jungkook. — “I didn’t realize they’d started handing out psychological evaluations around here.”

“Then what’s the verdict?” — You pressed, making it clear you expected an answer.

“Confidence.”

“Not even a little recklessness? Maybe just in the heat of the moment?” — You furrowed your brows, meeting his answer with the slightest hint of skepticism.

Oh, you knew that infuriating driver all too well.

“No.” — He shook his head. Reaching for his water bottle once again, he took a long drink, easing the dryness in his throat. Moments later, a team member handed him a cap, which he slipped on without hesitation; he was grateful, he’d had enough of the sun beating down on his face. — “If I’d been driving recklessly or acting on impulse, you’d be interviewing someone else instead.” — Jungkook pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, an old habit of his. — “Right?”

This time, it was your turn to take a deep breath. Silently, you thanked your cameraman for keeping you out of the frame and focusing solely on the driver. Jungkook enjoyed the attention, but he rarely looked directly into the camera. — Instead, his eyes remained fixed on you. — Watching, with unmistakable satisfaction, your reaction to his answer.

“Fair enough.” — You gave a slow nod in agreement. Moistening your lips, you broke eye contact with Jungkook for the briefest of moments before meeting his gaze again. — “But does that mean you believe you know better than your team?”

“I think i know exactly what my car is capable of.”

For the second time during the interview, your name rolled effortlessly off Jungkook’s bold, unwavering lips. The way he said it was so firm, so assured. — It almost seemed as though he enjoyed the taste of your name, savoring every syllable. He never missed an opportunity to say it just as he occasionally made a point of using your last name as well.

Truthfully, — with all the honesty Jeon had been raised with, something he remained deeply grateful to his family for — your surname rolled off his tongue like a fine wine, one of the young driver’s favorites. Perhaps that was why he always found himself coming back to it, savoring the sound each time he spoke it.

You hated that damn man.

“Interesting, Jungkook.” — This time, the cameraman turned the lens toward you, bringing you into the live broadcast for the first time. A moment later, he swept the camera across the crowd, the teams, and the drivers who had secured podium finishes before settling back on the two of you. — “Some people, and plenty of fans, believe that taking that risk simply wasn’t necessary.”

Before returning to Jungkook, the camera briefly caught Taehyung in the background, waving to the crowd and blowing a small kiss toward the cameraman.

“So do you enjoy taking risks?” — A faint smile tugged at your lips. — “Why?”

Oh.

Jungkook knew. — You weren’t talking only about the race or his performance in the Grand Prix. It was foolish to think he could escape one of your loaded questions. Keeping his razor-sharp tongue ready to answer you as professionally as possible — a habit that had fueled countless whispers throughout the paddock and the media alike — had never been enough to win this little game the two of you insisted on playing.

The lead driver for the Italian team didn’t answer immediately. Maybe the journalist had finally left him speechless, someone would undoubtedly comment that on social media. Or perhaps it would become the headline of an article or, more likely, a gossip site. — His PR team was probably in for an exhausting few days ahead; then again, that was exactly what they were paid for, complaints or not.

“Not always,..” — Jungkook narrowed his eyes once again, never once breaking eye contact with you. His jaw tightened, yet his expression remained composed, unwavering; far too composed for someone so accustomed to hiding what he was truly thinking. — “Only when the reward is truly worth it.”

For a brief moment, neither the murmur of the teams, nor the relentless clicking of cameras, nor the roar of the fans seemed to exist. Jeon’s answer lingered in the air, deliberately open-ended, inviting far too many interpretations.

The brief, almost suffocating, silence that settled between you and the driver felt unusually heavy, an unexpected pause for both the viewers and the cameras. He knew exactly where his words could land, whether for better or for worse. — The two of you needed to remember that you couldn’t stand each other. One careless slip, and the carefully choreographed game you had been playing for years would unravel into a spectacular disaster.

A complete fucking disaster, in fact.

Holding Jungkook’s gaze for only a few seconds, just long enough to make sure not a single damned emotion slipped through in front of the camera, — or the countless other cameras, broadcasters, and rival journalists surrounding you. — tour lips curved into a flawless smile. The same polished, unmistakably professional one. Then, you turned your attention back to the cameraman.

“Congratulations on a brilliant victory, Jungkook!” Instead of offering your hand first, as etiquette would normally dictate in your role, Jungkook was the one who reached out. Your eyes dropped to his large, tattooed hand. — “Thank you for your time.”

He gave a small nod, his posture remaining effortlessly relaxed. A quiet, almost inaudible “thank you” slipped from his lips before he released your hand and took his leave.

Stepping away from the interview area, Jeon made his way back toward the team, greeting engineers and mechanics along the way; they nearly snatched the cap right off his head in celebration. — Every second of it was being captured. — Now, all that remained was for the second driver to finish his interview before they could finally celebrate the way they truly wanted. He could hardly wait to enjoy his victory.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOUR WINNER OF THE MONZA GRAND PRIX: JEON JUNGKOOK!”

The hotel room — located, as you recalled, near Lake Como — remained bathed in semi-darkness, softly illuminated by the region’s amber and orange light filtering through the curtains of the massive glass window; it was the tail end of the afternoon.

His tattooed hands found your waist with such familiarity — a perfect fit — pulling you close even though you were already in bed; his cunning lips captured yours in an urgent, utterly famished kiss. It seemed as though he had spent the entire day holding back that damned desire — which was true. Jungkook was acting with a ferocity, perhaps even something more intense than that.

Your fingers slid along the back of the oldest's neck, tousling and tugging at his dark hair as you deepened the kiss. It was slow one moment, then intense the next. — He caressed your tongue, licking and sucking on it with immense satisfaction; he knew you enjoyed it, and you felt yourself becoming all the more aroused. — Low moans and vibrations occasionally escaped him. — The faint taste of metal from the jewelry in Jungkook’s lip intrigued you; it was a sensation you never tired of.

"Do you ever get tired of trying to kill me during your interviews?" — Breaking away from your mouth with a loud, wet pop, Jungkook planted a series of soft, quick kisses along your cheek. Both of you struggled to catch your breath and return to normal.

"Well, it's my job, babe." — You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling a slight tension in his shoulder muscles. Hearing your man’s low chuckle, you raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" — Jungkook’s lips grazed yours again. — "So, you know more than your team?" — He mimicked your voice, trying his best to hit the perfect tone while maintaining a professional air. You laughed, amused by the cheap imitation, and called him "insufferable." — "You like it, i know you do."

"Mmh…" — You murmured, sounding needy. You felt his hands roaming over your stomach, caressing it with up-and-down strokes beneath your T-shirt. Soon, Jungkook lowered his head, practically rubbing against you as he trailed a path of soft kisses down your body; it was obvious what he was after.

Jungkook lifted your T-shirt up toward your chest, exposing your midriff; he planted long kisses and traced patterns with his tongue, as if sketching something on your skin. Then, moving closer to your bare legs — grateful that you were wearing nothing but panties — he wasted no time settling right between your thighs; aside from the missionary position, this was one of his favorite places to be.

As he pulled off your panties and tossed them aside, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, Jungkook furrowed his brows and nearly let out a groan at the sight of the wet sheen on your pussy.

"Like i said, it's my jo…" — You were about to argue, just to tease him for fun, when you were cut off by the sensation of his tongue sliding between your folds; your pussy was met with a long, slow lick. — "Fuck!" — You groaned loudly, letting out a whimper right after. Your boyfriend's tattooed hands gripped your hips, as if trying to hold you fast.

Jungkook’s moan, as he savored your taste, vibrated through your body, sending a wicked jolt and a shiver down your spine. He sucked on your folds, unbothered by the wet, utterly filthy sounds he was making, and with every passing second and opportunity, he inhaled your scent, openly acknowledging his obsession with you. — He murmured things like "don't move, my love" and "stay perfectly still, just like that," but it was no use.

Your hips ground against his mouth, — it wasn't your fault, and you swore to him you were trying to hold back — but your waist would lift involuntarily from the spasms, prompting Jungkook to grip you tighter; he licked you fervently, teasing your clitoris with the tip of his tongue. Just the way you liked it, a technique you’d learned from him.

"Aegi, please…" — You pleaded in a muffled voice, lifting your eyes toward him. A thin thread of saliva connected his mouth to your pussy. — "Easy now." — Jeon murmured gently; though it didn't seem like he was holding back as he devoured you. He immediately went back to sucking you, instantly penetrating you with his tongue.

"Shit, Ggkie…" — Your fingers found your hardened nipples beneath your shirt, squeezing them to cope with the pleasure driving you mad. Jungkook sucked your clitoris, licking it like a sweet treat, then moved down to your wet, pulsing opening; you could feel his nose brush against your clitoris every now and then. — "Like that, just like that…" — You stammered.

That bold tongue — the one that used to curse you out whenever he ran into you in the paddock or the Ferrari garage — was sliding in and out of you. It savored his favorite taste, working over your entire pussy and leaving no spot unattended. He knew his chin and nose were slick with the mixture of your juices and his saliva.

"Always doing your job so well." — His words vibrated through your body; Jeon knew how much you loved praise. He noticed your thighs trying to summon the strength to squeeze him. — "The best of them all." — He kissed your sensitive little bud. — "And you're all mine." —

Shit, shit, shit.

A wave of burning heat, mingled with shivers, intensified in your belly; you felt a tingling sensation and a slight, maddening itch. With your legs trembling and goosebumps racing across your skin, you were drawing closer and closer to orgasm. — The urge to weep from sheer, overwhelming desire, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, washed over you. You tugged at the driver's hair, making him groan in pain, while digging his short nails into your skin.

"Jungkook, ugh," — You whimpered, drool spilling from your lips. — "Please, please…" — You were begging for something, though you didn't know quite what; there was no need to plead or implore him. Jungkook would have given you anything anyway.

"Come on, Jagiya." — He soothed. His voice calm, husky, and sweet. — "Give it to me, come on." — Amidst his licks and a long, deep suck on your clitoris, you climax right into Jungkook’s mouth. The wet, loud sounds coming from between your legs were intense; he didn't want to leave a single drop behind.

Well, the articles and headlines hadn't lied when they called him selfish.

Boldly, Jungkook spread your pussy open with his index and middle fingers in a "V" shape to gain better access and lick you all over, while your legs practically smothered him. — But, unfortunately, his dream of dying between your beautiful thighs was still a long way off. — Disregarding your body's hypersensitivity, he wanted to savor your climax.

That man was impossible, unbelievable. — At least he was yours.

The first lie that you tell yourself you aren’t going to succumb to the temptation to click on it. The second is that you are only doing so because you’re curious and have a right to know. 

But the reality is that you are not curious because you already know how these things work. A blurry photograph taken out of context, a vague caption to suggest just enough to turn a whisper into a wheel that keeps turning, and then a few anonymous comments from people who know nothing about your life that suddenly becomes thousands of strangers that feel entitled to decide what is happening inside a relationship they have never seen. Leaving the people whose lives are subjected to the microscope feeling naked and judged before the self-assembled celebrity court. 

Usually, you can ignore it. Usually, you are better at remembering that Jeon Jungkook is one of the most recognisable people in the world and that rumours are simply another part of the noise surrounding him. But today the headline catches you at the wrong moment.

| Jungkook spotted with mystery woman; fans speculate new romance.

You hate that your stomach twists before you even read the rest. You hate that there is a tiny, irrational part of you that wonders whether there is something you have missed. Whether his busy schedule, the late nights, the cancelled plans and the moments where he seems lost in thought, have nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with someone else.

You know him. You know the way he laughs when he is genuinely amused, the way he gets embarrassed when you compliment him too seriously, and the way he pretends not to care when you tease him but always ends up smiling. You know the man who steals the last piece of food from your plate and then acts offended when you call him greedy, the same man who falls asleep holding your hand because he claims it is more comfortable, even though you are fairly certain he just likes knowing you are there.

But the internet does not know any of that, and unfortunately, for a few minutes, neither do you.

You close the article and place your phone face down on the table. It should be easy to move on —except when Jungkook comes home later that evening, you are quieter than usual. Not enough that anyone else would notice, but he picks it up. Jungkook isn’t some perfect mind-reader, but he’s been in your life long enough to know what your ordinary is. He knows what your silence sounds like when you are tired and what it sounds like when something is bothering you.

He drops his bag near the door and looks over at you sitting on the couch, the phone still in your hand. “What’s wrong?” he asks, face already creasing with worry as he slips off his jacket and hangs it up.

“Nothing,” you reply, a little too quickly, feeding his suspicions. 

His pierced eyebrow lifts. “Doesn’t look like nothing, baby,” he says. “What is it? Did something happen?”

You sigh despite yourself, because that is exactly the kind of observation that makes it impossible to stay upset around him. “Why do you have to know me so well?” you mutter under your breath, not really meaning for him to have heard you. 

But a small smile appears on his face as he walks towards you, he’s clearly heard every word. “Hey,” Jungkook says. “I like that I know you well. It means something.”

The softness in his voice makes your expression falter. He sits beside you, turning towards you and reaching out to turn your face gently to him. “Talk to me,” he urges. “What is it?”

You hesitate. It feels silly saying it aloud. It’s almost embarrassing because you know the truth. You know him and trust him —but feelings don’t always wait for permission before appearing.

“It was just something I saw online,” you blurt out. Jungkook wouldn’t have let it drop without you telling him anyway. 

His face changes slightly, concern etched clearly over his handsome features. “What kind of something?”

You swipe your phone on to unlock it and show him the article. For a moment, he’s silent, his expression hardening. Then he exhales quietly. “Seriously?” he states, clearly annoyed. “That must have been why my phone was going crazy; I have a zillion missed calls and messages from management.” 

“I know it’s probably stupid,” you say quickly. “I know rumours are rumours. I just—” You stop when you see his face drop, wishing you hadn’t let the whole thing affect you this much. Jungkook didn’t deserve it. 

He looks at you. “Just what?”

You look down at your hands, feeling like you let him down. But you couldn’t help your feelings, being in this situation was hard for both of you. You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Koo,” you tell him. “I just hate that sometimes I feel like I have to compete with a version of you that everyone else has created.”

He stays quiet, wide eyes taking you in without words as the room settles around you, the television playing softly in the background, forgotten. Then slowly, he reaches for your hand. “Y/N, you never have to compete with anything or anyone.”

You look at him hopefully. “Koo, I know. I just—”

“No,” he interjects gently. “I don’t think you do.” His inked fingers stroke over yours with a familiar touch as he looks you right in the eye. “The people who write those things don’t know me. They know a picture, a performance about a person they don’t know. They make up whatever story they want to make because it gives them something to talk about.”

Your heart aches for him. The almost shy boy that he was behind the global idol image, who wanted nothing but to laugh, play games, eat good food and be free to ride his motorbike. Who wanted to wake up beside you and feel loved. You hurt because you know standing at his side means you would have to keep up the strength to hold up those barriers together with him, because on some days they were just too heavy. 

“Honestly, I don’t even remember when this picture was taken,” he says thoughtfully. “I don’t even recognise who she is, I promise. I think I was running on two hours of sleep that day. They must have just…” He groans exasperatedly, body tensing as his jaw clenches. “—Fuckers. Now whoever she is, she’ll probably be getting a load of shit because of this. Fuck!” 

Your hand squeezes his back with affection, wanting him to know you were with him. That you shouldn’t have let doubt creep into your heart. “Relax,” you say softly. “Your company will handle it, right?” 

He sighs. “They will, but they shouldn’t have to,” he says frustratedly. “This is bullshit. They can’t keep dragging people into the firing line like this.”

It was typical Jungkook that he was thinking more of others than himself, and you love him all the more for it. “It’ll be okay, Koo,” you say. “It’ll die down, just like all the others did.”

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “It still sucks. And on top of all that, you know I get a bit… tetchy when I haven’t eaten properly.”

“You are quite annoying without food,” you tell him lightly. 

He gives a small laugh. “Sometimes.”

“Let me make you something,” you offer. 

But Jungkook’s expression has become serious again. “Not just yet,” he tells you. “I need you to understand something, Y/N.” You meet his eyes. “There is no mystery person, and no secret relationship. There is nobody else, baby —no one I’m choosing over you.” 

His words are to the point and hearing him tell you with so much sincerity means everything.  Jungkook has never been the type of man who makes grand speeches or makes promises just because they sound romantic. When he says something, it is usually because he has given it a lot of thought about it.

“I would never hurt you,” he says. “You believe me, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you reply. “I trust you, Koo.”

His face visibly relaxes. “I hate that you were sitting here feeling like this alone,” he says. “I’m so sorry I was late tonight. Rehearsals went over.”

Your heart constricts in your chest. “I shouldn’t have brought all this up,” you say. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

His expression immediately changes. “You’re never a bother,” he says firmly. “Don’t ever think like that. I’m here for anything for you, you know that.”

The answer comes so quickly that you believe him before you can even question it. He moves closer and pulls you to him. You rest against his broad shoulder, inhaling the woodsy scent of him, content that you were here and nowhere else in the world. 

“You know what gets to me?” he says. 

You look up at him. “What?”

“That you think you have to hide things from me because my life is complicated,” he answers. “I never want you to feel that way.”

You swallow. “I just know how much pressure you’re under,” you explain. “I don’t want to add to that.”

“And I know how much pressure you’re under too,” he retorts. You look away, but he gently turns your face back towards him. “Please don’t make yourself smaller because of my job.”

The tenderness in his voice nearly breaks you. “Koo,” you whisper. 

“I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want you to feel like you must be the strongest person all the time just because I’m the one people are watching.”

You smile faintly, leaning into him again. “You’re getting very serious tonight,” you tell him, wanting to lighten the mood. He didn’t need the added stress of a pointless situation. 

“I’m always serious.”

You raise an eyebrow and shoot him a sceptical look. Immediately he breaks out into a laugh and holds out a hand. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Maybe sometimes.”

“That’s more accurate.”

He shakes his head with a grin and pulls you back to him. You relax against his chest, and you both just sit in silence for a few minutes. You listen to his breathing, feel the warmth of him beside you, and let the reality of the moment replace the imaginary version created by strangers.

“When I see rumours about myself, I usually ignore them,” Jungkook says suddenly. “But when it affects you, I can’t stand it.”

You place a kiss against him, and he strokes your shoulders slowly. “You’re the one person who sees everything,” he goes on. “You see the person behind everything else. The person who gets nervous and overthinks, who sometimes needs reassurance.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “You just described yourself pretty well.”

“Exactly.” 

He looks pleased that he managed to make you laugh and holds you tighter to him. “You still love me, right?” he asks tentatively. 

You nudge him in the ribs. “What kind of question is that?” you say. “You know I do.”

“I was just testing if you were still paying attention.”

You smile to yourself, relieved that your Jungkook was here. “You’re terrible!” you tell him. 

“So terrible that you can’t help but love me,” he counters.

You can’t argue with him, so instead you reach up and bring his face down, brushing a kiss against his lips. You look at him when you pull back, watching how his eyes darken as he looks back at you. 

You kiss him again, your earlier insecurity banished, the action reminding you both that these ordinary moments you share away from the eyes of the world mean more than any headline. Jungkook’s hand settles gently against your cheek as he kisses you back, and the affection between you feels far more real than anything written by someone who has never met either of you.

“Better?” he whispers when you break for air. 

You think about it for a beat. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I’m still annoyed.”

“At me?”

You smile, settling against him. “No, not you Koo —at the stupid internet.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Koo?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” you say. “For making me feel like I’m allowed to have feelings about this.”

“You’re allowed to have every feeling, baby,” he says. “But next time, talk to me before you spend an hour convincing yourself something is wrong.”

You look guilty. “Was I really that obvious?”

“Yeah, you kinda were,” he replies. You laugh, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, you know?” 

Your eyes shut as you bury your face into his chest, his strong arms closing around you like a protective barrier against everything negative, reassuring you that he’s yours. “I love you too, Koo,” you whisper against him. 

The rumours will disappear eventually, and another headline will inevitably replace them, and then a different story will be invented by people who will never know the truth. But you will still have this. 

Jungkook’s hand holding yours, his voice reminding you with quiet certainty that whatever the world thinks it knows about him, the person beside you is the only truth that matters.

thanks for reading |

The bedroom light is soft, casting warm shadows across the room as Jungkook stands before you, his work-roughened hands gentle as they cradle your face. You can still smell the faint trace of sawdust and sweat on his skin, a reminder of the long day he's put in at the construction site just to get home to you.

"Hey," he murmurs, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone. "You're nervous."

It's not a question. He knows you too well now, eight months of quiet dates and stolen kisses, of his patience never once wavering even when you'd pull away, even when you'd make excuses. He'd wait. He always waited.

You nod, unable to find your voice as you stand there, acutely aware of every inch of your body. The way your thighs press together, the soft curve of your belly beneath your shirt, the way you've always felt like you take up too much space.

Jungkook’s dark eyes hold yours, steady and sure. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"That you've been working all day," you whisper, reaching for his shirt, desperate to shift the focus. "You must be so tired. Let me—let me take care of you."

His lips quirk into that soft smile that makes your heart stutter. "Is that what you want? To take care of me?"

You nod eagerly, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt. He lets you pull it up, lets you reveal the hard plane of his chest, the tan skin dusted with a light sheen of sweat. He's beautiful. All lean muscle and strength built from honest labor.

"You're so good to me," you breathe, more to yourself than to him.

"Am I?" His hands settle on your hips, warm and grounding. "Because I've been thinking about this all day. About you. About finally getting to see all of you."

Your breath catches. Your fingers curl into his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin. "Jk, I'm—I'm not—"

"I know what you are." His voice dips lower, rougher, and his grip on your hips tightens just enough to make you feel it. "You're my girl. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I've been patient, baby. So patient. But I need you to trust me now."

The words settle in your chest, warm and heavy. You want to trust him. God, you want to.

"Can I undress you?" he asks, and the request, the softness of it, undoes something inside you.

You nod.

His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he lifts it slowly. Deliberately. Like he's unwrapping something precious. The fabric slides up over your stomach, your ribs, and you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, to curl inward. But his eyes never leave yours, never drop to judge.

When the shirt clears your head, he folds it carefully, sets it aside, and finally lets his gaze travel down your body.

And what you see in his expression isn't disgust or disappointment. It's hunger. Pure, raw hunger.

"Look at you," he breathes. His hands come up to cup your sides, thumbs tracing the swell of your hips. "So fucking soft. So beautiful."

"Koo—"

"Let me touch you." It's not really a question this time. His hands slide around to your back, finding the clasp of your bra. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

You can't speak. You can only nod, and that's enough.

The bra falls away, and the air hits your skin, makes your nipples tighten. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he looks at you, bare before him, and his hands come up to cup your heavy breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks.

"God," he rasps. "So full. So perfect. These are mine now, aren't they?"

You whimper, your hips shifting forward of their own accord. "Yes."

He squeezes gently, and the sensation shoots straight through you, pooling hot and heavy in your belly. "That's right. All of you is mine. And I'm going to take such good care of you."

His mouth finds yours then, deep and consuming, and his hands never stop moving. They slide down your sides, over the swell of your hips, gripping your ass with a possessiveness that makes you gasp against his lips.

"When I think about you," he says between kisses, "about how patient you've been, how sweet you've been, letting me court you for six whole months—I've wanted to ruin you, baby. I've wanted to take you apart piece by piece."

"Then do it," you breathe, and the words shock even you.

He pulls back, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide. "Say that again."

"Take me apart. I want you to."

Something shifts in his expression. The softness is still there, but now there's an edge to it, a control he's barely holding onto. He guides you backward until your knees hit the bed, until you're sinking into the mattress, looking up at him.

He follows you down, bracing himself above you, and the weight of his body, the heat of him, makes you feel small for the first time in your life.

"I'm going to go slow," he says, his lips brushing against your throat. "I'm going to kiss every inch of you, and I want you to feel it. Every. Single. Touch."

His mouth traces a path down your neck, over your collarbone, and when he takes your nipple into his mouth, you arch up with a sharp cry. He laves at it, sucks gently, and his hand finds the other, rolling the sensitive peak between his calloused fingers.

"So responsive," he murmurs against your skin. "So perfect for me. You have no idea what you do to me."

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as he worships your chest, alternating between soft licks and harder sucks that leave you gasping. His free hand slides down your stomach, over the curve of your belly, and you tense for just a moment.

He notices. Of course he notices.

"Don't," he says, lifting his head to meet your eyes. "Don't hide from me. Not now. Not ever."

"Koo... you work so hard, and I just... I want to make you feel good too."

A low sound rumbles in his chest. "You make me feel good just by letting me touch you. Just by being here, soft and beautiful and mine."

His hand continues its journey, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers sliding through the slick heat he finds there. He groans.

"So wet," he breathes. "Is this all for me?"

All you can do is nod, your hips bucking into his touch as his fingers find your clit, circling slowly.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise washes over you like warm water. "My perfect, good girl. You've been waiting so long, haven't you? Let me take care of you now."

His fingers work you with expert precision, sliding lower to press inside you, one finger, then two, stretching you slowly while his thumb continues its assault on your clit. You're gasping, crying out, your nails raking down his back.

"That's it," he says, his voice strained. "Let go for me. I've got you."

And you do. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, pulling you under, and Jungkook works you through it, his mouth finding yours to swallow your cries.

When you come back to yourself, he's kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your nose.

"Good," he whispers. "So good. But we're not done yet."

You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he strips off his pants, revealing his hard length, thick and ready. Your mouth waters.

"Let me—" you start, reaching for him.

He catches your wrist, presses a kiss to your palm. "Later. For our first time, I want to be inside you. I want to feel you around me. I want to please you.”

He settles between your thighs, and you can feel him against your entrance, hot and insistent. He pauses, meeting your eyes.

"Tell me you want this."

"I want this. I want you."

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you in the most delicious way. Your hands grip his shoulders, your breath coming in short gasps as he fills you completely.

"Fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to yours. "You feel... you're so tight. So perfect."

He stays there for a moment, letting you adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours, his body a warm weight above you.

"You can move," you whisper.

And he does. He rocks into you with slow, deep thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing, pressing your palm into the mattress beside your head.

"Look at me," he commands softly, and you do. His eyes are locked on yours, vulnerable and fierce all at once. "You're doing so well. Taking me so beautifully. I could stay inside you forever."

Your hips rise to meet his, matching his rhythm, and the sounds you make are obscene, wet and slapping, mixed with your breathless moans and his guttural groans.

"Close," he warns. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside," you beg. "Please, Koo. I want to feel you."

His hips snap harder, faster, and he buries himself deep with a final, shuddering groan, spilling into you with a string of curses that sound like prayers.

He collapses against you, his face buried in your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, and you feel the stickiness between your thighs, the evidence of his desire, and for the first time in your life, you don't feel too big.

You feel perfect.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin. "Every inch of you. Don't ever doubt that."

Your eyes sting with tears. "I love you too."

He lifts his head, catching the tear that escapes with his thumb. "None of that. Only smiles. You're mine, and I'm yours, and we have all the time in the world to figure out how good this can be."

He kisses you softly, and when he pulls away, there's a playful glint in his eye.

"Now. About that mouth of yours..."

Perm taglist : @kimmynammy @celliez (comment or ask to be added)

You can still feel his arms move, fingers moving quickly on his keyboard as he’s still playing Overwatch. He’s been playing for hours and you were bored. And horny. Horny because he was such a tease this morning—you were making breakfast and he had come up behind you, grinded his hips against yours as he oh so innocently asked if you could make him breakfast as well. And it wasn’t just that. He teased you while you both ate breakfast. He teased you when you showered, surprisingly joining you in the shower but not touching you at all. Then he ignored you and started playing, so you whined and whined until he said you could come sit on his lap and wait while he finished.

You roll your hips just to get back at him. He hisses through his teeth. You smile to yourself.

“Baby,” he warns and you roll your hips again, even daring yourself to start kissing up the column of his neck. “Stop moving or I’ll spank you.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “As if,” you say as you grind down against his hips. “You’re too busy playing.”

He drops one hand to squeeze your waist in warning. You’re going to get what you want, finally, even though you’d probably be punished first. But you don't mind. You loved it even, craved for it. And you knew Jungkook loved this little game you both were playing as well.

Suddenly it’s quiet and you realize he closed the game. “Bed. Now,” is all he says. He sounds so serious so you have no choice but to stand up and walk quickly to the bed. You know this by now. Everything comes second nature to you that your body moves on its own. You take your shirt off so you’re finally naked and then you kneel on the bed and look down.

You don’t dare look up as you hear him moving around the room. Excitement is coursing through your veins and you can’t help but fidget in your position. Sure, you had to push a few of his buttons to get him to snap and give you what you want. You were probably going to get punished for it but it was fine. It was—

“Hands.”

Your head snaps up and your eyes zero in on the handcuffs he’s holding in front of you. Your eyes widen. Okay, so maybe you pushed him a little too far. He looks so serious, eyes brooding and staring straight at you. You’re frozen in place as he stares down on you.

“Don’t make me ask again, sweetheart.”

His voice snaps you from your trance and you bring both hands up. He cuffs your wrists silently and you feel goosebumps across your skin. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold metal or the scary look on his face. His eyes roam your body, from your lips to your perked nipples and down to your core. Your cheeks redden from his burning gaze.

“Ass up and head down, baby. You know the drill.”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “But—”

He raises his eyebrow. “Do you want me to get the whip?” You shake your head quickly and get into position but it’s hard because your hands are handcuffed. Jungkook knows this as well and he enjoys seeing you struggle as you try to get on all fours. You end up leaning on your elbows with your face pressed against the mattress. You spread your knees and arch your back, not in the slightest bit embarrassed that he’s now seeing how wet you are.

He places his hand on your back and you jump at his soothing touch. He rubs your skin soothingly but you know he’s just doing that to get you to relax. “Count to fifteen for me, okay?” he says lowly. “And if you make a mistake, we’ll start all over again.”

Before you can even reply you feel his palm smacking your ass, his big hand hitting your right cheek and your body jolting in surprise. You feel the pain shoot down all the way to your toes. “O-one,” you choke out. Despite this you arch your back even further.

Jungkook chuckles and rubs your skin slowly. “My naughty baby,” he says softly. “Didn’t listen to me at all,” he continues and slaps your ass again, this time the left cheek.

“Two,” you whisper hoarsely. “I’m sorry, I’m—”

Another hit. You count again. And again and again. There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, really. You want to evade his slaps but you also want more. Jungkook’s slapping your ass and you’re counting and you want him to stop but at the same time you don’t because it just feels so good. It’s making your head fuzzy, the pain that’s spreading through your body but also making you incredibly wet. Your pussy is dripping, can tell from the way you feel it coating your inner thighs.

Another slap. This time it’s on the skin where your ass and thigh meet. “Six,” you croak out.

Jungkook laughs from behind you and pinches your butt. “Wrong number. Again.”

You try to shuffle from your position. Your elbows are starting to hurt from leaning on it for too long. Your ass is on fire and you’re sure you won’t be able to sit down properly tomorrow. “No—” you try to argue, try to wiggle from away but Jungkook’s holding your waist firmly. He’s rubbing smoothing circles on your skin but it’s not doing anything for you.

“We can always stop. You just have to say the word.” He touches your core this time, his fingers teasing your clit. You moan and press back further into him. “Seems like you even like it. My little pain slut.” He pinches your clit and you gasp.

“Again please. Slap me again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you rush out. Your brain is fuzzy and you feel everything and nothing at once. You want to feel the pain. You want to prove that you can handle it. Want to make Jungkook happy. To please him.

He says nothing more and slaps your ass. You start counting from one again and he keeps going and you don’t tell him to stop. You’re crying by the tenth slap, shoulders pressed against the bed and your arms stretched out in front of you. Jungkook alternates from rubbing your skin affectionately to slapping you harshly.

“Last one, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me.” He’s rubbing your ass and you feel his thumb press down on your rim and you absolutely keen, the filthiest moan coming out of your mouth and your spine stretching even further. “God,” he laughs. “Such a fucking slut, hm?” he chastises and presses down even harder. Your eyes roll back and you’re seeing stars. The pleasure feels so good. His hand feels so good. “A fucking slut who’d take anything I’d give, right?”

You nod because you can’t say anything else, mind too ridden in pleasure.

Jungkook slaps you for the last time. One harsh smack that leaves a handprint on your left cheek and you hear it echo in the room.

“Fifteen,” you shriek. “Thank you, I’m sorry—” You’re babbling now. You feel Jungkook lean over you, his body covering yours as he kisses up your spine, your neck to your ear.

“My good girl,” he says so softly as if he didn’t slap you more than twenty times. He nibbles your earlobe and you shiver. “Took your punishment so well, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear.

“I want you,” you beg. “Please, I want you now.” You feel his body leave you and suddenly you’re craving for his warmth again. But then you feel his mouth on your pussy, his tongue licking into you and you groan. “More.” You press further into your face as he eats you out. “Want more. Please.”

“Greedy girl,” he says as he sucks on your clit. Your orgasm is coming embarrassingly close. It just feels so good. His tongue is swirling on your clit, collecting your juices that he laps up like he’s starved. He pleasures you so well that your thighs are shaking. You’re almost there, almost feel the knot in your stomach snap.

But then Jungkook leans back just as you’re about to orgasm. He’s mean. Jungkook is so undeniably mean sometimes that you want to smack him for it. Want to reach down with your own hands and make yourself come but you can’t because you’re fucking handcuffed.

You whine out loud and more tears stream down your cheeks. “Jungkook,” you say, so wound up and frustrated and tired. All the while he’s laughing at your demise. Laughing at the way you struggle and squirm. Suddenly, he flips you and your back is on the mattress, eyes blown out and looking straight at him.

He hovers over your body and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “Look so pretty when you cry, baby.” You pout at him and he grins.

He kisses you and you arch your back to get closer to him. His lips feel so good against yours, mouth opening slightly to let his tongue slither into yours and lick into your mouth. The kiss is messy and wet and it’s just the way Jungkook likes when he’s riled up like this. Likes it messy when he’s being mean and you let him anyway because you love it as well. He leans back and squeezes your cheeks with one hand, forcing you to open your mouth. You know what’s coming, can tell from the gleam in his eyes and the way he stares at your mouth. You put your tongue out and open your mouth even wider. He doesn’t even have to ask.

“God, you're filthy,” he says but spits in your mouth anyway. It hits your tongue and your hips roll up involuntarily. You swallow and open your mouth to show him, loving the way he looks at you like this. “Good girl.” He loops your cuffed hands around his neck so you’re trapped underneath him. His fingers trail down your body, pinching your nipples and then down to your clit where he circles it with two fingers.

“Jungkook,” you moan out. He’s rubbing your clit so quickly now and he’s also nipping at your neck, biting until the skin blossoms into pretty shades of pink. You’re coming before you know it, legs shaking and hips moving up and down. Still, his fingers don’t stop its assault on your cunt.

“Another one, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear. “Let go for me.”

You close your eyes and focus on the way he’s playing with your clit. You’re not even embarrassed that he’s making you come again just from touching your clit alone. You feel your orgasm building up, the coil in your stomach becoming tight and then snapping. And then you feel the bliss, feel it all over your body that you don’t even moan or make a sound. You’re crying again from how good it feels.

Finally, finally Jungkook slows down his fingers. He kisses your forehead and looks down at you with his doe eyes. You can’t even focus on him, too busy trying to even your breathing. “So beautiful for me.” He thrusts two fingers into your core and you babble out his name over and over again. You feel full just from his fingers and you think you might come again.

“Need to stretch you out,” he huffs. He’s still wearing his boxers but you can see how hard he is already.

You shake your head. “Want you now.” He ignores you and continues fucking you with his fingers. “Jungkook,” you plead. “Need your cock. Please, please— I’ve been good,” you all but beg.

Suddenly he withdraws his hands and leans a bit back to take his boxers out, his cock springing out to slap against his stomach because he’s so big and hard and—it’s throbbing. He wants you just as much as you want him right now. He presses his body to yours as he holds his cock, rubbing its tip against your pussy to gather the juices. And then in one swift motion he enters you, filling you to the hilt where his pelvis is pressed against yours.

“Feels so tight,” he groans out. “Feel so good for me baby. God,” he chokes.

You’re at a loss for words, too focused on the feeling of being so full. He starts thrusting and he hits your g-spot right away.

“Faster,” you moan. You encircle your legs around his waist and bring him closer. He’s careful not to crush you so he places his forearms on either side of your head. Your legs instantly wrap around his waist and you push him even deeper, feeling him deep in your stomach. You can feel his cock brushing against your cervix and you arch your back even more, already unaware of the loud moans escaping your mouth. “Jungkook, I’m—”

He hikes your legs over his shoulders and because your cuffed hands are around his neck both of your bodies are pressed against each other, not a bit of space to separate you both. It feels like you’ve been folded in half and your legs are starting to ache but it feels so good. “God, look at you,” Jungkook breathes out as he keeps the punishing pace of his hips against yours, hands holding your thighs so tightly you’re sure it’s going to bruise. “Wanna wreck you, wanna—”

“I’m close,” you cry out and this time you’re not even embarrassed that you’re about to come again.

Jungkook starts kissing your jaw, nose pressed to your cheek as you feel his teeth nibbling your skin. “Come for me, baby. Want you to make a mess.”

And you do. You come from his filthy words, from the way his cock feels inside your pussy, from the way he’s holding you tightly. Your vision blurs for a moment and you cry from how good it feels, how your legs start to feel like static and everything’s wet and messy but you want more. Jungkook fucks you through your orgasm until you whine and tell him to slow down. Then he maneuvers your bodies until you’re on top of him and your hands are free of the handcuffs. You didn’t even realize he’s taken it off, your head too high up in the clouds and stuck in that feeling of pleasure and euphoria. You still feel his cock inside you, so big and heavy and it’s twitching. But Jungkook isn’t moving and is rubbing your wrists instead to try to ease the pain of being handcuffed for too long.

“You good?” he asks quietly and you look into his eyes, see the concern in it but there’s a bit pleasure in there too. You nod and kiss his nose, a small but sweet gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by him because he’s smiling as well.

“Wanna keep going,” you say, voice hoarse and quiet from all the screaming you’ve done earlier. You start kissing down his neck, biting down on that sweet spot of his and it’s his turn to moan out loud. “Want you to fill me up, please.”

“Ride me baby. Be good and bounce on my cock for me, yeah?”

You nod quickly and start moving your hips up and down, resting your hands on his chest to go even faster. Your legs start to shake but you don’t care. You keep going despite the ache, the fatigue, despite the fact that your pussy feels so used but it still feels so good. But Jungkook’s helping you as well, hands on your waist to help you move up and down, words of encouragement and praise escaping his lips.

You feel yourself tighten around him, feel that coil tightening and wanting to snap. Your body feels so light but so heavy at the same time just begging for a release. You feel the wetness between your legs, to where you’re connected, to where it’s dripping down your thighs. You hear the sounds of skin slapping against skin. You feel rather than see Jungkook’s hands gripping your ass, squeezing the flesh between his long fingers. You feel his hand moving to your other hole, to the puckered rim that he played with a few moments ago. You push against him and moan again, wanting to tell him you want more but failing to get the words out your mouth because you’re too lost in the pleasure.

But Jungkook knows your body so well. “Greedy girl,” he says. “Always wanting more, huh?” he asks as you continue to bounce on his cock. You nod, the words barely processing in your pleasure muddled mind. His middle finger presses against your rim, not pushing it in but just applying pressure. Still, the coil inside you snaps and you feel your pussy gushing, your wetness coating your thighs and his chest and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to start fucking into you, his pleasure taking control to reach that high he’s been holding off for so long.

“Come inside me, please,” you whimper as you let him use you, brushing away the sensitivity that’s building in your body.

“You feel so fucking tight, so fucking good, God,” he huffs out as he finally comes inside you, hips stilling against yours and cock twitching inside you. You feel him fill you up, so undeniably full and tired but so good.

You both stay like that for a while, with you on top of him and his arms around your waist, touching you everywhere while he’s leaving kisses on your neck.

His finger circles your rim again and you shiver but you don’t say anything. You both know you can tell him to stop and he will if you say so, but you stay quiet so he pushes his finger in.

“Jungkook,” you croak. God, you’re so tired but you want more.

His pace is slow inside your ass. “Think you can come for me like this, princess?”

You nod because you’re too tired to speak. He takes his finger out to gather your wetness around your pussy then enters your ass once more, wiggling his finger inside your walls and eliciting a tired and quiet moan out of you. After a while he presses another finger inside and it’s so tight and you feel so full, his dick inside your pussy and two fingers inside your ass. He thrusts his fingers a little bit faster and you feel your orgasm building again. You’ve lost count. Maybe you were at your fourth? You didn’t know.

Suddenly you’re coming, so silent because you’re tired and spent and then Jungkook retracts his fingers out. “So good to me. So perfect. You did so well baby,” he whispers into your hair. He moves to sit up but you shake your head and tighten your arms around his neck.

“Don’t leave me,” you say as tears stream down your face. You don’t know why you’re crying.

“Gotta clean you up, baby—”

“No,” you cry out and hug him even closer to you. “Rest first,” you breathe out. “Please.”

Your arms are tight around him as you try to slow down your breathing. Whimpering every so often when Jungkook’s hands brush over your ass. He rubs soothing circles down your spine, whispering into your hair words you can’t make out and kissing your forehead from time to time.

A beat of silence, and then, “Did I go too far?” he quietly asks.

You shake your head again. “I just…” You shiver from his touch. “Just need to calm down.”

“I love you,” he says, kissing your head, pressing his lips into your hair and rubbing his nose gently against it. He continues rubbing his hands up and down your back. You feel his heartbeat through his chest, slowly and soothing which puts you at ease.

"We should try this trend, baby. Remember those Ghostface masks we bought last to last year for Halloween? I think We still have them."

"The Ghostface thing?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together as he replayed the clip.

You nodded eagerly."Yeah. You know... the mask... chasing and... well... you know."

You awkwardly gestured with your hands getting flustered...trying to explain.

A teasing smirk slowly spread across his face. "So... you're saying you want me to chase you then fuck you? "

You snatched your phone back almost instantly and smacked the back of his head. "Yah! Don't say it like that."

"...But yes."

Your cheeks were already warming.

The thing about Jungkook was that he was just as weird as you. He'd happily entertain almost any ridiculous idea if it sounded exciting enough..especially if it made you smile. That didn't mean he wasn't soft. If anything...it was one of the things you loved most about him. He could go from being an absolute menace to the gentlest person you'd ever known in a heartbeat.

He laughed and pulled you closer by the waist and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.."Yeah...its hot" he murmured with a grin. "I can see why people are into it. Let's do it."

You immediately slipped off the bed..standing there in nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts.

"Okay... when do we start?" you asked..folding your arms across your chest..pretending the idea itself wasn't already making you wet.

Jungkook stood up too..suddenly looking much more serious than before. "Go hide somewhere, baby," he said. "Give me a few minutes." His unexpectedly committed expression made you burst into laughter. "You're taking this way too seriously."

"You asked for the full experience." He raised his eyebrows as if slipping into the character right away.

Still giggling but now a little nervou....you opened the dresser drawer and grabbed the old Ghostface mask and tossed it toward him.

"Call my name when you're done?." You said while walking out of the room and he nodded while catching the mask effortlessly.

The door clicked shut behind you.

_

You disappeared into the bathroom near the kitchen and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your heartbeat was already racing.

You checked the time on your phone, then shut it off. You fixed your hair and splashed cold water on your face and took a deep breath before stepping back into the hallway.

The apartment was quiet. Most lights were off and only the dim red light strips Jungkook had installed the ones he said looked better in his lives cast a low and eerie glow. Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

You walked forward slowly. “Babe?” No answer.

The apartment felt unsettling quiet..making your throat go dry. As you looked around your phone suddenly rang...the sound making you jump.

"Unknown number"

You answered the call with shaky fingers. Only heavy breathing came through the other side, “Hello?” you said, still No answer, “Hello? Who’s this?” you tried again then his voice came through low and rough. “Shouldn’t have answered the call, dove.” He breathed heavily into the phone.

Your stomach flipped. “B-baby, what—?” You laughed, scared shitless. “What’s with the number??”

“Tsk tsk.”

“Who-who are you?” You played along catching his subtle warning.

“Have patience, darling. Maybe turn around and see me yourself?” He said it calmly and instantly disconnected the call. You spun arounsd but no one was there you're heart was pounding loudly by now abd then you turned back to your original position and there he was...standing near the balcony.

You shrieked. “God!”

You stumbled back a few steps. He was wearing nothing but his jeans...his toned abs on full display...hand tattoos glowing under the red lights and that Ghostface mask… it made you cunt throb because you're boyfriend looked so damn unreal.

“You’re so obedient, my love,” the masked man said...walking slowly toward you like he had all the time in the world. “Following my orders like a good fucking girl.”

“Who-how? Who are you?” you asked...fully committed to the act even though you were very terrified. “You should keep your windows locked, dove. Anyone could come inside.” He tsked, mocking you.

Before you could answer him he said, “Run…”

“Gguk, come on-” he cut you off mid sentence,“Run.” His voice was calm this time..a pause and he continued, “If I catch you… I kill you.” he started walking towards you with larger steps now.

You shrieked and bolted...your bare feet slapped against the wooden floor as you sprinted into the living room...almost slipping while dodging around the couch. Heavy footsteps came after you.

As if he already knew you weren’t getting away..

You didn’t dare look back. You could hear his breathing through the mask..slightly muffled but very real...another slow footstep..then another..yhen suddenly… nothing...his footsteps stopped.

You kept running anyway...ducking behind the kitchen counter. Your chest rose and fell hard. You strained to hear any sound but there was just Silence.

Only the soft sound refrigerator humming and your own frantic heartbeat could be heard. “…Babe?” you whispered...trying not to laugh at how scared you sounded.

No answer came so you peeked around the corner....it was empty.

So you got up and checked the guest room but it was also empty. The bathroom and the balcony was empty too so you called him out.

“Jungkook?”

The apartment suddenly felt much bigger than it actually was because every shadow looked wrong and every doorway felt like someone was standing just out of sight.

You slowly walked back into the hallway, hugging your own arms. “This isn’t funny anymore…”

You took another step. The floor creaked beneath your feet...You froze.

“…Baby?”

Silence....

“Okay… I give up.”

Just as you let out a nervous laugh and turned toward the bedroom......Someone was standing in the doorway...Perfectly still as if waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on you.

You didn’t even know how long he’d been there...but his head slowly tilted to one side and not a word he said but those hollow black eyes locked onto you.

A scream tore out of your throat and stumbled backward on instinct before turning to run again.

The moment you moved…He moved too..and this time his arm snapped around your waist strongly...yanking you back hard against his bare...burning-hot chest.

You shrieked so loudly that you were sure tomorrow someone will definitely make a complaint about it.

The cold mask pressed against the side of your neck and you felt his hot breath through the fabric as he growled low.

"Got you. "

His voice came out as a lowand distorted growl through the Ghostface mask and before you could even breathe...Jungkook spun you around and shoved you down onto the hardwood floor. Your knees hit first..then your palms...the cold wood made you gasp. He was on you instantly...heavy and terrifying. The mask hovered right behind your ear as he pinned your chest down with one hand between your shoulder blades...forcing your ass up.

“Too much?” he rasped, already yanking the oversized t-shirt up over your hips. “Tap my bicep twice and I’ll stop.” You nodded frantically against the floor.

He laughed darkly the sound sending chills down your spine...,“But that’s useless, isn’t it, dove?” He shoved two thick fingers into your soaked pussy without warning...curling them viciously. “I’m going to fuck you too dumb to even remember how to tap.”

You cried out..already drooling on the floor as he finger-fucked you hard and fast...the wet and obscene squelching sounds filling the room. He added a third finger...stretching you open while his thumb rubbed rough circles on your clit.

“Say it,” he growled..pumping faster. “Tell me why your windows were unlocked.”

You sobbed...hips jerking back against his hand..,“B-because… I wanted you to come in…”

“Louder, darling.” he cut you off... “I wanted you to creep in and ruin me!” you cried..tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Good girl.” He pulled his fingers out with a filthy wet sound and slapped your pussy once...making you jolt. Then he freed his thick and heavy cock and slammed into you in one brutal thrust

You screamed...nails scratching against the hardwood as he started pounding you mercilessly on the floor.

Every deep stroke made your tits drag against the wood...your cheek pressed to the cold surface while the Ghostface mask stayed locked in place above you.

“Does your boyfriend know?” he taunted...voice menacing through the mask as he railed you..,“Does he know his sweet little girlfriend is on the floor getting fucked stupid by a stranger’s cock?”

“N-no-ahh!” you sobbed...pleasure ripping through you so hard your vision blurred. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back...forcing you to arch deeper.

“Say it. Tell me what a filthy little dove you are.”

“I’m a filth-!” you wailed, drooling and crying as he destroyed your pussy. “I’m getting fucked stupid on someone else’s dick!”

“That’s right.” His hips snapped harder...the sound of skin slapping skin loud and wet...,“Making such a fucking mess on the floor like a desperate little dove. Look at you dripping everywhere baby.”

He suddenly pulled out...leaving you clenching around nothing.

You whined pathetically until he sat back against the bed frame and dragged you forward by the hair,“Open your mouth.”

The mask loomed over you as he pushed his cock past your lips and straight into your throat. You gagged hard...tears pouring down your face while he fucked your mouth with deep and controlled thrusts.

“Eyes up,” he ordered and you looked up at the terrifying white mask...choking and moaning around his thick length. Spit dripped down your chin onto your chest and the floor.

“Messy fucking girl,” he groaned...voice distorted. “Crying on my cock while your boyfriend is somewhere out there. Does he know you love being used like this?”

You shook your head weakly...sobbing around his cock. He pulled out suddenly...strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening length.

“Beg for it.” jungkook said, “Please… please fuck me,” you cried, voice hoarse and broken. “Please just ruin-me-”

He flipped you onto your back on the cold floor..spread your legs wide and slammed back inside your dripping cunt. The new angle made you scream...back arching as he pounded you mercilessly. His hand wrapped around your throat not squeezing hard...just holding you in place while the mask stared down at your tear-streaked and ruined face.

“Gonna cum all over a stranger’s cock, aren’t you?” he snarled. “Say it.”

“I’m gonna cum-I’m cumming-!” you sobbed...body convulsing violently as your orgasm crashed through you.

You squirted messily all over his cock and the floor...shaking and crying from the intensity.

Jungkook growled deep in his chest and buried himself into you deep...flooding your pussy with thick..hot cum. He stayed deep inside you..grinding slowly...letting you milk every last drop while you twitched and whimpered beneath him

._

You lay trembling and ruined on the cold hardwood floor...thighs shaking..tears still slipping down your flushed cheeks. Your pussy throbbed and leaking a messy mix of both your releases onto the wood beneath you. You could barely think straight..mind fuzzy...body buzzing.

The Ghostface mask hovered above you for a few more seconds… then Jungkook finally reached up and pulled it off.

His face was flushed..hair messy and damp with sweat and eyes soft and full of love the moment they met yours. The terrifying ghost face was gone replacing with your boyfriend now.

“Baby…” he breathed, voice hoarse but incredibly gentle.

He tossed the mask aside and immediately gathered you into his arms...lifting you off the messy floor and onto the bed like you weighed nothing. He pulled you against his chest...wrapping you up completely in his warm and strong embrace. His skin was hot and slightly sticky...heart still racing under your cheek.

“You okay, my love?” he whispered..pressing soft kisses to your forehead...your wet cheeks and uour swollen lips. His fingers stroked slow...soothing circles up and down your spine. “Was it too much baby? Be honest..im sorry if it was.”

You shook your head weakly...still sniffling and trembling in his arms. “It was… so much. Scary… but so good. I loved it.”

He let out a relieved chuckle and held you tighter....one hand gently brushing your messy hair out of your face. “You were so perfect, baby. So fucking good for me.” He kissed the top of your head again and again...rocking you gently. “My strong, brave girl.”

You curled deeper into his chest....feeling safe and small in his arms after everything he’d just done to you. He reached down and gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, then kissed where they had been.

“I made such a mess on the floor,” you mumbled shylyand embarrassed now that the heat had faded.

Jungkook laughed softly...the sound warm and fond. “I’ll clean it later..don't think about it. ” He pulled the blanket over both of you and tucked you closer and his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip. “You were crying so pretty… taking everything I gave you like my perfect little dove.”

You blushed hard and hid your face in his neck. He smiled and kept kissing you...soft andbloving kisses everywhere he could reach.

After a few quiet minutes...he tilted your chin up so you could see his eyes.

“We should do this shit way more often,” he murmured...voice low and sincere. “Maybe next time I’ll chase you with the lights completely off… or tie you up first so you really can’t run.” He smirked...but his eyes stayed soft with a hint of mischief. “Only if you want to baby, of course.”

You shivered at the promise but nodded...feeling warm and loved in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered...pressing one last gentle kiss to your lips. “So much. You did amazing, baby.”

He held you like that for a long time...stroking your hair and rubbing your back...whispering sweet praises until your breathing evened out and lulled you into a warm...safe haze in his arms.

You could hear the smirk on his face before you let your eyes glance his way, breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck and again, standing way too close for a pair of colleagues who spent way too much time working on social media projects together. But that was your story and you were sticking with it. Unfortunately Jungkook was a horrible actor – that much was obvious since the moment he sparked up this unlikely romance with you but in his defence, his impulses were intensified after weeks of being away from you. And you felt the same.

The relationship wasn't exclusive by any stretch of the imagination in the beginning, but as time went on, you became loyal to each other. The friends with benefits label was a facade for the public and for your employment but deep down, you both knew there was more to your relationship than just sex. You knew each other so intimately and spent hours staying up ‘til dawn, sharing your deepest, darkest secrets. He made you feel safe, like you were more than just a girl who happened to work for the same company he worked for. It was easy to get swept up in the lavish lifestyle and reap the benefits that came with it but Jungkook saw you differently – saw life differently. And to him, you were the missing piece to his puzzle.

You were friends’ first – great friends but he was charming and stupidly cute. And by some miracle, he felt the same way about you. But all of that meant your friendship had been compromised, your working relationship was hanging in the balance because if either of you caught feelings and made them public, then you’d have to report it to HR and you didn’t want to lose what you had.

Because sneaking around was kind of hot. Or really hot if you asked Jungkook and you didn’t want to burst his bubble. You weren’t that selfish and truth be told, you enjoyed the thrill of it. The secret glances from across a table when you were supposed to be taking photos, subtle touches whenever he complimented your suggestions in a meeting and riskiest of all, the quick fucks in stadium bathrooms before a concert. That had unabashedly become a perk of your job and a scandal waiting to be blown wide open.

“I think I have you booked in later,” You teased back and walked away from the man who was seconds away from exposing your secret, calling off dinner and dragging you up to his room. But he was better than that and obviously he could control himself for a couple more hours. Surely. 

“See you soon then.”

He looked like a man tortured when you walked into the restaurant, all of your glorious curves swaying side to side, eyes on everyone but him. Since simplicity was your style, you’d gone classic – long, black satin skirt hiding the stilettos you wished you didn’t have to wear, paired with a black blazer and a white, lacy top underneath.

It was a fancy establishment, which meant everyone was done up to the nines, their best attire on display and you were pleasantly surprised that Jungkook hadn't caved to the pressure of appearances, marching to the beat of his own drum in a basic black tee and leather jacket. He still looked as delicious as the Aperitini he’d already ordered for you, eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“For me?” You asked him politely, feigning surprise even though these were the little things he would do for you in place of physical touch.

“Of course.” He smiled, delighted that you took the seat directly across from him and not the one being offered to you by Taehyung who was dying to talk to you about visuals for their next music video.

“You look pretty,” he mouthed once everyone returned to their 'round the table small talk. Jungkook always had you blushing and fidgeting with your thin gold chain, as if it was the first time he'd ever said that to you. It wasn't but it still had you squirming in your seat, trying to distract yourself from looking at the man across the table.

The 3-course dinner was sensational, and more than satisfied the hunger you’d conjured up during your long day on the slopes and Jungkook agreed wholeheartedly. He had also worked up quite the appetite when retrieving you from the snow every time you stacked it, brushing the ice from your suit and cheeks, lingering longer than he should have. It was great fun but famishing once you all made it back to the resort.

“All my training has gone down the drain after that meal – my god,” He groaned and patted his trainer on the back with a mischievous smile, earning an eyeroll. 

You and Jungkook hung back from the group, both waiting for the other to send up the bat signal, or in your case, holding up the three-finger salute. Your first solo hang out – not a date – with Jungkook was watching the Hunger Games together, snuggled up with a glass of wine. Ever since, your signal to irish exit had been the sign used in that film and more recently it’d become your gesture for sex. Would you have liked it to be a little more sexy? Sure but it did the job.

“People are going to miss you, baby,” Jungkook whispered between the soft kisses he was pressing to your trembling lips, backing you against the only blank wall in his hotel room.

“Don’t care.” You rasped, moans caught in your dry throat as you felt a pair of cold hands unzipping the long silk skirt you’d worn to dinner and gliding it down your shaky legs like it was as light as a feather.

A small gasp slipped from your lips as you caught Jungkook’s dark eyes again, his soft laugh fanning warmth across your face, "All I've been able to think about tonight is this..." He stammered off with a smirk before running his hands down your sides, pushing the thin blazer off your shoulders and gaining full access to the length of your neck.

You moaned quietly and brushed your dainty fingers through his soft, dark hair, "It's all I've wanted since we got here," You whispered and rested your head back against the wall, enjoying the feeling of his hands smoothing over your ass.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Kook growled against the tops of your breasts that were being pushed up by the tight bustier top, leaving you breathless and shaky under his touch. He got off on having complete control over your body, especially like this – desperate and panting for him in the darkness.

Jungkook dropped down to his knees and pushed his hands up under the hem of your top so he could access the waistband underwear. You were spellbound now with your eyes closed and heart thumping in your chest, head dizzy and skin sizzling as he trailed his hands down your thighs, gliding your flimsy lace down far enough that you could step out of them without needing to look.

"So sexy." He groaned at the sight of the dark red lace that had been hidden by your skirt, his hot breath now fanning over your shaky legs that were now completely bare and exposed to the cool air, even though you were burning up.

His large hands gripped your thighs and roughly separated them in front of his mouth, every single little movement riling you up even more. Jungkook was ravenous, hungry to devour you after hours of deprivation – starved of your taste, of his name falling from your lips. He needed it, needed you to sing his praises, beg him for more and you never disappointed.

Your fingers brushed back up the side of his head as he hooked your leg over his shoulder and buried his tongue between your thighs, sending you into overdrive and taking your breath away. Your hands instantaneously gripped the tuft of black waves on top of his head, trying to control the moans that were threatening to escape your chapped lips, his fingers doing the work of a maestro, orchestrating your body like a symphony.

"Feels so good," You whined as Kook grunted, mouth still attached to you as he readjusted your leg on his strong, muscular shoulder, deepening the achingly perfect angle even further and making your legs start to tremble with pleasure.

Jungkook took your sensitive clit between his teeth, gently and pressed his free hand that wasn't clutching your thigh to your stomach, balancing you as best he could as you uncontrollably bucked your hips, riding his perfectly flat tongue. You placed your smaller hand over his and arched into his face, trying to alleviate the knot building in the pit of your stomach. He felt so fucking good and looked even better when you did dare open your eyes, peering down into his sinful ones.

The small smirk that appeared on his dimpled cheeks when your gaze met his was enough to send you spiralling into a whimpering mess, unable to stop the loud moan that ripped from your constricted throat – you were getting closer with every single teasing stoke he gave you, his thick, skillful fingers fucking you into a blackout and you were losing it. He muffled a laugh and didn't relent one bit as you white knuckled his wrist, attempting to hold in the noises that were so close to escaping, jaw clenched.

"I wanna hear you, honey – lemme hear you," Kook panted as he glanced up and continued to taunt you, “I want to hear you moaning for me like this for the rest of my fucking life.”

Even in your orgasmic haze, you furrowed your already rutted brows at his comment, head thrown back, still whimpering, “Friends don’t say that to each other, Kook.” You breathed, gliding on his unrelenting fingers, his pace slowing as he processed your words.

Jungkook scoffed and pulled back from your pulsing core, eyes trained on yours as he pressed a sweet kiss to your thigh, voice hoarse. “I think we passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago, baby. You don’t have to pretend when it’s just you and me.”

It took you a second until you nodded silently, agreeing that you didn’t need to keep the act up with him. You brushed your fingers that had been knotted in his thick, beautiful hair, down the sides of his glistening face, lips raw and looking like a mirage.

“I like it when it’s just you and me.”

If you blinked, you thought he may disappear from your vision but he made sure you knew he was real, kitten licking your sensitive bud and reassuring you that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. 

“Me too.” He whispered.

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to resume his toe-curling rhythm, sending every nerve in your system into lockdown as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He’d put both of your feet on the ground, thighs spread as far as they could so you could ride his face, insisting that you came like that for him. The feeling of having every breath suppressed from his lungs while you let yourself go on his tongue, fingernails clawing at the skin on your thighs was worth the rush of blood to his brain. His face was beet-red, pupils blown out and he was achingly hard, scared he was going to blow in his pants like a horny teen.

"Oh my fucking god, Kook," You moaned loudly as he reached up and pressed his palm firmly on your flushed chest, needing to feel your heart thumping under your skin, making him feel alive.

"I've got you." 

"I'm – baby, I’m right there…" You cried out, head thrown back against the wall again as he eased you through your earth shattering high, panting and sweltering under his touch.

Loud moans echoed through the hotel room as he lapped up everything you had to give, holding you in place and making sure you were completely satisfied before removing his shaky fingers and pressing a couple of pecks to your reddening thighs – no doubt leaving bruises from his tight grip. You couldn’t wait to feel those small reminders of his touch in the morning. It took a good couple of seconds for your mind and body to float back down from the clouds above and god, it was a gorgeous sight when you did come to.

"You are so good at that," You breathed as Jungkook used your hips to drag himself up off the carpeted floor, hands still clutching your waist to also keep your knees from buckling.

"Thank you." He knew you too well.

The sensation of his swollen lips kissing yours brought you back and without hesitation, you hooked your arms over his shoulders and deepened the kiss. His hands snaked around your lower back, bodies flush and you could finally feel how hard he was underneath his trousers.

Knowing Jungkook was that turned on from making you feel ethereal triggered a proud smirk to sweep across your flushed face, “Would you like some help with this, friend?” You teased, reaching down for the button on his pants, flicking it open with ease.

“It’s what friends are for, no?” He cockily replied before you clutched his stiff cock in your palm, causing him to gasp at the sensation.

“I would love your help – thank you very much,” Kook quickly added, desperate for your attention as he captured your lips in a rough kiss and nudged your body towards his messy bed.

“That’s what I thought,” You chuckled into the kiss before falling back on the plush duvet.

Jungkook grasped your soft hips and tugged you to the edge of the mattress, thighs spread perfectly as he licked his palm with a groan, “So fucking hot…” 

You couldn’t help but relax into the bed and gently grasp Kook’s strong forearm, pulling him forward, “You are…” You playfully retorted as Jungkook’s hand landed beside your head, anchoring himself.

“You good?” He asked sweetly and you nodded with pleading eyes, sealing a layer of consent before nudging his tip into you. 

A chorus of moans harmonised between the two of you, pleasantly satisfied by the intimacy as he shuffled forward with a gentle huff. It felt too good to have him inside you, filling you up with a delicious fullness you constantly craved from him. It’s all you needed after a long day of yearning and discreetly glancing across tables - all you could think about was this moment, where it was just you and him; so outrageously turned on by every secret gesture sent your way.

“Feels unbelievable, baby,” you praised in a breathy moan, head tilted back against the soft duvet.

“Having you like this is a fucking dream,” Jungkook practically growled as he kissed your slick neck, “So beautiful.” 

Everything felt heightened as you relaxed, fully trusting his tight grip and letting go of all inhibitions. That’s how you felt with Jungkook - walls down and no longer scared to feel it all with someone. And god, it felt good to purge all the pent up lust and aching to have him like this, panting and whispering filth into your ear; every word surmounting the knot in your stomach, snapping to ribbons all at once. Your rushed words pathetically coming out in a whine.

“Kook, baby I’m gonna- fuck, I’m so close again.” 

“Shhh, I got you honey, come ‘f me…” He sweetly whispered, easing you over the edge as his fingers caressed the bundle of nerves between your thighs like precious cargo. 

You chanted his name over and over and over again, fingernails clutching his clothed back for leverage as he convulsed in pleasure, shockwaves hitting every nerve in your body as he spilled into you with an exasperated groan. He was beautiful, all flushed and fucked out as he pressed his forehead to yours, weary eyes locked in once again. 

“Some of our best yet,” Jungkook whispered, his smirking lips ghosting yours. 

You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss as you mustered the courage to pull him down onto the bed, readjusting yourself on top of the gorgeous man below. There was a short beat before he glanced back up with a smile, fingertips instinctively tracing your hips.

“Oh, we’re just getting started, honey.”

"Right? I like the design Yoongi picked," you say and move your hand to see it yourself. "Yoongi?" he asks. "Mhm. I asked him which nails I should get, and he sent me a picture of these. He also paid for them," you say with a soft smile. He tenses up and looks at you confused.

"What do you mean he chose and paid for your nails?" he asks. "Baby, like I told you. Why are you asking me so much?" you say a little annoyed. "Who is Yoongi to do something like that? This is so random," he explains. "He wanted to be nice," you say while pouting at him. "Wanted to be nice by paying for my girlfriends nails?" he asks and puts you down from his lap. "I don't like it," he adds. "You're overthinking. He is a friend of yours," you say and lean back.

"Exactly, he is my friend. You don't even know him that much. Why are you two texting anyway? This is pissing me off," he says and leans on his knees. "I like my nails, though," you say with a bored sigh. His head snaps to you in disbelief. "So you would be fine if I paid for your friends' nails? And picked up a design?" he asks. "Why would you even do that?" you ask him back. "Why did Yoongi do that?" he asks.

"Okay, if you don't like them, I will change it. I can cover it up with other designs," you say. "It's not about the nails. I don't like it that he is a part of this. I will call him," he says and reaches for his phone. You pull his arm, but he switches the phone to the other hand. "Baby, stop; that's so embarrassing," you tell him, but it's too late. Yoongi's contact name is on the display, and you just pray that he won't answer.

"Ey, what do you want?" the familiar voice fills the room. Your eyes grew two times their size. "You tell me. Why would you pay for my girlfriend's nails?" Jungkook asks directly. "What?" Yoongi asks, and you can already hear ruffling. You want to disappear right now. "Baby, can we talk before you ask him further?" you whisper, and Jungkook's eyes glow with confusion. "Oh my god," he says, realization hitting him. "Hyung, forget what I asked you. Love you, bye," he says and cuts the call off.

"Baby, stop with these pranks!" he says and dramatically drops on the couch. "You're burning up, baby," you say with a laugh while patting his chest. "I was so angry. I literally boiled," he tells you. "Aw, my baby still does believe everything," you say with a smile. "Please, I just want to sit peacefully in my house," he complains. "Are you tired of me?" you ask him. "Unfortunately it's a full-time job, but I love it," he tells you with a wink.

"That's sad. If you weren't tired, I would show you my nails at work," you say while your fingers tug at the waistband of his joggers. His low moan fills the room, and his hand finds your cheek. "I will die to see them matching with my cock," he says. You take the invitation by pulling down his joggers. Of course he's not wearing any boxers.

You leave the couch to sit on your knees in front of him. Your hands are already playing with his hardening cock. "Fuck," he hisses before you put him in your mouth. It doesn't matter how many times you give him a head because every time you do, you realize again how big he is. You always suck him deep to hear his pretty moans, and he never disappoints you.

"You're taking me so well, baby," he says while his hand finds your hair, and you bob your head. When he slightly tugs, you relax to allow him to take control. His hips start to move, to fuck your mouth. "Fuck. I love you," he murmurs while his thrusts get sloppier. "Do you know that I would send him a photo of you in this position? Your nails on my balls and knees while I fuck your mouth? I would show him," he says, and damn, how quick it has an effect on you.

You moan around his cock, and he loses his mind. With a final thrust he comes down your throat. "Fuck, baby," he moans while trying to calm down. You take him out with a little pop. "So cute," you say and watch his spent body. "You will kill me one day," he says and looks at you with those eyes. "Oh come on, I just wanted dessert," you tell him. He laughs at your remark because not long ago he told you the same after eating you out.

-

“wait for me baby, don't go anywhere.”

that was what your boyfriend jungkook had rasped two hours ago after kissing you breathless enough to leave your legs shaky and then he ran back onstage.

you stood just off the main stage, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling the sexual desire wafting between you both even though he was away giving all his energy and power to singing and dancing with his members.

but you only got the version of him no one else got or knew about, the one who glanced toward you between songs, eyes locking on yours with a hunger that had nothing to do with the performance.

it was as if he were giving his own personal sultry show to you instead of thousands of fans screaming his name.

you watched a droplet of sweat trace a line down the middle of his chest almost pornographically, like it begged for your tongue to lick it right off and you wanted to so badly.

now during the short break after one of their songs, jungkook jogged offstage for a quick towel and water, his denim jacket with nothing underneath parted to show off his sweat slick muscular body, his jeans low enough to show off the tiny hint of his calvin klein underwear.

he tossed the towel aside and made a beeline straight for you, ignoring the staff calling after him.

“fuck i've been thinking about you the whole time.”

his voice was husky from singing, a little breathless as well, he grabbed your wrist impatiently before you could even reply and pulled you deeper into the backstage down the corridor for more privacy.

“i can't focus when i know you're right there watching me.”

“jungkook the performance and the fans—”

you started but your protest melted into a gasp as he pushed you against the wall directly out of sight.

“they can handle the next song. i need you now.” he grumbles.

his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust and with pent up energy that he wants to take out on you.

he spun you around without waiting, pressing your chest against the wall, his front molding to your back as you felt the hard line of his erection already straining against his jeans.

“it's been hard since i saw this tight little ass in those jeans.”

“kook...”

you whimpered at his words, your back already arching for him, your eyes growing half lidded.

“god i love it when you call me that.” he rushes out.

his hands moved fast before you could even catch a breath, yanking your jeans and your panties down your thigh in one rough tug.

you could hear the cheers of the crowd and the beat of the music still playing, everything made you both feel alive and the thrill that you both might get caught at any second, yet instead of stopping you it made you hornier, your pussy giving a twitch.

“shitt you're already wet.”

jungkook groaned low, one hand sliding between your legs to tease your folds, feeling the copious amounts of arousal you leaked.

his fingers were so skilled, always knowing how to find your clit like an expert and it makes you shudder each time as he circles your clit once twice before dipping inside just enough to make your knees buckle but not fully inside, just giving you a little taste of what's about to come.

“all this for me hmm? while i was out there dancing?”

you bit your lip hard, nodding frantically.

“yes kook p-please...” you panted.

he chuckled as he grabbed your hips, leaning down to nip at your earlobe.

“atta girl, keep quiet for me yeah? can't have them hearing how i fuck my baby backstage.”

he pulled the zipper down, freeing himself, his cock hard and throbbing hotly, precum already beading at the tip.

he rubbed it along your slit coating himself in your essence, letting out a string of curses at the warm feeling of you.

there was no time for foreplay and time was running by fast and he had to join everyone on the stage so he didn't wanna waste any time.

jungkook was big, always had been and each time he decided to impale you on his cock, it felt like the very first time even though the stretch had gotten familiar.

“ahh... yes…”

you let out a long relieved whine at the feeling of him coming home inside you as he pushed in slowly inch by inch, intentionally letting you feel every ridge and vein of his dick and how he twitches inside you.

“fuuuuck...”

he hissed through gritted teeth, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he felt your pussy clench on him, welcoming him inside with a wet hungry swallow like it'd been dying for him to be inside.

his one hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, the other hand on the wall above your head.

“so tight, always so fucking perfect for me.”

he growls and grunts like a madman and you respond with a moan of yours.

he bottomed out with a deep,manly noise and he watched with hooded eyes at the way your ass quivers.

the fullness was overwhelming, his cock buried deep and pressing against that spot inside you that made you see stars behind your eyelids.

for a second he just stayed there, breathing hard, both of you listening to the crowd outside, then he started moving and you were already a squirmy mess.

backshots or whatever they called it.

receiving that from him always turns your brain to mush and it felt like he was literally rearranging your insides.

hard, quick, yet rough thrusts that only happened when he was trying to make you cum fast and with each thrust from him, you rocked harder against the wall, your hand scrambling to grab onto something and not being able to help yourself, you gripped his hand tightly, your nails digging into it and the pain fueled him even more.

the angle was perfect and with every thrust he reached that special spot inside you.

his hips moved like a needle does on a sewing machine, your tongue lolls out lewdly, almost drooling in the mindless pleasure.

squelch. squelch. squelch.

obscene noises were made each time he pumped in and out and in and out, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, sending jolts through you.

each thrust made your breasts bounce under your top, nubs hard and aching against the fabric.

“listen to that!” he snarls.

“hear how wet you are? taking my cock so willingly while everyone out there thinks i'm just taking a break.”

you sobbed, trying to muffle it against your arm though it didn't do much help anyways.

“kook… faster p-please, i need—”

he didn't let you finish your words because he obliged instantly, picking up the pace, his hips slamming inside you.

the same control he used on stage now driving you into insanity.

sweat dripped from his hair and onto your back, his free hand snaked around you to rub your clit in a tight fast rubs, matching the brutal rhythm of his cock.

your lips remained perpetually parted, letting out little “uh uh uhs” with each of his thrusts, not having any control to hold yourself up, your body was held like a ragdoll with one of his arms alone.

“yeah uh huh? you like this?”

he asks, mockingly imitating one of your noises with a breathless chuckle.

“oh god..”

you mewled, not even processing his words enough to reply to him.

“answer me when i ask a question. tell me, do you like getting pounded like a secret slut while i'm supposed to be performing?”

he lets out an animalistic sound, his palm coming down to give a sharp spank on your butt cheek, most definitely leaving a red handprint there.

“nhnnmm ahh y-yes so good. i want more. i want more pleaseee.”

you choked out letting out quiet squeals, unable to keep up with his fucking while he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his head falling back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“of course you want more, this pussy never gets enough does it huh? so greedy.”

he gives you a few more hard thrusts, his hips circling occasionally doing that grinding rhythm that makes your toes curl while you start fluttering hard around him as if trying to just trap him inside you forever.

“dammit you feel so good, g-gonna cum so hard inside you baby.”

he stutters, his brows furrowing.

the pressure was starting to build fast so fast, from the way he dominated you, from his words, the rush of adrenaline and everything else... it was too much yet so amazing at the same time.

you wanted more, more and more.

your head thrashed side to side as you felt like he'd just hit deep inside your stomach, your hand scratching red lines on his tattooed wrist.

“yes—yes—yes—”

you yelped, trembling uncontrollably as you felt so near to your orgasm.

“that's it cum on my cock, let me feel you.”

he starts pounding you, angling your hips, manhandling you so he's able to reach the depths inside you that you didn't even know existed.

his hand quickening on your clit, doing that side to side and up and down motions on your clit, he knows it drives you a little insane.

he knows that you love it when he plays around with that little sensitive button of yours.

when he decides to pinch it between two fingers and holding on while delivering sharp thrusts, did it finally break you.

you came with a loud scream that ended in a wail.

“hahhh!”

your pussy pulses around his pistoning length, milking him, making his pace falter at the heavenly feeling of you cumming around him.

but he soon picked back up, fucking you through it and chasing his own release while making your juices splash everywhere making a mess on the floor beneath you.

his breaths turned ragged, thrusts losing their rhythm as he got closer and closer.

thrust. thrust. thrust.

“gonna fill this cunt up baby ughh!”

he hisses, slapping his palm beside your head as he buried himself to the hilt and came.

“mmmph..”

you let out a pathetic muffled noise as hot spurts of his cum filled you to the brim, leaving so much of the white mess as he ground his hips slowly, murmuring expletives while pressing open mouthed kisses along your shoulder.

for a long moment you both just panted, bodies locked together, both of you throbbing in the same way with heartbeats racing together.

he didn't wanna leave you so soon or lose the feel of this sweet cunt wrapped around him that he was addicted to but time was almost up, he could hear the members getting ready and the staff calling for his name.

with a reluctant groan, he pulled out slowly with a grunt and an “ohh” leaves you from the empty incomplete feeling.

your pussy gaping right in front of his eyes, leaking his cum as if saying without words how much she misses him already, he had to force his eyes away or else he'd probably just cancel everything and throw you over his shoulder and take you back to the hotel.

he pulled you close pushing your panties and jeans up, smoothing over them while you squirmed at the sodden feeling but the way he held you tighter confirmed that this was exactly what he wanted.

“you okay?”

he asked, eyes searching yours with concern and cups your cheek.

you nodded, a wanton moan leaving you as he kissed you deeply, tongue tangling with yours, tasting your cherry chapstick and your natural taste that he knows by heart.

“i love you so much, i will be finishing the show as soon as possible and then i will take you back to the hotel to finish this properly, you get me yeah?”

he patted your clothed butt and you giggled even as your legs still trembled a bit as he leaned down to steal another kiss.

“i love you too, go kill the rest of the performance pretty boy.” you cooed.

he grinned at the praise, cheeks flushing, that bunny toothed smile breaking through the post sex haze which you adored so much.

he adjusted his earpiece and took a few steps forward but he paused and turned to look back at you.

“keep those panties on, i want my cum leaking out of you when i come back to you.”

he winks, wiping sweat from his brows and rushing back toward the stage as if nothing had happened and he hadn't just said the filthiest thing ever.

you leaned against the wall with a giddy laugh, catching your breath, feeling his cum slowly start to sweep into your panties.

you watched him rejoin his members and dance like he hadn't just ruined you backstage.

your beautiful man is glowing even more now.

but one thing he didn't forget to do every now and then was look back at you with that secret smirk.

the world wanted him, yet you had him all to yourself and you never felt more lucky.

he was yours and you were his, it was a forever kinda thing.

you watched his tongue trace his bottom lip while singing and watching you with bedroom eyes.

it was a promise of what was to come.

you knew the night was far from over.

you couldn't wait.

perm. taglist ❯❯❯ @gukdemonic @kskskskskskskskss @imjustcrabby @chelseaad @cupidsbling @jeonette @goldenjjksworld @mn1jungkook @dilflover008 @singularity4joon @sunkissedcheekss @yevataeia @kookstempo @ggukiebar @gld3en @yoongix7 @bethanyyuy @pinklemonsstuff @hainwhatever @elmarimochi9513 @httpjk7 @littleblue-pickle @mnimxrva @lohikook @coldfuzzylava @raechin-and-bloussiey @roselleroses @beaniestrash @jmscaffeine @mintedagustd @multimxa @furioustrashlover @sammywhammy1

So a year after completing his mandatory military service and in the middle of a world tour, he’s realizing he doesn’t have all the skills he needs. He’s never been in a real relationship for a multitude of reasons, but he’s thinking about it more as he nears his thirties. Meaning it’s time to learn all the tips and tricks for when the sex isn’t just a quickie backstage. 

He knows exactly who to ask for advice. Who else but his oldest hyung, the one in a relationship lasting over half a decade. 

You and Seokjin met while on vacation in Europe, even though you both hail from Korea. It was a fairytale meet-cute. You both stumbled into a bookshop to escape a sudden downpour and upon finding out you speak the same language, chatted for hours until the owner kicked you two out. 

The rest is history, and you’ve become a staple in all their lives ever since Seokjin brought you to rehearsal for a formal introduction. 

Jeongguk adores you. Not only because of your own kindness, generosity, and compassion, but because you make Seokjin undeniably happy. His hyung was going through a tough time when you met and Jeongguk’s sure you’re the reason he was able to recover. 

He feels especially protective of his oldest brother. They’re extremely close, so Jeongguk knows firsthand how Seokjin sometimes carries the weight of the whole world on his shoulders without telling anyone. But he feels better knowing he has someone like you. 

You don’t see one another too often anymore, unless you come to visit Seokjin or everyone gets together on a day off. But it’s always a good time whenever you’re around. 

He’d never admit to his hyung, but you’re easily one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever seen. Of course, you are, because Seokjin’s breathtakingly handsome himself. That’s not to say Jeongguk has a crush on you, but he has thought about you with his hand around his cock a couple times. 

It’s hardly his fault when his hotel room’s usually next door and he can hear your whines and moans through the wall. And based on the noises you make, it’s clear Seokjin knows what he’s doing in the bedroom.

Thus Jeongguk’s reason for sending a text at eleven in the evening asking him to swing by his room. 

Seokjin arrives only moments later by ceremoniously throwing the door open and strutting inside. Jeongguk chuckles at the familiar behavior as his hyung crosses the room before plopping into the chair opposite his bed. 

“What’s up, ya punk?”

Even when Seokjin’s teasing him, there’s always a lick of affection for the younger man in his tone. Everyone knows how much they care about each other; that’s why Jeongguk trusts him enough to ask for help in this department. 

He practically raised him since he was a teenager, so it just makes sense for him to be the one to teach Jeongguk the ropes. 

“I need your help,” Jeongguk admits from his spot on the edge of the mattress. 

“With what?” 

Seokjin relaxes into the lavish hotel chair, spreading his legs and resting his back against the cushions. 

“Well, uh…” A nervous chuckle escapes while Jeongguk decides how to approach this. “I mean, you always satisfy Y/N, right?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

His hyung immediately sits up again with a furrowed brow.  

“I don’t… I didn’t — ugh.” 

Jeongguk rakes his fingers through his hair out of frustration with himself. 

“Spit it out, kid, or I’ll smack it out of you,” he threatens, although still with a hint of fondness. 

“I want you to teach me how to eat pussy.”

The silence that follows is so loud it could break glass. 

Seokjin’s staring at him in utter disbelief; his eyebrows almost kissing and his mouth agape. Except only a second later, he bursts into hysterical laughter. 

“Oh my fucking god!” He bellows while clutching his stomach. 

“Hyung,” Jeongguk whines. 

It takes some time, but the sound eventually slows to merely punctuated giggles.

“I’m not… laughing at you. I’m just… so… shocked.” 

“Well, who else would I ask? Like I said, I know you take care of Y/N.” 

“No, I know. I just never expected you to come to me for that kind of advice.” 

He shrugs.

“If you wanna get better at something, you need a good teacher.”

Seokjin sighs and swipes at the corners of his eyes once the laughter finally leaves his system. 

“So, you’re just trying to hone your skills or what?”

“Yeah. I’ve done it plenty of times, but never for that long and all without focusing on any technique,” Jeongguk explains. 

His hyung thoughtfully nods as his gaze shifts towards the door. 

“You know, it’s quite the coincidence you're bringing this up now,” he states. 

“How so?”

The smile forming on Seokjin’s lips is eerily mischievous. 

“Because Y/N just arrived an hour ago to visit for the month.”

Jeongguk’s face scrunches. He racks his brain for the reason you’d have anything to do with his request, but comes up short. 

“Why does that matter?”

Seokjin chuckles like a sly, criminal mastermind.

“What better way to learn than by doing?” His blood runs cold, but before he can register his hyung’s movements, his phone’s already in his hand. “Angel?” He asks into the receptor. “Can you come next door to Jeonggukie’s room?” 

“Hyung,” Jeongguk snaps through gritted teeth. “What are you doing?”

All he does is wave him off.  

“Nope, door’s open. See you in a sec.” 

The line cuts and Seokjin smirks while leaning back in his seat again. It leaves Jeongguk even more confused about what’s happening. His older brother can’t possibly be alluding to… that, can he? 

“Hyung —”

“Relax, Jeonggukie. It’s not like her and I haven’t done something like this before.”

“What?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“Look, when you’ve been in a relationship as long as we have, there’s a level of trust that allows for experimentation without worrying about the consequences,” he answers. “We both know no matter what, we’ll always choose each other. So, why not have some fun while we’re at it?”

Jeongguk genuinely can’t believe what he’s hearing. Seokjin’s really just going to let him practice oral sex on you? It’s mind boggling because he could never share the person he loves with someone else. But his hyung’s always been far more gracious than he is. 

There’s a quiet knock before you peer inside with a wave. Your boyfriend beckons you, leading you to sneak in and shut the door before waltzing over to him.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Seokjin greets you as you bend down to kiss him.

“Hi, handsome,” you chirp. “Hi, Jeonggukie!”

He gulps and tries his hardest not to choke while waving at you.

“Hey, noona.” 

“So, what’s up?” 

As if it’s the most natural act in the world, you sit on Seokjin’s lap and his hands curl around your body to rest on your hip and thigh, respectively. 

“Well, Jeonggukie here was asking for advice and I think you can help me teach him some stuff.” 

“What stuff?” 

You chuckle as your eyes flit between the two men, your eyebrows high in curiosity. 

“Do you wanna explain it, kid?” Seokjin asks. 

His mouth goes completely dry and his brain feels like it’s about to explode. How will he ever look you in the eye again after this?

“Um, you see… uh, well…” 

When you notice how uncomfortable he seems, you send him a warm smile and reach out to pat his knee.

“It’s alright, Ggukie. I won’t judge,” you assure him. 

“I think you might, actually.” 

It’s becoming increasingly clear poor Jeongguk won’t be able to voice his own needs aloud, so Seokjin leans over to whisper in your ear. 

Jeongguk watches your face for a reaction, but it certainly isn’t as grand as he was expecting. After your eyes momentarily widen, you start giggling and stand up. 

“Oh, Jeongguk, that’s nothing.” 

His own eyes expand into massive saucers when you slip your hands under your denim skirt and pull your panties off. You shimmy the lace down your legs before kicking them off onto the floor, all while he nearly passes out from how fast his heart’s beating. 

“Noona, you don’t have to do this,” he protests. 

“Have to?” The confident smirk you’re sporting only makes you look sexier. As if that were possible. “Who says I don’t want to?” 

“Well, I just —”

“Kid, I promise it’s fine,” Seokjin interrupts. “But we do need to lay down some ground rules.” Jeongguk nods assuredly. “Alright. You asked for my help, which means you’re going to follow my orders. But you also need to watch Y/N’s reactions to know what works and what doesn’t. So, your eyes will be on her and her eyes will be on me. Clear?”

After he nods again, your boyfriend looks to you for affirmation as well. Prompting your smile to grow as your eyes affectionately roll into your skull. 

“Oh, please. Like I can ever look anywhere but at you.” 

Seokjin smiles and gives your ass a liberal smack.

“That’s what I thought.” 

This all still feels too surreal for Jeongguk. He’s known Seokjin since he was thirteen and you since his early twenties. Then again, maybe that’s why you both trust him with such a delicate situation. 

“Are you sure about this?” He questions you two. “I don’t want to push anyone’s boundaries just for the sake of knowledge. I mean, I could just go out and practice with a stranger instead.” 

Your eyes soften while his hyung’s smirk becomes incredibly fond. 

“Ggukie, you know that wouldn’t be smart. What if they tell someone? A standard NDA’s only enforceable for five years,” you reply.

You’re an attorney, so you obviously know the ins and outs of these things. 

He sighs, despite knowing you’re right. It’s just hard to shake the fear that doing this could damage something precious to him. 

“Hyung.” Seokjin meets his gaze and gestures for him to continue. “This won’t come between us, right?”

Ironically, the older man is usually the more anxious one. Jeongguk often throws caution to the wind while Seokjin forces him to stop and think everything through. The role reversal does ease his mind a little. Because if his hyung’s so calm about this, he must be confident it’ll all turn out fine. 

“C’mon, you know nothing could ever come between us.” He leans forward to rest a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be fun. You’ll see.” Before Jeongguk can burrow any deeper inside his own head, Seokjin turns to you. “Lay down on the bed, angel.”

You two share another quick peck before you sit on the mattress and scoot back until you’re right in the center. Jeongguk’s still at the foot of the bed, but he only has enough courage to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

He can’t see much yet since you’re resting on your elbows with your legs together. That is, until Seokjin moves his chair closer and makes himself comfortable. 

“Spread ‘em, baby,” he instructs. 

It actually shocks Jeongguk how quickly you heed the command. Whenever he’s around you and Seokjin, it’s always abundantly clear no one rules over the other. But it seems his older brother likes being in charge behind closed doors. 

The less surprising thing is how fucking delectable you look laid out on his bed with your legs wide open. He initially tries to be a decent human by averting his eyes, but the temptation’s simply too much. 

His throat feels like sandpaper as his eyes roam over your entire body. Even though you’re practically fully clothed, you look like the epitome of sin. Your pussy’s on display just inches from him, although he can’t see everything yet due to your skirt. But he can certainly tell how pretty and pink you are. 

“Shit,” he sighs under his breath.

“Isn’t she perfect, Jeonggukie?”

Jeongguk nods as though in a trance and it causes you to giggle. 

“You can come closer, Jeongguk.” His focus shifts to your face. “I won’t bite,” you tease.

As if your cunt isn’t enticing enough, your features are so fucking ethereal he genuinely worries this is all a dream. 

“Hyung?” 

He looks at Seokjin over his shoulder, silently asking for permission, to which your boyfriend replies with a curt nod. 

There’s no reason to waste time. And truthfully, if Jeongguk doesn’t have his face between your legs within the next five seconds, he might go insane. 

Alas, he doesn’t bury his nose in your pussy just yet. His first move is to turn around and crawl until he’s close enough to lie in the center of your thighs. He glances up to check for any signs of discomfort or protest, but you couldn’t look more content as you observe him inching closer. 

“Can I touch you?” Jeongguk asks. 

“Ask him.”

You gesture at Seokjin and that’s when Jeongguk realizes why his hyung’s so relaxed about the scene playing out. Because he’s the director of it with complete creative control. 

“Go ahead.”

Jeongguk’s nervous as hell, but he doesn’t let it deter him from reaching out to shove your skirt past your hips before yanking you down the bed towards his awaiting mouth. 

He doesn’t dive in right away, just begins with featherlight kisses along your inner thighs. Your skin’s so warm and soft it elicits a deep groan from his chest. Not to mention he can already smell your sweet arousal. 

“First lesson is to go slow. It’s easy to make a woman come if you push the right buttons, but it’s all about how you push them,” Seokjin explains from behind him. 

His lips are almost at your core, so he inhales in preparation. 

“Fuck, you smell s’nice.”

It’s so quiet he doubts you hear him, especially when your attention’s on your boyfriend lounging in his chair across from you. 

Jeongguk still can’t believe he’s about to taste you. His heart’s pounding like a drum and his mind is shrouded by lust and desire. But the excitement is short lived because Seokjin speaks again before he’s able to put his mouth on you. 

“Touch her first.” A disapproving growl almost makes it past Jeongguk’s lips, but he manages to control himself. “You’ll be able to do a lot more with your tongue if you know the landscape.” 

There’s a lot of willpower involved in following Seokjin’s order. All he wants is to lap at your cunt until he’s drowning in you, but he asked for help for a reason and disobeying would make it pointless. 

His hand moves from your hip to your folds, spreading you open with two fingers so he can see your hole. Jeongguk doesn’t know if he’s ever seen such a gorgeous pussy before and watching your essence slowly leak out onto his fingers makes his cock strain against his pants. 

He glides upwards to touch your clit next and your body jolts in response. It fills him with pride, even if he knows it’s just a natural reaction to stimulation. Your nub’s already swelling because of his exploration, so he pushes your hood back to get a closer look. A breathless moan accompanies the act and Jeongguk smirks when your cunt automatically produces more arousal. 

“Don’t forget to tell her how pretty she is, Jeongguk,” Seokjin adds.

“You’re… fucking unreal,” he whispers in awe.

You chuckle following another soft whine. 

“What you make a woman feel internally is almost as important as externally.” Jeongguk hums, only half listening because he’s too enamored by how your body responds to his touch. “Okay, you can use your mouth now.”

Without any hesitation, he replaces his hand with his mouth by wrapping his lips around your clit and gently sucking. 

A loud, amorous whimper floods the air as your back arcs off the bed. Jeongguk has to tighten his grasp to keep you still, his fingertips digging into your hips and ass. Behind him, he hears Seokjin groan in pleasure and suddenly realizes his hyung’s getting something out of this as well. 

“Oh, my god,” you mumble while lacing your fingers through Jeongguk’s hair. 

He grunts at the pressure, sending a vibration straight into your sensitive nerve endings. 

“Is Jeonggukie doing a good job, baby?”

Even though your hand’s in his hair and his face is stuffed between your thighs, your eyes are locked on Seokjin. It’s like there are two separate sexual encounters happening at once. A physical one between you and Jeongguk, and a psychological one between you and your boyfriend. 

“Mmhm. Really good.”

Your answer encourages him to explore more of you, so he releases your clit before dragging his tongue up the entirety of your slit. The action makes your legs twitch on either side of his head as you moan again and tug on his scalp. 

Jeongguk goes full throttle after that, enthusiastically slurping up your cum while soaking you with his saliva. He licks you with the flat of his tongue to cover as much surface area as possible, but eventually uses just the tip to fuck your hole. 

Once his wet muscle sinks inside you, your noises double in volume and raspiness. He can also feel your thighs shaking beside his ears and knowing he has you in such a vulnerable state is driving him insane. 

“Whenever you’re focusing on her cunt, use your nose to keep friction on her clit.”

Damn, he’s never even considered that before. He knew choosing Seokjin as a teacher would be worthwhile. 

Following the instruction, Jeongguk begins moving his head up and down at the same pace as his tongue and you immediately whine over the new sensation. 

You have one of the most sensitive pussies he’s ever touched. Everything he does causes your walls to pulse around his tongue and you’re only getting wetter by the minute. He absolutely loves it; thrives on how reactive your body is. Jeongguk himself adores praise and compliments, so you’re more than he could ever ask for. 

Along those same lines, you seem to be pretty close to finishing. Your endless whimpers, trembling limbs, and creamy cunt all tell him it won’t be long now before you come on his face. 

Except Seokjin must have a better idea, because as soon as your moans turn high-pitched, he throws out another command. 

“Don’t let her come yet, Jeongguk. It’ll be so much better if you make her wait.”

“Jinie,” you whine. 

When Jeongguk gazes up from between your legs, he finds you pouting at Seokjin, who clicks his tongue at your protest. 

“C’mon, angel, I can’t teach if the lesson ends so soon.”

In order to do as his hyung says, Jeongguk removes his tongue from your cunt. But he stays close by gently kissing along your slit while wrapping his arms around your thighs to give himself more leverage. 

He can’t get enough of feeling your soft skin beneath his fingertips. Seeing his hands splayed out across your legs, including the divots he creates from holding onto you, is beyond heavenly. 

“Noona,” Jeongguk calls to grab your attention. Your eyes shift down in response and a small smile appears when you notice how shiny the bottom half of his face is. “You taste amazing.” Another kiss, right on your puffy clit. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop.”

You giggle.

“You’re such a sweetie, Ggukie.”

It’s embarrassing how bright he blushes over your compliment, but at least he can bury his face in your pussy again to conceal his reaction. 

He quickly returns to his previous endeavor without worrying about disobeying Seokjin since you’ve had a minute to fall back from the precipice. But rather than continuing to lick you, he sucks on your clit as his tongue flicks back and forth. 

Your body lurches and you cry out in pleasure, eliciting a low, eager groan from Jeongguk. His grip on your legs doesn’t allow you to move an inch other than squirming. Providing him with the perfect view of you trapped by his biceps while your chest erratically rises and falls. You’ve stopped looking at Seokjin as well, your head dropping down onto the pillows instead. 

“If you want to make her last long, just keep switching between her clit and her cunt. Bring her close with one, then pull back and move to the other,” Seokjin narrates. “And when you’re playing with her clit, try different things. Flatten and swirl your tongue, draw shapes with the tip, spit, you can even use your teeth if you're gentle enough. But you hurt her and I’ll kick your ass.”

The craziest thing about his hyung giving orders is that despite speaking eloquently, his voice is strained because the sight of his girlfriend being eaten out by another man is turning him on. 

Jeongguk can’t blame him, the sight of you lying on the mattress with your legs spread and head thrown back is probably sublime. Not to mention how erotic the visual of you shoving his face deeper into your pussy must be. 

“Fuck, right there,” you moan.

Seokjin’s advice works wonders because you’re clearly enjoying the way Jeongguk alternates tactics with his tongue. He’s focusing solely on your clit at the moment, utilizing all the aforementioned movements to bring you right back to the edge. He rotates the order to keep you stimulated and you seem to especially like whenever he spits on your nub before circling it. 

It’s obvious your orgasm’s approaching again, so Jeongguk waits until the very last moment to retreat towards your hole so he can deny you a release. 

You whimper and yank on his hair, but you’re not the one in charge and Seokjin gave him specific instructions. 

He edges you three more times by following his teacher’s wisdom. Every time you come close to a climax, he swaps from lapping at and fucking your cunt to wetting and teasing your nerve endings. By the time you’re nearing a high for the sixth time, you have tears streaming down your face as you ceaselessly pant. 

“God, you look so stunning like this, baby,” Seokjin comments. “Doesn’t she, kid?”

Jeongguk’s been watching you the entire time and couldn’t agree more. Seeing you nearly fall apart on his tongue over and over again is making his dick twitch inside his pants. All he wants is to finish you off, but he’s staying patient for his brother’s signal.  

Rather than stopping to reply, he merely groans and nods his head, causing his nose to brush against your swollen, oversensitive clit. 

You loudly sob from the intense pleasure while your thighs quiver where they’re flanking Jeongguk’s ears. 

“Please, baby, please,” you beg.

It's uncertain how long you three have been doing this. Jeongguk’s jaw is growing sore, so it must be a decent amount of time. He can’t imagine the overstimulation you’re feeling from being repeatedly denied an orgasm.

“Aw, you wanna come, angel?”

“Jinie…”

There’s a rustling sound and suddenly Jeongguk senses his friend moving closer. The next thing he knows, the bed dips and Seokjin appears in his line of sight beside you.

“You think Jeongguk can make you come?” You nod. “Yeah?” He glances down at the man in question, who’s still avidly swiping his tongue through your folds. “You know what to do?” 

When Jeongguk hums, you wail and a fresh flood of arousal drips from your hole. 

“Seokjin, I can’t.”

“I know, baby,” he pacifies you before turning his attention back to his younger brother. “You can break her off now. And don’t hold back.” 

Those magic words are all he’s been wanting to hear since the moment he first tasted you. 

He enthusiastically heeds the command by driving his fingertips into your hips and licking you with newfound fervor. His head bobs as his tongue pushes in and out of your cunt at an obscene pace. As much as Jeongguk doesn’t want this experience to end, feeling your entire body shake because of what he’s doing to you is so worth it. 

You come only seconds later with a high-pitched, muffled, cry while your thighs lock around his head and your fingernails scratch his scalp. Jeongguk’s busy ensuring you meet a satisfying end, but when he gazes up again, he sees Seokjin zealously kissing you. His hands are cradling your face and it’s obvious his tongue’s far down your throat. 

Perhaps that’s why you absolutely drown Jeongguk in cum that doesn’t stop even as your body begins to relax in his grasp. 

Jeongguk takes advantage of your lengthy climax by swallowing every ounce of you he can, all while moaning over how amazing you taste. The magical experience comes to an end when a new hand lands on his head and forces his face away. 

He could honestly cry at the thought of never getting to have you again, but he can’t let either of you know that. 

“You enjoy yourself, kid?” 

All he can do in his mystified state is aimlessly nod. It causes you to giggle, clawing Jeongguk’s attention back in an instant.

“Here, sweetie, let’s clean you up.” 

You maneuver your leg around his body so you can hop off the bed and grab something before returning to clutch his face. There’s something soft and purple in your hand that you use to wipe away the essence staining his cheeks, mouth, and chin. Jeongguk doesn’t realize what it is until you shove the fabric into his palm and curl his fingers around it. 

“What… you’re giving these to me?” 

The lace underwear’s staring at him like he’s undeserving. 

“So you have something to remember me by,” you explain with a wink. 

Jeongguk scoffs in sheer disbelief.

“I don’t think I could forget you if I tried,” he counters. 

“You better,” Seokjin sneers, but he’s smirking. 

Your boyfriend helps you stand again and adjusts your skirt into a presentable position while you affectionately comb his hair back. You two then turn back to Jeongguk with intertwined hands. 

“This was fun, Ggukie! We should do it again sometime.”

He genuinely can’t comprehend that he’s hearing you correctly. 

“Yeah, just let us know if you need another lesson,” his hyung tells him.

“Uh, well —”

“Alright, alright! No need to be greedy, you little shit.” 

You cackle at Seokjin’s familiar teasing as he pulls you towards the exit. 

“Bye!” You shout between giggles.

“Bye,” Jeongguk whispers, his hand waving at you of its own accord due to his current lack of brainpower. 

He flops backwards onto the mattress once you’re both gone while his mind reels over what just occurred. It’s almost impossible to believe, but the images replaying behind his eyelids aren’t just his imagination. Your flavor’s still lingering on his tongue and he can hear your whimpers ringing in his ear. 

Maybe it was a terrible idea considering he’ll probably never not see you and want to shove his face into your pussy again, but he can’t bring himself to regret anything. He learned multiple valuable lessons and got to make a gorgeous woman come, so who is he to complain?